The date had to be perfect.

He spends hours in his room, peering nervously at his mirror when he isn't pacing back and forth and fussing with his hair when he isn't staring at the mirror. It's their first official date since the accident, and he wants to make it special- he needs to make it special. Regular grey jeans and a black button-down has never looked so dubious before, and his hair seem to resist lying flat- granted, it never lay flat before, but it seems extra unruly today.

"Clare doesn't care about all that, you know," Adam says, sitting on Eli's bed with a smirk. He watches with amusement as his best friend tries to attack his hair with a wet comb, sniggering when he nearly gets the comb stuck. "You were ugly before, and she loved you just the same."

"Is this supposed to be a pep talk?" Eli grumbles, rumpling up his hair all over again. He reaches for the top button on his shirt, hesitating, wondering if he should leave it unbuttoned or not.

"Unless you got some furry chest hair in there, which I'm certain you don't, you better button that up," he pipes up helpfully.

Eli rolls his eyes, too nervous to form a coherent retort. It is five minutes before he has to go pick up Clare, and he finds himself spending most of the time pacing back and forth in his room. Adam, though quite amused by this behaviour, can't help but feel a little worried. Eli does have a tendency of taking things to extremes, which more times than often led to disastrous outcomes.

"Hey, don't think too much about it," he says encouragingly, softening up his a voice. "Just be yourself, and have fun. I'm sure she will too."

"I know," Eli sighs, running his hands through his hair. He plops down on his bed next to him, shoulders slouching and head swimming with thoughts. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

Eli scratches his head. "It's just seems like so much trouble going through all of his again. I just wish things to be back the way it was before."

Adam frowns, having heard the exact statement more times than he could count. "You're dwelling again, Eli," he says, trying not to sound too bothered by his constant moping.

"I know, I know," Eli says again, more exasperatedly this time. "Wishing won't change anything, I know that."

"It's not just that," Adam says, shifting to face him. He lowers his voice, and wears a grave face to match. "We've heard what the doctor said. Chances are, Clare won't ever fully regain her memory, and that's just something we all have to deal with."

Eli twists his face into a grimace, remembering very clearly the doctor's regretful tone and pitiful attempt at softening up the circumstances with fake optimism. But we never know what might happen, he says. The brain is a very complex system, he says. He remembers thanking him very curtly and then leaving as his stomach churned uncomfortably with the new information sinking in. None of it had come off as a major shock, but it was still difficult to hear the words.

"What you had with Clare is gone, and there's nothing else you can do about," Adam says grimly. "She won't remember all the dysfunctional fights you had in the middle of the night, the poems you'd make paper airplanes out of and fly into her bedroom window, or what she was thinking when you two took those pictures. "She won't remember her first impression of you, and she won't remember the first time you guys kissed. I get it, Eli, it's hard. But life moves on, and you should do the same."

"But I don't want toooo," he whines, stamping his feet on the ground and completely dodging the bigger picture. He settles for what's easier and more convenient, and that's sulking about it. Eli's so clouded with remorse, blinded in a way so that he's incapable of adjusting, it's difficult for him to take a step back and take a good look. Adam folds his arms across his chest, having grown tired of reinforcing and heartening and doing his best to steer Eli in the right direction. The boy's as stubborn as hell in ways he doesn't even realize, and it's holding him back. Adam's patience is wearing thin, Eli has yet to cease dwelling, and is becoming increasingly frustrating at that. "Then don't go," he says shortly, switching tactics. Adam's not the one who has trouble with changing. "If you think it's too much work, then why bother? Obviously she's not worth the trouble."

"That's not what I meant," Eli said in an offended voice, putting the brakes on his childish demeanour. For a second he looks angry that Adam could say such a thing about her, and before he could react more violently to it Adam carries on.

"Then stop being annoying about it, or don't go," he says sternly, giving him the ultimatum. With the manner in which Adam is standing up, towering over him like a parent, Eli's sure he's a toe behind wagging his pointer finger. There's something about the picture that makes him want to laugh, for Adam hardly ever takes initiative like this. Often he's just there to support his wild and erratic decisions, and pick himself up when things get out of hand. "I think you know better than anyone else that nothing will come easily, and it's up to you to decide if Clare is worth the extra effort."

And with that Adam exits the room, sweeping past the shirts on the floor and leaving Eli to ponder over his little extemporaneous speech.

-x—

He's late, and Clare begins to doubt that he'll ever show up.

Jake waits with her on the front porch, fiddling with a cigarette between his fingers. Every so often he'll bring the white stick to his lip and take a long drag, and expertly breathe out a clean puff of smoke. He's been around the house so often, Clare has accustomed to the redolent, the distinct stench of lung cancer burning her nose and causing it to subconsciously wrinkle. She doesn't like it, but she deals with it because she's still wary about their whole secret agreement. It's still awkward trying to navigate their new relationship, only because neither are sure if it is technically a relationship. They've reached an understanding, and that's all that's really important right now. Maybe someday they could be friends. Maybe, and only if they make it out here alive, they can put this all behind them. It's a pretty big maybe to ride on, so they don't discuss it any further. There are more pressing matters to address.

"You don't have to wait out here with me, you know," Clare says gingerly, slicing through the thick silence drifting between them. Jake doesn't appear bored, but she herself is getting rather fidgety and so she assumes he must be getting impatient as well.

"If I go back inside, they'll probably start interrogating me again." he says pragmatically, referring to the two villains inside the house. It's nice knowing that Clare's not alone on this, and that Jake wants the same kind of freedom she wants. He told her last night that he wants something bigger than what this city can give him, but under the restraints of his father's agreement with the Edwards, he's struck wherever they want him to be. He wishes to visit his mother in the rural part of Ontario again, perhaps meet a girl and live there for the rest of his life. Clare had told him that it was nice to have a simple dream like that, and for the first time they shared a small smile. She discovered then, that Jake Martin is really not a bad person.

Clare inconspicuously glances at her watch, wondering where in the world he could be. Thinking back, his expression hadn't been all that clear, and she starts to feel silly for throwing herself at him in the first place. But no sooner had the thoughts wrecked her completely, the sound of fast footsteps approaching the driveway is heard by the both of them. Their heads snap up in unison, and Eli appears looking slightly breathless.

"Sorry I'm late, I was…getting you these," he says in a small voice, holding up a pretty bouquet of pink flowers. There's a trail of fallen petals behind him serving as evidence of his haste, and while Jake perceives it as carelessness, Clare chuckles at the sight. Eli feels silly for showing up as ungraceful as he had, and Clare feels ridiculous for ever doubting Eli's feelings for her.

"I like them," she says, standing up and brushing herself off. Eli beams and lets out a sigh of relief, handing over the bouquet to her.

"I can bring them inside if you like," a cool voice offers, and Eli soon realizes that Jake is watching them. His insides clench at the sight of him sitting so casually a little bit behind Clare, and his hands twitch. He almost reaches out to pull her behind him, but remembers that he can't do that anymore. At least, as long as they weren't officially together.

The ignited fire simmers down the moment Clare wraps her finger around one of his own, her shoulder brushing him lightly. In an instant, clenching relaxes, and he's floating.

"Thank you," she smiles, passing it over to him. "You can set it on my nightstand."

Jake nods and starts to turn towards the door, pauses, and looks back between Clare and Eli.

"Don't fuck this up," he says gravely, giving Eli a pointed look.

And in spite of his crude language and his implication that Eli was in danger of messing up, he's at ease. He's at ease because he finally believes that Jake isn't a threat anymore, that he's more concerned with how he treats her rather than being with her. Suddenly the smell of smoke doesn't bother him as much as it used to.

"I won't," he promises earnestly, tightening his finger around Clare's delicate one. He gazes at her. "I won't."

They start along the sidewalk hand-in-hand, and it never once occurs to her that being in a car would be cosier. She's not bothered by the fact that her ears are cold and that sitting in front of a heater would be much more comfortable than this. It doesn't bother her at all. She's not bothered because he's holding her hand while she bounces up onto the cement ledge, helping her maintain balance as she ambles along like a trapeze artist. Eli's presence on its own is enough to help forget the trivial things, like comfort and all that. He has his own comfort and warmth to offer her, and she can easily feel it emanating from his touch. And there's so competition as to which type of warmth is more preferable.

Clare smiles, feeling like a little baby bird when she outstretches her arms in the way that she does. Eli smiles back because she's so delicate and graceful, even when she's tripping over her own feet. The walk is silent and all they can hear is the wind rushing past their ears, tousling their hair and giving Clare some troubles with equilibrium. Eli holds her hand patiently, never once tugging her forward even when she lags behind. The way they're acting around one another, there's a sense of intuitiveness that makes them feel perfectly content with just walking without words. For Eli, he's mesmerized by the curves of her legs from under her light pink dress, tightly surrounded by the fabric of thick black leggings. He's fondly watching her tip-toe across the thin cement ledge, as she never once lets her heels touch the bottom. It's little things like this that make her fall in love with her again and again.

For Clare, it's still because he's holding her hand. And that he's not letting go.

The sky has turned greyer from when they started their stroll, and dark clouds had huddled together in massive lumps. How long had they been walking, merely enjoying each others' company? As Clare hops off, Eli clears his throat, straightening his spine. He puts on a mock-serious face.

"Where to, miss?" he asks in a silly English accent, trying to mimic Jake from Titanic. He knows it's Clare's favourite movie, and even though she might not remember it-

But she twists her arm around his and leans into him, standing higher on the balls of her feet to measure up to him. Her lips brush the shell of his ear, causing a chilling shiver to ripple through his body. "To the stars," she whispers passionately, only because it felt so right to.

Eli gulps, every trace of humour disappearing from his face. They stop dead in their tracks, looking deeply into each other's eyes. Clare can see his Adam's apple bobbing nervously; Eli the slight fluttering of her eyelashes. The world stands still for them. It fills with nothing but thirst and desire, and suddenly there's nothing more that they want than each other.

"Maybe someday," he murmurs deeply, wounding his finger around her tendrils. Something about it makes the gesture intimate, like it's a calling for something more. Something winter clothes and the exposure of being outside can't give him. He gazes more intently into her face, and sees that he isn't the only one.

A huge gust of wind nearly blows them over, and thunder crackles across the grey. It'll be a matter of seconds before the sky opens up.

"Someday, I want to know every part of you," Clare says ambitiously, craning her neck to look above them. She smiles to herself. "I want to know everything that makes you laugh," she muses, wriggling her fingers under his chin. A huge, sheepish smile breaks out, and he scrunches his shoulders together. "What makes you sad," she continues, drawing her fingers away. Eli's throat makes a primal groan at the loss. "What makes you smile."

"One day you will," he assures, bringing her hand to touch his face. He smiles at her. "I'll give you a hint, though- all of it has to do with you."

"I made you sad?" she asks, sounding a little hurt.

"Sometimes," he admits, neglecting to sugar-coat. He peers up to the sky thoughtfully, touching his chin. "It's because you have me all wrapped around that little finger of yours, everything you do affects me."

"I know," she says quietly. She knows.

The walk for a little longer, neither of them saying a word for the next few minutes.

"So where exactly are we going again?" Clare asks, hoping over a crack on the ground.

Eli brightens up. "You'd like it, Clare. It's especially beautiful this time of year, and I know you like things like that."

"It's it somewhere I've ever been before?" she inquires hesitantly.

He shakes his head, and Clare relaxes a bit. She smiles, thinking of all the new memories they could make. Not forgotten ones, but brand new ones. She doesn't want to spend the rest of her life revisiting all the places she's forgotten, or trying to remember everything that had happened before. It makes her empty inside, like there's a huge void inside of her that she can't fill no matter how hard she tries.

At some point, Eli has a blindfold in his hand and is asking for permission to cover her eyes. Initially, Clare is tentative because she's still afraid of darkness, but Eli promises that he won't let go of her hand. His hand is warm and bigger than hers, and she can't deny that it feels like home- wonderfully nostalgic, sizzling in heat, but oh-so lovely to touch. She's gliding, practically air-born with the way he's holding her hand, it suddenly dawns on her how ridiculous this is, going on a first date as some kind of test to see if they're still meant to be together. Sometime in the middle of all of this, something bursts inside of her, and she nearly stop dead in her track.

She already knows she loves him- before and now. It's now that she realizes, in a burst of intuition, she's going to love him for years and years to come. There's no explanation for this epiphany- hence the name, epiphany. There was no string of events that consequently led to this, it just happened somewhere between the soft touches and immeasurable patience he expressed for her. And suddenly, Clare feels like she's going to explode.

"Here it is," he says softly, untying her blindfold to reveal something nothing short of beautiful.

A little pond has frozen into a word of art, surrounded by hundreds of naked trees extending brittle branches in every direction. The greenish-grey plant-life beneath the surface of the ice stands still underneath, creating a gorgeous mosaic of dull colours and different textures. There's a sharp contrast between it and the thin blanket of white snow environing it, and it just looks so incredible.

He waits for a reaction, a positive one in particular. When it doesn't come immediately, he knits his eyebrows together in confusion, wondering if he was wrong in thinking that she would like something like this. He contemplates telling her they could go somewhere else if she doesn't like it, but before he could get any words out, he's thrown backwards by a sudden force.

A sudden force of affection.

Her hands are everywhere at first, exploring his torso and neck and hair in a manner that isn't sloppy, but fueled by intense desire. She isn't looking for gold, because it isn't all that simple- her intention is very clear from the beginning of the grasping and touching, and it's that she can't wait any longer. She needs him as close as possible, and she needs him now.

She slams her lips onto his, prying his mouth open without sanction of any kind. One hand is running across the length of his arm and the base of her shoulders. The other is sliding under his jacket. Eli responses quickly, enthusiastically, having not realize how much tension he was withholding all this time. He explodes too, and together they fall apart. All rationality aside, all prudency tossed to the corner, they work for the same purpose. They're trying to shorten the physical distance between them as much as possible, urgently and desperately at that.

Eli is lying with his back against the snow, Clare on top of him. She's kneeling between his legs, unzipping his jacket to gain better access to his chest. Eli does the same with her, and as soon as his t-shirt underneath is exposed, Eli hastens to pull her down against him. He pushes her down with as much pressure as he could exert without being too rough. It's a somewhat frustrating process, because as intimate as the friction is, it's not enough to satisfy. He craves the feel of her bare skin, right against the bareness of his own. Had it been under ideal circumstances, they'd be cozy under some thick blankets, completely naked and wrapped around each other. Clare wouldn't be wearing nearly as much clothes to start with, either.

She senses the aggravation pouring in their kiss, and abruptly wrenches herself upwards. Breathless and chest heaving heavily, Eli looks up at her with half-lidded eyes, lips apart in surprise. He looks like a kid on the twenty-fourth of December who'd just been told Christmas had been cancelled.

But then instincts kick in, and Clare's reaching for his hand. She places it gently over her clothed breast, both of them shivering as a result of the contact. Both hearts accelerate. Hormones go into overdrive. He gropes her without thinking about it, letting out a low moan.

"Put your hands on me, Eli," she whispers, leaning forward again to capture his lips in another kiss.