I do not own Midsomer Murders! I only own the characters that I made up.

I'd grown accustomed to the annoying silence of the hospital. Well, almost silent. It wasn't uncommon to hear squeeking wheels of a food cart, or bed, rolling down the hallways. Murmuring could be heard as well, be it doctors, surgeons, nurses, visitors, or even patients. The beeping of my heart monitor was about to drive me mad, but I was already half-way there. In fact, I'd even heard the doctor talking to Ben in the hallway about it, discussing that I had some head injuries(from being thrown about like an old shoe, mind you), that may have caused mental damage as well. He said that small amounts of my memory had been completely erased, and I'd have to relearn a few things. What things, I didn't remember, I'd have to find out once I was released.

To be honest, I was actually glad that I'd had some memory loss. Some of the horrid memories from my childhood had been completely erased. Oh, I still knew that my father had done awful things to me, as well as some of his friends had. However, I couldn't remember what those awful things were that they'd done. When Ben told me about the memory loss(which I already knew of by evesdropping and digging around in my mind), I simply told him, "I didn't lose enough of some of my memories."

What Paul had done was still fresh in my head as well, but I tried to block those memories out. I simply chose to stare off out the large window next to my bed at what little I could see of London. I could see a street or two, with nice little trees lining the sidewalks. I would watch people as they strolled by the street, some looking normal, some dressed as businessmen, punks, skaters, the occasional jogger and/or dog walker, also an occasional stroller-pusher, and others. There was only one face that I was looking for, however, and in a week I still hadn't seen him.

"He's helping around the house," Mike would assure me, who was still in London because, apparently, Ben needed support. "Cora needs help with Amber and Daniel. He'll be along as soon as he can. Don't worry, he's nearly going mad to get here."

I would just sigh and look down at my bruised, battered, bandaged body. This was usually followed by a sympathetic pat to the knee(and I do mean a light one, because they were afraid of hurting me), and then another assurance that my boyfriend would love me no matter how wounded and scarred I was. I would just close my eye and lean back against the pillows to act like I was dead to the world...which, in a way, I was.

"Ben?" I murmured one day.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

Mike and Jess had gone out for lunch, promising to bring Ben and I something back, hence the reason I'd chosen to ask a question that, in my opinion, was a bit emotional.

"Ben, what...abilities, or whatever, did the doctor say I've lost?" After a short pause, I added, "Don't try to make it sound better than it is...Please be honest with me."

My uncle sighed as he put his magazine in his backpack, before bringing his sorrowed gaze to my own. "Well," he murmured, "We're not sure about some of them, but, holding a pen or pencil and writing is one."

"You mean...I don't know how to write anymore?"

He shook his head. "Your brain doesn't remember how to do those things."

"Can I still...read? I remember that I loved to read."

His brows furrowed thoughtfully, and he pulled the magazine from his backpack again. Holding it up, he asked, "Can you read anything on the cover?"

The magazine cover swam in and out of focus, and I gently took it from his hands to bring it closer to my face. After a few moments I mumbled, "Learn How to Improve Your Cooking Skills."

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he placed his hand on my knee. "Good. Good girl." he cooed.

I couldn't help but chuckle as I looked back at the magazine. "Improve your cooking skills?"

He smiled sheepishly. "Jess is making me read it. She wants me to be able to cook for you when she has to go back to work. It's actually quite an enjoyable magazine."

I snorted softly and passed the magazine back to him, before looking out the window longingly. I listened to the sounds of the city, such as the engines of the shiny red double-decker buses, impatient drivers honking their horns. I could also hear the more relaxing sounds, such as Big Ben chiming from somewhere near the hospital, and boats idling down the River Thames.

"When do you suppose they'll release me?" I asked, wanting nothing more than to explore the city I'd heard so much about.

"That's more of a Jess question," he said softly, "But, I'm guessing they just want to observe you now...make sure your heart doesn't start acting up again."

A phone rang down the hallway, and I vaguely wondered who it was. I turned slowly, though, just as quickly forgetting about it. "Was it acting up?"

"A bit." he yawned. "A nurse told me that it's nothing serious, but it's enough to keep an eye on."

Leaning back against the pillows, I attempted to scratch an itch beneath the bandages on my forehead. "What else is wrong with me?"

His brows furrowed.

"I mean, what other damage might I have?"

"Oh." he coughed. "I didn't like the way you'd worded that question." he paused to gather his thoughts. "You have some walking issues, but that much is obvious. Uhm," he leaned forward a bit. "Did you hurt your hip?"

A flash of Paul striking me from my perch on the toilet, and the sickening crack of my hip hitting the floor sparked in my mind's eye. "Yeah, I hurt it."

"Mhm." he nodded. "Doc said that may have an effect on your walking, but it all depends on how badly you want to walk. I mean, walk normally, anyway. The more you work on it, the less of a limp you'll have."

I felt my eyes harden with detirmination. "I will walk again, and walk well."

A tiny smile caressed Ben's lips. "I know you will. You're too strong a woman to give up easily on anything."

My gaze softened again, and my voice grew soft as well with truth and, I guess you could call it innocence, the way I sounded so child-like. "You know...I nearly gave up."

Any cheerfulness that had been in Ben's eyes and smile disappeared, replaced with cold reality, and I'd say a bit of shock. He sat up a bit straighter, and put his hand on my knee again. "Mhm?" he pressed soflty.

I swallowed. "He'd just started raping me. I wanted to give him hell because no matter how hard I begged, cried and screamed, he wouldn't get off of me. Out of desperation, I dug my fingernails into his face and yanked. He immediately got off of me and locked me in the bathroom. While I was in there, I started to think. I began wondering what the word kind was; what it meant, if it was real or not. I kept thinking that it had to be real, because it had to be what you and the others were treating me with.

"Then those thoughts led to other things I thought you and the others may have been treating me with, such as pity. But I told myself it was something stronger, because I'd felt it when you had. After arguing with myself, I came to the conclusion that at first it had been pity, but it had turned into love. I began to think how I'd never thought it was real. But then I thought of when you'd held me that night and hummed a lullaby to me, and then I knew that love is real."

I looked my uncle right in the eyes. "Just knowing that love is real made something...I don't know, send my motivation down an entirely different road. When Paul came back in the room, I started to mock him. I thought if I could get him angry and distracted enough, I'd be able to grab something to defend myself with." I drew in a heavy breath, all of the events playing like a movie in my head. "I told you about the burn marks, and the mirror, but I haven't told you the following."

I swallowed again, though a bit harder. "He flung me against the row full of drawers after he'd thrown me through the mirror, and the impact caused a few of the drawers to open, which also caused some of the weapons in them to bounce out. Paul hadn't noticed...he was too busy trying to calm down because he didn't want to kill me. One of those weapons was a pistol." I shuddered. "He ran at me when he realized I had it, but," My lower lip began to quiver, and my eye became glassy. "B-but...I shot him!" I cried. "I k-killed a man b-because...I w-wanted to t-tell you that I-I'd finally f-figured out that love is real!"

The next thing I knew of was only Ben. I knew of nothing but his strong arms, holding me against him so I wouldn't fall. I knew nothing but his warmth protecting me from my own invisible blizzard. I couldn't hear anything but his voice, warm, tender and loving as he comforted me, telling me it was okay, that he loved me, that I had just been defending myself. I tucked my face in the curve of his neck, my body shaking as it was bombarded with sobs.

But it was okay.

For once in my life, I felt okay about crying my eyes out. And goodness, did I ever cry. I cried until my eyes were red and puffy, and my breaths were labored. My hands clenched two fist-fulls of Ben's dark blue t-shirt, and I seemed to not be able to stop saying the words "I love you" over and over again. Ben would respond with an "I love you, too", and other such things. I don't think he really knew what to do, but he did his best, and it seemed to work. He continued to whisper things to me, place kisses along my face, and allowed one of his hands to trail soothing paths on my back, while the other cupped the back of my head.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmured. "You're not going to be able to breathe in a moment. Calm down, shh, shh."

I didn't really begin to calm down until he began rocking me side to side about ten minutes later. I tried taking deep breaths, tried to concentrate on his words rather than my thoughts, which only seemed wrecked. My arms fell loosly down his back and sort of just hung there, and hiccups seemed to replace my sobs. "I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Don't be." he soothed. "You've been through a lot."

"I've wanted to do that for so long...It felt so good to get it all out." I murmured against his shoulder.

"That's good. Some people just need a good cry sometimes. Don't be ashamed of needing to cry, Blake...some days it just helps."

I sniffled. "I'm sorry I hurt you the other day. I don't hate you, you know."

His embrace tightened. "I know...I found your note. I only regret that I hadn't found it before you'd made a scene. I probably could have prevented you from being nabbed."

I drew back slowly, looking him right in the eyes. I was surprised to find tears in them, though he refused to let any of them fall. Cupping his cheeks in my bandaged hands, I whispered strongly, "None of this is your fault...it's all mine. I made the decision to run away. I had to protect you, and the others." I sniffled again, and stroked his cheeks with my thumbs. "Oh...the things I go through for you people."

Ben only sighed, allowing his arms to drape around my waist. "I know."

I held his gaze for as long as I dared without speaking, before, actually, becoming quite bored. I also didn't like the atmosphere I'd set up for the room. Letting my hands fall to his shoulders, I asked, "How are things with you and Jess?"

He nodded. "Good. We've gotten closer over the past couple of weeks." At my unsure expression, he cupped my chin and tilted it upward so I was looking directly at him. "I love her, but I love you, too, you know? I'm not going to choose one or the other." he smiled a small smile, "If you start to feel left out, you can just tell me."

I started to reply, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. Without waiting for an answer as to whether to come in or not, Mike barged in the room, a grin plastered on his face, a red bag clutched in his left hand. "What's this?!" he asked in a mock-surprised tone, "She's sitting up!"

I furrowed my brows as a slight smile crept onto my lips from pure amusement at Mike's enthusiasm, and pulled away from Ben slightly, allowing my hands to remain on his shoulders.

Mike chuckled at my expression and took a seat on the other side of the bed, and then placed the red plastic bag in my lap. He also rewarded me with a kiss to the temple, and leaned close to my ear, "Some goodies in the bag. I know the doctor said no, but being a police officer, I don't see anything wrong with breaking a rule or two for what you think is right...depending on what it is and what you do, of course. Anyway, I think they're starving you here, so..." he smiled again, and gestured toward the bag.

I flicked my amused, yet curious gaze in the direction of the bag and dipped my hand in, feeling around before opening it completely to see what I was feeling...which was a lot of plastic wrap. There was a large sub sandwich, which had been cut in half and wrapped separately so that it would be able to fit in the bag without sticking out. Along with the sandwich were little packets of mayonnaise, mustard, honey mustard, sort of goldish, oil-looking substance, and of course a packet of plastic silverware, complete with a little folded napkin. The next thing that my fingers brushed across was a plastic bag of crisps, cheese flavored. I smiled at that, before moving on to find a small bottle of what looked like soda, and then a small package of chocolates.

I looked up at the two men to find that Jess had come in the room as well, whom had seated herself in a chair by Ben rather than on the mattress. "You approved this?" I asked softly, wondering what the nurse would say.

She chuckled. "I work in a hospital, remember? I know what they serve."

This earned a light chuckle from everyone, including me, before we all fell into silence once again. I leaned back against the pillows with the red bag laying atop my stomach, and sighed. I wasn't really all that hungry, and to be honest, I didn't want to eat with everyone staring at me. So...I just laid there.

I thought I heard a chuckle from Mike's direction. "You look tired."

"Mmm." I sighed.

A large, gentle hand stroked the side of my head, presumably Mike's hand since it was too big to be Ben's and definately too big to be Jess's, followed by, "Relax, love; you can eat it later."

The sheets were pulled to my shoulders as the light weight of the bag was lifted from my stomach, only to be replaced by another hand. Cracking my eyes so that I was looking out of my lashes, I found Ben to be the owner of said hand. I closed my eyes again and put both of my hands on top of his. I could relax as I'd been told. I had accomplished my task of telling Ben what I knew was real, and knew he would tell the others the motive behind my escape.

But as I began to fall asleep, allowing my body to be taken deeply into slumber, I couldn't help but wish that I was holding the hand of the boy that had taught me to talk again; and shortly after, I dreamed of him.

OKAY. I apologize if this chapter just seemed a bit...random. I've been working on it since I posted the previous chapter, becuase I just didn't feel satisfied with it for a bit. I'm still not satisfied with how it turned out, but, I'll just have to leave it up to you whether you think it's any good or not. Please review, it motivates me! Thank you!