ooc.
I thought it was going to be all short. ....but then it wasn't. So. YEAH.
ic.
He had sworn to himself that he would forget her – really, he did. He'd spent too many nights, drowning in thoughts of her while the life raft if sleep danced just beyond his reach. He analyzed moments spent with her, going over every thing she said to him during their most important conversations. She was one of the reasons he left – not the main reason, but certainly one worth noting. While his decision to abandon his old lifestyle was brought on by a change of ideals, his feelings about his best friend held some weight as well. He had loved her all along, probably even from the first day he met her. Dahmer was like that. It was one of the reasons he wasn't cut out to last forever as an Assassin. He let emotion over take sensibility, unable to see most things objectively. His greatest failing when it came to emotion involved Sherlock. Dahmer should have been able to acknowledge the fact that his love was unrequited and moved on. She never encouraged any romantic situations between the two. The male knew she loved him, in her own way she was capable – as a brother or even a close friend. But she was distant at times, and even downright hostile in other circumstances. He knew she was different, so he accepted her behaviour and loved her in spite of it. He could handle the sharp sarcasm without complaint – that's just the way she was. What he couldn't handle, though was the fact that he was nothing more than a partner and friend to her. It was selfish, unbelievably selfish and he knew this...but there it was.
So Dahmer had made a vow to himself – he was going to forget her and he was going to move on. That was the whole point in leaving, right? He left Jasper Valley in order to start a new life that didn't involve his former job; why couldn't he also pledge to reboot his romantic life? He told himself that he didn't want anything to do with Sherlock Holmes anymore. He didn't have to worry about running into her ever again, so it was best if he just forgot her from now on. It was what he intended all along. The male told himself this, conveniently ignoring the memory of leaving a trail behind him while travelling. He tried to justify these actions – he wasn't leaving objects important to them in the hopes she'd follow him. He was merely getting rid of the reminders that plagued him so. Without them on his person, he'd be able to move on that much quicker. He truly didn't believe they'd be found by Sherlock, so this explanation was easy enough for him to accept. Besides, he didn't need to convince anyone but himself. It was easy.
The lone wolf spent his morning cleaning up the area around his home. He had finished carving out the den itself the night before and now dedicated his time to perfecting it before he moved on to the next phase. The den was sized perfectly for just him – and a small area branching off from the main chamber used for storage. He kept the area just outside nice and clean and free from debris. He had a work station about twenty feet away from the cave's entrance and beside that an ever-growing pile of lumber rested. He'd been collecting wood for about a week now and was almost ready to start building the tree house he'd been planning for a long time. Today though, Dahmer was spending the afternoon at Whisper Beach, enjoying the weather and the view. When he woke in the morning he'd been infused with a desire to do nothing more than spend the day in comfortable solitude. No work. So instead of working on his plans, Dahmer slipped from his den and headed immediately to the beach. He shifted along the way, arriving at the coast on two legs.
His morning passed quickly in quiet enjoyment as he made his way along the shore's edge at a leisurely pace. As noon came and went, Dahmer turned back towards home. He wasn't in any rush, instead pausing every few moments to look out at the ocean or to pick up anything that caught his interest. He gathered a few flat rocks in his hands, turning them over in his fingers as he studied their shapes. For the first time today, he found himself thinking of Sherlock and how they used to stand atop of buildings in between missions. They'd each hold a number of rocks, much like the ones clasped in his hand now. Each wolf would point out a target in the distance and challenge the other to hit it within so many throws. It was a simple game, something Sherlock would often become bored of quickly. Dahmer was certain she only partook in the exercise because of how much he enjoyed it. But to the male, they were amazing times. Simple and uncomplicated, requiring no thought of analysis. Just time spent with a good friend he loved. Those were the moments he treasured most.
Dahmer took a deep breath and let it out slowly, struggling to get control of his thoughts. He'd been doing so well, too. Cool blue eyes gazed out at the water, narrowed against the sun. He watched a bird as it dove into the sea in pursuit of lunch. When the osprey came up with nothing, the male let out a rueful laugh. He knew how that felt. He watched as the bird gave up and wheeled away, heading for the forest behind him. Turning back to the water, Dahmer took the rocks one by one and sent them flying into the ocean. Each one skipped across the surface a few times before disappearing under the surface. His record was seven skips, nothing more. Figuring he could beat his high score, Dahmer was about to look for more stones when he heard it.
As soon as the sound reached his ears, there was no mistaking it. The male stood straight up, his eyes wide with surprise. Once the reality of it sunk in, he froze where he was – one arm cocked backwards, ready to throw. The other was extended in front of him, as though preparing to catch him when he collapsed. He didn't move a muscle for several moments, just listening to the music that called to him. It came from the forest – a little ways from his home, if he was judging correctly. And who knew if he was – he could barely make note of where he was now. Another moment passed and yet the music continued. Dahmer was convinced it would stop any second now – prove to me an object of his imagination, twisted into the tune from his memories and just as ghostly. It didn't.
Finally he was able to gain possession of his limbs. But what was he going to do? Find the wolf who was torturing him and order them to stop? How could he explain himself? You're playing a song that someone I used to love played all the time. It's making me sad. Stop. It sounded insane in his head, how was he supposed to make the request out loud? No. It was best if he just stayed where he was, focused on other things, kept himself busy until the music went away. He was good at that – he'd spent the last two months training his mind to concentrate on things either than her. This would be no different. He turned away from the forest, threw another rock into the water. His soundtrack continued, its haunting notes calling out to him, beckoning. He wanted desperately to ignore the sound, but it was no use. Before he realized what was happening, the male was making his way off the shore and plunging into the forest. He was on auto-pilot – barely aware of his surroundings and yet he kept moving, avoiding any obstacles that came across his path. Before he knew it was happening, Dahmer was before her.
He stood rooted to the spot, his limbs limp, barely capable of holding his giant frame. Sherlock kept playing, but the notes fell on deaf ears. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't think anything. He could only see her. So he remained silent and stoic, eyes carefully trained on her form. He made no move to speak, or even to acknowledge her presence in any way either than eye contact. But his mind was pounding with noise that overcame her music, a constant litany of one question: what was she doing here?!
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