A/N: Yes, I know there's been several chapters in the past now. There might be a plan. :)
"Alright," Rusty said brightly. "You feeling hungry?"
She thought for a second and shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure," she admitted. Food was far from her mind.
"You should probably try and eat something if you can," Rusty told her. "Healing takes a lot of energy. And you probably shouldn't take those pills on an empty stomach."
That was true. But right now she wasn't sure if she had the strength to actually eat. But Rusty was looking hopeful. "I'll try," she promised.
He smiled. "Good. You want to take a shower?"
A shower. Oh, that sounded wonderful. A bath would be even better, but she knew she needed to keep her dressings as dry as possible, and that would be easier in the shower. She smiled and nodded.
"Sit down and take a look at the room service menu," he said, passing it over. "I'll go sort out the shower."
Vaguely she wondered what he meant, but obediently she sat down and looked at the menu as she'd been told.
Somehow, she found herself wondering what John had done about dinner. She hadn't been there to make it for him and the thought sent a shiver of guilt through her. Really, she should have told him she was leaving. Not face to face, she wasn't that stupid, but she could've left a note, or phoned or something. He'd still have been angry, but it would have been the more considerate thing to do. She hoped he wasn't worrying about her...
"Any thoughts?" Rusty asked, reappearing.
"Just some soup. Please," she said, handing the menu back.
"Just soup? You sure?" he repeated.
"Yes," she nodded firmly. Soup at least she was fairly certain she could eat without it making a reappearance.
"Sure thing." He smiled. "I'll get that ordered, if you want to take your shower now." He hesitated. "Don't lock the door please," he said with a grimace. "Sorry, Tess, but right now it would be far too easy for you to fall and hurt yourself. I swear I won't even think about coming in unless you shout, or I think you need help."
Thought she needed help. She nodded nervously and reminded herself that if he really wanted to, a locked door wouldn't stop him anyway. Really, she was at his mercy and so far she'd been fortunate that he was so very merciful.
When she walked into the bathroom, the shower was already running and there was a towel laid out, along with a bathrobe, the pyjamas and a pair of slippers, all within easy reach so she wouldn't have to bend down. All the soaps and shampoos had been carefully laid out, the tops removed so she could easily use them one handed.
More small kindnesses. She felt so guilty.
She spent a long time in the shower, luxuriating in the hot water as it soothed her aches and pains. And even better, it made her feel almost clean.
Getting dressed was uncomfortable and awkward. At least there weren't any buttons, but it took forever to get the cast through the sleeve. She almost considered asking Rusty for help, but then she really didn't want to do that. It took pyjamas and the bathrobe before she felt close to comfortable walking out the bathroom door, and even then she hesitated for a long moment.
The roomservice had arrived. She must have taken even longer than she'd thought.
Rusty smiled at her. "Feeling any better?" he asked solicitously.
She nodded truthfully. "Yes, thank you."
"Good." He nodded towards the tray on the table. "The soup's tomato and lentil and I got you a sandwich too. Don't feel you have to force yourself to eat it though, it was just in case you started eating and felt hungrier. And I got you a mineral water and some hot chocolate." His smile was surprisingly uncertain. "That is okay, isn't it?"
She nodded again. "Yes. Thank you." She was starting to feel like a recording. Without another word she sat at the table and unthinkingly waited until Rusty picked up his fork before starting to eat. He noticed. She knew he noticed, and cheeks burning she stared down at her soup. It was politeness, that was all.
The soup tasted amazing. Rich and warming, and she managed to eat most of it and a couple of bites of the sandwich too. Rusty was eating a burger and fries like he hadn't seen food for a week.
A thought crossed her mind and she tensed guiltily. He hadn't eaten in the diner this afternoon, and she didn't think he'd had anything while she'd been sleeping, and before that he must have been working hard to find her. "Have you eaten today?" she asked in a small voice.
He hesitated for a long second, and his fingers were rubbing around his mouth uncomfortably. "No," he said at last apologetically. "But that's not your fault and it's not a problem. Whatever D..." He stumbled, pausing for barely a fraction of a second before continuing smoothly. "Contrary to popular opinion, I can go more than two hours without eating something."
Yes, but he hadn't eaten all day. Because of her. And whatever he said, the guilt was looming large. "You shouldn't have...you shouldn't have to starve because of me."
He snorted. "That is decidedly overdramatic," he told her lightly. "And you are far more important, Tess. You have to know that."
She looked away quickly, but there was something else... "You didn't lie," she said, dawning wonder in her voice. Because if he wanted her to be comfortable he could have lied to her. For her own good, but a lie was a lie.
"Yeah..." He swallowed hard and looked at her sincerely. "I think you've had enough men lying to you, Tess. I'm not gonna do that."
She looked back at him and he seemed to mean every word, and no one had ever promised that before. And he'd told the truth. She didn't think he'd lied once.
Of course, if he didn't want her to be comfortable...if he wanted her to be guilty and indebted, then he would have told her the truth too.
But he had told her the truth before, in the dark days immediately after she'd found out about Danny. He'd come to the house and he'd been honest, serious and gentle, and he'd told her that Danny...that both of them...he'd told her what they did. What they'd always done. It had hurt but it had been the truth, and he'd said he'd tell her anything she wanted to know.
She'd asked him to leave and never come back.
That had been the last time she'd seen him till today.
She looked away from him for a long moment, concentrating on the hot chocolate in her hand, trying to let her mind go blank, trying to think of nothing the way she did when John was lecturing her.
It was no use though. The thoughts kept creeping in. The doubts and uncertainties and the guilt.
Rusty had been so good to her. And he really didn't need to be. He had no reason to, in fact he had every reason to despise her. What was she to him, after all? His best friend's ex-wife. He might have said she was his friend, but she'd been Danny's wife first. What was that phrase? Bros before...whores... He should have hung up the phone the moment he heard her voice. He should never have spoken to her, let alone come all this way, done all of this, spent all this money.
He must be planning on getting something out of all this. There was no other possibility.
It wasn't like that hadn't happened before. She remembered back when she'd first moved in with John, the first time she'd ever seen him really drunk. He'd been angry with her...she didn't exactly remember why. She'd said something stupid, or done something stupid, or maybe she'd just nagged him about drinking too much. He'd dragged her outside anyway, his hand squeezing her arm painfully and she'd tried to tell him he was hurting her, but he hadn't seemed to hear. He'd screamed at her, out in the alley, calling her all sorts of names, and she hadn't understood where it was coming from and she'd been pleading with him to calm down.
The fire door had opened behind them, and suddenly there was a sea of people separating them, a bouncer holding John back, talking him down.
"Are you alright?" a tall blond man asked her anxiously, his hand hovering over her elbow. "Here. Let me help you." His hand was on her arm now, and he was drawing her back inside.
She looked back towards John, still arguing with the bouncer. "No, I should..." She was still shaking.
"I don't think that's a good idea," he said firmly. "Lets get you somewhere safe until he's calmed down a little."
The door shut behind them and the man steered her quickly into the cloakroom. "I think your man needs anger management classes."
"He's not normally like that," she protested. "He's just had too much to drink."
"Uh huh," he agreed, moving closer. "Lucky for you I was passing by."
"Yes," she said distractedly, looking back towards the door. "I should go find him..."
His hand shot out, slamming against the wall beside her and he was up against her and she could smell the sour whisky. "Aren't you going to say thank you?"
This couldn't be happening. "Let me go," she said fearfully.
"I don't think so," he said, thrusting his body forwards, grinding against her, his hands mauling her breasts. "I saved you, you ungrateful bitch. And you're gonna thank me for it." He leaned forwards, forcing his tongue into her mouth in a gross parody of a kiss, his hands purposefully hauling her skirt up, his unkempt fingernails scratching over her thighs.
She couldn't struggle. She couldn't fight. She was frozen in place, screaming inside with every touch, letting him paw at her...Danny! Oh, god, Danny please.
The man was suddenly torn away and for one stupid moment she actually thought that Danny had heard her. Actually thought that Danny had come back to make everything alright again, one more time. But John was standing there and the man who'd attacked her was bleeding and he looked at John and swore and ran off, and still John was just standing there, staring at her.
There was disgust in his eyes. Suddenly she was very aware that her lipstick was smeared, that her blouse had lost a couple of buttons, that her skirt was hiked up around her waist. She smoothed it down awkwardly. "John, I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to explain, desperately needing to explain, because he'd caught her with another man and he had every right to be furious and he might just walk away right now and she couldn't bear that. "I didn't want to...he just led me away when there was the fuss outside. I thought...I thought he was just being nice. I didn't know that's what he wanted."
He looked at her with bitter contempt. "What else would he have wanted, whore?" he demanded.
That was the question she couldn't answer.
That was still the question she couldn't answer.
She bit her lip hard, trying to push the memory away. She didn't want to think about that. The last thing she wanted was to remember anything that might remind her that maybe John had a point.
John had saved her then. That was what counted. He'd saved her from something that had been her own fault, and she'd had to work so hard to show him that she was grateful, that he was the only man for her. She'd spent that weekend doing everything she could to please him, offering herself to him any which way he wanted it. She owed it to him, after all. Gradually, in between sex and apologies, the anger had faded from his eyes and he'd forgiven her.
She'd sworn then she wouldn't make him angry again.
And now Rusty had saved her and she still didn't even understand how. One phonecall. Three words. And he'd just swept down out of the sky, like a deus ex machina, if the deus in question was wearing a rumpled purple suit with half a twinkie in the pocket.
He was impossible. And she owed him.
"Someone goes out of their way to do me a favour, I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure they're paid back, one way or another. That's only fair".
It was fair. She couldn't argue that it was fair.
She stole a glance at him quickly, not wanting him to notice. He looked...tense. Tired and tense and that sent a shudder of dread down her spine. It was all too easy to imagine that changing to anger.
He would expect...sooner or later he would expect...and she could make everything better if she just anticipated that. He'd done so much for her. She wanted to please him, just like she pleased John.
Choking down a wave of nausea and dizziness, she reached out and laid her hand on Rusty's thigh, her fingers trembling and creeping higher.
"Tess," he started to say, his voice a choked whisper.
Sometimes she hated it when John said her name. Sometimes, she'd rather pretend she was someone else.
Mechanically, her hand caressed his thigh, kneading flesh, as she slipped off her chair and onto her knees, her legs spread, her head bowed towards his lap. She reached out to unfasten his fly, her lips parted and she forced her tongue to run over her lips sensually.
A crash, and the chair fell backwards, away from her, and Rusty was on his feet, backing away from her. "No," he said firmly. "Tess, this isn't..." He seemed to be struggling to speak. "Why?"
She stayed on her knees, uncertain. "I thought you would want...I just wanted to help you relax." She shouldn't have assumed he wanted her like this. God, why was she so stupid? She'd even thought earlier that Rusty didn't waste his time with anyone weak and helpless and then she'd...no wonder he was repulsed by her. She wrapped her arm around herself tightly, a desperate self hug. "I'm sorry," she moaned. "I...I should go."
"Don't go," he said quickly, kneeling down in front of her. "I'm sorry, Tess. You took me by surprise, is all." He took a deep breath. "I don't want anything like that. And I'd never want that for you."
She hunched her shoulders, drawing away from him instinctively. That wasn't what he wanted? She felt a surge of panic; she didn't have anything else.
"Tess..." Hesitantly he reached out his hand and pressed it lightly against her cheek. "I just want to help you. I don't want anything from you, I swear."
"But you said," she protested, looking up at him. "You said that if someone did someone a favour they should be paid back."
He breathed in sharply. "Not like that," he said, sounding stricken. "Never like that. And I didn't mean that you'd have to pay me back. 's just..." He hesitated. "I suppose if I do someone a favour, it's just me doing them a favour. I don't expect anything."
There was a note of confusion in his voice and she figured that maybe he'd never questioned this before. She didn't know what to say.
He took her hand between his in silence, and maybe he didn't know what to say either.
"John..." She swallowed hard. "John says that no one will ever help me without wanting...that."
"He's lying," Rusty said at once, squeezing her fingers gently. "Or he's too stupid to even know the truth." He reached out and stroked her cheek again, and she found herself looking straight into his eyes. "I told you, Tess. You're my friend. And that's the only reason I'll ever need."
She believed him now. And she felt embarrassed but more than that, she felt safe. He was holding onto her like he didn't want to let go, and just with every moment that passed a little more fear and tension faded away.
"You want to get some sleep?" Rusty suggested, after a couple of moments.
She nodded thankfully. Yes. Sleep sounded like a good idea. Maybe things would look better in the morning. Maybe she'd have a better idea of what she should be doing.
"You should take one of those pills now you've eaten," he added, standing up and reaching for the bag. With a glance at her arm, he opened the bottle and waited until she held out her hand before shaking out one of the pills.
"Thank you," she said softly before she took it.
"No problem," he said, his smile bright and tender.
He led her through to the bedroom, pulling back the cover for her, making everything easy, and it wasn't until the door had quietly closed behind him that she rolled onto her side, her face buried in the pillow, and the tears came. She wasn't worried that he'd hear. She'd got very good at crying silently.
The physical pain wasn't too bad. She'd had worse in recent memory, and without the blessed numbness that the painkillers offered. John didn't like seeing her take pills. Making a fuss, he called it. Guilt made him irritable. No, it wasn't the pain it was just...everything. It was all too much. Her life had completely changed this afternoon, and she felt lost and frightened. And Rusty had been wonderful. Too wonderful, and he hadn't even wanted what she'd offered and that frightened her too.
This morning the world had been full of pain and dread and fear. But she'd understood it. There had been rules. Now...now she didn't know what to think.
She closed her eyes, imagining strong arms holding her tight, dark eyes, a tender smile, warm and safe and close and...John! She was thinking about John. She was.
John. No matter what, everything came back to him in a muggy swirl of fear and loss and love. Was she really ready to walk away from him for good? Yes, she knew what he'd done, and she didn't need Rusty to tell her it wasn't right...but he'd been good to her too. He wasn't a bad person, after all. He was charismatic and clever and funny - he cared about her, and he had a sentimental streak a mile wide. All that had to count for something, didn't it? So he had a few anger issues, and a drinking problem. John had a lot to put up with too. She was stupid and careless and clingy. She knew that, did she really think she was going to find someone better?
Once upon a time she'd decided that being alone was better. What had happened to that?
She knew the answer even as she asked the question.
Danny. Oh, God, she hated him.
Her nails were curled tightly into her palms and she silently sobbed herself to sleep.
There was a crack on the ceiling, she noticed dizzily, and she traced the way it cut through the plaster while John raged. She wasn't going to try and stand up. Not again. She'd learned her lesson, for the moment at least.
"Stupid whore! Can't you keep your legs together for five minutes?"
"I'm sorry," she tried again, and she cried out, covering her head a second too late, and the kick reverberated through her jaw, pain rippling outwards.
"Liar!" he spat. "You're not sorry. If you were sorry, you'd stop doing it."
She hadn't meant to. The waiter had smiled at her as he'd poured the wine, so she'd smiled back. That was all. It hadn't meant anything like John said, had it? Maybe...she'd been wrong before. She wasn't good at seeing signals. And no matter what John did, she didn't seem to learn fast enough to please him. And that was no excuse because she should already know. Maybe people always saw her as...what John called her. Again and again, she'd thought that the problem was with other people. Maybe it had been her all along.
Another kick and she was crying. A wretched snivelling mess. John grabbed the cast iron poker from the fireplace and lunged towards her, and she whimpered in anticipation, curling up as tightly as possible in a futile attempt to protect herself. There was an explosion by her ear as John brought the poker down on the polished floorboards, inches from her face, and she screamed and jerked away, and the poker hit the ground on the other side, by her shoulder, and she screamed again as the noise came from all around her, and she twisted and turned, trying to escape, already knowing it was hopeless, and it was only a matter of time before John got bored of toying with her, and the real pain would start, and maybe he wasn't too far gone, maybe she could make him listen to reason, but all she had were broken pleas. "Don't...please, don't," she begged, her voice shattered and trembling. "Please don't hurt me. I won't do it again, only don't hurt me any more. Please."
"Tess!"
She woke up to find Rusty standing over her and she shrank back instantly, her arm flying up to protect her face, and it seemed like it was his instincts that had him reaching out, taking her into his arms, holding her close, his hand soothing through her hair.
"'s just a nightmare," he promised her softly. "You're safe. I'm here."
She was trembling. "It was real," she told him and her voice was thick with tears.
He sighed, and to her astonishment he bent down and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I know," he said simply. "But you're safe now, I swear it."
There was such sincerity in his voice that it was hard not to believe him. She realised with a start that she was holding onto him, clinging to him. She should let go, only she didn't want to.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked hesitantly.
Talking about it really would be betraying John. Talking about it would be another step. And she wasn't sure that she was ready. But she was lying here in another man's arms. "He hit me with a poker," she whispered. "He threw me to the ground...he wouldn't stop."
"Oh, Tess." She could hear the horror in his voice, and the compassion and concern, but it didn't feel like pity and he kissed her hair again and somehow it felt like comfort and reassurance.
"How do you know what to do?" she blurted out, wonderingly.
There was a pause and she could feel him regarding her. "What do you mean?" he asked eventually.
She hesitated. "Like in the bathroom," she said at last. "You opened the shampoo for me. And you knew I wouldn't feel like eating..."
"Oh." He relaxed, ever so slightly. "I've...been hurt before, Tess. I know how it feels when all you want to do is sleep. And I've broken my arm before and I remember how difficult it was to do anything at first."
"Oh," she said quietly, and she supposed that explained it, but that wasn't what she really wanted to know. She looked down at the sheets, staring at the embroidery along the hem, not looking at him for a second. "How do you know how to...what to say. To not be frightening." She bit her lip; she sounded like an idiot, and she didn't really want to admit that she'd expect to be frightened. But he'd seen, and besides, he helped, and she didn't understand.
He sighed. "My childhood...wasn't the greatest," he said after a moment. "My Mom knocked me around while I was growing up, and she hooked up with a string of guys who took their cue from her. 's not the same thing but...I know what it's like to feel threatened all the time."
That hadn't been what she was expecting, and she didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry, Rusty," she said awkwardly, looking up at him shyly.
He flashed her a smile. "'s okay. Was a long time ago."
"That doesn't make it right," she said, and her voice wasn't quite as certain as it should have been. But his family were supposed to love him, and if they loved him, surely they shouldn't hurt him.
"No," he told her seriously. "It's not right. It's never right."
For a moment she was certain that he was going to draw the obvious comparison, but instead he carefully sat up straight, and smiled at her. "Do you want to try going back to sleep? Or do you want to stay up for a bit and watch TV or something until you feel better."
That sounded good. Right now, she didn't dare close her eyes. She nodded silently, and he stood up and started searching for the remote.
"Sorry, I should have thought to get Lia to pick you up a book or something too," he said with a grimace, sounding ridiculously guilty that he hadn't thought of literally everything.
She looked over at him and suddenly found herself looking past him to the living room. He must have left the door open when he came in. There were pillows and a comforter strewn over the sofa. Rusty must have been sleeping there. On guard, in case she had a nightmare, or staying between her and the door in case John found them. It didn't matter the reasoning.
"Will you stay?" she asked softly. "Until I fall asleep? Please?"
He looked over at her. "Of course," he promised.
She'd never felt this protected in her life.