Disclaimer: I don't own Sanctuary or its characters, I just play with them. My words, however, are mine.
Author's Note: This is No.2 in the "No Destination in Mind Series." However, I tried to throw in enough background so you wouldn't have to read the first story if you choose not to. Up to you. So, why the weird title? Because it seems that's how these two are going...trying to reach each other by walking barefoot over broken glass. It's gonna hurt. But don't worry. Hang with me. They will make it. :) Peace: NCS
Barefoot on Broken Glass
(Copyright 2010, NoCleverSig)
"How is he?" Helen asked.
Will sat in front of Helen's desk, hands folded, glasses on, looking like the psychiatrist he was.
"You know I can't discuss details with you, Magnus," Will answered.
"I understand patient client privilege, Will. But he's my patient as well as yours," Helen countered.
"He's also your ex lover," he replied flatly.
She paused.
"Touché," Magnus said.
Two weeks ago Magnus and Tesla had rid John Druitt of his energy creature. But while that demon was gone, the demons of his past, the murders he'd committed, haunted him to the point of nightmares. Concerned for his mental health, Magnus had asked Will to work with him. He'd been at it a week.
Will leaned forward. "I'm not trying to push it, Magnus, I'm just being honest," he said gently.
"I know. And I'm not asking for details, Will. I just want to know...," she paused, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I just need to know how he is."
Magnus tried to mask the concern in her voice, her face, but it was impossible. Will nodded.
"Better," he said softly. "We're making progress. But to be honest, I need your help. He needs your help."
She tilted her head. "How?"
"Talk to him, Magnus."
She drew in a shaky breath and blew it out again.
Will scooted his chair closer so he could lean on her desk. "You're his only connection here. His only connection with the world, really. He wants to talk to you, needs to talk to you, Helen. And he knows you've been avoiding him."
Will's rare use of her given name wasn't lost on her.
She closed her eyes. Will was right. Since she and Nikola had cured John of his demon, let him stay at the Sanctuary to heal, she'd stayed away from him except for medical checks and to administer his drug treatments. He'd asked to talk to her, to converse a while. She'd found excuse after excuse to keep from doing so. She was acting cowardly and she knew it. Afraid of what might happen between them. Equally afraid of what might not.
She nodded, closed her eyes, her mind made up. "Very well."
Will took her at her word and went on. "Also, ridding him of the energy creature….It's as though he's lost something, a part of himself, a part he was used to living with. He'd grown used to the chaos, the noise, and now the silence is…deafening. He needs a purpose, something to focus on, something that can make him feel whole."
That made sense, Helen thought. John always had been a prideful man. She asked him to rest for a week, the week after she'd cured him, but she'd noticed his restlessness. Rather than help to heal him, in hindsight, she feared her directive had set him back. He wasn't used to sitting still, never was, and it was driving him mad to do so. He'd asked for her to give him something to do at the Sanctuary, a way to earn his keep, repay her kindness to him, and she had put him off yet again. Some physician she had been, she thought. But then that was why Will was the expert in the mind and she the expert in the body.
"I think he'd be excellent at retrieval," Will went on. "It would use his natural abilities."
"You mean his natural killer instinct," she said, defensively.
"No, that's not what I said. He has a sharp mind, and you know it, fell in love with him because of it, I assume. And he's lightening quick, even if you aren't allowing him to teleport yet." Magnus had wanted John to wait until he completed several weeks of treatments before teleporting, the drugs designed to block any future creature from latching onto him while he underwent molecular change during teleportation.
"He's a natural born hunter, Magnus. Let him use that skill to good purpose, to help us with our work. I'm concerned that subjugating it will only make it come out in ways that are...Well, let's just say ways that are less than appropriate."
She got up from her desk and walked to the window, arms folded, overlooking the blue sky and waters of the bay. It was a perfect day. The sailboats leisurely drifted on the calm, clear water below.
"I told John not long ago that no one came by his killer instincts without a predilection for murder," she paused. "What if I was right, Will?" she asked quietly, watching the seagulls as they followed the fishing boats into the harbor.
Will walked over and stood next to her, his eyes searching hers.
"You're afraid the energy creature was the catalyst for something that already lay dormant within him, aren't you? That's why you've been avoiding him," he said gently.
She nodded her head. "Yes."
Will sighed. He looked out over the bay, the sailboats making patterns in the water. He put a hand on Magnus' shoulder. "Come here," he said, gesturing to her couch.
She looked at him, confused.
"Please," he urged her.
She followed him. They sat down together, facing each other.
"Tell me what John was like when you first knew him, before he took the source blood."
"Why?" she asked
"Just…play along with me, Magnus."
She nodded, hearing the frustration in his voice.
She thought back, long ago, to the time when he was only John and she was only Helen. "Foremost, John was intelligent, strong willed, yet soft spoken, at least with me. Kind, but full of pride. Jealous too," she admitted. "He always knew his mind. A sharp wit, ready to go head to head in any argument, particularly with James," she smiled at the memory.
"You said he earned his money for your engagement ring by boxing, right?" Will asked.
"Yes," she smiled again. "I didn't know it at the time. He told me that later."
"Physically he was tall, strong, still is, isn't he?" Will remarked.
"Yes," she agreed, puzzled.
"And this was before he injected the source blood?" Will asked
"Yes," she said, unsure where Will was going with this.
"Magnus, John Druitt has always been a strong, assertive man. I've got to assume, knowing you, that's one of the reasons you were attracted to him in the first place. Asking him to use that natural intellect, competitiveness to help in our work doesn't mean he's a killer. It just means that's how he's wired. It's his personality. Just like Ashley." Magnus looked up when he said her daughter's name. "And based on what I've learned from him, I think if he hadn't been that strong, aggressive man you knew, he would never have been able to keep the energy creature at bay for as long as he did. And if he hadn't," Will paused. "I'm convinced a lot more people would have died."
"Your serious?" Magnus asked.
"Absolutely," Will said.
A sense of relief washed over Helen. Her anxiety, her fear dissipating. If John wasn't a killer by nature, if his actions had been solely because of the energy creature, then….
She stopped, not wanting to get ahead of herself. She needed to take this one step at a time. Will's conclusion solved one concern for her, one very big one. But there were still others, such as the fact she hadn't really known the man in 130 years. Where does one begin with that? She shook her head. She'd worry about that part later. One step at a time, she reminded herself, and tonight she would take the first.
"All right, Will. I'll talk to him. Ask him to stay on with us for awhile, work with us. But you'll continue to monitor him? Work with him on his…issues?"
"Of course. Glad to do it," he paused. "And Magnus, thank you," Will said.
He got up to go. She grabbed his hand. "No, thank you, Will. For helping him. For helping me."
"Anytime boss," he smiled.
She smiled back at him, letting go of his hand.
She went in search of Druitt in the library. With little to do during his stay at the Sanctuary, Big Guy had reported he'd retreated there.
She found him in a corner, huddled in an armchair with several books and a glass of wine. He looked up at her as she entered.
"Find something to your liking?" she asked him as she approached.
He glanced around. "Hard not to, Helen. Your library is quite extensive. Lacking a bit in philosophy, the classics, literature, but then again, given your work, it's to be expected."
She smiled. "May I sit?"
"Certainly," he said, a little surprised. She pulled up a chair next to his.
"I've been avoiding you, John. And I apologize for that," she said, plunging straight ahead.
He laughed. "Did Dr. Zimmerman put you up to this?"
She shook her head. "No, but he did mention it."
Druitt smiled.
"We do need to talk, John. I know that. I've just been…."
"Hesitant, my dear?"
"Frightened," she replied. "If I were to be honest."
"Of me?" he asked concerned, leaning forward. "Helen, my rage is gone, I would never…."
She cut him off, shaking her head. "No, that's not what I mean, John. What scares me is…," she paused. If they were to be together again, even just as friends, she needed to be honest with him. Best start here. "I don't know you anymore, John. I haven't talked to you, really talked to you, in over a century. And I'm not sure quite how to begin that conversation," she said looking at him.
He sat back, quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he learned forward and took her hands in his, sending shivers up her spine.
"How about we start at the beginning, Helen? Like we did when we were young? As I recall, it began quite simply with, 'Hello, my name is John Druitt, and you are?' And I believe at that point you answered, 'Miss Helen Magnus.'" He smiled at her.
She shook her head at his teasing, "John..."
"May I suggest dinner then? When one is eating, there is far less talking to do."
Dinner. That she could do. Something simple, here at the Sanctuary. She nodded.
"All right, dinner. Tonight in my private chambers. We can eat and…talk," she said, still wary. "I also have a proposition for you."
"A proposition? So soon? I am intrigued," he smirked.
She laughed. "Not that kind of proposition."
"Ah," he playfully grabbed at his heart. "I am bereft again." His playfulness distracted her, reminding her of the John she knew at Oxford. It made her heart ache just a little.
"I'd like you to come work for us, for awhile at least, until you decide what it is you'd like to do, where you'd like to go."
He nodded his head, considering. "You know I would be more than happy to assist you Helen. I feel the need, at a minimum, to earn my keep here."
She shook her head. "I know you do, John, but it's not necessary. Still, Will believes you could help us with retrievals of abnormals. And I think his analysis is correct. I'd like you to work with Kate Freelander. She's a bit…well…unorthodox, but she knows what she's doing, can get the job done."
His eyes lit up. "I would welcome the challenge, Helen."
"Good. We'll discuss the details tonight. 6:30 work for you? My chambers?"
"6:30 would be fine," She turned to go, but he stopped her. "Thank you, Helen."
She nodded. "My pleasure."
He slowly let go of her hands.
Helen spent from 5 p.m. on feeling like a foolish school girl. She changed her clothes four times. It was ridiculous. She wanted to look attractive, but not too attractive. Desirable, but not too desirable. Bloody hell, she thought.
Finally she decided on an elegant, but modest, navy blue dress. Hose and heels. Something she would be comfortable wearing to a business meeting or dinner out with colleagues. It would do just fine, thank you very much.
Big Guy set a table for her in her private chambers, a sitting room outside her bedroom where she sometimes entertained close friends. It was a small table, just for the two of them. Intimate, but not romantic. She'd been very careful about that. She didn't want to send John mixed signals, particularly when she herself wasn't sure what signal, if any, she wanted to send. God knows she could barely decide on a dress. Her decision-making skills were somewhat lacking as of late.
The Big Guy didn't comment to her, but she could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. His silence as he prepared the table spoke volumes.
"Just say it already, and let's be done with it," Helen finally said to him, her arms crossed, standing in front of him.
He grunted. "Say what?"
Helen shook her head. "You don't approve."
He looked at her and grunted again. "None of my business."
"No, it's not," Helen agreed. "But you're one of my oldest and dearest friends, so like it or not, your opinion matters to me."
Big Guy stopped what he was doing and looked at her. He waited a beat, then spoke.
"Don't want to see you get hurt," he said under his breath.
Helen sighed. For the past 60 years he'd been her friend and protector. She couldn't expect him to stop now. She walked over to him and put a hand on his massive, shaggy arm.
"Truth be told? Getting hurt is rather low on my agenda as well," she paused. "We're just having dinner, talking, that's all."
"Hmph," he said. "We'll see," he muttered under his breath as Magnus left the room.
He arrived exactly on time. That was another thing she had forgotten about John. Punctual to a fault. How many times had he arrived at her father's home precisely as promised only to wait on her while she dallied with her hair, her dress. She'd come a long way since those days. Well, until tonight it seemed.
She opened the door and there he stood, smartly dressed in black pants, black shirt, and black blazer. In his hands a bouquet of red roses.
"If we're starting at the beginning, I thought perhaps I should bring you these," he said. "I'd say I picked them myself, as before, but that would be a lie. Mr. Foss acquired them for me. But it is the thought that counts I hope," he smiled.
She smiled in return, remembering. They had become acquaintances, she and he. She was auditing some of the same classes he was attending as a student at Oxford. They'd gotten into the habit of walking together after class, conversing, talking of world events, science, philosophy, rather serious subjects if truth be told. Neither one of them had worked up the courage to suggest that there might be a physical attraction between them as well as an intellectual one.
One day he had missed class, which wasn't like him at all. She worried he was ill. She began to walk back to her room, a place she rented not far from campus, when John walked up behind her and handed her a bouquet of red roses he'd picked, quite illegally, from the campus gardens.
"I had intended to be quicker in picking these but I found I was delayed. I thought perhaps instead of science or philosophy today, you would simply like to look at these and walk with me awhile?"
In a way, it was their first real date.
Helen smiled at the memory. "They're lovely John, thank you. Please, come in. I'll go get a vase for these."
He walked in and scanned the room, never having been in this part of the Sanctuary before. It was utterly Helen. The décor, the design, the artwork, even the smell of it. If he'd been blind he would have known this was her room and hers alone.
But it was Helen herself that blinded him. She returned from her bedroom vase and flowers in hand. Her dress brought out the blue in her eyes. Even in the most demure of outfits she was a sight to behold.
"You look beautiful Helen," he said, not able to help himself.
"Thank you, John. You look well yourself," she said hesitantly. He could tell she was uncomfortable, so he decided it best not to push it.
They ate and talked with relative ease, given the circumstances. John asked most of the questions, about her work, the Sanctuary, the global network, her time in London, her move here, her staff. When she tried to question him about his life, he evaded her and turned it round again on her, always her work, her interests. At times they reminisced, even laughed, about their days at Oxford. Their friendship, their exploration with The Five. Without having to discuss it they avoided all talk of Jack. Someday, if their relationship progressed even just as friends, they would have to face that aspect of their lives. But for now, for now that was a subject best left to rest.
Dinner was finished. The two of them sat across from one another at the table drinking wine and continuing their conversation. "There's one thing I'd like to ask Helen," he said softly. "But I'm hesitant to do so."
"John," she said. "If the point of this conversation is to get to know one another again, then I can't think of anything you shouldn't feel free to ask me."
He looked at her a moment, searching her eyes. "Very well," he nodded. "Can you tell me of Ashley? I knew her so short a time."
The question took Helen by surprise. She set her wine glass down, trying to steady herself.
John reached over and grabbed her hand, seeing the painful look in her eyes. "Helen," he said gently. "If it's too soon, if I have overstepped my bounds…."
She shook her head. "No," she said, her eyes blurry. "You were her father, John. You have the right. It's just…."
She fell silent. He squeezed her hand in part for comfort, in part to show that he was sorry for bringing up such a painful subject, something he should have known better than to have done.
She took a deep breath. "Can you excuse me for a moment?"
"Certainly," he said.
He watched her leave the room and enter her bedroom, door shut. He closed his eyes. Damn it, John! he cursed himself. She's lost her only child and out of your arrogance, selfishness, and ego to know your offspring you bring up the most painful memory possible for her. You bloody fool!
She entered a few moments later, a large notebook in hand.
"Would you like to join me on the couch? I think perhaps bringing the wine with you would be a good idea as well."
He looked at her puzzled, but did as she asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and their glasses and set them on the table in front of them. She motioned for him to sit next to her. He hadn't sat this close to her in…decades it seemed.
"Do you mind pouring me another glass?" she asked. He did as she requested. Then she laid the notebook on the table in front of them and opened it to the first page. A baby, tiny with scrunched up face and hands, stared back at them, bundled in a dressing gown, tightly swaddled, as newborns are, in a blanket. Helen, her dark hair tied back, make up gone, sweat drenching her forehead, and her face beaming held the tiny child in her arms smiling for the camera.
"James took this picture right after Ashley was born. He was there at her birth, helped me through it. She was born here at the Sanctuary. And she screamed bloody murder from the moment she arrived. I should have known then it would have been a portent of things to come with her," she laughed.
John gazed at Helen as she smiled at the photo, and then tentatively put an arm around her shoulders. She didn't protest. They continued that way until the early hours of the morning, Helen taking him page by page through their daughter's life.
"So, Big Guy, you're coming with me, huh?" Kate Freelander took stock of her supplies, her weapons. Nabbing a Karastat was no easy task, and she wanted to make sure she was prepared. She had a bad experience with one before. She didn't intend to have the same experience again.
"I thought you referred to Mr. Bigfoot as 'Big Guy' Miss Freelander?" Druitt said, preparing his own weapons.
She laughed. Partially because he called her "Miss," which she didn't remember anyone calling her… ever, and partially because every time he talked he sounded like he just stepped out of a Keira Knightley movie…what was it? Oh yeah, Pride and Prejudice. Heh.
"Well, you're big, you're tall so… Big Guy. It's better than me calling you Baldy."
Druitt laughed. "True enough. However, you could simply use my given name. John."
"Yeah, well, I'm working up to that," she said, an edge to her voice.
He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, tilting his head. "You're angry because I hit you."
"Yeah, well, there was that," she said, checking her ammo.
He bowed. "My deepest, most sincere apologies, Miss Freelander. I was not myself. It shan't happen again."
She looked at him. God damn, she thought, smooth as silk. No wonder the boss still had the hots for him.
"Okay, well, let's go…John," she said.
He smiled. "After you my dear," he said, opening the door for her on their way out.
"Helen?" Big Guy cracked open the door to her study. Magnus stopped typing and looked up from her monitor.
"Yes?"
"You have a visitor. Dr. Anderson is here," Big Guy grunted.
Dr. David Anderson. Standford biology professor. Herpetologist. Freelance hunter for the Sanctuary. Dear friend. And part time lover to Helen Magnus.
"Oh dear," she said to herself. "Please, show him in," she said out loud.
David Anderson strolled in looking like the impeccably handsome man he was. Jeans, white shirt, blazer, grey hair, and chocolate brown eyes. Magnus couldn't help the rush that dropped to the pit of her stomach at seeing him.
She got up from her desk and went round to greet him. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek. They'd known each other for 10 years. Slept with each other, off and on, for at least five.
"David, it's so good to see you," she said, pulling back from him, holding on to his arms. "What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were going to be in town?"
"Last minute change of plans. One of my colleagues was supposed to address the Herpetology Society today at the university in New City, but he got sick, so guess who got to fill in?"
She smiled. "And how did that go?"
"Well, considering I made it all up on the fly, pretty darn good. But then again, we professors are pretty used to bullshitting our way through lectures," he smiled, his brown eyes sparkling.
Helen laughed. "Ah, the true gift of academicians," she teased. "Please," she gestured to the couch. "Sit down. May I get you something to drink?"
"Just water, thank you."
"How long are you in town for?" she asked, pouring him a glass and handing it to him, sitting next to him on the couch.
"Just for the night. I go back in the morning." He hesitated, "Helen, I know you're busy, and I apologize for dropping in on you like this, but I just thought since I was here maybe you'd like to join me for dinner? It's been awhile and truthfully…I've missed you."
She smiled. Truthfully, she'd missed him too. Missed the attentions of a handsome man holding her, loving her, keeping her company at night. They'd never been more than good friends …friends with benefits, as Kate would call it. But when she was lonely, very lonely, David would often visit. And she dearly appreciated it. He never demanded anything from her in return. And she appreciated that even more.
But now there was a new factor to consider: John. They were just beginning to know one another again. To discover whether there could be a future for them as friends... or as something more. She knew with certainty, because he had told her so, that he loved her. What she felt for him was, well, more complicated.
Still, David was an old friend. And dinner was simply dinner. It didn't have to be anything more. He'd understand. And John? He was with Kate on his first assignment. They'd be back in the morning, and David would be gone.
"Dinner would be lovely," she finally said, trying her best to be decisive, something she was having a hard time with lately.
"Great. I'll go back to the hotel and change. Pick you up at 7?"
"That sounds wonderful. I'll see you then." He got up and kissed her goodbye.
Helen stood there, arms folded, suddenly feeling false. It irritated the hell out of her. She and John had no commitment to one another, hadn't had in over a century. She'd had other lovers, many of them over the intervening years, so why did this feel…wrong?
Because, she answered herself, she and John were on the cusp of discovering one another again and there was an understanding, of a sort, implied in that endeavor.
But this was dinner with a friend. Just dinner. She decided to think of it that way and nothing more.
Dinner was lovely, simple, and uncomplicated. So unlike her relationship with John. It's why she appreciated David's company, she thought. There was never pressure. Never overwrought emotion, except for a healthy dose of lust now and then. It was blessedly easy. Her life could be hard at times, and being with David was like a breath of fresh air.
They sat next to each other on the couch in her office, sipping an after dinner drink and talking, laughing, he telling stories on his students, she elaborating on the most recent Sanctuary acquisitions.
She hadn't told him about John, yet. But she would do so before the night was through. It was only fair that he should know.
After a while, things became quiet between them. David scooted close to her, his arm draped over the couch, his eyes turning that deep brown, which they did whenever he was about to seduce her. It usually succeeded.
"I've missed you, Helen," he said, toying with her hair. "I've missed this," he said and leaned in and kissed her. She kissed him back. After years of being together, off and on, it was almost reflex.
After a moment, though, she pulled back. "David…" she started, but he leaned in again, kissing her neck, her ear. "David," she said, half whispering, her mind telling her to do one thing, her body another. "There's something I have to tell you. I have a friend. A very old friend, a friend I was very close to, and I think I might be…."
"Hey boss! You'll never guess what Baldy, I mean, John did!"
Kate Freelander burst into Magnus's office, Druitt opening the door for her.
"Oh shit," Kate said, and automatically turned to look at Druitt. His face fell.
"Uh…sorry, didn't know you had company," Kate stammered, trying to back out of the room and take John with her. But he was having none of it.
Magnus jumped off the sofa, automatically patting her dress, her hair. David turned around and stared at the two of them, simply irritated at the interruption.
"Kate," Helen stammered. "I think you know Dr. Anderson?"
David waved at her and straightened his tie.
"David, Dr. Anderson, I'd like you to meet…" What did she say? My ex lover? My former fiancée? Jack the Ripper? "John Druitt. John is helping us with acquisitions at The Sanctuary."
John nodded his head at Anderson, his eyes sharp as daggers. He pointedly avoided looking at Helen.
"It seems we are interrupting here, Miss Freelander. I'm sure Dr. Magnus can wait until the morning to hear our report." John grabbed Kate by the arm and practically pulled her out of the room, slamming the door behind them.
"What was that about?" David asked
Helen hung her head and sighed. "A mistake. A terrible one."
"John," she knocked on his door. No answer.
She knocked again, louder. "John, please let me in. I'd like to explain…."
Suddenly the door jerked open, sending Magnus stumbling into his room.
"Explain, my dear? Why I don't think any explanation is necessary," he said, his voice eerily calm.
"It's not what it seemed, John. He's a friend. A very old, very dear friend," she said.
"Ah, a dear chap, indeed, I could tell. That was quite apparent as he was kissing your neck," he said sarcastically.
"John…," she started.
He put his hands up to silence her. "No, Helen," he said forcefully. "This is my fault. I made assumptions I should not have made. One being that you were unattached. I never actually asked you if you were."
"John, I am unattached."
"Oh," he laughed, putting his hands in his pockets pacing the room, his jealously, something she remembered quite vividly now, more than apparent. "That was quite obvious this evening. A few minutes more and I would have no doubt seen just how unattached the two of you were."
"That's enough!" she yelled at him. "David is a dear friend. We had dinner, nothing more. At least nothing that I wasn't in the process of stopping when you happened to walk in."
"Oh yes, I could see how you were fighting off his advances tooth and nail, Helen."
She slapped him.
The sting of it shocked them both into silence. John lifted a hand to his cheek, looked at her, and walked away. Helen closed her eyes, tears threatening. Why was everything so bloody hard for them?
"I'm sorry, John," she said quietly. "You're right. David has been…more than a friend to me in the past. But nothing happened tonight. And nothing was going to happen. We only had dinner. And I was in the process of telling him about you and our…whatever this is…when you walked in."
"Ill timing indeed," he said after a moment, his back toward her, hands in his pockets, looking out the window at the lights of old city.
He turned around finally and looked at her.
"I'm not fool enough to think that a woman as beautiful and as desirable as you, Helen, has led a celibate life since our engagement. I don't hold that against you," he said softly.
"And what of you, John?" she said her voice shaky. "Have you had no one?"
"You don't want to know the answer to that question, my dear."
She shook her head. "Yes, I do. Very much so. I've told you everything of my life since we were apart, everything," she said angrily now. "You've told me nothing. So let's have it. Tell me of your lovers, John? How many have there been? Who were they? Were they better than me? More passionate? More experienced? More inventive?"
She was angry, hurt, lashing out, trying to get a reaction from him. If it was a reaction she wanted, a reaction he would give her.
"Yes, my dear, I had other lovers, very inventive lovers" he said loudly, coming toward her so quickly she backed up against the wall in fear. "The only difference were mine usually never lived to see the light of day. Is that what you wanted to know, Helen? Is that what you needed to hear?" He was yelling now.
She swallowed, speechless. "John…" she finally said, reaching out for him.
"Don't touch me," he jerked away from her. "To think that these hands that killed so many could dare to love you again," he laughed, looking at his upturned palms. "I'm not sure who is more delusional me…or Jack?"
"John…," she shook her head, pleading with him.
"I think we need some time apart, my dear. Some time to reconsider the wisdom of this endeavor. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like some time alone."
He turned away from her and stared out the window, hands clasped behind his back. She waited a moment, realizing after a time he wasn't going to turn back around to her. She left, shutting the door behind her. She made it ten steps down the hallway before she collapsed against the wall, not able to walk, not able to move. Not able to see through the tears.
END