Into The Light
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!
Chapter Fifty-One
Trixie wasn't sure how long they sat together at the kitchen table, his arm around her shoulder and her head back against him, simply enjoying the silence of each other's company while the remaining food continued to get cooler. The half-eaten dinner stared back at her, making her feel guilty because she hadn't appreciated her mother's excellent cooking. Her appetite had evaporated the second she had shared the details of last Saturday night with Jim. Any of the food she had attempted to choke down had been automatic and for his benefit, not because she was actually hungry. She glanced at the clock and gasped at the time. "It's almost seven o'clock," she noted with a great deal of astonishment, wondering where the time had gone to. He had already been at her house for nearly two hours and they hadn't done anything yet but eat dinner. "How on earth did it get so late?"
Jim sent her an easy grin and winked at her, unconcerned with the time. They were together. That was all that mattered to him. "You see, Trixie, that's what happens when the company's too good," he declared and gave her shoulder one last squeeze. Then he stood up and carried his half-full plate over to the spotless sink. He hadn't been hungry either. "We should probably get moving, though. Let's get the remains of our dinner cleaned up. Then you can pick our first movie."
She followed him and emptied the contents of her plate into the trash can before placing it in the sink. Then she went back to clear off the rest of the table. Soon the empty glass containers and the silverware joined the plates in the sink. "Moms told me not to worry about the dishes, if you can believe that," Trixie added with a low, incredulous chuckle that caused a tingle to travel up and down his spine. "She doesn't want me to have to do any chores yet. She said it would be all right as long as I rinsed the dishes out and left them in the sink. Moms further shocked me by saying that she would get to them in the morning."
"Don't worry. I'll do the dishes," he offered quickly, knowing that her mother wasn't trying to do something special for Trixie. She simply didn't want her daughter to physically do any chores until her body had more of a chance to heal. He filled the sink with sudsy water and picked up the sponge. "Why don't you check out my movie selections and see which one you want to watch? I think you'll be very satisfied with my choices. They're all excellent, by the way," he informed her smugly, waving the sponge in her direction.
"Of course they are. And now you sound like you've been spending too much time with Mart," she responded with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. Not about to pass up free dishwashing, especially when she knew her mother would appreciate it, she picked up his backpack from the floor and unzipped it, curious about his movie selections, and spilled them out onto the clean table. "You have a rather eclectic taste," she noted after laying out the different movies, enjoying the comfortable atmosphere surrounding them. She was shocked and exhilarated to realize that she didn't feel self-conscious with him now that he knew the extent of her horrifying evening. He knew about her failure to escape, her weakness, and her inability to stop him. He knew all that and it didn't embarrass her or make her feel odd. If anything, she felt liberated. Staring at his back, her true feelings scrawled across her face before she hastily glanced back down at the DVDs lest he should turn around and see them, she murmured, "Let's see what we've got here." Impressed with his taste, as he had told her she would be, she announced suddenly, "You've made it too hard for me. There are so many good choices, Jim. I don't know which one to pick."
"Is there anything jumping out at you?" he called back from the kitchen sink, his hands buried deep within the suds, making short work of the few dishes that needed to be washed.
She placed them out in front of her, much like she would do if she were dealing cards in a poker game, and tapped her finger rhythmically against the table. He had brought over quite an interesting selection in movies, ranging from classics like The Sting to adventures such as Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom to mysteries like Mystic River. She had watched many of his movies, had heard a good deal from their friends about the few she hadn't seen, and appreciated his choices. Slashing an accusatory glance at him, she had to giggle at his choice of The Three Amigos and My Cousin Vinny. "I thought I told you no comedies, Jim," she chided him, shaking a playful finger in his direction. "It still hurts too much for me to laugh."
He didn't let the reason why she was held back from laughing bother him overly much. She didn't want his sympathy. She simply wanted to put it behind her and move on. He figured it was the least he could do for her. Instead, Jim held his hands up in supplication, sending a few bubbles floating through the air before they met the side of a kitchen cabinet and popped. "Hey, you can't blame me for trying. Those are classics right there."
Chuckling, she set them aside, almost willing to chance them. Then she searched through the rest, amazed with the multitude of movies he had been able to stuff into his backpack, and unable to make a final decision. "We've got a problem here, Houston. You brought way too many good movies with you. I can't decide." Squinting, she frowned down at them, no closer to a decision than she had been before.
"You're right. They're all good. Brian and I have watched most of them when we needed study breaks during our past three years at college," he responded, placing the last of the dishes in the drying rack and emptying the sink of its sudsy mess. Then he started the task of drying each and every item, as per Mrs. Belden's preference for her dishes, and stacked them neatly on the kitchen counter, where they waited patiently to be put in their rightful spots.
Trixie wondered how many times a co-ed of the opposite sex had joined them in their student apartment for their study breaks. Biting her tongue, she squelched the unfamiliar and unwelcome sting of jealousy that the picture conjured up, vowing not to be childish. She couldn't let it matter. He was here with her, willingly and of his own choosing. In what type of capacity remained to be seen. She wished she had the courage to ask him. Using her intense perusal of the movies to hide her feelings from him, she traced the outline of the title on The Princess Bride and mumbled, "Do you have any preferences?"
Completely unaware of the unexpected detour her mind had taken her on; would have been more than willing to relieve her on how many times they were joined by others to watch movies at their apartment, Jim opened the silverware drawer and dropped in the forks and steak knives before he cheerfully answered, "Nope. I'm more than happy with any one that you want to see. If you can't decide, you could just close your eyes and pick one." He closed the drawer with his hip.
"Kind of like Pin the Tail on the Donkey," she murmured, giving up her thoughts on how he spent his free time at college and focused on the more pressing matter at hand. What movie did she want to watch? It was a close call. She stared at A Few Good Men and Stand By Me, holding first one up, then the other, until she finally made a decision. Nodding her head, she announced forcefully, "I'm going with the one I haven't seen in awhile."
Finished with his self-appointed chores, he let the dish towel hang over the edge of the sink and stared over his shoulder at her. "Good choice," he congratulated her before opening the cabinets and returning each piece to its rightful place. He knew the kitchen at Crabapple Farm as well as he knew the one at the Manor House.
"It's been years since I saw this one. I remember it was Mart's favorite movie for the longest of times so I think we should watch it in honor of him." She carefully repacked the rest of the movies in his backpack and set Stand By Me out on the table. "Do you want popcorn?" The thought didn't appeal to her at all but she wanted to offer it to him.
"Not right now." He hadn't eaten his entire meal, much like she hadn't, but he still didn't have an ounce of hunger left to him. Her story had tied his stomach in knots; was still too fresh in his mind. While it had sucked out the need for food, it had replaced it with the need to be as near to her as possible. He would be satisfied to sit next to her on the sofa. "How about we hold off on refreshments until our second feature?" He arched an eyebrow, thinking that he may be able to eat again by then.
"Sounds good." She pushed in her chair and accepted the hand he held out to her. They had held hands together countless times over the years, as good friends and fellow co-presidents and club-mates, but, as her hand became encased in his, it felt much more intimate than it ever had before. A shiver started from the point of contact and then traveled all the way up her arm and down her spine where it seemed to find a permanent resting spot in her stomach. Holding his hand felt different but so damn right. She didn't know why it felt different but she wasn't about to question it or him. Leaving it alone, she relished the feeling and brought her clear blue eyes up to meet his. She couldn't read anything in the deep green staring back at her but she wasn't adept at reading the feelings of others, not when it came to how they could potentially feel about her. That was Di's specialty, not hers. "Let's go, Jim," she said thickly. Allowing him to lead her, she followed him out of the now-clean kitchen and towards the den.
Jim reluctantly let go of her hand when they reached the den. He did the honors and set the movie up. Then he settled on the comfortable sofa, mere inches separating them, while the movie began to play out before them. Neither spoke, both caught up in the same contented stillness, and sending furtive looks at each other when they didn't think the other one was looking. They focused on the movie, chuckling and sighing along with the four characters on the television screen, and discussing its merits every now on and then. When the ending credits ran, Trixie leaned back and blinked back a sentimental tear. "I had forgotten how good the movie was," she remarked hoarsely.
He had enjoyed it, too. Whether it was the excellent directing, writing, the break-out performances of many of the actors of the movie or the presence of the stunning young woman sitting next to him, he had enjoyed it more than any other movie he had watched before. Without a doubt, he could get very used to having her within arm's length. And alone. He couldn't believe that they were alone. It was a nearly impossible feat to manage within their group. The extremely male part of him only wished that he could do some other things besides sitting, watching and the occasional hand-holding. Clamping down on the increasingly strong urge, he replied huskily, "Same here."
"I think it's that time for our intermission." Moving with an uncharacteristic amount of slowness, her body stiff from sitting for a prolonged period of time, she stood up from the sofa and carefully stretched out a few kinks, her movements deliberate and unconsciously sensual.
Mesmerized by the way her blue shirt rode up, leaving about an inch of skin exposed at her midriff, he sucked in a deep, hard breath while his blood heated with a desire that was becoming more difficult to control. It was hard for him, getting harder each time they were together, to not reveal how he felt about her, or how much he needed to touch her. And taste her. He found himself staring at her lips, imagining what their first kiss would be like. He didn't have any other choice but to squelch those thoughts again, not unless he wanted to do the unthinkable and break his word, which was not an option for him at all. Too damn honorable, he thought to himself with a disappointed sigh. Trying not to groan, he started running through the chores he needed to do in the morning in the stables to help out Regan in order to get his mind and body off the track it seemed to want to travel on despite his best intentions. Aware that she was now staring at him expectantly, he coughed and stood up, hoping that he had successfully covered up his untimely preoccupation with her. "An intermission is perfect. Do you want me to help with the popcorn?"
"I think I can handle it." She grinned up at him, oblivious to the response her smile always caused in him, and headed back to the kitchen to find the hot air popper. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Do you want a soda?" she called back.
"Yeah," he called back before closing his eyes tightly. He went into the bathroom and stayed out of the kitchen, letting her work alone, and worked hard to keep his thoughts on the pure and the friendly level. Friends, friends, only friends, kept running insistently through his mind. But there was that nagging little voice that kept taunting him, making a mockery of the iron control he was attempting to hold onto, and was doing its damndest to force him to let go of his good intentions. A splash of cool water on his face helped him. When he was relatively certain that he had his undeniable strain of desire under control, Jim met up with her in the kitchen. The popper was nearly finished and two full glasses of soda stood on the counter. She stood at the counter, concentrating on the hot air popper. "I'll take the drinks," he offered, coming up from behind.
She jumped, her hand over her pulsating heart, and nearly spilled the bowl of popcorn. She hadn't heard his sneakered feet coming up behind her, having been too wrapped up in thoughts about him. "Oh, you scared me, Jim! I didn't hear you come in. Yeah, you take the sodas. I'll bring the popcorn in when it's ready." When every last kernel of popcorn had been popped, she grabbed the bowl and walked towards the den, with Jim at her side, and placed it on the coffee table. "I'll be back in a minute," she mumbled out without glancing at him, her face turning a delicious shade of pink, before heading towards the bathroom for a much-needed break.
She caught a picture of her face in the mirror and sighed, staring deeply at what she perceived to be her flaws, which were only magnified by the marks of battle upon her face, not seeing the intoxicating vivaciousness that continually drew Jim to her. She discarded her headband, wanting to free her head from the slight tension, and ran her hands through her wayward curls, disappointed with her reflection. She gave a loud sigh and headed back into the den.
Jim glanced up from the sofa the second she came back to the room and patted the soft cushion next to him. "Come have a seat, Trix."
"Since I got to pick the first movie, you can have second choice," Trixie offered fairly and took the proffered spot next to him.
He picked up his backpack from the floor and shifted his body under the guise of looking through the movies when what he really wanted to have their sides touching. Mission accomplished, he flashed her a grin that she didn't understand. "Nothing that will make you laugh too much, right?" he inquired with a teasing glint to his green eyes.
She shoved his shoulder playfully. "You already know the answer to that, Jim. No comedies for me. Not tonight, anyway."
"Maybe next time," he replied casually, already planning many, many more evenings together, and watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye to see how she would react. Maybe their amazing string of actually spending time alone would last.
The color heightened in her cheeks, making them a delightful shade of pink. "That should be fine," she blurted out and then felt even more self-conscious, unsure what, exactly, she was agreeing to.
"I'm not going to debate the movie choices like someone else I know," he informed her jokingly and unzipped his backpack with a flourish. "Watch and learn, Trix. All I'm going to do is reach inside and pull one out. No internal debates or second-guesses. The movie I pull out is the one we'll watch."
"At least I didn't give a play-by-play," she declared with a short laugh. She watched in anticipation as he reached into the backpack and searched around, wagging his eyebrows at her when he deliberately took a longer time than was necessary. She giggled in delight when he eventually came up with her second choice. "All right!" she cheered happily.
"It must be your lucky night," he remarked, staring down at A Few Good Men with a half-smile. Sliding a glance her way, he said pointedly, "It's about time things start going your way again."
"You could say that again." Trixie flopped back against the cushions and picked up a matching pillow, idly tugging at the fringed edges of it. The words came out easily, something she doubted she would have been able to do if she hadn't already told him everything, "I don't think I ever want to live through another few weeks like the ones I have just gone through. They must be some of the hardest ones I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing."
"There haven't too many positive things going on in your life recently, huh?" He crouched down in front of the television set and placed the DVD into the player. The screen turned a bright blue and then hummed with anticipation while the movie whirred inside. Once the player recognized the movie, it started up. He came back over with the handy remote in his hand and reclaimed his seat, right next to her.
His words caused her thoughts to drift back over the past weeks. While there were certainly events that had terrified her and she would never term 'lucky', there were a few things that had happened that she would not have traded for all the quiet, peaceful times fate could ever offer her. For one, there was all the unconditional love and support she had received from her friends and family. It had been unparalleled, beginning with the day she had told them about the strange events that had plagued her and continuing now, with her healing. Then there was Jim. The amazing experiences she shared with him were still stacking up, from the time he had checked her over after her fall off of Susie to the conversation they had shared in her kitchen a few hours ago, leaving her slightly breathless and more grateful than she ever thought possible. Glancing at his handsome profile, she came to the startling conclusion that she wouldn't change what had happened to her. The stalker had been scary. The night with Britten in the woods had been beyond horrifying. But the different times she had spent with Jim had been astonishing, amazing, and had gone beyond her wildest imaginings. Somehow he had become her most stalwart support system. While she was extremely thankful to him, she couldn't help but believe that something even more rare and special was brewing around them. She only wondered if he felt it, too. "It wasn't all negative, not really," she answered solemnly. "You may find it hard to believe but there were a lot of good things that happened, too." She chose not to elaborate and settled for a tiny smile instead.
He put down the remote, caught the intense way she was looking at him, and captured her smaller hand within his. He understood, more than she realized. "Yeah. You're right. There were a few good things, too." He recalled one of his personal favorite highlights, the embrace they had shared in the privacy of his bedroom, over a week ago, his chest tightening at the potency of it. He could remember the way she had looked in the moonlight drifting through his windows, the soft, clean smell of her soap, and the way she had fit in his arms. It was the way she always fit when he had the pleasure of holding her. Perfect. Absolutely, undeniably perfect. The only problem was he hadn't been able to do anything about it. He hadn't had any choice but to let her go, with only the lingering hug and the barest of kisses against her forehead, just like he couldn't do anything now.
His pleasant train of thought was derailed when he felt her stiffen beside him. "What's wrong, Trixie?" he asked, immediately concerned.
She closed her eyes, hoping that she would somehow be able to overcome her fear but realizing how futile it was. As hard as it was for her to admit, she was a long way from being over what had happened to her. It wasn't as tangible as it had been but there was no way she could deny the fact that she was still affected. Her sigh cut through him like the sharpest of knives. "Look at the clock, Jim."
He did. It only took him a second to realize what she was trying to tell him. It was nine-fifteen. Exactly a week ago she would have been searching through the woods, in a mad dash to find Di, and finding a way into her own personal hell instead. "It'll pass, Trix." The words felt wooden to him.
She blew out a frustrated breath, surprised that it was becoming easier and easier for her to talk to him. It helped that he was on an equal level with her, understanding more than either her parents or her brothers could. His own experiences were much worse and had lasted much longer than hers. "I hate feeling like this, Jim. I wish I could wake up and have it all be over, so that I wouldn't ever have to think about it again."
He thought she was ready and prayed that she wouldn't bolt from the room. Carefully, he brought up the sensitive subject, laying it out on the table, realizing that he was about to invite her into a world of his that she may not knew even existed. "Counseling will help you, Trix," he told her, tracing a small circle on the back of her hand with his thumb to take out any sting from his words.
Her back stiffened again, not because she was insulted but because she recalled what Dan had told her when he had stopped by to visit her. "Counseling?" she parroted back.
Jim nodded, watching her closely and relieved that she hadn't left the room in a huff. He exhaled slowly. It hit him that it didn't feel odd to tell her, not like he had expected it to, most likely because she had unwillingly paved the way with her earlier admissions. "I spent a good year in counseling. It was highly recommended after the Wheelers adopted me, as a way to help me sort through the changes in my life. I had a few issues at the time that needed to be addressed, whether I wanted to admit it to myself or not."
"You went to counseling?" she inquired, hating her lie but not wanting him to know that Dan had let that particular cat out of the bag. She justified it to herself by saying she didn't know much other than the fact that he went to counseling.
"Yeah. Like I just told you, it was recommended for me after I was adopted. I had sessions once a week at first. Then it gradually fell away to once a month. Do you remember when I would go into the City with my father every now and then?" he saw her slow nod. None of the B.W.G.'s had thought anything about it since he had explained it away as having some special bonding time with his new father. They ignored the movie as it played along, changing from a scene at Guantanamo Bay and moving along to Washington, D.C. "I didn't tell any of the Bob-Whites about it, not even Honey. Only my parents and Miss Trask knew about it. I didn't want any of you to know," he added hastily when he saw the questions start to form in her eyes. "I guess I saw myself as being weak or something like that. I didn't want any of you to think the same thing about me, especially when we were all just beginning to get to know each other. I thought maybe if you knew it would taint your view of me."
She could understand that. Even though she hadn't attended a single session yet, had her very first one looming on the horizon in the upcoming week, she still felt humbled, embarrassed and weak herself. Trixie pursed her lips, contemplating the correct way to answer him. If he had told her about his counseling even a month of ago, she would have hurriedly jumped in and assured him that she understood, but she wouldn't have been able to truly comprehend it. Even though she only had a few hours of an absolutely horrendous experience when compared to his two long years of living under his stepfather's thumb, she had a better handle on what he went through and how it could affect one's soul. Instead of impetuously attempting to reassure him, she turned to him and responded truthfully, "I can empathize with you, Jim. That's exactly how I feel. I don't want everyone to look at me differently or treat me like I'm made of glass."
"We won't. At least, I can guarantee you that I won't," he amended quickly and tightened his hold on her hand. "The counseling ended up doing me a lot of good. I got to deal with my issues from Jonesy." He nearly spat at the name, refusing to give that man even the courtesy title of 'stepfather'. "It also helped me come to terms with my own untapped anger over my mother remarrying Jonesy to begin with. I hadn't realized how angry I was with her until I opened up about it."
She had seen Jonesy, had had the dark pleasure of helping to lock him up for his assault on Juliana, as well as his participation in his scheme to have his niece impersonate her. He wasn't a pleasant person, either to look at or in spirit, and the twisted smile of his still had the power to send shivers of distaste up and down her spine. She had absolutely no idea how his mother could have ended up marrying such a man. She had an untapped supply of anger herself. Displaced anger but anger nonetheless. It was no wonder that Jim had carried it around with him, too. "Are you still angry with your mom?" Her voice was small and hushed while she waited breathlessly for his answer.
He shook his head. "No, not at all. I came to realize she was trying to do her best, for me and for herself. She must have known that she was starting to get sick, even then. She wasn't a strong woman, not like you. She needed someone to take care of her and Jones, unfortunately, was who she chose."
Trixie shivered in disgust. "It may not be the best way to look at it but you ended up here, in Sleepyside, because of your mother's choice." She couldn't be more grateful for that. Sometimes it seemed like her life had really started the second she had seen his green eyes staring back at her over the barrel of his shotgun.
"Don't I know it," he responded with a grin and slanted a glance at her. "Destiny came into play for me. That's one of the realizations I came to over the course of my counseling. Those two years weren't the best but they did force me to find my way here. I'm very glad for where I ended up." He wondered if she realized that she was one of the main reasons why he was so grateful to have found Sleepyside.
She felt the force of his stare and blushed, acutely aware of the role she had played in helping him find his new family, if a little ignorant of the fact that his feelings were much deeper than he let on. "I go for my first session this upcoming week," she blurted out with a half-giggle, half-sigh, and smiled weakly at him. It wasn't hard to admit it to him. He understood. She shrugged her shoulder. "At least I get to leave school early."
He shouldn't have been surprised that she was already in the process for counseling. She moved a mile a minute as it was and always seemed to be well-ahead of the rest of them, no matter what the reason. He lifted his eyebrows, proud of her. "Good for you."
She gave a small chuckle that was almost sad. "I have it on good authority from Dan that counseling is the way for me to go. I talked to Di about it the other day. She's jumping on the wagon, too. She was going to have her mother set up an appointment for her. I'm not certain if she has one yet or not. I haven't talked to her since yesterday afternoon."
Jim thought about the few conversations he had shared with Dan over the years and nodded his head, pleased that their friend had talked to Trixie about it and that she was following through. Knowing that Dan had helped Trixie made his irritation with his friend disappear. The man had a good heart, even if he could turn into one of the most annoying people he had ever met. "It will only work if you talk," he cautioned her, hoping to give her the benefit of his own experience. "It took me a long time to want to talk about my past."
Trixie pointed towards the kitchen. "I know it's not going to be easy for me to bring it up again. However, talking to you about it back there was good practice for me. Thanks."
"Any time." His answering smile was big. Taking the chance he had been contemplating for the past ten minutes, he stretched his arm over the back of the sofa and invited her nonchalantly, arching an eyebrow and watching her reaction intently, "You don't look all that comfortable sitting up, Trix. Why don't you come closer? You can lean against me." He added as an afterthought, hoping he hadn't given too much away, "It may be better for your ribs."
Wide-eyed and unwilling to do anything else but what he suggested, Trixie gingerly settled in closer to him until there wasn't an inch of bare space between them. Unsure about what to do with her hands, she nervously folded them in her lap. The effect of her new position was immediate. The remaining tension dissipated from her body. As the tension left, she relaxed even more firmly against him until her head rested back against his chest. "You're right. That's better," she mumbled, watching the actors walk across the television screen. She hardly paid any attention to it, more intent on the smell of his cologne that assaulted her nose and the sound of his heart beating below her ear. Enjoying the way his hand was splayed across her side, she forgot about the excellence of the movie being shown. Exhaustion began to crawl over her, taking her hostage in spite of her best efforts to stay awake. She had one moment to wish that she could always sleep with Jim next to her. He was the best antidote to her sleepless nights that she could possibly ever find. Her eyes slowly began to close, into small, narrow slits, and her breathing gradually evened out. Her fall into sleep was the fastest she had experienced in a long, long time.
About to comment on the movie, Jim glanced down, the words never leaving his lips. He couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. It wasn't even ten o'clock. He stared down at the profile he knew by rote, noting the way she had turned her head into his chest and how her soft blonde curls brushed against the skin at his neck. He tightened his hold, pulling her closer, and rested his head on top of hers. The movie continued on, the voices of Tom Cruise and Demi Moore blurring around them. They didn't penetrate him or his lagging senses. All he could think about was how she felt in his arms and the soft noises she made while she slept. Thinking he should wake her and send her up to her bed where she would have to be more comfortable, he couldn't bring himself to do it. With a feral smile, he let himself be selfish for once and held on. He relished it and marveled at the way she fit into his arms, all soft and relaxed, and thought about the endless summer stretching out ahead of them. A detail man to the core, he began to plan it out, starting with their meeting at Ten Acres on her graduation day. Each plan he made centered around her and what he dreamed to accomplish.
