The blood from Cleo's nose had dripped onto the pristine white fabric of her coat. It looked out of place; a vile stain on something that was once perfect. Shane couldn't help but feel like he had a whole lot more in common with that stain than he cared to admit.

Everything around him blurred; the bubbly voice of a childless mother and the death glare of a haunted father all fading into a state of nothing. All Shane could see was the damage. 

To the naked eye, the blemish to a perfect home would not be visible. It would take a far closer look to see the tears that stained the photo-frame that held a family portrait. Something more than eyesight was needed to see the sentimental value of the salt and pepper sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table. Of course, the pile of books in the living room could have meant anything. That is if half of the pile hadn't been the sort of books that seven-year-old girls would read.

Seven.

Seven.

What a short time to experience the world. Seven years was barely a glance, not nearly enough time to grow into themselves and the world around them. Those two girls could have been leaders, inspirations, politicians, explorers, professors, thinkers, astronauts, authors, artists, publishers, musicians, sports-

STOP.

There was no point. Thinking of all the things that they could have been was not going to help the situation. It was time to screw his head on straight. Living in the past for so long had caused his present figure to become nothing but a shadow, barely there at all. 

Shane's mind gasped for breath as it finally surfaced from an era of submersion. Yes, the wires were still sparking from the contact with water but they were healing. Although the wires were still caught up in a tangled mess, he now knew that attempting to untangle them would only make things worse.

It was about damn time that he accepted that he was perfectly fine the way he was; he just needed to stop seeing himself as the devil. For all of the bullet holes in his head, there was someone who cared enough to stick around. Had she healed him? No. That goal, as ever, was so far out of reach that it was barely a speck on the horizon. So, no, she did not heal him. The wires in his head would remain tangled and sparking for as long as he would live. What she did do, however, was take him for what he was. Flaws and all.

That was good enough for him.

Shane had been waiting for some sort of miracle. He knew that he was a mess; a melody so far out of tune from anything else that he was spiralling dangerously out of key in the orchestra of the world. 

He had been waiting for someone to tune him up so that he could finally make sense with the rest of the world not realising that, perhaps, tuning wasn't what he needed at all. What he needed was another melody as out of tune as his own. 

Attempting to blend in with the rest of the ensemble they sounded awful, thus causing the rest of the world to drown their sound out. Together, however, they created something beautiful. As a duet, the pair was a heart-wrenching symphony, something that could be replicated by no other.

So, no, Shane would never truly heal. 

Healing would mean forgetting all that had been his past, all that had made him who he was. Forgetting all of that would be disregarding the lessons that he had learned. 

What he had found was something far more valuable than a cure. He had found a partner. A partner who was just as broken as he was. A person who's jagged edges fitted perfectly with his own. For all he cared the wires in his head could stay tangled because he, for once, was going to be okay. He was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.