Danke shon for the reviews and support.

Don just held me in the shower for a while, stroking my hair, and I felt all of my scared feelings ebb away. Finally, Don reached around me, shutting off the water. His clothes were absolutely soaked, dripping water as he lifted me to my feet. My knees wobbled a little, and buzzing from the lack of circulation they'd received from my former position. He held my hand gently as I got out, and he followed suit. He grabbed a nearby towel, wrapping it around me from behind. "Go get dressed," he murmured softly.

I complied, somewhat reluctantly, and ventured to Don's bedroom. On our way home, we'd stopped at my old apartment, grabbing a few changes of clothes for me. It had been strange, an almost deja vu moment as I had entered. Everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. Old bandages from my gunshot wound still sat in the trash can. My bed was mussed from sleep- exactly as I'd left it. I relished in the security of my former home as I chucked a few things into a bag.

I now stood in Don's bedroom, still holding the towel against my body. I just felt safe in his presence. Sure, he was in the other room, but I felt fine just being here, in his bedroom. After sliding on a tank top and shorts, I crawled into his bed. The sheets smelled like him, and I could almost imagine being wrapped in his embrace. I even went as far as to bury my nose in them, inhaling the intoxicating scent. I sighed softly, closing my eyes.

"Do you like Tide?"

My eyes shot open, and I saw Don leaning against the door frame, shirtless, and wearing gray sweatpants. He had a lilting smile on, his blue eyes playful.

"What?"

"Tide. Do you like it? You sure seemed to be enjoying smelling my sheets."

I dropped my gaze, feeling blood rushing to my cheeks. To most people, I could've come up with a witty remark in an instant, but Don seemed to hold the power to make me blush and stutter like a little school girl.

I heard his feet padding over to me, and his finger found my chin, gently tilting my face up to meet his. He half crouched, half kneeled so we could look eye to eye. "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you." Since when do I get embarrassed?

"S'okay," I answered simply, not giving thought to my own thoughts.

He sighed, his eyes not leaving mine. "I'll take the couch tonight." He kissed my cheek, a hand brushing through my hair and began to stand, and I frantically reached for him again. The nightmares. I knew they'd start up again. Amy. Andy. Shay. I shivered. I couldn't wake up alone. I just couldn't.

My hand caught his, and he turned. I imagine there was a look of crazed need in my eyes. "Please don't leave. Don't leave." I said quietly, my voice pleading.

Understanding shone in his eyes, followed by reluctance. "Are you sure?" I nodded rapidly, the look of desperation still in my eyes. He let go of my hand, walking around to the other side of the bed. As soon as he was half way in the bed, I cuddled up to his side, savoring the feel of his skin on mine. "Whoa, there," Don said with a laugh as I collided with him.

It felt too good to be near him to complain, so I stayed silent, inhaling his scent straight from the source. There was no light outside the window, the sun having fully gone down, and the only light in the room was a lamp beside the bed.

He reached over and shut it off, before taking me in his arms again. We faced each other. I could just barely make out his face in the darkness. "I have nightmares," I said quietly. "Every single night since Tillery's Diner. At first it was just the shooting, and then Shay tried to rape me the first time," Don cringed, his muscles contracting against me, "and then he started popping in. In the hospital, I didn't have any because of the drugs but..." I paused, tears prickling the backs of my eyes, but I blinked rapidly, forcing them back. "I'm scared. I don't want to live through that again." I said, my voice cracking audibly.

Don's grip on me tightened. "I'll never let anything happen to you, Jess. I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered breathlessly. His arms around my waist, our legs tangled together, I felt better than I had in weeks.

I must've fallen asleep shortly after that, because images began flickering through the blackness.

Blood.

All I could see was blood.

I saw Amy, lying in her own blood. Her mouth was moving, angry accusations hissing at me. "Why didn't you come for me sooner? You could've saved me. Why didn't you do it? It's all your fault. I could be alive right now. You're the reason I'm dead." Her voice hissed and sputtered like a snake. Suddenly, everything dissolved and I felt Shay entering me roughly again, his hands touching me, then flying out to hit me. Tears fell from my eyes. "Please stop!" I screamed. "You're hurting me. Please stop," My voice turned plaintive, begging and whimpering. I hurt. I hurt all over. Shay grinned wickedly down at me, his eyes burning like hot coals. I felt like I was suspended, trapped. I could never get out of this situation. I would always be here. There was nothing I could do about it.

Suddenly everything was gone. My eyes shot open, and I saw a different set of eyes above me. They were blue an gentle. My breathing was labored, and I was drenched in sweat.

"Jess, it's okay. I'm here, it's okay," his gentle voice soothed the tremors coursing through my body.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, not trusting my voice at full volume. I was on my back, and he leaned over me, smoothing my hair, stroking my cheek.

"Don't say sorry," he said, still making the comforting motions with his hands. He continued smoothing my hair, his blue eyes looking straight into my soul, murmuring sweet nothings, gently coaxing me to fall asleep. Eventually, I decided to fake it. I closed my eyes, my breathing becoming even. He shifted, lying on his side, an arm over my waist. I heard a light snore pick back up, and I opened my eyes again. I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to keep reliving everything over and over again. My eyelids felt like lead weights, and I struggled to keep them open, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.

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"Let's talk about why you're here, Jessica." Dr. Nelson said in a voice that was the picture of serenity. I'd arrived five minutes ago at her practice in downtown, and being silent seemed a surefire way to go.

My hands were clenched in my lap as I faced her. Don had convinced me to attend these sessions, worried about my frequent nightmares, and as much as I wanted to get better, I didn't think a psychologist was necessary. Dr. Nelson was older than me, perhaps in her forties. She had short black hair that reached just below her shoulders. Her green eyes were the color of jade and reminded me a lot of those Zen Calming music CDs you saw vendors selling on the streets. She wore a professional, light blue power suit that made me feel underdressed.

The room we were in was small, but not claustrophobic. The walls were painted in a neutral minty green color, that I assumed was supposed to relax the patients. I was slightly disappointed that I wouldn't get to lay back like they did on TV. Both Dr Nelson and I sat in plush armchairs that were a slightly darker version of the color on the walls. There was one window, and, bummer for me, was directly behind me. There were a few frames that held documents that declared Dr. Nelson was the best in her field hung around the room, and an antique looking desk a few feet back from my chair, in front of the window.

I tried to meet her calm gaze with one of annoyance as I answered her. "Why should I tell you?" I internally cursed. I'd broken my contract with silence.

"Why do you think you should tell me?"

"I don't."

"Why not?"

I threw my hands in the air in frustration. "I don't know. Maybe because I don't know you or trust you."

"Do you have trust issues, Jessica?"

"What?" She repeated her question, slower, and with more diction. "Why do you think I have trust issues?"

"For one, you have managed to deflect all questions that I have asked you so far to avoid telling me anything about yourself."

I cross my arms over my chest. "Maybe I don't trust you."

"Why don't you trust me?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because we've known each other for all of five minutes and you have thus far failed to tell me anything useful."

"What do you think is useful?"

I all but growled at her. "Are you insane? That's why I'm here! To find out what is useful so I can get over what-" I stopped, mid-sentence, when a small smirk formed on Dr. Nelson's face. It was the first time she'd shown any other emotion except the understanding, patient psychologist. I realized it was because I'd answered her first question. Doc- 1, Jess- 0. She scribbled something on a little notepad in front of her.

"You want to get over what happened to you, correct?"

I sent her another withering glare. "Thanks for getting that cleared up, Doc," I answered sarcastically.

She gave me a falsetto understanding smile as she scribbled something else on her notepad. "Jessica, what do you want to talk about?"

I sighed. This lady wasn't taking the hint. "That's the thing. I don't want to be here."

More scribbling. "Why don't you want to be here?"

I had a sudden rush of anger flow through me. Who the hell was this lady to be asking me this stuff? "Because you are constantly pressuring me to talk about things that I want to forget!" I yelled. She wrote something.

"I'm sensing some anger on your part."

"Oh. My. God. What is your problem? Anyone with half a brain can see that I'm angry." Scribble.

"Do you get angry often?"

"Define 'often'."

"I don't think it needs defining."

"No," I managed through gritted teeth.

"No?"

"No. I don't get angry. I get-" I was about to say that I get scared, but I didn't want to open up to this woman. She didn't get me. She doesn't know me.

"You get what Jessica? Scared? Frustrated?"

I stayed silent. Suddenly, the room felt suffocating. The soft fabric of the chair suddenly felt like sandpaper. I felt too hot. I needed air. I stood quickly, a little disoriented. "I-I have to go," I stuttered, finding my way to the door.

"We'll pick this up-" I didn't hear the rest of her sentence, because I'd run out the door, slamming it behind me.

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I took the subway home. Something was oddly comforting about the old task. Something I'd done in the past. Before everything got so fucked up. Don had planned on picking me up after the hour session had ended, but I'd run out after 20 minutes. I fished my cell phone out of my pocket. I dialed the number I knew by heart as I finished the block and a half walk to Don's apartment from the subway station.

"Jess?" His voice answered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. My, um, my session finished early. I took the subway home."

I heard a worried sigh on the other line. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Damn. He could tell when I was lying, even over the phone. "Yeah. I'll be at home. I gotta go," I hastily ended our conversation, effectively diminishing any more chances of Don being able to tell that I was most definitely not okay.

Fini with another chapter. Reviews always appreciated :) -Serena