He heard her knock, the soft tap, on his door.

He limped over, and pulled it open.

She stood there, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a baggy hooded top, hair scrapped back into an untidy ponytail.

He stepped back, and let her walk through the door.

She took her usual seat while he fetched his medic kit.

When he returned to the lounge she'd already removed the hoody.

Her skin was the usual black and purple, and she had fresh cuts on her arms.

He didn't say a word as he tended to her, softly applying plasters and soothing cream.

When he'd done she replaced her top, and gave him a small, sad smile.

His heart ached.

He put his hand to her cheek.

When she flinched and cowered away from him, he felt the anger in his stomach churn.

He wanted to hold her, to keep her safe.

There was only one problem:

The Bastard who had done this to her.

She curled up in his chair, and before long she was asleep.

He let her have a half hour, before gently waking her.

As she left his apartment, he knew this had to stop.

He looked at the clock.

She was nearly half an hour late.

She was never late.

The Bastard was in the pub for 9, she was here at half past.

It was nearly 10.

He fingered his cane.

At 10 past he had made up his mind.

He slipped on his jacket and set off into the night.

The door was locked.

He peered through the window but it was in darkness.

He knew the Bastard was still at the pub, he'd checked.

He tapped on the door with his cane.

It seemed like an age before she answered, peering through the crack.

He didn't have to say anything.

She opened the door and fell into his arms.

She refused to go to the hospital.

She insisted he could treat her.

He laid her on his bed, and examined her new wounds.

There were fresh bruises on her legs, arms and back.

Her chest had turned a deep shade of purple.

He suspected broken ribs.

She fell asleep.

This time he didn't wake her.

The next morning he held her as she cried.

Cried in pain, cried in fear.

He wouldn't let her return.

She feared for his safety more than her own.

He held on and stroked her hair as she sobbed into his arms.

All the while he was expecting the knock on the door.

It came just after noon.

She froze, her eyes filled with terror.

He made her stay in the bedroom, and limped over to the front door.

He pulled it open to reveal the Bastard, standing on the step.

He demanded to see her, called her name, and forced his way into the flat.

In return he received a blow to the head with a cane.

He shrugged at the Doctor standing before him.

The Doctor grinned and joined the ambulance crew.

He returned to her.

He gathered her into his arms and held her tight.

He vowed never to let harm come to her again.

She buried her head into his chest.

She vowed never to return to the place she had called Hell.

They were together at last.