InsaneJournal

WHO: John Gilbert & Alaric Saltzman (w/ a guest appearance by Damon Salvatore)
WHAT: Ric is being self-flagellating about the whole ‘possessed by Klaus’ thing. John is being...surprisingly...not a dick about it. Mostly.
WHEN: May 26th & 27th; Evening & Early Morning
WHERE: A punk dive bar downtown
RATING: PG-13
STATUS: Log; COMPLETE

Ric still couldn’t quite process what had happened. It was a lot to adjust to...the knowledge that he had spent weeks as nothing more than a puppet for Klaus, unable to do anything but stare helplessly as things happened without his control. Now that he was back to himself he knew he should be happy, or grateful or anything, but he just couldn’t manage it. He mostly felt numb, hollowed out and tired. He knew his friends were worried, and he didn’t want them to be, but he couldn’t force himself to be fine with it just because Klaus was gone or pretend he was anything other than a mess. The fact that it was over didn’t change anything that had happened. He’d been trapped in his own head for more than a month, watching as that monster hurt people he cared about, and all the while he’d been unable to do anything to stop it. He felt guilty but, more than that, he also felt divorced from the world around him. He’d spent so long isolated, removed from everything and completely alone, that it was all too much now. He wasn’t even sure how he was supposed to act with people and he didn’t really want to try.

Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn’t remembered all of it, but it seemed wrong to want to forget. He needed to know the things he’d done, or he wasn’t sure he would be able to look Jenna in the eyes. Not that he was sure he could do that, even with memories. He hated the things that had happened and he wasn’t sure what to do to make up for them. And to top it off, apparently she died back home and he hadn’t been able to do a thing to help her. He’d been utterly useless. The mess in his head just made it worse, especially as he didn’t see how it could possibly get better. He loved Jenna, but she deserved so much better than having to put him back together after everything that had happened. They all did. So he’d pushed them away, withdrawn into himself, and dealt with it by not dealing with it. He felt dead inside, and in his darker moments he wondered if that might not have been better. If he’d died getting rid of Klaus, there wouldn’t have been this messy aftermath. But he always shook aside those thoughts aside almost before they’d begun as too selfish to even contemplate. He wasn’t enough of a bastard to do that to the others, but it seemed he was enough of one to let himself slowly drift away from them.

He was sitting in the back corner of a bar, nursing a bottle of bourbon and staring at the wall. The bartender had poured a shot first, and drank it with him, so at least he could say he hadn’t drank the whole bottle. She was nice and had taken pity on his sad state. It wasn’t Harvelle’s, because he didn’t want to deal with people he knew, but he was beginning to think he should have stuck with the reasonably quiet bar. There were too many people around this one and it was all too loud and busy and just too much all together. But he wanted to lose himself in the chaos of it all, to just forget for a little while. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to be like this, he just wasn’t sure how to fix it.

John Gilbert was not someone most would mark as a compassionate soul. He had spent much of his youth self-focused and much of the time beyond attempting to walk off anyone who might have the remotest chance of hurting him. Even as he’d tried to open himself up here and be a bit more understanding, the situation continued to throw him curveballs that he simply didn’t expect to deal with. And right now, even as the first complication had been cleared up, another had arisen in its place. The only benefit was that this complication was much less fatal than the last even if it was likely going to be that much more difficult to deal with.

John had already checked a dozen different places until he managed to stumble across the right bar. The crush of the crowd had almost made him leave and check another place, but he’d luckily spotted Ric secluded at a back table acting as though he were the only one in the place before he’d managed to get all the way back to the exit. Having picked his way carefully through the crowd, John slid into a seat next to Ric without so much as waiting for an invitation. He was sure if he had attempted to be polite about it, he wouldn’t have got one. And besides, when was he ever polite?

“And Damon said you wanted to be alone,” John drawled, leaning on the table as he looked sideways at Ric. “An extremely crowded bar seems to be the exact opposite of alone.”

It would have been so easy to just ignore John and continue his drink. All he had to do was wait for the other man to get frustrated and leave, and then he could have returned to his thoughts in peace. Or if not peace, since that seemed a distant thing any more, then solitude at the very least. He didn’t even like the other man, quite the opposite in fact, so it wasn’t as if anyone would really blame him for it. But he couldn’t help feeling guilty about the things he, or rather Klaus, had said. Besides, if nothing else, he wouldn’t have to pretend with John. The other man didn’t care one way or the other about his state of mind.

“You’d be surprised,” he said with a shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle before setting it back down in front of him. “It’s actually a lot easier to be alone in a crowd like this than you might expect.” He paused, not even looking at John. “Or it was before you came in.” He hoped the other man would take the hint and leave, but he doubted that would happen.

Oh, John understood what Alaric was implying. But he also knew that Damon was doing the stupid thing and respecting Ric’s desire for solitude, and if Damon wasn’t going to give Alaric the dose of reality he needed, someone was going to have to do it. Giving him an adjustment period was one thing, but allowing him to dwell on what happened simply because he didn’t desire to interact with them was quite another.

“Shame I don’t have anywhere else I need to be, I suppose,” John said, arching an eyebrow at Alaric, holding the position for a long moment before letting out a heavy sigh. There were two ways that John figured they could do this. Either he could sit here forever waiting for Alaric to realize that he wasn’t leaving and willingly open up about what he was thinking, or he could breach the subject first and hope that he didn’t get punched for his troubles. As he didn’t really care to die of old age before resolving this issue, John opted for the latter plan. “You know nobody blames you, right? You didn’t do anything. It was all Klaus.”

Even as much as it pained John to admit to himself, the very thought that Ric could ever actually hurt Jenna had never crossed his mind. John might have issues with Saltzman that were borne of situations far outside of either of their scopes of control, but he had no delusions about Alaric’s character.

Alaric was quiet for a long moment, not particularly inclined to answer John. Sighing, he took another long sip from the bottle. He needed more alcohol to deal with John Gilbert. A whole ocean of the stuff. The one thing he hadn’t particularly wanted was understanding, and he had assumed it wasn’t a worry with John. But apparently today was Opposite Day or something, because the other man was acting like a decent human being instead of kicking puppies or stealing toys from orphans...or whatever he did in his free time. Okay, maybe his view of the guy was a little skewed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ric said, giving the other man a cold, blank look. Why couldn’t John just leave? Didn’t he see that Ric had a bottle of bourbon to finish. No, not a bottle. The bartender had poured out a shot, so it wasn’t a whole bottle. “It’s not my fault. Nobody blames me. Klaus is gone so obviously everything is fine.” He shook his head. “Well, it’s not fine. No matter how much you all want it to be fine, or how much they want me to be fine, it’s not. I’m not. I’m so far from fine right now that I’m not sure I could tell you what it means any more.”

He felt a little guilty that he could express these thoughts to John and not to Damon or Jenna, but he didn’t like admitting to them that he wasn’t okay. It seemed almost ungrateful, after all they had done to save him, to not be coping. But he couldn’t help it.

“Nobody said fine,” John said, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looked over at Ric. He’d expected a reaction. Not even someone made of stone could deal with watching the things that Klaus had done, hearing the things that he’d threatened to do, and being trapped behind the film of his own eyes helpless to affect any sort of change without reacting to it somehow, but this... this complete shutdown was not at all what John had fathomed happening when they’d managed to rectify the situation. Confinement, perhaps. A few weeks in his apartment without having to deal with anyone other than Jenna and Damon. But not hiding out in a nearly off the map bar with a bunch of strangers partying the night away with him sitting in the corner doing...well, nothing.

“Who ever said that anyone expected you to be fine? Nobody could have come out of that unscathed, and considering half of us thought you were dead before we even attempted to get you back, just seeing you in one, somewhat functioning piece is a relief. At least, as long as you don’t kill yourself before they really get the chance to express it. I certainly hope that’s your first bottle. Unless you’re actively trying to poison your bloodstream. Are you?” It seemed a reasonable question, after all, since nobody had really been paying any attention to his behavior as of late in lieu of ‘giving him his space’ so John was more surprised that he hadn’t found Ric facedown on the bar.

“Well, who’d have guessed,” Ric said dryly. “It looks like you actually have a soul somewhere in there, deep down under all the bastard.” He immediately felt bad for saying it, and took a sip of bourbon to cover his uncomfortableness. “I’m sorry...that was uncalled for. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you.” And maybe that was the problem. He was so busy trying to keep from offending people or upsetting them by lashing out with some of this pent up emotion that he didn’t even notice how much he was shutting down. It was that much worse, knowing they’d thought he was dead. “It’s not even a full bottle,” he explained, holding the bottle up and looking at it, as if that made drinking the better part of a bottle of bourbon perfectly acceptable. “Bartender poured out a shot. Besides, I’m not going to pass out and die or anything.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “Maybe it would have been better if they’d been right,” he said, more to himself than John. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d spoke the words rather than thinking them.

John wasn’t surprised by the comment or the apology. Alaric was no saint, but he was certainly more light than he was darkness, and to follow up a sharp, cutting remark like that with an apology was far more like him than digging into a deep emotional wound was. “I should have realized sooner,” John said after a moment, “that something was off. I was so focused on how Jenna was acting, I didn’t even realize you were being abnormally cutting,” He said before any other comments from him were stopped cold.

All John could do in the face of Ric’s last utterance was stare. He couldn’t possibly think that, could he? Klaus had done a lot of horrible things while he was here, and while Ric had had to suffer with the knowledge of them all, he couldn’t possibly feel as though not coming back would have been better than being rid of the Original without unnecessary lost life.

“Nobody believes that,” John said the second he managed to recover his voice. “Not a single one of us would rather that you were dead, and you’ve got to believe it considering I’m the one who would be most likely to.” Leaning forward on the table, John fixed Alaric with a determined expression. He didn’t entirely expect to convince Alaric to get up, walk out of this bar, and go immediately back to the people who would have loved to have seen him right now, but if John was going to do anything, he was going to do his damnedest to make Ric reconsider what he was doing here. “You’re a good person, Ric. All jealousy and other issues aside, you mean well, you tend to follow through, and try as I might, I could never find even the greyest of intentions in any of your actions. Even lying to Jenna, you did to protect her. You have no reason to doubt yourself or any of your reactions to this situation. You might think you need to be alone, Ric, but...take it from someone who knows, being alone is the worst feeling in the world. Don’t let yourself lose them because you’re afraid.”

“Oh, I could have easily said something like that,” Ric said. “I’m more of a bastard than people give me credit for being. I’d just have felt bad about it afterwards. I don’t think Klaus actually understands the concept of remorse. Or if he ever did, it’s been too long since he felt it for him to remember what it means.” He smile grimly at John’s words, letting out a harsh bark of laughter. “Why would you have noticed anything?” he asked. “It’s not like you actually know me. Nobody else noticed anything was wrong, why should you have seen it?” And he wanted to hate them all a little for that or blame them, because he’d been in that position for weeks and nobody save Parker had notice anything wrong. but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry. It wasn’t fair to them. They’d suffered as much as him, maybe even more. But there were all these conflicting emotions inside of him and he had no idea how to deal with them all. So shutting it all out was just easier, no matter how wrong it might have been.

He was a little confused by John’s reaction, but quickly realized that he’d spoken aloud instead of just thinking when he’d speculated about his own death. Damn it. It wasn’t like he was suicidal or anything, he just had these thoughts sometimes. He never did anything with them and never would, but sometimes when the weight of all of it was too much he thought about how much easier it would have been if he’d just slipped away with Klaus. It was selfish, horribly so, but he couldn’t help his thoughts or his feelings. He hated John in that moment because he knew the other man was right. He knew that he was only hurting himself by pushing everyone else away and, worse than that, he was hurting them too. He just didn’t know how to fix it.

“I lost track of how long I was in there,” he admitted, staring blankly at the table. It was strange, opening up like this to John, but he didn’t know if he could manage it with Damon or Jenna. He didn’t want them to see how not okay he was. “It felt like years. And no matter how much I fought him...it was completely useless. And eventually, I gave up. I hate myself for that but...I honestly thought I was never coming out of it.” He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his head to his hands. It felt a little like he imagined a dam breaking would, giving voice to these feelings. “I could see everything he did. But that’s it. I couldn’t feel...anything. It was like...I can’t put it into words. Everything was muted, I guess. And now it’s like I can’t breathe because there’s just...so much. Everything is just there and loud and bright and...I don’t know how to deal with it all. I think I forgot how. And I know I’m screwing up, I know that, but I’m barely holding it together and I’m not sure how long I can keep it up.” He sighed. “So tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, for one thing,” John started, deciding that if Ric was going to ask for advice, he might as well give it even if there was a possibility that he hadn’t wanted anything at all and had just been expressing how impossible it was to figure out where to go to next from the position that he was in, “you should probably stop hiding out in bars with enough shit going on that it acts like a sensory deprivation filter by creating so much white noise and actually get used to the world being there. The longer you avoid readjusting, it’s just going to get harder to do it,” That tended to hold true for most things that one just stopped doing and refused to try again. John had no idea what he was asking Ric to try and overcome, but he did know that if the other man just allowed this all to consume him, the result wouldn’t be good for anyone involved. “You never struck me as the type to just roll over and give up, Alaric, no matter what the situation was. It was what made taunting you so enjoyable. I’m sure if you put that stubbornness to good use, you’ll be able to overcome this.”

“And you don’t have to do it alone,” because, really, that was the main issue as far as John could see. Ric was trying to manage what he was feeling by himself instead of relying on the people who cared about him, who would be willing to help him shoulder the burden no matter how heavy it might be. They all might have had their own issues to deal with in this place, sure, but if there was one thing that John was certain the others would do, it’s stand by Ric no matter how difficult what he was dealing with got or how he behaved because of it. “You shouldn’t be afraid to tell them what’s going on, Ric. I’m sure they’ll understand a lot better than I ever would.”

“But I like hiding out in sensory deprivation bars,” Ric said with an edge of sarcasm, taking another drink of bourbon. Huh...it was empty now. When did that happen? “The world...fuck the world. It...the world sucks, John. It absolutely, completely sucks. So...fuck it. Fuck all of it.” He glanced over at John. “Isobel did that to me. Isobel. You, out of anyone, have to know what that...I loved her. I still do, with her compulsion gone, in spite of everything. And she betrayed me. She let Klaus use me like that and I know...I just know she’s gone. The woman I married is dead. And I think that’s the worst thing about it.” Because, as much as he was moving on, he didn’t want to give up on Isobel. He didn’t want to be with her any more, he truly did love Jenna more than he had ever loved her, but he wanted to believe that she was still a good person. He glared at John when the other man said he’d never seemed like the type to just give up, and he barely resisted the urge to punch him. “Fuck you,” he said. “You don’t have any idea what it was like, so don’t pretend you know...anything.” He shook his head. “I’m not giving up, John. I’m just...taking some time. Is that suddenly not allowed? Hell, I’m not killing anyone. Or coming up with evil plots to kill vampires. As far as coping mechanisms go, I’d say this is pretty damned well-adjusted.”

“Maybe I don’t want them to be a part of this,” he said, suddenly feeling impossibly old and tired. “They’ve both been through enough and they don’t need my problems on top of the rest of it. The things Jenna had to deal with...what with Klaus and Jules, she doesn’t need to be worrying about me on top of all that. It’s not fair to her.” He took a steadying breath before he continued, not looking at John. “She needs someone better than what I can be. And I think...maybe she would be better off without me. At least for a while.” He would hate it, but Jenna should have someone who wasn’t such a mess. Who didn’t feel so numb. “I think I’m gonna move out.”

John didn’t even have to think about it. It was almost like an automatic reflex to those last few words, and even as he realized that smacking Ric over the back of the head probably wasn’t going to end well for him, it was something that simply had to be done. “Wake up, Ric. This pity party isn’t doing anyone any good. Time is one thing. Cutting yourself off from them like this is completely another, and now you’re talking about moving out when this is pretty much the time that Jenna needs you most...” John huffed, turning away from Ric in disgust and glaring at the table in front of him.

“So much for never pegging you for someone that didn’t give up. I never pegged you for such a selfish, thoughtless, inconsiderate bastard,” He said, pushing himself away from the table and standing as he looked down at Ric. “Drink yourself stupid for all I care. You’ll just wake up in a gutter three weeks from now and realize how much you’ve done to fuck up your life over nothing and how many people you’ve hurt because of it. And you know who’s going to be there while you let things fall apart? I am.”

Ric had almost forgotten why he hated John so much, but then he had to go and open his mouth. He knew there was some truth to the words, but what right did John have to pass judgment on him. Jenna was better off without him in her life. He couldn’t imagine her wanting him around after the way Klaus had used him to terrorize her, and leaving would save her the trouble of slowly pulling away from him. Damon would look after her, and she would be happier not having to be constantly reminded of the things that had happened. So John could shut up, because he had no idea what he was talking about.

He’d punched John almost before he realized what he had done. It felt good, in a strange way, to be so angry. He was feeling something, in a way he hadn’t in too long. It cut through the apathy and the numbness that had been building like a wall around him since he’d come back. “You’re one to talk,” he said. “You’ve fucked off more time than I can count. You fucked up with Is and Jenna and Elena and who knows who else and you’re judging me? Screw you, John. You wouldn’t know the first thing about fixing anything. All you do is ruin things.”

“But at least I don’t run away from my problems!” John countered, raising a hand to wipe the blood off his face and ignoring the fact that a good many people around their table had stopped to stare at the two of them. “I do what I can to seek out a solution, to find a way to help as best that I could, and I put that to work. It might not always work, but I try. You’re wallowing,” John spat, a heavy intensity flashing in his eyes as he glared at Alaric. “You’re dwelling in what can’t be changed instead of looking for a way to push past it, and it’s pathetic. And what’s more pathetic is that you’re allowing what you feel now to rip down everything good that’s left in your life,” John growled, stepping forward until he was barely a few inches from Ric, fixing him with a hard stare. “At least I know when something is important enough to hold onto.”

“Try to help?” Ric asked incredulously. “When have you ever done a thing to help another person in your life? Were you helping Jenna when you destroyed our relationship back home out of spite? Were you helping Elena when you lied to her? When you tried to kill her boyfriend because of your own stupid, bullshit prejudices? Were you helping when you worked with Katherine behind her back?” He glared at John. “Oh, I’ve got it. You must have been helping when you got us all fucked over because you let yourself be led around by your dick by a self-serving vampire whore because you were too fucking stupid to see that she was playing you!” And then he punched John again, feeling a vicious little thrill at the action.

The punch sent John reeling backwards, but it was the words that hurt more, each statement touching a raw nerve that John had yet to manage to smooth over and provoked a rage in him that he certainly hadn’t wanted to flare when he had come here to talk. But this was hardly how he had anticipated any of this going. John wasn’t sure what spurred his next action, whether it was his own hurt or his anger or just a desire to pummel Ric’s mouth shut, but as he rushed forward and slammed into Ric’s gut at full force to knock him back into the table that they had been sitting at a second before, all he could think was that he wanted to hurt the man in front of him worse than he had ever wanted to hurt anyone in his life.

Ric should have been angry, furious really, and on some level he did. The wind was knocked out of him and he desperately wanted to beat the shit out of John Gilbert. But under all of that was a strange sort of elation, a thrill of honest happiness that ran counter to what was happening. He felt alive for the first time since Klaus had made him a prisoner in his own body. He felt like himself in a way he hadn’t before, settled once more in his own skin. He had no illusions that he was fixed, it wouldn’t be quite so easy as one little bar fight, but it was a step. Even as he threw another punch at John, he felt that much more at peace. He hadn’t been in a bar fight since college, and it was ridiculous to be having one in his thirties. He spared a moment to consider how glad he was this hadn’t happened at the Roadhouse, not wanting to think about facing Ellen after something like that, before giving himself over to the situation. It felt good, and it had been too long since he’d felt good.

John felt his head snap back as Ric’s fist connected with it again, and his scrambled mind couldn’t help but wonder why Ric kept scoring face hits. Had to be all that time with Damon Salvatore. He must have been able to perfect his punching technique several times over. Lashing out himself, John growled, throwing a punch with one hand and snagging Ric’s shirt with the other to haul him forward and try and throw him to the floor. Maybe if he got the high ground in this fight, he wouldn’t end up quite so scrambled in the noggin as he felt right now. It was as though all of the anger in the situation had suddenly dissipated and right now, all the concerned John was winning.

Ric hadn’t been learning to fight from punching Damon in the face. He’d been learning to fight from sparring with Eliot, a guy who had apparently liberated Croatia to get over a girl. You know...like all sensible men did. John’s punch hit, and it hurt like a bitch, but Ric didn’t let it slow him down at all. He stomped down hard on John’s foot, to distract him and get a second to breathe. Once that was done, he brought up his elbow, aiming for John’s throat, then lashed out with his leg at the back of the other man’s knee, hoping to knock him down to the floor. Luckily, he’d picked up a lot of little tricks for close quarters fighting from his friend and he had no qualms about using them against the other man. In fact, he was actually enjoying it.

John had never been a very physical individual. He had manage his life on wit and charm and a deceptive streak a thousand miles long, so faced with a volley of blows from someone not only taller and stronger but clearly a more experienced fighter, John found himself downed without much of an effort. Of course, being a not very physical individual meant that John was willing to engage in tactics that most men would have avoided during hand-to-hand combat like throwing a kick back into Ric’s family jewels the second he’d hit the floor.

Ric doubled over with a groan as John kicked him where no man ever wanted to be kicked, taking a moment to recover from the blow. As he did, John scored another hit that knocked him to the floor. Now that they were on even ground once more, however horizontal that ground might have been, Ric fell right back into the fight, delivering a low, hard punch to the other man’s side before kneeing him sharply between the legs. John should know how it felt after all. He felt sore and bloody, and he’d probably hurt like hell tomorrow, but he also felt a faint sense of satisfaction.

John really should have expected that. It was an equal sort of retribution for fighting as dirty as he had, and as he reeled from the punch to the side (he was almost sure Ric had hit a vital organ there) and the kick to his groin, John held up his hands and mimed a timeout. He didn’t really expect it to be followed, but he could make the best attempt that he could in order to recover himself from such a double blow. Plus, the sirens that were sounding in the background didn’t really bode well for where this situation was heading. Actually, John was surprised that they’d been allowed to go on this long, but apparently in a daft punker bar where people were spending most of their time blitzing their brains out, fights in the back corner weren’t that big a concern.

Ric was pretty sure no normal person asked for a timeout in the middle of a fist fight. Then again, John Gilbert could never be confused with any sort of normal person, least of all the sort who knew how to handle themselves in a fist fight. And, like any decent, honorable man in the middle of a bar fight, he completely ignored him. He threw another punch at John, paying no attention to the sound of police sirens. Honestly, getting arrested and spending a night in jail with John Gilbert would just about top off to this godawful night. Maybe he could fashion a shiv and murder the man. Of course, then Parker would probably give him an unhappy look, so maybe not.

Well, so much for hoping that Ric would actually give him a bit of a break in this. As Ric’s fist connected with his face and the back of his head connected with the bar floor, John lashed out again, swinging with both fists and hoping to land something as his vision blurred because of the various blows that he’d already taken. The whirl of sirens was still echoing in his head when what seemed like a floating minute later, he felt himself being hauled forcibly to his feet. “All right, guys. That’s enough,” John heard an unfamiliar voice say in his ears as his arms were pulled behind his back and his wrists were cuffed. “Time for you to dry out.”

Ric was pretty sure he was going to have a black eye now, and he could taste blood in his mouth, but he didn’t care. This was the best he’d felt in ages, as strange as that was to contemplate. As he was pulled away from John, and had his wrists cuffed behind his back, he began to laugh almost without thinking about it. He continued laughing, even as they were pulled outside by the police officers, the sound taking on a vaguely hysterical edge toward the end. He was fairly certain the cops thought he was drunk or drugged out of his mind, but honestly the only alternative was breaking down and he’d chosen the opposite. Once he finally had himself under control he looked at the police with a slight smile, as if he wasn’t at all worried about the fact that he was handcuffed and about to be dragged to jail.

“So, what’s Asaph’s grand plan with all this?” he asked non-chalantly and, as always with such questions, they immediately went into a sort of deer-in-the-headlights stare. Once he was sure they wouldn’t react, he twisted his arms and slipped out of the cuffs like Parker taught him. It took a little longer than he was used to, considering she’d never taught him about escaping handcuffs after getting beat to holy hell, but he managed it. He looked at the cuffs for a minute, then pocketed them and grabbed the keys from one of the dumbstruck policemen. Unlocking John’s cuffs, he looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Come on then, he said, walking over to his car, “unless you actually want to spend a night in lock-up...”

He knew Parker had been a horrible influence on him when he leaned down, pulled out the wires, and hotwired his own car. Sliding over to the passenger seat, because he wasn’t enough of a bastard to drive after a bottle of bourbon, he looked back at John. “Hurry up already,” he said. “They won’t be like that forever.”

John had been completely fine with spending the night in jail. Well, not fine, but he had accepted it by the time that the police had hauled them to their feet and out of the bar. He’d been trying not to find Alaric’s laughter as disturbing as it really was to the point that it took John a moment to notice that he’d even stopped after he’d asked the guards the one question they simply couldn’t handle. As it was, John ended up almost as dumbstruck as the policemen as he stared at Ric, trying to piece together everything that had just happened. And here he was, the one that was stone cold sober.

Okay, this wasn’t going according to plan. Not that Ric had planned to be arrested with John Gilbert, then have to improvise an escape. But a vague sort of plan had formed that hadn’t involved John standing around like an idiot. Rolling his eyes, he pushed down on the horn. “Come on,” he shouted. “If I drive, I’ll probably crash and die and Jenna will be annoyed. And if you walk home, you’ll probably pass out in a ditch and die. So come the hell on. Seriously, what part of that was difficult to understand?” He sighed. “I’m giving you ten seconds, Gilbert, then I’m either leaving you here or throwing you in the trunk. I’m not sure which yet.”

“Well, at least you’re not brooding anymore,” John said with a slight roll of his eyes as he finally snapped back into himself and slid into the driver’s seat. Just in time for the cops to snap back into themselves. Closing the door quickly and throwing the car into drive, they managed to put a great deal of space between themselves and the two cops who seemed less than bothered that they had lost their most recent collar. “Even if I have to ask now,” John said as he checked the rear-view mirror for any sign of the police attempting to give chase, “exactly where I’m supposed to be headed.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s still plenty of capacity for brooding in there,” Ric said with a shrug, “but punching your face in helped.” He paused. “I mean that...weird as it sounds.” He considered John’s question for a moment, then shrugged. “I hadn’t got that far yet. I mean...I got us away from the cops and provided a getaway vehicle, and now I need to work out a destination too?” He paused and thought about it. “Jenna’s still at your place...right? Because I really don’t want her seeing me like this.” At least he was no longer talking about breaking up with her for her own good. “I guess you can crash on our couch. I might even be really nice and let Damon kill you...you’d probably heal up when you cam back. Or he can give you vampire blood...but then he enforces a strict ‘don’t do anything interesting for twenty-four hours’ rule. Your choice.”

“Jenna’s still at my place, yeah,” John said, not really sure whether he should count this as progress or not. Ric wasn’t talking as though it was the end of the world, but he’d also had to punch in someone’s face in order for it to happen. But John supposed as long it as was his face they were talking about, he could count it as a win. “And sometimes, I really have to wonder what sort of a mess our lives have to be where having someone kill me can actually be considered a favor,” John said, shaking his head with a sigh. He did feel like he was going to need to get patched up, big time, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he should really risk either option.

“As long as you can get Damon to agree he’s not going to kill me immediately after the blood thing, I suppose I could risk it. I’m not sure if the ring would actually heal anymore than being dead, and I’ve already had Stefan force fed me his blood and threaten my life. I’m not looking for an encore presentation.”

“I solemnly swear that, as much as Damon might want to snap your neck or something after giving you blood just to be a dick, he won’t,” Ric told John as he looked up at the sky. “He wouldn’t want to put up with you forever, and Parker would be very annoyed if he staked you and would probably stop feeding him locals or get her angel boyfriend to smite him. So, you’re safe if you take the blood. Scout’s honor.” And he even made the hand gesture, because of course Alaric Saltzman had been a goddamn boyscout. Nobody was surprised by this not-actually-a-revelation. “Wait...wait...Stefan force-fed you his blood then threatened to kill you?” He looked really confused. “Was he mirrorverse-Stefan at the time? No...wait...that’s Star Trek, not real life. Actually...I can totally buy that. The dickish thing, not the mirrorverse thing. Stefan’s way too ‘good’ and ‘honest’. He’s got to be fucked up under all that.”

“Can I just say,” Ric said suddenly, “that I still can’t believe you called for a timeout in the middle of a fist fight in a bar. Who does that? Have you ever even been in a fist fight before in your life? I mean...seriously...how do you not get eaten every time you go looking for vampires?”

“And I am really starting to think stopping Damon from killing Klaus outright was probably the best decision I’ve ever made. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what got me into Parker’s good graces as she was pretty damn wary of me before that moment,” John said, side-eyeing Ric’s boy scout oath gesture and trying very hard not to look as amused as he felt. Alaric must have been really drunk, and yet, he was somehow still conscious and reasonably coherent. He probably made most functional alcoholics look like they were laying down on the job.

“And yeah, he did. After I was attacked by Katherine, while I was in the hospital,” John said. He hadn’t been at all surprised by Stefan’s behavior. He’d read the Gilbert journals, and he was perfectly aware of what Stefan was truly capable of. His worries were mostly over whether or not Elena was. “He said that if I wasn’t out of town by midnight, he’d force me to turn and enjoy watching me loathe myself. But considering everything he’s done throughout the years, I’m hardly surprised,” John frowned as he stopped a red light, leaning back in the seat to wait for it to change. “You know, part of me has to wonder if I would really be so concerned about Elena if she’d picked Damon. I mean, there’d be issues, obviously. But I’m not so sure I’d be worried about him losing control and ripping her throat out.”

As the light turned green again, John scowled over at Ric, “Cunning, tactic, and wit. That’s how I manage not to get eaten. Unlike you and your little vampire buddy, I don’t feel the need to punch every problem I face until it screams uncle and submits to brutal torture.”

“It probably was,” Ric conceded, “in terms of making a friend out of Parker. She’s a good person to have on your side, and she always has her friends’ backs. Honestly, without her I don’t know how long it would have been before someone noticed what was going on.” There was a hint of bitterness, just the slightest hint, and disappointment in his voice. He had clearly expected that someone else would realize before a girl who had only known him a few short months. Jenna, at least, had the excuse of being compelled to secrecy. “She taught me everything I know about handcuffs...and ropes, chains, straight jackets...it’s useful stuff. Every now and then I’ll help her with a con. It saves me from the mundanity of teaching classes primarily composed of what amounts to automatons.” But the words were almost fond, rather than critical. Clearly he loved teaching, even when most of the class was locals.

“That’s just...wow, that’s messed up,” Ric said, shaking his head. “I mean, I’ve always known there’s something off about him. He’s a good guy, but...he seems too good. You know what I mean? I trust Damon when he talks about the past, because he’ll own up to his issues. Stefan...it seems almost whitewashed. But, at the end of the day he does good, and I’d rather have him on our side than have to work against him. I get the feeling he’d be one scary enemy.” He shrugged. “Still, I never let my guard down with him. Damon’s predictable, in his own messed up, Damon-y way. I can count on him to occasionally freak the hell out and eat some people, then get his shit together. With Stefan...hell, he could be making coffee one minute and going for your neck the next.” He laughed. “But honestly? I don’t get why either of them wants Elena. Nothing against her, she’s a great kid, but...we’re both well past the point when a seventeen-year-old has any affect on us and we’re only in our thirties. They’ve past the century mark. It just seems weird.”

“Cunning, tactic and wit,” Ric said with a snort, “got you manipulated by Isobel and nearly killed by Katherine. I mean...I get it. I do. I looked for her for two years. I would have kept looking. But after what she did...some day you’ll just have to accept that the girl we loved isn’t there any more. And you’ll be better off for it.” He sighed. “You’re a decent guy, under all the posturing and dickishness. Don’t let Is drag you down.”

“I would have confronted you eventually,” John said, sparing a sideways glance at Ric. “If only because of how off Jenna was acting. You’re not exactly the type to inspire fear, Alaric. Amusement, affection, annoyance...other words beginning with A but not fear, and even with Jenna denying it, I could tell that she was genuinely afraid. It got done a lot quicker because of Parker,” He said with a deprecating smile. “Which probably isn’t much comfort to you since it took a month as it was. But she was determined that we were going to save your life as well as get rid of Klaus so that’s what we did. Well, it’s what the witches did. The rest of us just had to stay safe and wait.”

Taking a turn and heading back towards the apartment complexes, John couldn’t help but smile in a vague amusement as Ric’s only mild surprise, “There’s a reason that Damon is more willing to be open about his past. The truth of the situation is that he didn’t decline into severe misdeeds until a handful of decades into the twentieth century, and even then, the frequency and severity of his actions were often equally proportionate to Stefan’s proximity to him at the time. In all honesty, his views of his behavior are perhaps far more skewed towards the negative, him thinking himself capable and responsible of far more evil than he’s actually brought down upon any one place at one time. Stefan, on the other hand... Well, with everything he’s done, whitewashing it is really the only option. Mass murder on that scale can only properly be compared with a natural disaster.”

He had always been sure to do his homework, to track these things down as thoroughly as possible, and on top of the actions depicted in the Gilbert journals, he had followed movements, waves of death blames on marauders or disasters, a host of things that simply didn’t add up with accounts. He’d tracked down various sights and recorded information on as many individual vampires as he could. It was why when Isobel had expressed a desire to meet one of them, he had sent her to Damon. Of all of the ones that he’d been able to keep tabs on, the elder Salvatore had been the most stable. Relatively speaking, of course.

“Lingering issues with Katherine, childish affections, a simple desire to have what they want without any consideration of the consequences or long term realities? I think we can both agree that Damon might as well be a child with the way that he behaves to situations at times. And Stefan is a completely separate and far more troubling set of issues to consider,” John shook his head with a sigh, leaning back against the seat as they reached a stoplight and closed his eyes for a moment. “In the end, I’m simply going to trust that in a few years, Elena is going to have the sense to move on with her life. I know my daughter, even as much as she doesn’t think that I do. And she’s strong. She’s hardly going to be able to live her life for just one person especially if it means missing out on everything that it should be full of.”

With a sigh, John sat back up in the seat and watched the light turn green again. The apartments were well in sight now so it wouldn’t be long before they could just sleep this off. “Isobel is just afraid,” He said quietly after a long moment of silence. “It’s easier not to feel because that’s the instinct at first. Shut it off, don’t think about it, push it away, and do what you have to in order to survive. It’s only been a couple years... She never got the chance to get beyond that at home, but... But here, if she realizes she doesn’t have to ignore it all, to just accept the things she’s done and the things she feels... She’s still in there somewhere,” John said after a moment. “I know that I shouldn’t think that, that I should just let her go, but...” John laughed, a sad, broken sort of laugh as he shook his head. “She married someone else, made it clear that she didn’t care about me at all, and I still hadn’t managed to let her go. What makes this so much different?”

"Not exactly reassuring," Ric said with a derisive snort. "The guy who hates me assumes there's something wrong with me. Shocking." But nobody else had noticed aside from Parker and, in a lot of ways, that bothered him. Klaus hadn't even really tried to be him and it hadn't mattered. He shook his head. "I'm grateful to Parker, I really am. And to Bonnie and the others for what they did. Hell, I'm glad you didn't let Damon just kill me. For all I said before, I don't want to be dead. I'm just...I don't even know." He looked over at John. "How is Jenna?" he asked. "Is she all right? I mean...I didn't mean what I said. I'm not going to...I would never leave her. I love her, John. More than anything. I just...don't know where we're supposed to go from here. How can she look at me and not see the things he did?"

"Damon likes to think he's evil and irredeemable and blah blah blah," Ric said with a roll of his eyes that clearly said what he thought about that idea, "because it makes it easier for him to accept when life and other people completely screw him over. After all, why should things work out for him? He's a bastard who doesn't deserve to be happy. The sad part is, he has himself so deluded that he tries to live up to this image of a person he's never really been." He looked up at the sky, going quiet for a moment. "Don't get me wrong," he assured John, "I will always remember what Damon is. I know he's dangerous and he could lose control and become a monster just like every other vampire. But I don't think he will. Because deep down, vampires are the same people they were before they were turned. The man Damon was in 1864 left the war on principle. He wouldn't kill people for the sake of it. I just wish Damon could drop the act...but I think he's forgotten by this point that he's even acting."

"Stefan, on the other hand, is more dangerous than Elena will probably ever realize," he continued. "Of the two of them, he seems the far more dangerously codependent. I wouldn't be surprised to find there were underlying psychological issues even when he was human. I mean...just look at how he paints Damon out to be this villain, to frankly extreme levels, when he was the one who forced Damon into becoming a vampire in the first place. Honestly, from my admittedly slightly drunk perspective, it's like he's punishing Damon for what he sees as his brother abandoning him after they were turned. And with Elena...his devotion is almost unhealthy...hell, forget the almost. He's got issues, that's all there is to it. But, he's not someone I want as an enemy, so...rock and a hard place."

"Damon needs someone who isn't going to walk all over him," he said, "and, I'm sorry, but your daughter does that. All the damn time. I don't know where it comes from, because she's a good person, but she knows how he feels about her and she uses it to manipulate him. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it sometimes, because he can be a real ass, but it's not a healthy habit for her to be developing. It's too much like Katherine and Isobel for my tastes. The last thing I want is Elena going down the same path they are. It will only end badly for her." He sighed. "But, at the end of the day, we're all screwed up beyond telling. The best we can hope for is she'll go to college and meet a nice human boy, or hell...a girl even, and realize she doesn't want to tie herself to dead people." He laughed suddenly. "And it's bad when sudden lesbianism is preferable to her current relationship." He did feel paternal toward Elena. In another world he might have been her stepfather, the way things were going he'd probably be her uncle, and in his time in Mystic Falls he'd done his best to look out for her. "But I'm done drunkenly psychoanalyzing everyone else. I'll leave that to the professionals. Besides, I could out screwed up just about anyone right now, so I have no room to talk."

"Actually, no, I'm going to keep going," he said, "because I need to get this out and you need to hear this. You're a good...okay, you're not really a 'good man'. In fact, you're kind of an epic jackass. But you have good intentions. You let me punch you in the face a lot because you knew it would do me good, and don't even tell me you didn't. Nobody is that fucking awful at fighting. The point is...you don't entirely suck." He was getting off track. "Isobel is selfish. She is a manipulative, self-serving bitch who only cares about herself. I loved her, and part of me always will, but it doesn't stop that from being true. She told Jenna she was alive because she was jealous and felt like being petty. She compelled me to get over her because it made her life easier, and then told me about it because it made it easier for her to walk away. She looked me in the eyes and told me she loved me while she was damning me. One day, that woman is going to get you killed if you don't walk away, and it'll be a goddamn waste." He was quiet for a moment, not really wanting to look at John after that moment of unexpected openness, then he glanced over at the other man. "How about we pretend that whole...pseudo moment right there...never happened?"

“Drunken oversharing never happened. Gotcha,” John said as he pulled into the parking area near the apartment, pulling the car in park and turning it off. He just sat there for a long moment, letting the cab light in the car be main illumination on the scene as he looked over at Ric. “Because it wasn’t you. Jenna’s a smart girl, Alaric. She knows the difference between you and someone using you as an elaborate puppet. She’s not going to hate you just because someone used your body to do horrible things in a situation where you had no choice or control over what was done. And maybe, maybe if you talked to her, you’d be able to sort this out together instead of you fretting over it and her fretting over you,” He said before opening the door and climbing out of the car, resting his hand on the hood as he leaned back in and grinned at Alaric. “To be perfectly frank, I think the one thing that she would love right now is to actually see you.”

Closing the door, John leaned back against the car as he waited for Alaric, “And the Salvatores have their issues. We could probably expound upon them for the rest of our lives if we tried, and they’d still go on having them long after we’re both dead and gone. But you’re right that Elena isn’t suited for either of them. I don’t doubt that they love her in their own...messed up ways, but neither of them could provide her with what she needs out of life. Especially since what she needs more than anything is to be allowed to be normal.”

“Awesome,” Ric said, glad that they were choosing to pretend the whole thing where he was really honest about his opinions regarding everyone had never happened. He was less comfortable when John started excusing the things that had happened. “I would have thought you of all people would want to blame me,” he admitted. “I think I’d almost like it better if you were. I mean...I know it wasn’t me that did all those things, but I was there for it. I didn’t stop it...I couldn’t stop it. And I just feel so guilty that I couldn’t do...something to stop him. Hell, I would have kneecapped myself if I could have, just to slow him down.” It would have hurt like hell, but he’d have done it. Besides, Parker probably would have got her angel boyfriend to fix him up after they’d got rid of Klaus. “I guess that’s why it felt so good...getting in that fight with you. I wasn’t trapped. I wasn’t helpless. For the past month, I couldn’t fight back or...do anything. And then suddenly I could.” He sighed. “But you’re right. I need to talk to Jenna. I’ve been selfish, and I need to stop just thinking about myself. She needs me right now...and that’s more important than...my issues.” He paused. “But in the morning. I don’t think the me she wants to see is drunk-me.”

Ric got out of the car, with surprising ease for someone who was most definitely drunk. “Elena needs a break from all the vampires and werewolves and...fucking...werepires,” he agreed. “She needs a chance to remember what a normal life is like. She can’t just bury her head in the sand, because that’s just as likely to get her dead as throwing herself into this sort of life, but she needs to deal with normal people who aren’t neck deep in this shit. But we both know that won’t happen for a while.” He pulled out his keys as they walked up to the building. “But enough about that. I’m going to need to focus all my attention on not falling up the stairs.”

“Not...exactly what I meant,” John said, turning to follow him with a shake of the head. Ric meant well. He really did. But John was getting a little frustrated with his apparent inability to find the happy medium between extremes. “You both need to talk about what happened, Alaric. She’s going to be troubled by this. You’re going to be troubled by this. You need to focus on each other, not...just one person focusing entirely on another at the detriment of their own well being. But yeah, enough about that. I’ll follow you up. Maybe if you trip, I’ll keep you from falling completely. Or you’ll be too heavy for me to stop, and we’ll both end up a bloody, tangled mess at the bottom of the stairs. Either or.”

“I guess that could work too,” Ric said, focusing his attention of the stairs like he’d told John he would. “But we’ll work that out later. For now, stairs.” He stumbled a few times, and was increasingly grateful that he only lived on the second floor, but managed to remain mostly upright on the way to the apartment. Reaching it, he leaned against the wall and squinted, poking his tongue out slightly as he tried to get his key in the lock. After a few failed attempted, he succeeded and all but fell through the door. “Damon,” he said as he got to his feet again, looking around. “Can you come help with...oh, would you look at that. The floor moved. Could you come and...blood. Please? For John too. And don’t murder him. I already punched him in the face. A lot. It was cathartic.”

Damon had overheard Ric’s attempt to get into the apartment and had already stepped out into the living area in order to great his clear sauced best friend. What he hadn’t expected was for Ric to not only be drunk but mildly bruised and accompanied by John Gilbert. Narrowing his eyes at the pair of them from where he had been leaning back against the couch, it took him a second to move from there into the foyer, narrowing his eyes at John as he leaned down to keep Ric from falling over again. “You both look like shit,” Damon stated point blank as he tucked an arm under Ric’s shoulder and helped him over to the couch.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” John muttered as he closed the door behind him. “I’m guessing the bottle of bourbon he had is finally starting to catch up with him.”

“Yeah. It tends to do that the second he gets in the door,” Damon muttered as he dropped his friend down onto the couch and then lanced his own wrist with his fangs and held it out for Ric. “What did you say to make him punch you, anyway?”

Ric gave them both a look. “I’m right here,” he said, slightly offended. The feeling passed, quickly as he thought back to the fight with John. “Something about...fuck if I know...he’s a really awful fighter,” he was clearly amused by how bad John was when it came to fighting. “He’s just...terrible. Worst I’ve ever seen.” He laughed. “Until he kneed me in the balls. That fucking hurt. But I might have broke his...kidney...so we’re even.”

He paused as he noticed Damon’s wrist. Right. He took hold of Damon’s wrist and held it to his mouth, sucking at the wound for a moment. “You know,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, “stuff like that is probably why Parker and Kate thought we were...you know. Most people don’t...suck on people they’re not dating.” But that was beside the point. What was the point again?

“Oh right,” he said aloud, “we got arrested-ish. Half-arrested. They cuffed us, but I slipped mine. And unlocked John’s. And then we hotwired my car and John drove us here.” He looked over at Damon. “Now give him blood too. If he dies, I’ll feel bad in the morning. Probably.”

Damon wrinkled his nose at John, standing up and crossing over to the kitchen and getting out a shot glass, piercing his wrist again and slicing harder into the skin, letting the blood drip into the glass and holding it out to John as the wound on his arm healed over, “The only people that suck on my wrist are people I like,” He said as John arched an eyebrow and took the glass.

“You’re saying that as if I’d be offended by you making it more dignified for me,” John said, eyeing the contents cautiously before saluting Damon with the glass and drinking the contents. He was staggered, however, when the second after he’d swallowed, Damon lunged at him, grabbing him by the throat and shoving him into the wall. John stared at Damon with wide eyes and scowled when Damon dropped him, smirking in the face of his obvious fear.

“Parker would kill us if he died, too,” Damon said to Ric, clapping John on the shoulder before addressing him. “Count yourself lucky I like her. I’d rather not make her upset,” he said before moving over and flopping down on the couch next to Ric. “So. Just how bad a fighter are we talking? Slap-fight level?”

Ric grinned at the bit about only letting people he liked suck on him. “See, John,” he said cheerfully. “Damon’s awesome!” He was reaching that point of drunk when the hostility was somewhat lost on him. “We were talking on the way here about how you’re better than Stefan, even though you sometimes kill people. He said...” He trailed off. “Never mind. I’m not supposed to tell you that. It’s not important. Forget I said it.” And he waved his hand in what appeared to be an attempt at using Jedi mind tricks.

When Damon shoved John up against the wall, Ric made an aborted attempt at getting to his feet before giving up on that idea as really ridiculous. He didn’t want to fall on his face, after all. “That’s not helping,” he said. “Choking him is definitely bad for him. And he might like you less. Or...just keep doing that. That works too.” When Damon finally released John, he was surprised to find he was actually relieved. Huh...maybe he was starting to like John.

“Yes she would,” he agreed, slouching on the sofa. “And we don’t want to upset Parker. She’s...awesome. You know...she likes him because he didn’t let you kill me...er...Klaus-me. You’ve killed me at least once. But yes...good on you not killing me...even if it might have been...nope, not supposed to talk about that either.” He shook his head, regretting the action when it made him feel dizzy. “Not a slap fight. A bar fight. They called the cops. And I kicked his ass. Figuratively. Didn’t I, John?”

Damon wasn’t entirely certain how to react to Alaric’s statement that he and John had been discussing how he was better than Stefan. It wasn’t surprising that Ric might make a comment like that, but John... “A whole bottle of bourbon, was it?” Damon asked, arching an eyebrow and glancing between John and Ric with a vague curiosity. Obviously Ric just heard John wrong. Even if the thought of Ric beating the crap out of John for...whatever reason he had was more than enough to make up for that.

“I don’t fight much,” John said with a shrug as he crossed over and flopped down in one of the chairs, ignoring the stinkeye that Damon was leveling at him. “I was told I could crash here in order to avoid rousing Jenna’s curiosity about the evening.”

Damon turned his gaze back to Ric, “Just how drunk are you?!”

“It wasn’t a whole bottle,” Ric said with a roll of his eyes. “The waitress kept a shot.” Because that made everything better, of course. It was only nearly a whole bottle. He felt almost like he could fall asleep right there, but then John couldn’t sleep there. And he really didn’t want John in his bed. Plus Damon had made a habit of staying with him, either to keep him from dying of alcohol poisoning or to keep an eye on the worst of his nightmares, and the couch would be a bit of a tight fit. “It just...helps me sleep. No judging.”

“He really doesn’t fight much,” Ric agreed. “He hits like a girl...who doesn’t know how to fight. Just to clarify.” He looked up at the ceiling, getting distracted by it for a moment. “He needs to stay here. I don’t want Jenna getting upset...or more upset.”

“I’m not drunk,” he insisted, getting to his feet. The effort was immediately ruined as he tripped over his own feet and stumbled into Damon. “I’m really not. I just...need to sleep. I think.”

Damon caught Alaric as he stumbled, half smiling in a sad and yet affectionate way as he stood to help Ric to his bedroom, “Not a hint of judging, Ric,” He said. “We can talk about this more tomorrow,” He said as he crossed the apartment with Alaric and held open the door for his friend. He was willing to let Ric try and make it to the bed on his own. It was a rather small gap from the door to it, so Damon figured he could do it without too much difficulty.

At least, he hoped.

Ric leaned into Damon as the other man helped him into his room. He knew most people didn’t understand it, but he really did trust Damon implicitly. In spite of their past, the vampire was his closest friend and he knew Damon would always have his back. “Tomorrow sounds good,” he said idly. Stepping away from Damon, he leaned against the doorframe and smiled slightly. “Thanks, Damon. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Turning away, he managed to get to the bed without falling over into an embarrassing heap. He sat down, kicking off his shoes and pulling off his jacket, then all but fell back onto the bed and passed out.