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She had to let Him go. She wasn't His anymore. The pain in the darkness had stolen her from Him, and no matter how close He was He couldn't reach to find her. She pulled away, deeper into herself.
They wanted her to talk, tell them what she was thinking and feeling. But how could she tell them that all she was doing was screaming inside. Howling in rage and anger. Reliving it over and over. They would come into her room, in their clean white coats and spout platitudes about how it wasn't her fault and she wasn't to blame, and that she could trust them.
Trust. What did they know about trust. Trust was earned, a gift when given. She only trusted one completely, Him.
That is until they sent yet another white-coat in to talk to her. But he was different. He was young, and his appearance reminded her of those they had seeing riding the waves in Hawaii. His green eyes were soft and gentle and he had a quiet unassuming way about him. But it was something her investigator's eyes noticed that closed the distance between them. His wrists bore the ever so faint marks of being bound. Soft rope from the look of it. And he wore a braided leather choker that to most held no significance. But she knew.
And when he nodded when she lightly fingered the marks on his wrist and asked in a hushed whisper if she could trust him, she knew that he would help find her shattered pieces.
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Evie sat in the hotel bar, nursing a glass of white wine, grateful that the day was winding down. It was not a day to relive.
That was how she thought of her life now, days to relive and days to forget. It was something that Matthew had taught her a long time ago. Meeting him was a day to relive she thought fondly. The floppy-haired intern. She trusted him. And he earned it.
She finished her drink and decided to take a walk, it was just too early to close herself up in her hotel room. Dusk was falling and the restaurants and bars were getting busier. She watched the people coming and going. Couples holding hands, kisses being stolen. She paused and smiled, remembering being with Him and doing just that. Those were times to relive.
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Gibbs flopped his head back on the couch back and said with a snicker, "She'd give me hell about now if she saw me."
"Yeah, well don't think you're out of the woods yet. Abby hasn't shown up yet."
"Oh god, Abby."
"She knows I'm with you. I'll call her in a while. But you've got a story to finish first."
People often underestimated Tony, his sense of humor getting the better of him most of the time. But he was a strong man, strong minded, strong willed, and strong emotionally for those he cared about. He wasn't just going to leave Gibbs with His emotional entrails hanging out for the vultures.
"I had gone to get coffee one morning and when I came back there was weird looking kid in a white coat standing next to her, nodding at something. He looked like he belonged on a surf board, Tony. He was a psych intern, named Matthew Borden. Out of all the doctors and nurses, he was the one she responded to."
"Did she actually speak to him?"
"Yeah. It took me a while to understand why."
"What was so special about him?"
"Somehow she figured out that he was a sub. I don't know how exactly, he didn't broadcast it. A couple weeks after they started talking he took me for a walk on the grounds, away from everyone and told me. Apparently I'm a little dense and didn't interpret all of his ‘Sirs' the right way."
Tony allowed himself a little chuckle then straightened, "Sorry, Sir. Please continue."
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