AN: Hello my dears!

YAY! Everybody loves a good Dimitri POV! Well, this specific scene is one of my favorites from Last Sacrifice and so it was just begging to be retold from the eyes of our main Russian. Voila!

Also, my first story got a really positive feedback! I was so surprised and happy that I decided to unleash another fanfic onto the world. Fingers crossed that you guys don't think it's trash! BUT... if you do then please don't hesitate to critique with some helpful criticism:)

A big thank you to the accounts listed below. Their reviews were filled with encouragement and had me smiling for a long time!

Rosa C

stardreamer2608

Swimming the Same Deep Waters

PS. Yes, I know the title sucks and doesn't actually tell you anything about the content. But here's some back story for you, I don't know about you guys, but when I read Last Sacrifice for the first time and I got to this scene, I was freaking out. But then Sonya (no shade, I truly love her) comes in and ruins the Romitri moment. I had been starved of Romitri moments for two books and so I was soaking up everything Last Sacrifice would give me and then...Sonya. So my first reaction to this scene was "GOSH DANG IT, SONYA!" And so a trash title was born.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Vampire Academy or any of its characters. Everything belongs to Richelle Mead

I'm in hell. Dead bodies surround me. Men, women, and children are all here. Their faces are blank, void of emotion. Their eyes are glazed over, gazing at absolutely nothing. Many of their lips are slightly ajar. But not for breath. They are open to provide an escape for the steady flow of thick, dark blood. I notice that their mouths are not the only source of this seemingly endless tap. The neck on every body is completely ripped open. It looks as if someone has torn out their throats with their teeth. My teeth, I realize. I can still taste the blood. I don't have the memory of these kills, but they are my victims. My hands and mouth are stained with proof.

It becomes impossible to breathe as walls of the most intense fear and guilt I've ever felt close around me. Suffocating me. I try to scream but my voice catches as my throat tightens. My head fills with pressure and my vision blurs. There is a deafening ringing in my ears making it so I can't hear so much as feel my lungs shoving my chest up and down rapidly, gasping for air that is much too thick to swallow. I begin to shake as all of the hope and energy drain from my body. My legs are unable to hold up the weight of this agonizing burden so I am forced to drop to my knees, landing in a pool of blood. I'm shaking more furiously now. Distantly I'm aware that it's because I'm sobbing, but I don't care.

Nothing matters in the world except that I'm a monster. I deserve to die. I want to die. I want all of this to be over and for my pain to end. It would be so easy... I could tear open my wrists the same way I tore open the throats of all these innocents. But I have no right to take the easy way out. Maybe I don't deserve to die after all. I don't deserve to feel nothing. I need to suffer. The despair I feel is tearing me apart, but I need this punishment. You deserve this. You're a monster. You deserve this. You deserve this. I repeat it to myself like a mantra.

"Dimitri."

The ringing in my ears stops. My soul recognizes her voice immediately. How could it not? A voice so perfect and wonderful that even Beethoven's symphony seems lackluster in comparison. Longing and desire fill me a moment before a wave of overpowering guilt drags me back under into the sea of hopelessness. I want to look at her. I want to look at her so badly it hurts, but I can't. Not after what I did to her. My eyes are unworthy of beholding her image. I am unworthy of her.

"Dimitri, look at me."

It takes all of my willpower not to obey her command.

"I can't," I whisper.

"Look at me, Comrade." My heart nearly stops when she uses her old nickname for me. I close my eyes tightly, knowing that the temptation to turn around is growing. I try to remain firm in my decision. How can I welcome the bliss of seeing her when I'd caused her so much pain?

"I can't," I repeat. There is an all too obvious pleading in voice, begging her to stop before my body and soul can't take it anymore. I am so, so close to giving in. All it will take is more nudge to send me tumbling down the cliff. But rather than a nudge, I receive a full out shove. I didn't even hear her footsteps, but suddenly she is right beside me, placing her hand delicately on my shoulder.

"Look at me," she requests again. It is barely audible, but she knows I can hear her.

All attempts at an inner battle are destroyed when I feel the warmth of her touch. I open my eyes and slowly turn my head to look up at her. They widen with awe as I stare at what I can only describe as a heavenly being. She is luminescent. Every single one of her features captivate me and I know that I am gone. Her eyes, though dark, are sparkling. Her hair, Lord have mercy on me, her hair. Those silky strands cascade down her back and shoulders, flowing freely. That hair will be the death of me before any Strigoi. Her lips look soft and alluring, and something inside me contracts painfully remembering a time when I'd kissed those lips. I want to do so now, and that makes me turn away. You can't have her. Not now. Not ever. I have destroyed everything between us in more ways than one. I can't comprehend Rose giving me these precious moments by her side, much less a kiss.

She sinks to her knees in front of me and cups my face with both hands, forcing me to face her. My chin trembles and I squeeze my eyes shut in shame. She must be horrified by the blood that still coats my mouth, my hands, the ground, everything. Hot tears break free and run downwards till gravity allows them an escape from me. They drop from my jaw, creating ripples in the red below. They are tears of anger because I am too selfish to resist her. They are tears of grief because I can't gain back this priceless treasure that I've lost. And they are tears of thankfulness for Roza's unbelievable compassion.

She kisses the tears off my cheeks and gently brushes a few strands of hair out of my face. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and I swear it's going to explode. I take shaky deep breaths of the heavy air in an attempt to calm myself, but while she is touching me, holding me, our bodies oh so close, my efforts are futile.

I place my hands on hers, ready to remove her touch from me for both our sakes. I don't dare look at her knowing I will lose all sense of self and will power. Then I'd never be able to bring myself to do it.

"No." That one word stops me in my tracks. I open my eyes to see her smiling face staring back at me. I am surprised, not only by the smile, but also to find a bit of hurt mixed into her expression. "You still don't understand, do you? I've forgiven you. Stop refusing me and accept it."

She brushes her thumb over my lips and instantly I see the blood on my hands fade away. Somehow I know my mouth is clean too. The bodies and gore surrounding us disappear and my walls of fear and guilt leave me as well. I focus on Rose again. Her strength and goodness are shinning out of her. She is radiant. She looks like an angel. She is an angel. An angel of grace and mercy. She lowers her forehead to mine and whispers the three most dangerous words known to man.

"I love you."

I wake up.

I am filled with equal parts of relief and dread.

Without moving I take in my surroundings. It is daytime, human daytime, and I am in a tent. The events from last night come rushing back. Sonya. The Mastrano's home. Jill. The guardians. The car. The purchase of temporary lodging. Rose's ankle.

Rose.

She is the one waking me up. But not out of urgency, I realize. She is trailing her fingers down my face in a delicate yet so very powerful touch. Recognizing that it had probably been an accident, my heart drops. Such a meaningless and insignificant action to her is searing a hole in my soul.

But then, after she is well aware of my consciousness, she continues to to run her fingers through a lock of hair resting on my cheek. Maybe I am still asleep. Still dreaming. No, I am definitely awake. This is real.

After the initial shock wave that was sent through me by just the butterfly brush of her fingertips, I notice that that isn't the only point of contact. In fact, I am practically on top of her. While half of me is laying beside her, the other half has fitted itself on top of and around Roza. My right arm is resting on her stomach and my left arm is buried somewhere beneath her, or me, or both of us. I can't tell which. My legs are intertwined with hers, securing us to each other in a puzzle of blissful agony. And to top it all off, my head is cradled on her chest. I can feel the swell of her breasts as they rise and fall with every breath. The steady sound of her heart beat is all I hear. It's all I want to hear. Everyplace our bodies connect is on fire, and I am ready and willing to be consumed in flames.

I look up at her and our eyes meet. A foreign and yet so very familiar intensity erupts inside of me, singing to my heart and my memories. I wish I could describe it with better words, but...even I'm not entirely sure. I am still trying to decipher the emotions that have been trickling back to me since being restored. This one is warm, strong, and all-consuming. It makes me ache; mind, body, and soul, yet reinforces my heart with a fortification of light and joy. It is patience, kindness, trust, loyalty, selflessness, and affection rolled into one. It feels complicated and so simple at the same time.

At first I have no recollection of ever experiencing something so insanely potent, but seconds later recognition hits me like a ton of bricks. I had discovered this before being turned. And recently. Ever since that night in the ally with Rose and the Strigoi.

No. No, that's not quite right. This...this has never left. Not since the day back at the academy when I stopped denying my feelings for the goddess beneath me. Even while a Strigoi it had only been put on pause. My soul, while not connected to my body, still pulsed with it.

This is love. Pure and true love.

A montage of every moment that had lead me to falling in love with Rose flashes through my mind. Every smile. Every conversation. Every joke. Every fight. Every tear. Every laugh. Every lingering stare. Every stolen kiss. The one and only time we had completely given each other everything. Yes, I am in love. Dear God help me, I am in love. I am head over heals, completely in love with Rose. My Roza. And I always have been, but now that my blinders have been removed I can now identify and relish in this feeling that has taken residence in my very core.

I shift my position ever so slightly, taking some of my weight off of her. I lift my head from her chest and am now able to see her with more clarity. Our faces are mere centimeters apart now, but each one feels like an entire mile. My only desire is to close the offensive gap between our lips. She looks amazing. Beyond perfect. There are no words in the English language, or Russian for that matter, to accurately describe her beauty. So rather than words I want to show her how beautiful I believe her to be.

I caress her cheek gently with the back of my hand and lean down closer. Her breathing hitches at this new development, and that small distraction from this dream or fairy tale or illusion or whatever you want to call it brings reality back like a slap in the face. With a significant amount of effort I force myself to look away and sit up. Rose sits up soon after.

"Wh- What's wrong?" she asks. Her breathing tells me she is just as affected by this moment as I am, physically anyway. She wanted me to kiss her, but ultimately that doesn't matter. My heart breaks as I glance back at her and think through all of the obstacles in our way.

"Pick. There are a lot of choices," I practically spit.

First is the fact that I still don't deserve her. The bittersweet dream now seems more bitter than sweet. It did a great job of highlighting her goodness and my darkness. Placing us in our contrasting boxes, yet tormenting me with the idea of untouchable forgiveness and love.

Secondly, I had done awful things to her as a Strigoi. I had hurt her physically and mentally, basically drugging her into submission, teasing her with psychological and physical games, thus, making her my playing. No matter how much she says it, I know she can't truly forgive me. Like I said, untouchable.

Lastly, there is Adrian. She loves him. She said as much yesterday at the Mastrano home. She doesn't love you anymore. She has moved on. This is good, right? It's what I told her to do. But now the thought of telling her to move on makes my insides burn. This is no longer a dream. This is reality. Cold, hard, relentless reality.

"I know..." She takes a few seconds to organize her thoughts. "I know things have changed. I know were wrong. I know you can feel love again."

Of course she knows. She knew before I did. She may not love me anymore, but we still have a special connection, a bond if you will. Not the same bond that she and Lissa share, but a bond of another kind. I can't quite explain it, and really there is no need. But it's that bond that allows me to see what she wants me to say.

She wants me to say that I have overcome my Strigoi past and am moving on, discovering love, all other emotions, and hidden parts of myself in the process. Well, I have done part of that. I've found love. The ability to love and be loved. The only problem is that it's too late. I can't express it. I might as well be back at St. Vladimir's with her. Except now...now there is nothing to be expressed back. I have lost her love, and that's too painful to even think about, much less talk about.

"This isn't about love," I lie.

She ponders this briefly, recalling the moment that was shared between us. She's not convinced. "If it's not about love, then what is it about?"

Well, it is mainly about love, or lack there of, but a big part of it is something else entirely. "It's about doing the right thing," I tell her. My voice just above a whisper. And it is. It is about doing the right thing. While Strigoi, everything I did was wrong and evil, but now I am a dhampir again and I have to do what is considered right. I have to do right by Adrian. I have to do right by Rose. I have to do right by me. I have been given this new chance at life, and I can't use it chasing things I'd lost and can never get back again.

I know that I will never, never, love anyone more than I love Roza. And if that means that I will spend the rest of my life alone, then so be it, but I cannot pursue this relationship. I will only hurt Rose, and that's the last thing that I want to do. She has suffered enough at my hands.

She opens her mouth to no doubt ask me what I mean by "the right thing", but just then something scratches at our tent. I immediately jump for my steak out of habit, though, I know it can't be a Strigoi because it's daytime. And even if it were nighttime, a Strigoi wouldn't have knocked – or rather scratched – first.

"Rose? Dimitri?"

Sonya's cautious voice comes in from the other side of the nylon door. I relax. Well, I relax as much as I can with a fleet of guardians hunting me and the woman I love most in the world. As Rose unzips the tent, I put on my well practiced, emotionless facade. Looking at me you will never guess that I am dying on the inside, that my heart is breaking, or that my love for Roza is growing against my will by the second.

AN: So what's the verdict? "EW, that dream was graphic and gross!" or "OMG! Romitri is endgame!"

Please let me know by leaving a comment and/or review!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this! Hope I didn't disappoint;) XO