Vindication for Jennifer Melphi
Vindication for Jennifer Melphi
Summary: Spoilers for season3
Jennifer Melphi is raped, and it brings her relationships into clear perspective.
Rating: PG-13 for language and situations
Dedication: My best friend Becci, who is always there. My husband Michael, who encourages me. And last but not least, Murphy for her support.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to David Chase, HBO Pictures and Brad
Gray. I'm only borrowing them for a short time, and probably for my individual entertainment purposes only, since Soprano's Fan Fiction is nooo popular!
The white harsh lights make Jennifer Melphi squint as they take one last picture of her badly bruised face. Her almost ex-husband bursts into the room.
"Oh my God, Jenn." Richard shakes his head, and points his nose to the floor. "It will be all right, Richard. They caught him already."
"Bastard. I hear he was Puerto Rican."
"Actually, his name is Rossi." Richard visibly blanches at the sound of his wife's attackers name. "But what difference does his name make?"
"None, I suppose. I just thought he was Hispanic, your saying he was Italian?"
"His name is Italian. Richard, can we focus on something else? I just want to take a shower."
The doctor in the room took this as his cue. "We're almost through, Dr. Melfi. I apologize for any discomfort. I'm afraid there is no easy way to these exams, but I'm sure you understand why it is necessary."
"I do understand. Richard, did you call Jason?"
At that moment, a tall lanky young man burst in the room. His dark curly hair was messy, and his leather coat was rumpled.
"Mom! My God. Will you be all right? Of course you won't! Did they find the soulless prick that did this to my mother?"
"Yeah, Jason, they found him," Richard responded. "But calm down."
"You want me to be calm? That fucker violated my mother in the most heinous way anyone can violate a woman, and you want me calm? Why the hells aren't you more pissed off, Dad? What is your problem? I just want five minutes with him. Just five."
"Jason, your not helping your mother. Your just agitating her."
"Fuck you, dad. Don't you want him to pay for what he did to mom? Jail won't be punishment enough."
Jennifer watched the two men she loved most argue over how they should feel. She knew in her mind that people feel how they feel; it's how you deal with those feelings that are important. But right now she felt more moved by her son then her husband. His anger was her anger. And Richard's lack of emotion left her feeling even emptier inside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her recovery was slow, but sure. The pain to her knee was easing day bay. Her ribs still pained, but she was learning to cope with that. I could be weeks before there would be any improvement there. The bruises on her face were fading, and her makeup helped her feel better about her appearance. But she jumped while she read in her favorite chair at night.
Just common house noises could make her a nervous wreak.
Last night she got the news that Jesus Rossi was released from custody on a technicality. It didn't matter that she was willing to endure a line up,
and testify in open court against him. The police made a bad arrest, and had to be let go. Not only would he never be punished for his crime against her, but he most likely feels that he can get away with it! and it will encourage him to act on his feelings of hatred against women again. She shuddered, even though the room was uncommonly warm from the sun shining into her living room.
Richard finally displayed some normal amounts of anger at the news, but it was too little too late. She tried to take into consideration how different people process intense feelings. She tried not to take it personally when
Richard protested every time she wanted to leave her bedside light on. She held her tongue when she wanted to lash out, and blame the rape on him. If he hadn't insisted on talking to her, as she left the office, on her cellphone, she may have noticed her attacker on the stairwell. She did her best to put on a brave front when he encouraged her to return to work, even when she thought of listening and caring for her patients was probably the last thing she needed when she, herself, was still healing. He didn't even offer to pick her up from her office, instead leaving her to face that cold dark stairwell, and lonely deserted parking garage all by herself.
Jennifer sat in her ivory leather chair and thought about how different things could be. The glass of wine in her hand was comforting,
but she had started to over do it. The man at the corner liquor store knew her by name and brand of Merlot. It had become an unhealthy crutch.
She couldn't stop thinking about the one man who did offer talk her, the one man who would go to violent lengths to vindicate and protect her. The one man she knew had the power to make her rapist pay for what he had done. He could bring justice to her. She lifted the goblet to her lips and savored the sweet plum taste and let the warmth run down her throat soothing her nerves.
Tony Soprano. He was a sociopath. She wasn't really equipped to help him deal with his problems. He was dangerous and sometimes she was afraid of him. But she couldn't stop seeing this client. Maybe she enjoyed the danger. That particular idea had crossed her mind more then once. She'd had ample opportunity to refer him to another doctor and stop seeing him.
Another troubling idea had crossed her mind tonight. She was somewhat attracted to this man. He had such charisma. It made it very unnerving to realize that he was involved in numerous illegal activities, not to mention the small fact that he killed people on a regular basis.
Tony Soprano would take care of Jesus Rossi. All she would have to do is tell him what had happened; tell him the truth: that it wasn't a car accident, but that she was raped. He blew up in anger many times in her office, and she imagined him flinging her coffee table in the air again,
maybe even taking a gun from his waistband and cocking it as he left her office, his plans clearly written on his face. Or perhaps simply taking out his cell phone and making a single call. He could bring a justice that the proper authorities couldn't or wouldn't, with just one phone call. It was completely against the ethics she held dear. It was wrong. But paradoxically, it was somehow right. She resisted the urge to call him,
what if his wife answered the phone? He probably wasn't at home during the evening, since that was when he did the majority of his business. She would sleep on it, and see how she felt in the morning. Maybe her conscious would give her the answer as she slept.
Summary: Spoilers for season3
Jennifer Melphi is raped, and it brings her relationships into clear perspective.
Rating: PG-13 for language and situations
Dedication: My best friend Becci, who is always there. My husband Michael, who encourages me. And last but not least, Murphy for her support.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to David Chase, HBO Pictures and Brad
Gray. I'm only borrowing them for a short time, and probably for my individual entertainment purposes only, since Soprano's Fan Fiction is nooo popular!
The white harsh lights make Jennifer Melphi squint as they take one last picture of her badly bruised face. Her almost ex-husband bursts into the room.
"Oh my God, Jenn." Richard shakes his head, and points his nose to the floor. "It will be all right, Richard. They caught him already."
"Bastard. I hear he was Puerto Rican."
"Actually, his name is Rossi." Richard visibly blanches at the sound of his wife's attackers name. "But what difference does his name make?"
"None, I suppose. I just thought he was Hispanic, your saying he was Italian?"
"His name is Italian. Richard, can we focus on something else? I just want to take a shower."
The doctor in the room took this as his cue. "We're almost through, Dr. Melfi. I apologize for any discomfort. I'm afraid there is no easy way to these exams, but I'm sure you understand why it is necessary."
"I do understand. Richard, did you call Jason?"
At that moment, a tall lanky young man burst in the room. His dark curly hair was messy, and his leather coat was rumpled.
"Mom! My God. Will you be all right? Of course you won't! Did they find the soulless prick that did this to my mother?"
"Yeah, Jason, they found him," Richard responded. "But calm down."
"You want me to be calm? That fucker violated my mother in the most heinous way anyone can violate a woman, and you want me calm? Why the hells aren't you more pissed off, Dad? What is your problem? I just want five minutes with him. Just five."
"Jason, your not helping your mother. Your just agitating her."
"Fuck you, dad. Don't you want him to pay for what he did to mom? Jail won't be punishment enough."
Jennifer watched the two men she loved most argue over how they should feel. She knew in her mind that people feel how they feel; it's how you deal with those feelings that are important. But right now she felt more moved by her son then her husband. His anger was her anger. And Richard's lack of emotion left her feeling even emptier inside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Her recovery was slow, but sure. The pain to her knee was easing day bay. Her ribs still pained, but she was learning to cope with that. I could be weeks before there would be any improvement there. The bruises on her face were fading, and her makeup helped her feel better about her appearance. But she jumped while she read in her favorite chair at night.
Just common house noises could make her a nervous wreak.
Last night she got the news that Jesus Rossi was released from custody on a technicality. It didn't matter that she was willing to endure a line up,
and testify in open court against him. The police made a bad arrest, and had to be let go. Not only would he never be punished for his crime against her, but he most likely feels that he can get away with it! and it will encourage him to act on his feelings of hatred against women again. She shuddered, even though the room was uncommonly warm from the sun shining into her living room.
Richard finally displayed some normal amounts of anger at the news, but it was too little too late. She tried to take into consideration how different people process intense feelings. She tried not to take it personally when
Richard protested every time she wanted to leave her bedside light on. She held her tongue when she wanted to lash out, and blame the rape on him. If he hadn't insisted on talking to her, as she left the office, on her cellphone, she may have noticed her attacker on the stairwell. She did her best to put on a brave front when he encouraged her to return to work, even when she thought of listening and caring for her patients was probably the last thing she needed when she, herself, was still healing. He didn't even offer to pick her up from her office, instead leaving her to face that cold dark stairwell, and lonely deserted parking garage all by herself.
Jennifer sat in her ivory leather chair and thought about how different things could be. The glass of wine in her hand was comforting,
but she had started to over do it. The man at the corner liquor store knew her by name and brand of Merlot. It had become an unhealthy crutch.
She couldn't stop thinking about the one man who did offer talk her, the one man who would go to violent lengths to vindicate and protect her. The one man she knew had the power to make her rapist pay for what he had done. He could bring justice to her. She lifted the goblet to her lips and savored the sweet plum taste and let the warmth run down her throat soothing her nerves.
Tony Soprano. He was a sociopath. She wasn't really equipped to help him deal with his problems. He was dangerous and sometimes she was afraid of him. But she couldn't stop seeing this client. Maybe she enjoyed the danger. That particular idea had crossed her mind more then once. She'd had ample opportunity to refer him to another doctor and stop seeing him.
Another troubling idea had crossed her mind tonight. She was somewhat attracted to this man. He had such charisma. It made it very unnerving to realize that he was involved in numerous illegal activities, not to mention the small fact that he killed people on a regular basis.
Tony Soprano would take care of Jesus Rossi. All she would have to do is tell him what had happened; tell him the truth: that it wasn't a car accident, but that she was raped. He blew up in anger many times in her office, and she imagined him flinging her coffee table in the air again,
maybe even taking a gun from his waistband and cocking it as he left her office, his plans clearly written on his face. Or perhaps simply taking out his cell phone and making a single call. He could bring a justice that the proper authorities couldn't or wouldn't, with just one phone call. It was completely against the ethics she held dear. It was wrong. But paradoxically, it was somehow right. She resisted the urge to call him,
what if his wife answered the phone? He probably wasn't at home during the evening, since that was when he did the majority of his business. She would sleep on it, and see how she felt in the morning. Maybe her conscious would give her the answer as she slept.