Note: I have to stress that this is LOOSELY based on Private Practice "Did You Hear What Happened To Charlotte King?" and later episodes. Its the characters, but not the exact storyline. I actually wrote it for my english class... but being a lover of fanfics, I figured I'd post it here and see if I got any kind of response. Merry Christmas!
Steel Magnolia
Charlotte was standing in the bathroom she shared with her fiancée. She was freshly showered and wrapped in a cloth towel, letting her shoulder length blonde hair freely drip into the sink. She kept her gaze downward, not able to bring herself to look up into the mirror and face the reflection that would look back at her. She knew if she allowed herself to see herself, appraise her wounds and bruises, she'd get caught up in it all again.
Two weeks ago, Charlotte had been attacked. Aggravated assault, the lawyers had called it. She preferred attacked. She felt like she'd been attacked, like a snarly old pit-bull might attack a young girl. This didn't feel like something another person could have done. She was sick of being known as the victim of a heinous, unspeakable act. Charlotte King did not fit the description of a victim. She was strong, and she had always refused to let anyone see her as anything but. For this reason, she forced herself to look in the mirror. She averted her eyes from her black and blue cheekbone and immediately reached for her jar of foundation. If she could get the makeup to hide her bruising, she would at least stop being a walking reminder of that night. She poured the light peach liquid onto the makeup sponge she retrieved from inside her medicine cabinet, and finally allowed her eyes to meet the faded blue eyes that reflected back at her in the mirror.
As she met her reflection, she sighed, and braced her hands against the bathroom counter to keep herself up. She wanted to cry, but she knew Cooper would hear her and she didn't want that. She didn't need him to come rushing in like a knight in shining amour and look at her in the way that every single person had looked at her since the attack. He didn't see her as his beautiful, confident girlfriend anymore. A good percentage of her thoughts around him were wrapped up in the idea that he would leave her because of it. He didn't look at her like he used to and she wasn't really sure if he ever would again. She took a deep breath in and sighed it out, brining her makeup sponge to her face. She gently covered up the bruise the best she could, gripping the counter with more force as she moved the sponge closer to her left cheekbone. She closed her eyes and stifled her breath as she swept the liquid across her face. Her face throbbed, but it was the only way to stop the looks, she reminded herself.
Once she'd finished her cover-up job, she took a step back. She was still wearing just a light blue towel and her hair was starting to frizz up from drying. She realized that it had taken at least a good twenty minutes just to smother her face in tinted cream. She would be late for work if she didn't hurry, and walking in late would mean dealing with the stares of her colleagues. She hurried to sweep mascara onto her good eye and tame her curls with hair product. In just enough time, she had slipped on the outfit she'd brought into the bathroom with her so Coop wouldn't have to see all the bruises and gashes that lied beneath her clothes, and was ready to go. Her outfit was polished, and looked like something she would wear even if she weren't purposely trying to cover up the wounds. She opened up the door to the bathroom, trying to muster up some kind of happy expression. She forced herself to smile, and when she saw Cooper lying on their bed, nonchalantly watching the morning news, it became harder not to. He looked up and used the remote to turn the news anchor blabbing about the night before dramatics down. His eyes met hers and his smile seemed genuine. She paused for a moment, knowing the twenty-minute foundation routine had been worth it. He finally was looking at her as if she was the old Charlotte - as if he was admiring her appearance again.
"Get up, Coop. We're gonna be late." She drawled, her southern-girl Alabama accent hanging onto her words. She shoved her keys, id and cell phone into her pockets, refusing to carry a purse. The man that had attacked her had been after her wallet, and so help her God she would never allow herself out in the world looking like she had anything anyone could want to take again. Cooper was already at the front door to their apartment when she was ready, and he reached for her hand. Reluctantly she took it, looked up at him, and for the first time in weeks, she saw in his eyes that he wasn't thinking about her being victimized. He was just looking at her, in that same old way she'd always loved. She breathed a sigh of relief and then motioned with her head to the door.
"Well, what are you waiting for? An invitiation to open the door for me?" Charlotte said in a way only the true Charlotte could. The snarkiness in her voice had been missing for weeks, and Cooper marveled at her as she walked out of their apartment, still holding his hand.