Into The Light
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Chapter Thirty-Six
It seemed like they had been walking through the woods for hours. Time had ceased to exist. It didn't seem to matter anymore. "Do you think we're getting close?" Honey whispered to Brian, unable to handle the silence any longer. Dan turned back and aimed a fierce glare at them, effectively cutting off Brian's reply, and motioned for them to be quiet. Duly chastised, Honey gave him an apologetic look. They continued moving as a unit through the dark of the forest, traveling silently, with all three lost in their own thoughts.
Suddenly, the night was interrupted by an explosive gunshot, followed closely by a quiet that was eerie in the extreme. In the shadows of an ancient oak tree, Honey came to a complete and total stop, her hand covering her mouth, her heart racing, and terrible images flashing through her mind. What could have happened? Whirling around wildly, she stared at Brian and then at Dan and saw the same terror reflected on their faces that was gripping her own heart. She didn't want to waste another minute. Heedless of any potential danger to herself, she took off like a shot, running with a fleet-footed grace through the thick brush of the forest floor that left the two men with her in awe, as well as astonishment that she would push on without them. She headed in the direction of the gunshot and sprinted the fastest she had ever gone in her entire life, without paying any attention to the shouted orders to stop coming from behind or the branches slapping at her arms. Her feet pounded through the forest, barely aware of Dan and Brian running behind her. She burst through a thick line of trees, only to come to a screeching halt at what she saw. Her breath came in short, quick pants as she covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, no," she gasped out, shaking her head, her lovely hazel eyes nearly swallowing up her face. "No, no, no! This can't be happening."
Jim, lying prone, flat on his stomach on the hard ground. He was not moving. She caught the tangle of legs, realized that Trixie was underneath him. For one horrible, horrible second she thought the worst, while her eyes become moist with unshed tears and her body started to tremble in shock. Then she watched Jim lift his head slightly and saw Trixie's legs start to move, putting her immediate fears to rest, and bringing her some much-needed relief. Her shoulders slumped as the tension left her body. She wiped the sweat off of her forehead and ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to calm herself and took a series of deep, calming breaths in order to get her heart rate back to a more normal pace. Her eyes traveled to the still body a mere five feet away from them, with dark red blood flowing out from a small hole in his chest and soaking into the hard earth below. There was no movement from him, nothing but the spill of the blood. Biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out, she turned her head away, squeezing her eyes shut, unable to look at such a grisly image.
Sergeant Molinson competently placed the gun back into its holder on his utility belt, correctly reading the emotions parading across her face, and not surprised by her arrival in the least. Contrary to his orders, he hadn't expected her or Brian to stay on the road and wait to find out what had happened in the woods. There was simple no way they would have been able to follow his directions, not with so many of their own out in the woods. He lifted an eyebrow when the other two Bob-Whites hurried up behind her, his only sign of disapproval at their choice, and chose not to lecture them about the dangerous hazards of joining in a police search when they were clearly not invited to. When he snapped the lid closed on his gun holder, Honey jumped reflexively and saw him for the first time. "When I shoot, I don't miss," he informed them calmly, without a hint of arrogance to his voice. It was the plain and simple truth. He gave Honey a small smile and waited for the multitude of police officers to start filing onto the scene. It wouldn't take too long. The gunshot would bring them running. He was impressed that the Bob-Whites had beaten them to the area and fleetingly wondered if he should have all of them on his payroll.
Unaware of their growing audience, Jim carefully disentangled himself from Trixie. He lifted his chest up, gave a sharp look to their right, and experienced an almost agonizing sense of satisfaction at the sight of Tilney Britten, lying in a pool of his own blood. The horrible man had a shocked expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe that he had really been shot and that he had reached the end of his dark, despicable road. Good riddance was all Jim could think, his lips curling back into a sneer at the man he despised with a deep passion. He stared at him for one more minute, letting the image burn a hole into his memory, almost as if it was a penance for his failure in not being able to get to Trixie earlier or to prevent the pain and terror that she had felt through the long evening. Then his morbid contemplation was over. He didn't give the bastard another thought.
Jim felt her chest rising and falling with each breath against him, glanced down at Trixie, and was so damn grateful to have her alive and relatively well. Her mouth was set in a pale, thin line. Her eyes, the beautiful blue ones that had haunted his dreams for much longer than he cared to admit, were closed, with her dark lashes fanning becomingly across her ashen cheeks. He wished she would open them so he could see into them and find out exactly how she was feeling. He was schooled in deciphering in her moods, could almost always tell what emotions she was experiencing by simply looking at her. He smoothed a hand over her head, noticing that her curls were tangled even more than usual. But they were just as soft. He rubbed one between his fingers, enjoying the feel of the silky texture. Then he followed her arm and saw that she had a hand over her ribs, right where he knew that she hurt the most, and felt his own frustrated anger start to rebuild again. He would have given anything to go back in time and prevent the evening from happening. Although it was useless to think like that, he couldn't prevent it. She had been hurt and terrified in a way she had never experienced before, in a way he hoped and prayed that she never had to experience again. It bothered him even more that while she had been saving Di and running for her own life, he had been blissfully unaware of it all, safe at the cabin. Guilt ate at him, would continue to do so for a long time to come.
Then he focused on her face again, his eyes narrowing at what met his eyes. Britten's brutality had stamped a portrait of sheer and utter pain across her face. The bruise across her cheek was even more prominent against the ashen pallor of her face, was already a vibrant purple. It nearly encompassed her entire cheek, told the story of the hard slap she had received better than if he had witnessed it himself. A victim of more than one hard hit to the face, as well as too many other body parts, from his time with his stepfather, he knew what it was like. The feeling of hopeless, helpless anger almost outweighed the pain. Almost. Wishing he could have taken the pain for her, he did what he had wanted to do since the first moment he had come upon her, battling for her life. Gentle hands framed her face tenderly, traced the cuts on the one side of her face and examined the swelling on the other. He saw the tiny cut on her neck, with the line of dried blood, and drew in a sharp breath. "It's not too bad. It's not. It'll heal," he murmured, more to himself than to her. The swelling would go down. The bruising would fade away. The cut would mend. But he would never forget it in his entire life.
She opened her startled eyes, looked right at him, and sighed deeply, finding enjoyment in the way that he touched her face. It was almost as if he was taking away the pain with his fingers. It didn't seem to be as sharp or as throbbing anymore. Her breathing finally started to return to normal. "Jim," she said simply and easily, hoping he knew how much she meant with that one small word. She hoped she didn't have to leave the ground for a long time. It was becoming a much more comfortable bed than she had ever expected, especially with him looking at her like she was the most cherished thing in the world. She was more than content to stay where she was.
What she had gone through was awful. He briefly wondered if she would ever tell him all of it. Staring into the bright blue eyes that even now held a bit of a shadow to them that had never been there before, he doubted it. It wouldn't be because she didn't want to talk about it. It would be because she wouldn't want to remind him, or anyone else, about her experience. He pressed his forehead to hers, ran a hand up and down her arm, not sure if he was trying to soothe himself or her, and replied with what he believed was the sweetest word in the entire world, "Trixie." They were caught like that for an endless moment, while the forest life began to stir around them, as well as the soft voices of the others at the edge of the small clearing. He didn't hear them. Neither did she. It was like they were all alone. Then he came to the quick realization that he was still on her and he pulled back. "Oh, God, Trix, I'm on top of you. Am I crushing you?"
Her curls didn't have their normal bounce to them when she shook her head. Her scalp was still stinging from the vicious tugs to it. "No," she responded raspily. "I'm fine. You're not hurting me. Really. I don't mind having you on top of…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. A ferocious flush blossomed across her cheek as she realized what, exactly, she had said, as well as how it could be interpreted.
He didn't catch the more sensual meaning, was brought back to the memory of what had happened when he caught a glimpse of the sprawling body not more than five feet away from them. It was a long minute before he moved to his knees, being careful not to hurt her, and slipped an arm around her waist. "All right, Trix. We'll take it a little at a time. I'll help you. Do you think you can you stand?" he asked softly, his green eyes studying her intently, looking for any sign of pain or weakness to her.
She wouldn't let the pain win, not when they had been able to go through hell and come out on the other side. Nodding, she let him help her up, wincing slightly with each movement, and doing her best to hide it but she couldn't fool him. He moved slower than normal, with extreme care. Her sore body screamed out a loud protest but she was able to stand, mostly on her own, and was extremely proud of herself for overcoming the pain. Her muscles ached. Her side ached. Her head ached but she didn't care. She was alive. It was almost surreal.
The weight of his arm around her waist was comforting, letting her know without words that he was there to support her. His presence helped, made her feel as if she really could beat the pain and function with moderate success on her own. Catching the presence of a lifeless hand only a few steps away, she choked back a gasp but couldn't resist and turned her fascinated eyes in the direction she really didn't want to look at. Wide-eyed, she stared at the man lying on his back, with blood all around him. It was the most horrifying thing she had ever seen in her entire life. Staring at it made her realize that the events had branded her for the rest of her life, whether she wanted to be affected by them or not. Choking back a sharp sob, she turned her head into his chest, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to block out the picture, but it was ingrained in her mind, as surely as the events of the evening.
He circled away from the dead body, hoping to prevent her from looking in that direction again, and brought her with him. He laid his head on top of hers, all the while whispering nonsensical words of comfort into her ear. He made no move to let her go, kept her as close to him as he could, while the past few minutes kept replaying through his mind, knowing exactly what she was thinking. He doubted if he would ever be able to really forget about it, either. It seemed like the night would always be tugging at the edges of his mind. But, as she held on just as tightly, he realized something even more startling. As tainted of a memory as it was, and certainly one that neither one of them would ever enjoy, it was yet another memory that linked them together in the chain that he believed was proving to be unbreakable, that confirmed to him beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were meant to be together.
Neither was aware of the sudden flash of bright lights from the flashlights shining around them, turning the clearing from a velvety darkness into a scene that looked like it could have taken place during the bright light of day. Trixie blinked her eyes as a harsh beam of light cut through and past them, focusing on Britten, but it didn't register on her. She snuggled deeper into his arms. She knew that they would need to leave the area but all she wanted to do was to stay with him, uncertain if she had the energy to leave. Jim was in complete agreement. He wasn't in a hurry to leave, either.
Dan pointed out the two who seemed extremely content to stay within the comfort of each other's arms, almost as if they were doing their best to become one instead of two separate individuals. Hiding his own relief at finding both of his friends together and relatively unhurt, he turned to Brian and asked, with a playful tone to his voice that almost successfully masked his fear, "Think we should interrupt?" He hooked his thumb towards the two who were oblivious to the two officers who were examining the body only a few feet from them. "Or should we just leave the two of them alone?"
Brian's feet were glued to the spot. He couldn't respond, unable to believe that his sister had made it through and was all right. He couldn't tear his eyes off of her, felt memories upon memories of her from the time she was a toddler to the last time he had seen her that afternoon, flood over and through him. It was lovely and bittersweet at the same time, telling more of his love for his sister than any words could ever say. He felt a few tears sting his eyes that he resolutely blinked away and cleared his throat. Words still failed him.
Concerned by his quietness, Honey tentatively held onto his hand and gave it a small squeeze. She was relieved when Brian squeezed back. She didn't say anything at all, only wanted him to know that she was there for him. Then she glanced back at Trixie and Jim, understanding that the two had become bonded for life even more than they were before by what they had experienced together. She lifted her eyebrows, decided that it was time to hone in on the action, and propelled herself forward, ignoring the police officers who were coming out of the dark to talk with the sergeant. "Trixie! Jim!" she called out shrilly and then covered her mouth when they turned to face her. Both were bruised, battered and a bit bloody. She ran the few steps towards them and grabbed a hand from each, holding on tightly, forming a beautiful triangle that had been forged years before, in an ancient, ramshackle mansion, and her mouth fell into a perfect O of astonishment. "Oh, my," she finally said, feeling that she should have said something else, but unable to come up with anything that told them the varying emotions tumbling through her. She catalogued each of their hurts, from the bruise and cuts on Trixie's face and neck, to the bruises and blood on Jim's. "You're all right. Both of you. You're all right."
"Honey, you're here," Trixie murmured lowly. She squeezed Honey's hand but stayed next to Jim, taking the comfort of his body next to hers. She was finding it hard to believe that they were alive, that Britten had been defeated, and almost felt as if she was in some type of a dream. Everything seemed a little fuzzy around the edges. She gave her head a shake, which helped, but then her body started to shiver, whether from the cool night air or the freshness of the memories, she couldn't tell.
So in tune to her, he recognized it immediately. After running a hand down her bare arm, he realized just how cold she was. "You're freezing, Trixie," Jim commented, astounded that he hadn't picked up on it before. Without another word, he slipped off his jacket and laid it carefully onto her shoulders.
The effect was immediate and extremely welcome. She felt the warmness of the jacket, either from the recent heat of his body or the fact that the cool air had finally been cut off, and settled into the overly large jacket. It swam on her but she didn't care. She left it unzipped, not wanting to put her left arm in the armhole. She wasn't sure if she could handle the simple motion. Instead, she pulled the edges closer with her right hand. "Thanks," she whispered hoarsely.
He kept an arm loosely around her waist, his hand resting right below her sore ribs, unaware of the small amount of blood still trickling out from his own wound. He had actually forgotten about it, more concerned with her than himself. Already knowing where she hurt the most, he started massaging the area. "How did you get hurt?" he asked, his voice thick with unshed emotion.
She remembered her flight through the night with another shudder. "I wasn't watching where I was going," she admitted self-deprecatingly. It was hard to get the words out past the knot in her throat. She had to clear her throat before continuing. She motioned towards Britten but kept her back to him, unable to look at him again. "He…he was chasing me through the forest. I glanced back to see how close he was and I didn't pay attention to what I was doing. The next thing I knew I was rolling down an embankment and then I collided with a tree."
Honey paled even further at the tiny part of the tale that she knew absolutely nothing about. She threw her arms around her friend, pathetically grateful that Trixie had come out alive. When Trixie gave a small wince, she loosened her hold. "That's awful, Trixie," she whispered into her ear. "Just plain awful. How terrible for you."
About to respond, Trixie saw the two young men quietly joining them. She suddenly felt like the luckiest person in the world, to have so many people out there care about her and pursue her through her time in need. She had been wrong, she realized. The hopelessness of the situation had gotten the better of her. Through the entire escapade she had thought that that luck had not been her friend. Looking into the faces of the people she considered her family, whether they shared blood or not, she knew that she was the luckiest and most loved person ever. There wasn't any comparison. Then she saw only her brother. "Brian," she choked out when he opened his arms to her.
Brian cuddled her gently. He gave a small kiss to the top of her head, holding her lightly, and masking his own fury at the signs of abuse on her face. "Hey, Trixie," he greeted her in his quiet manner. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. He briefly thought about his promise to Mart and was extremely grateful that he was going to be able to keep it. "We've been looking for you for awhile now, Trix. I'm so glad that we finally found you."
Honey watched the two siblings embrace with a smile on her face. She turned to Jim, about to ask how he was holding up, when she saw the ugly gash on his arm. "Jim!" she exclaimed loudly, causing all eyes to turn to him. "What happened to you?" She moved in closer to examine the wound, frowning at the amount of blood on his sleeve. She pulled back the material of his sweatshirt, saw the jagged cut, and gasped. "Oh, Jim."
"It's not that bad, Honey." Jim gave her a reassuring smile. "As much as I hate to admit it, I lost the fight with him." Jim wouldn't say his name, practically spat out the word, 'him'. "He fought dirty, not that I expected anything different. He ended up surprising me and gave me this nice little parting gift with his knife. That's how I lost the fight."
Brian let go of his sister and joined Honey. He eyed the wound, noticed that it was just starting to congeal, and pulled off his sweatshirt. "We need to get this bandaged," he muttered, tearing off his shirt. It wasn't the best bandage in the world. He used his teeth to start the first tear and then he tore the shirt into strips. As soon as he was finished, he started bandaging the cut. It would definitely need stitches, he noted somberly to himself. A lot of stitches. As he checked out the length and depth of it, he also thought that it would leave a pretty impressive scar, when all was said and done.
"Ever the doctor," Trixie remarked from her new place in Dan's arms, and watched her brother at work, proud of his skill. She didn't like the wound and hated the fact that he had it, and all because of her. Then realization slowly dawned over her. If they were here then that meant… She glanced up expectantly at Dan. "Di?" she questioned, not needing to elaborate any further. Her hand fisted at her side as she waited for Dan to answer.
He understood how Jim had felt a few minutes earlier. He didn't want to let her go, either. Dan didn't ever want to admit how scared he had been. The minutes he had spent searching for her through the forest had been some of the very worst of his life and were ones that he never, ever wanted to go through again. "She'll be fine, Trixie," he informed her immediately. "She made it to the cabin. She's there with Mart watching over her right now."
"She made it to the cabin. She made it to the cabin. Thank goodness." Trixie dropped her head into her hand, unbelievable relieved, and turned around to face him. "Dan, I was so worried that she wouldn't be able to make it there. She didn't look like she was going to be able to stand on her own two feet much longer, let alone make a mile long hike to your place. I hated to send her off but it seemed like the only option."
"She's stronger than she thinks," Brian said, finishing tying the last of his shirt around Jim's arm and admiring the handiwork. There were already a few stains on the material but nothing that concerned him overly. Slipping back into his sweatshirt gratefully, he added, "I'll bet she has a concussion from the car accident. She's also in shock. She'll probably have to stay in the hospital overnight. I can't see them releasing her at all." If he was the doctor on call, he wouldn't let her go. He would most certainly keep her for observation.
Honey hadn't been able to take her eyes off of Brian, shirtless, in the middle of the night. Her shivers had nothing to do with the cold. When he was properly dressed again, she was able to start thinking. Then she thought about Di and what she had gone through. "Poor Di," she mumbled sympathetically, wishing that she was with Di, too. It wouldn't be long before they were all at the hospital, having the injured Bob-Whites taken care of. "Is she still at the cabin or has she gone to the hospital?"
Brian pointed off in the direction of the cabin. He could see the smoke from the fireplace and thought that it had been a stroke of luck for the pipe to have burst that afternoon, no matter what Mr. Maypenny may think about it. Without the bursting pipe, they would never have needed to start the fire. Without the fire, there wouldn't have been any smoke to lead Di to the cabin. He didn't want to consider what could have happened then. "It's rather late now. I have a feeling Mr. Maypenny has made it back from the wedding and that Mart and Di are probably at the hospital as we speak." He looked at Jim. "They would have taken your car. Hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." Jim stared down at his arm. The wound felt surprisingly better with the makeshift bandage on it. He imagined it would feel great once it was stitched up. He caught the way Trixie was still shivering and reached for the bottom of his jacket. "Here, Trixie. Keep your arm still. Let me zip you up."
For the first time Brian noticed that his sister wasn't moving as fluidly as she should. He watched, concerned, when she didn't put her left arm through the sleeve of the jacket and waited patiently for Jim to complete the mundane task of zipping up the jacket for her. "And what about you, Trixie?" he inquired carefully. "Call me crazy but I have a feeling I missed something else about this night."
"You're crazy." She gave him a small smile that was devoid of any humor and then pointed to her side. "I think I did something to my ribs, Brian. It's very sore here and I can't move all that well anymore."
He was at her side in an instant, watched with almost unconcealed humor when Jim seemed to be reluctant to give up his spot next to Trixie. But he took Jim's spot and then carefully slipped a hand under the jacket. Competent and knowledgeable fingers felt along her rib cage. He nodded when she cringed at his gentle touch. "An x-ray will tell us for sure but I'd say that you have certainly bruised a few ribs. There may be a couple of cracks, too. I don't feel any bones protruding outwards. That's good. You'll also be checked for any internal bleeding." He waited until she was looking at him before sharing the bad news. "You'll probably end up in the hospital for the night, too."
Trixie bit back a small, disappointed sigh and stared up at the sky. She didn't mind volunteering in a hospital but she absolutely despised having to stay in one as a patient. "I don't suppose there's any way we could simply go home, is there?" she asked hopefully, not really expecting an answer.
Sergeant Molinson cleared his throat, hating to interrupt their reunion. His shrewd gaze took them all in but he looked intently at Trixie. He decided against giving her a well-deserved lecture. At least she had tried to get in contact with the police before going off on her own, he thought with an inward sigh. That was an improvement. And she had the best of intentions. He had an odd suspicion that Diana Lynch wouldn't have fared so well against Britten. "There'll be an ambulance waiting for you back up at the road. It should be there by the time all of you make it back to your cars."
"Wonderful," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. An ambulance ride and a stay at the hospital. It seemed like a fitting end to a nightmare of an evening. She didn't argue but wasn't overly ecstatic about it.
He decided that he at least had a good chance of them following his next set of orders. "I think it would be best if all of you head back to the road." He motioned for an officer to come over. "Officer Shields here is going to lead you back, by the quickest and most direct route imaginable. Then you can head to the hospital, get taken care of, and talk to your families. I'm sure that they are besides themselves with worry by now." His next words were for Trixie and Jim. "I'll need your statements but not for a day or two. Take care and get some rest first."
"Sergeant Molinson." He stopped when Trixie called his name, looked back expectantly. She saw the tired lines on his face, realized how exhausted he must be, and felt a rush of gratitude for the sometimes prickly sergeant. No matter how gruff he as towards her, he really cared. "Thank you," she said simply, unable to come up with fancier words to express her appreciation for all that he had done for her.
He nodded at her. "My pleasure." And it had been. While he certainly wasn't in favor of killing people, it had given him a sense of dark enjoyment when he had seen Tilney Britten fall to the ground.
Officer Shields motioned for the Bob-Whites to follow him. Slowly, they began to do that. Jim made sure to position himself next to Trixie, not caring if it was obvious or not. No one commented on it. They all followed along quietly, content in the silence, and taking the long path that would lead them back to the road. Jim walked besides her, an arm wrapped around her waist, and ready to give her support should she need it. Her steps were much slower than the others, even with his help. It wasn't long before they were bringing up the back of the line. "You can do it," he whispered encouragingly to her when she came to a sudden stop.
She shook her head, watching the others move further ahead of them, and made no move to follow them. "I know. It's not all that easy for me but I'll be able to make it. It's not that, Jim." She looked around the woods and shivered, remembering how hopeless and scared she had been, only a short time ago. "It's just that…" She left the rest unsaid and shrugged a shoulder, giving a small, helpless laugh. "I don't know how to explain it. I feel…" She didn't finish the thought, unable to come up with a suitable word to describe her emotions.
They had more in common now than she knew. "I understand," he replied when she stopped talking. "Believe me, I do," he insisted strongly.
Frowning, she stared into his face. It took her a minute to make the connection but then she realized that he did know what she was talking about. His stepfather, she thought with a blinding force of insight. They had never talked about his years under his thumb. Trixie knew it hadn't been pretty, as did the rest of the Bob-Whites, but no one knew much about it, or its effect on Jim. As she stared into his eyes, she saw the same emotions she was feeling reflected briefly on his face. "Yes," she breathed out in wonderment. "You do." It made her feel less alone, less helpless, and gave her a great deal of hope. If Jim could deal with the trauma and move on, then she knew that she could, too.
His thumb traced her chin. He didn't have any choice but to end their conversation. "Come on, Trix. We can talk about that later. They're going to send out another posse if we don't catch up with them soon." She let him lead her on with only one backward glance into the dark, dark night. Shivering again, she held onto Jim's hand and followed him towards the others and the road.