There were no more dreams of Ox that night, though there were some interesting ones involving Spot. I slipped in and out of sleep fitfully the pain ebbing and waning. When I finally woke it was because the room and become stifling hot, especially under the blankets. I kicked them off in annoyance and tried to roll over again only to land on my forearm making me wake and let out a moan of pain. I dragged my heavy lids open to find from the slant of the sun it had to be near midday. I had the same feeling you get when you wake up late for work, my heart pounded and I sat up as quickly as I could. I needed to make breakfast, was the first thought through my mind. Never mind the exhaustion, never mind the dragging pain, never mind that it was nearly lunch time, all I could think of was that I needed to get breakfast out. If I didn't take care of breakfast and start in on the cleaning I might find myself with no place to go. The dregs of the medication left me groggy and slightly dizzy; I put a hand to my forehead as if it would help me steady myself.
"There you are." Spot's voice immediately sent me into full out panic and I desperately struggled to the side of the bed. I felt like elves had slipped in during the night and beat me with a rolling pin. Every movement I found another stiff muscle or a bruise.
"Breakfast, I'll get it started, I'm sorry I over slept." I exclaimed putting my legs over the side of the bed before the nausea that was plaguing me hit in a harder wave. Spot jumped forward to stop me before I could stand. My eyes watered as all the muscles across my rib cage went into spasms in protest. "I'm so sorry, just give me a minute."
"Hey, hey." Spot said worriedly, setting the bag down with a clink and taking my forearms in his hands. "It's fine, breakfast was hours ago. I would have woken you to eat, but you were finally sleeping peacefully. I had a few errands to run so I left Mush in the living room with instructions to check on you. You don't think that I would force you out of bed before the morning edition after the beating you took last night did you?"
"I have to stay useful." I protested quietly, as I let him gently push me back onto the bed. He sat on the edge of the bed; he put his hand next to my hip leaning across me to box me in.
"You're going to take it slowly." Spot told me. "I appreciate your work ethic, but we can take care of it for a couple days while you heal. If you can't breathe without pain how are you planning on cleaning or cooking? We managed without you Briar; we can take care of it for a couple days."
"Would your boys take it easy or Glimmer?" I demanded.
"My boys are used to taking a beating." Spot replied. "If it were Glimmer then yeah, I'd force her to take it easy too. We'll wrap your ribs tomorrow and see how you feel, but you need to take it slow. No matter how frustrating it is you're not going to be any use if you hurt yourself further because you got too impatient."
"Coming from the model patient I'm sure." I said wryly he gave me a smile and reached for the bag on his nightstand. I watched as he pulled out the new bottle of laudanum, I noticed his hand for the first time. He had split his knuckles in the fight with Ox. I felt a pang at the thought that I had caused him to injure his hands.
"Are you alright?" I asked quietly grabbing his hand and pulling it down so I could examine it better. I couldn't stop the urge to kiss the swollen and bruised knuckles.
"Were you kissing it better?" I looked up to see his eyes hooded, and a wry look on his face. "I've had far worse injuries than this in a fight Briar. This is nothing."
"It has to hurt." I insisted and he shrugged and pulled his hand out of mine and pulled the sheet up until it covered my waist. I tried to push it away, but he deftly brushed my hands away.
"Stop it. I know it's hot in here, but I need to take a look at you." Spot's voice held a touch of irritation. "You're not wearing anything under that nightgown. Now I'm not sure about you, but when I see you naked for the first time I'd rather it not be because I was checking your injuries."
I didn't blush easily. I was used to fielding and returning innuendoes on a dime. I even had a rather dirty and bawdy sense of humor provided it held a certain amount of cleverness and wit. I wasn't used to a man so flatly saying and with such conviction that he was going to see me naked. He looked at me after I went dead still, I could feel him searching my face, but I found I couldn't meet his eye.
"Are you going to get all shy after last night?" Spot teased. I had to close my eyes as I felt my cheeks go from a little pink to outright fiery red. I don't know what was more embarrassing, the fact that I had given him far more information than I would have otherwise, or the fact that I had very poorly tried to seduce him and had struck out.
"Oh dear lord." I whispered hiding my eyes in the crook of my arm and not saying another word. How did one gracefully reply to any of this? I peeked under my arm at him to see him smirking I rolled over turning my back to him my voice muffled in the pillows. "That's it, I'm going to bed and I am never getting out again."
"You mean my bed." Spot's voice was full of amusement and I could feel myself blushing harder, my heart near my toes, my humiliation complete. "I've got no problem with that I think we can find a way for you to earn your keep without having to scour a pan or cook a meal again."
"Is it possible for you to just shoot me instead?" I asked, peeping hopefully from under the pillow. "Just put me out of my misery now."
He gently tugged the pillow away from my face. I shut my eyes tightly as if, if I couldn't see him then he couldn't see me. Or at the very least I could pretend that he wasn't there on the other side of my eyelids. I heard his soft deep laugh and felt the warmth of his body as he shifted and leaned over me. I could feel his face close enough to mine that our breath mingled. I couldn't stop myself from opening my eyes, or the heaviness of my lids as I met his gaze. He had settled his forearms on either side of my head holding himself above me so as not to hurt me.
"Why are you blushing Briar?" He questioned, it was half teasing, half honest interest. "I'd think by now you'd have reconciled yourself to what is going to happen between us. It isn't as if you're naïve about the goings on in a bed."
"That doesn't mean I'm used to talking about it like we were talking about having another cup of coffee." I replied tartly, looking pointedly at the wall just past his head.
"How did he let you end up so innocent even after you were with him?" Spot asked, I looked at him in confusion. "I thought about it last night. You evaded my questions, you never denied anything, and you never even lied. Normally I would have seen through it in a heartbeat, but even now, when you look at me there's so much innocence in your eyes. He really didn't touch you did he?"
"I don't understand what you're asking Spot." I said in confusion. His eyes narrowed a bit as he continued to search my gaze for something. "Of course he touched me."
"No, you don't understand do you?" He replied, his lips grazing mine. "All that passion at his fingertips and he was too stupid to really make you feel it wasn't he?"
He rolled away reluctantly and I felt like I had been denied something, I wasn't sure exactly what.
"So do you still want me to shoot you?" he asked the same soft smile that had melted my heart last night tugging at his lips. His eyes narrowed as he searched my face and eyes. He reached for the bottle and poured a little in the glass from last night and I wrinkled my nose in response. I didn't like how it made me feel, out of control and fuzzy. Generally I could keep close watch on how I felt when I was drinking. If I wasn't in a drinking competition surrounded by my nearest and dearest I was in complete control. I knew when to pull myself back from the brink of too far. With this it took a matter of minutes and I was stupid.
"Maybe it would be quicker than taking that stuff." I replied. He rolled his eyes and set it the glass back on his nightstand.
"I'm not going to force you to take it, but I can tell that even breathing painful for you. I can see the squint to your eyes that you get when you have a migraine, and you're cradling the arm we stitched. I won't think less of you if you need the medicine Briar and I meant what I said, nothing is going to happen while you're taking this medicine." He said his tone telling me I was silly not to take it. "This all of this happened because you were protecting my family, and if you had thought you needed to it would have happened to protect me. Let me take care of you."
"I don't know how." I replied quietly
"Start by taking your medicine like a good little girl." Spot told me, the humor in his voice making me respond in kind. I held my hand out and took the glass from him drinking the liquid in it in one quick swallow trying not to taste it. "I think the sleep did you good, did you have any more nightmares?"
His question brought another blush to my cheeks. Both because of the more colorful of my dreams slipped through my mind at his question and because he was busy pulling my nightgown up. I hoped in his determination to keep the sheet firmly at my navel and my nightgown pushed high enough to get a good look at my ribs he would miss the color in my face. His eyes softened at the nasty bruising made that much worse looking by my pale skin. He glanced up and paused before the smirk returned.
"I see." He said with amusement, carefully he tugged my nightgown back beneath the sheet. "So you did dream about me."
"Who says it was about you?" I shot back. He just looked at me with a wise knowing look that made me squirm. Softly he brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face and leaned down again. When he lifted his head finally my breathing was shallow, from the pulse beating just beneath his jaw I wasn't the only one affected.
"Who else could it be about?" He asked smirking again. "And if you keep trying to deny it I'll drive you as crazy as you drove me last night and leave you to try to sleep."
"Oh." I said smirking myself. "Have a little trouble last night?"
He rolled his eyes at me again and stood running a hand through his hair pointedly not answering that. I couldn't stop the deep bawdy chuckle that slipped from my lips at the thought that while he didn't take me up on my offer, he at least suffered a little because he wanted to. He gave me a passing grin in response as he moved to the window. He opened it and I felt a cool breeze slip in immediately making me more comfortable. I heard a serious of twitters that Spot responded to before he turned back to me.
"Are you hungry?" he asked in concern. "You haven't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon; I know you didn't eat any of the chicken salad you prepared."
I was surprised he noticed I hadn't eaten the early dinner the night before. I had been too keyed up and nervous to eat anything. Instead I had told Glimmer and Spot about the food and fiddled about with my mending while they had eaten at separate times while getting ready.
"Do you think you could keep down some bread and a little cheese?" he questioned. "I bought a fresh loaf from the baker on my way back with the laudanum."
"I'll try a little." I told him, I really didn't feel like eating. The between the heat of the room and the pain that was very slowly receding I wasn't very hungry, but he looked so concerned that I felt like I had to at least try. He nodded in satisfaction before leaving me to get the food. I desperately plucked at my nightgown, hating the way it stuck to me. I hated the heat like most people hated the cold; my mother had said I had polar bear blood. I often would head out of the house in a snowstorm wearing a medium weight sweatshirt and jeans, but in the middle of summer I felt like a wilted flower. I was sluggish and short tempered in the heat. Spot returned with a plate with bread, cheese and a bunch of green grapes. In his other hand he held a wet cloth.
"You felt warm." He said as he propped the pillows up behind me and put the cool cloth on the back of my neck. It cooled me and eased some of the nausea. I reached for the grapes first, they were surprisingly cool, and I ate them greedily. After Spot's urging I ate a little of the bread, before the medicine had my eyes drooping.
I rolled to side and curled my good arm under the pillow curling into a fetal position, closing my heavy eyes. I felt Spot take the now warm damp cloth from the back of my neck and I heard his footsteps disappear into the bathroom. I heard the faucet splash water into the sink and his footsteps coming back toward me. He gently laid it back across my neck until it warmed and then removed it, blowing on my wet skin continuing to cool me. I felt his hands reach under the sheet and pull my nightgown back down before he carefully folded the sheet at my feet and moved to stand. I put my hand on his thigh stopping him.
"Please don't leave yet." I whispered, unable to open my eyes, but not wanting to be alone. "Please what if the dreams come back?"
"I'll be here Briar, I'll protect you." He promised as he gently stroked my hair away from my face. "Sleep."
His lips were a feather light touch against mine; it was a sweet comforting kiss.
"Thank you Michael." I breathed, barely registering his start at hearing his real name from my lips.
When I woke again it was dark, the lantern glowed softly from nightstand. Spot leaned against the headboard his brow furrowed in his focus on something in his lap. I let my eyes droop shut again, but the pain was nagging and I couldn't fall back into oblivion like I wished. I lay there with my eyes closed, trying to will myself back to sleep without asking for more of the laudanum. An odd scratching noise near my head made me open my eyes again. Blinking against the light I saw Spot's hand holding a charcoal pencil that he moved with confidence against the notebook in his lap. Curiously I watched in complete fascination as he moved the charcoal across the page and stopped to blend it competently. He was so consumed by what he was doing he didn't seem to notice when I leaned up and tilted my head to see what he was drawing. I was shocked to find me. My face was sweet almost angelic in sleep, a soft smile curving my lips, my eyelashes fanning against my cheek. Half of my face was hidden by the pillow I laid on, my hand curled just under my chin, my hair spilling across the pillow in black waves.
I glanced up at him curiously; he looked back steadily, seriously, waiting to see what my response would be. I looked back at the picture feeling stunned, I obviously have long enjoyed writing, and it was my emotional and creative outlet. When I was most alone and my emotions at their most intense, writing had often calmed me, cleared my mind, allowed me to focus on those feelings and vent them. I fancied myself as an artist with words, able to describe a moment with clarity that you could see it, able to write emotions well enough you felt them, able to write a conversation well enough you could almost hear the words spoken in your ear. At least that's what I had always strove for, there were pieces of my work that I felt I had completely accomplished this. Every now and then there was a perfect moment, where the words flowed from me and I felt this incredible moment of completeness. Where I looked back at what I was written and knew it was right.
So while I while my medium wasn't drawing I understood the art itself. I knew that in drawing someone an artist draws them as he sees them. Just as if I wrote about someone I would describe them with my own view. You would be able to see the basic structure of them, they would be recognizable, but you would slant the impression of them as you saw them. The picture was beautiful, and in it he had made me beautiful.
"I wouldn't have expected you to be an artist." I said quietly wincing as I sat up leaning against the headboard with him. His expression was unreadable and I knew he hadn't meant me to find him drawing. "May I see your work?"
He shrugged as if it didn't matter, and I carefully picked up the leather bound portfolio. I found a picture of Mimic that made me smile, his little face lit up, his eyes bright and animated. It was perfect, just perfectly Mimic. The next was to my surprise another picture of me sitting in the darkness, a window just to my left streaming in moonlight. I was wearing a nightgown and a dressing gown. My nightgown belled around me, my hair spilled over one shoulder, my face in profile. I realized there was a child in my arms and my lips were slightly parted, my head tilted down so I was looking at the child. Looking more closely I realized he had drawn me holding Mimic in the hallway. I looked so maternal, so comforting, so gentle, almost like a painting of the Madonna. In order to draw this picture he had to have been in the hallway and seen me with Mimic before Flint had started in on me.
"You were in the hall the whole time?" I asked softly glancing up at him.
"I was frustrated as much as I wanted to want Annabelle I didn't. I had slipped upstairs. I needed a minute outside of the apartment so I got my sketchbook and was going to go up the stairs to the attic. Mimic came out into the hallway and you came out the door. I planned on waiting you out when Flint came up the stairs. I had to stow my sketchpad and slip back to the stairs while the boys were on the landing." Spot admitted watching me warily.
"You were there the whole time and you had the gall to be angry with me?" I demanded. "You could have stopped it before it got started."
"I didn't expect Flint to react to you like that, I didn't realize the other boys were drunk enough not to do anything." Spot told me quietly. "I wasn't as angry at you as I was at me. I was angry that I wasn't interested in Annabelle, that all I could think about was you. I was trying to put you out of my head and then there you were again. You were taking care of a boy I hadn't been able to reach for months. When Flint started in you were so fierce and brave even though I knew you had to be terrified. Through it all you didn't waver in trying to protect Mimic."
"You wanted me out because of it." I snapped. "You wanted me gone for something you could have stopped."
"I wanted you out because you were getting to me too much." Spot admitted the words tumbling over themselves telling me it was difficult for him to say and he was trying to say it quickly, like pulling off a band aide.
"And the window?" I asked needing to know what was behind everything now.
"I needed to get you out of my system, to be done with it." He growled. "I'm not proud of it, but you were there getting under my skin. I was hoping that by having you whatever it was that was drawing me to you would go away. Part of me wanted to punish you for how much you were clouding everything. I'm not proud of it, I… I'm sorry." The last was said with enough difficulty that I just nodded and let it go.
I turned to the next picture; it was of a little girl, a toddler, still more a baby than an actual child. She was playing in the apron strings of her mother. She had such a sweet happiness on her face, so delighted by something so simple. The loving exasperation on her mother's face was beautiful. He was so incredibly talented it was almost painful. Inside this strong, hard, tough as nails man was a sensitivity, a depth, and a passion that I wouldn't have guessed. I assumed from his reputation obviously that he had passion, but I hadn't realized that there was more to it than his libido.
"This is beautiful." I whispered in awe, I was afraid to look at him. I knew it had to hard for him to let anyone see any of these pictures.
"It passes the time." He replied dismissively taking the sketchbook back and closing it. I watched as he set it on the floor between the nightstand and the bed. The charcoal pencil he opened his nightstand drawer and tossed it inside.
"Don't do that." I said with a little snap to my voice. "Don't dismiss me like that. You have a gift Spot, an incredible talent, and it's beautiful. It doesn't take away from your strength or make you less of a man. Don't take what you shared with me and belittle it. Don't belittle this piece of yourself."
He looked at me curiously; there was a touch of bafflement in his expression. I just looked back at him steadily. He shook his head and looked away. For the first time in the entire span that we had known each other he actually looked away during one of our battle of wills. I knew this was something important to him, something he would have never shared with me had I not caught him. It was a piece he didn't like showing because he was afraid of what people would think if they knew. He prided himself on his strength, on his bravery, on his popularity with women, and on the fact that people feared him. He counted on it to protect him and his sister. How would he maintain his tough image if people knew there was more to him, that he could feel deeply?
"I won't tell anyone." I offered quietly. "I'll take it to my grave."
"Thank you." He responded after a moment of quiet, I pushed myself back into a laying position, trying to be tough myself and not whimper or groan. Without a word he handed me the glass, once again a dose of laudanum in bottom of it.
"Thank you." I said, taking it from him and swallowing it.
"Drink the whole glass of water." He ordered handing me another glass. "You haven't had much water today. Between the medicine and the heat you'll get sick if you don't."
Dutifully I leaned up on my good elbow and drank the water. The air outside was heavy with moisture, I knew a storm was about to break, I could smell it in the air. The water was cool and sweet, it slid down my parched throat feeling like a little piece of heaven. Once it was gone, Spot refilled the glass from a pitcher he took from the floor. I drank the second glass and handed it back once it was drained. Spot took it and set it on the table.
"I'm betting you never told any of the other girls that you were an artist did you?" I asked after a few minutes of strained silence.
"No." he said flatly, I could tell he really didn't want still be talking about it.
"Because if you had, they would have been even more interested in you." I told him, he looked down at me as if he thought I was crazy. "Girls go crazy over artists, they like that sensitive soul thing. You would have had to beat them off you more than you already do."
"And what about you?" Spot asked quietly, almost as if he were afraid to ask.
"Didn't I already make that clear?" I demanded, giving him a soft smile. "I think you have a talent, I think what you can translate from what you see to paper is beautiful. It makes me think that maybe there is more to you than a narcissistic playboy."
"It doesn't make you respect me any less?" The question was so faint I almost didn't hear it.
"No it doesn't." I assured him firmly. "I think more of you. Even in the streets where you've had to fight and scrape for everything, where you've seen pain, and heartache and death, you can still find beauty. That the capability for that hasn't been stamped out is incredible; it makes me think that there might be something incredible about you."
The words were difficult for me to say, even though I knew he needed to hear it. I had given him too much and he could crush me with it, but I had to give him something back. He may not have wanted to share his art with me, but he had. He had opened that vulnerable part of him to me and I had to give him a piece back. He drew me into his arms, carefully, gently. My head lay over his heart, the rhythm of it comforting as his strong arms holding me like I was fragile, breakable, worth being careful with, worth protecting.
"My father gave me a piece of advice once, it's stuck with me." I said as I he rested his cheek on my hair.
"I don't know that I trust your father to have any good advice." He grumbled. I smiled at his obvious dislike of the man that he felt should have protected me and failed.
"Before my mother died, when we were closer, he told me that one day I would pick a man. He said that I should look for one with incredible strength with the capability of incredible gentleness. " I turned Spot's battered hand over in my own smaller ones. "That no matter how big or how rough his hands he should hold mine as if it were spun glass."
"Not too bad advice." He mused, I tilted my head up to look up at him, his had still held in my own. I gave him a smile. I knew my heart was in my eyes. Eric had spent months planning his seduction, he had made promises he had no intension of keeping, he had broken my heart, but I knew looking into the cool depths of Spot's that, he could shatter my heart into a thousand pieces. He could break it so badly it might never be put back together again. It was crazy, we had known each other less time than I had known Eric, but I was on an edge ready to tumble for this man. For everything he was and for everything he could be. I closed my eyes as he kissed me, he lifted his hand from mine and cupped my cheek and jaw cradling it as if was fine porcelain.
In the distance I heard the rumbling of thunder as a sharp rap sounded on the door. Spot remained as he was, holding me , his hand cupping my face as he turned to look at the door. Aces poked his head; he quickly surveyed the scene before he spoke.
"Sorry boss, but we have trouble." He said, instantly Spot's body tensed. He eased away from me, the warm cozy scene evaporated almost as quickly as it had happened. I felt stripped bare in so many ways. I was in Spot's bed, wearing no more than my thin nightgown, we had been interrupted during an intimate moment, my heart lay at Spot's feet and I was suddenly desperately afraid that he would trample on it.
"Give me a minute Aces." Spot said as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me. Aces gave him a brief nod and shut the door behind him. My head was heavy from the medication, my heart heavy with fear for having given so much so quickly. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Try to sleep if you can. I'll have one of the boys on the door. I trust Jax completely, he's on the fire escape, whatever this is you're safe."
I nodded, there was no way I would sleep no matter how protected I was, but he needed to go. He cupped my cheek again and brushed his lips against mine before he turned and walked out the door.
Jinx: Hope you enjoy it.
Guest: Thank you for your review. I'm glad you like the layers. I can't tell you the changes because then you might not finish reading it. Thank you!