Hi everyone, thankyou so much for your reviews. This story was more a tentative step to see how my writing would be received, so your praise has been heartfelt. :) As a lot of you have asked, I've written a little bit more. I have a few ideas of where this can go, so I might try for another chapter after this one. (Will see how I go, I'm not used to writing in the first person!) This is short, but still, let me know. Love to hear your thoughts.
And of course, sadly, I don't own R&I, only the words below. Cheers, Tj xx
She's here. She's with me. She came. Somehow I managed to run her a bath while I waited. Don't ask me how, without falling in, but I did.
This is hard. She couldn't look at me when she entered. We barely spoke. She's sore, I can tell, see it in her tension, the way she moves, the way she walks. Fuck! How could he do that?
I'm sitting on the couch, just waiting. Crap walking stick at my side, hoping she's okay in there alone. Hoping she's not crying. I asked her to let me sit with her, said she could hide under the bubbles, but she wouldn't let me. She's in shock. Poor Maura. I guess she's never had to run from someone like that before. Never had to start a car still locked safely away in your garage when the one you're trying to get away from is inside. Hence the idea of the cab. Been there, done that. Rarely works without confrontation. Goddamn, my head hurts. I wanna sleep, but I can't. Not until she's out here, til I have her next to me. Safe.
I put my head in my hands. It's more difficult than I'd like. Can't reach up with my right hand yet, not properly anyway. Core muscles have turned to shit. Shredded by the bullet I put in me. Idiot!
I can hear her. Guess she's finished. I look up; pretend to watch nothing on the tv, hoping she'll speak to me this time. I need to know she's allright.
I feel the cushion shift. See her sweatpants and shake of her hands, so I rest mine open, palm up, on her lap. Please… take it.
"You okay?" I sigh in relief when her hand fits into mine. I see her shrug.
"I'm okay," she reconsiders, "I'll be okay."
That's more likely.
It's been 20 minutes of quiet and I'm trying not to stare but I still haven't seen her eyes.
"Jane?" Her voice is soft, and tired.
"Yeah?"
"Can I … rest my head in your lap?" And finally, I see the truth of it. Her eyes are red, and strained. She's pale.
"Sure, you can."
"I don't want to hurt you…"
"It's okay. You won't."
I shift further to the side, and she waits patiently. Then I have her hair splayed out on my crotch, and my hip. I run my fingers through it, gently brushing it together in a line down to my right, along her back. I love her. I love her cheek resting against my thigh. Her hand holding on to my knee. My head spins, and I shut my eyes, lowering my head some. Pass, you little fucker… just pass!
"Am I hurting you?"
She must know. My hands have stopped.
"I'm okay," I manage, but she tenses. "Sshhh, babe, I'm allright." My eyes are still closed, locked in a tailspin, but I rub her back. Multi-task Jane, multi-task. She curls, and she calms. It's nice.
"Has he done this before?" I open my eyes. The colours are bright.
"No." She shakes her head.
"Has he ever done… anything else? Y'know, that you're not comfortable with?"
She sighs. I'm not sure she's going to speak.
"He just… says things. Disrespectful and hurtful things. Called me a mere pathologist when I worried for you."
"Asshole." I go back to playing with her hair. "I'm glad you came. Would've been worried about you all night." Can't help saying it with a breath of a chuckle. It's a defense. Can't help it.
"I couldn't stay there," she whispers, "Not when I needed you."
