Skye and Jeffrey took turns watching each other sleep. It seemed kind of creepy when she thought about it, but it wasn't something they had planned. Each of their nightmares would wake the other up. Currently, it was Jeffrey who was sleeping. It was nine o'clock in the morning. Skye had suffered through her dreams for most of the night. Jeffrey was actually okay at the moment. He looked peaceful, like he wasn't dreaming of anything. Skye hoped that was true.
She had tried to go back to sleep, but she couldn't. Her dream had been of Jeffrey's funeral. It had started out with Agent Ginsburg informing them that Jeffrey hadn't made it, then the scene had shifted and Skye was at the ceremony staring at a closed casket. She had opened her eyes to find Jeffrey watching her. She'd woken him by crying. It was a new experience for her to outwardly express her dreams. She'd dreamt of him dying in the past, even before they'd been abducted. That had never bothered her. Once, she'd had a dream in which her innocent little brother Ben had murdered Jeffrey and her entire family with his rocks. She hadn't cried then. She'd found it rather humorous. She was affected differently by her dreams now. She would wake shaking and crying; it took ten minutes for her to calm down.
Instead of continuing her hopeless battle for additional sleep, she sat up and observed Jeffrey resting. It comforted her to see him breathing. The morning sunlight was bright and streamed directly into his face. Skye didn't know how he could sleep through that. She had thin eyelids. She often, infuriatingly, woke with the sun. She wouldn't get out of bed though; she would lay there for hours, cursing daylight.
Jeffrey stirred and Skye's stomach contracted. She watched him warily, waiting for something else.
"Please don't start," she whispered. He was drooling out of the corner of his mouth. Skye wiped it with her knuckle.
He trembled and tensed, then relaxed. Skye's heart sank to her toes. Already she was tempted to nudge him awake. They had promised each other they wouldn't. The nightmares were unavoidable. They had to learn how to deal with them before exhaustion killed them both. Skye didn't think she'd slept more than thirty hours in the past week. Jeffrey was worse than she was, and he needed rest more. It was hard to let him have it when it was so obvious his dreams were hurting him. So much for peaceful slumber. He was done with that.
Jeffrey gasped horribly. He clawed at his throat. He tore open scabs and blood trickled down his neck. He choked on nothing because in his dream, Skye knew he was having his life strangled from him. She sat on her hands to prevent herself from shaking him awake. She would be strong enough to keep her promise. Jeffrey wouldn't be happy if she broke it. He was the one that had insisted she let him power through his nightmares. She had only agreed when he promised to do the same.
He groaned and jerked his head as he tried to escape from something. He made a sound like he was he was saying "no," but it wasn't quite the actual word. Skye exhaled shakily. She looked away so she wouldn't have to see the pain on his face. It didn't help her. She could still feel him moving. He rustled the bedsheets as he shuddered. She could picture Dexter tightening a chain around his throat.
Jeffrey was thrashing. It made Skye bounce on the mattress. Her eyes snapped back to him.
Jeffrey's head whipped side to side. He sweating. "No," he muttered, more clearly than the last time. "No, plea-agh." He curled up, then flung back apart. "I'm sorry. Forgive me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"
Skye's distress was consumed by anger. Dexter could rot. He wouldn't do well in prison; he was too privileged. That was her only comfort.
Jeffrey grunted something unintelligible and continued to writhe. He rolled onto his side, then hurtled onto his back as if someone had thrown him. He panted heavily. "Yes sir," he choked out. "I deserve this."
Skye knew Jeffrey had said that, but her anger still exploded into fury. And then it was gone completely, and she only felt broken. The next thing he said would send her over the edge and she would cry. She knew what to expect, Jeffrey had told her, but she wasn't prepared to hear him say it now.
When he did it, he called himself Dexter's slave, Skye's breath was torn from her like a soccer ball had been slammed into her gut. This felt exactly like that. "No." She smothered her word with her hand.
Jeffrey mumbled that he was worth nothing.
Skye was done watching. "I'm sorry, I can't," she cried. It was too much for her to listen to. Jeffrey went rigid and let loose a harsh cry, one Skye had heard far too many times – the sound he made when he was trying his hardest not to scream but couldn't quite manage to stop. Skye cried a whimpering sob.
"Jeffrey, I love you. Please hear me," she said softly. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Wake up."
He launched himself away from her touch. Skye leaned over him and gently shook him.
"Wake up," she repeated, louder this time. "It's me. It's—"
Her sentence was cut off because Jeffrey's arm shot out defensively and caught her in the neck. She fell away, gasping with her hand on her throat.
"Jeffrey," she wheezed. She coughed once, then sat up again. "Get up."
He was flailing. His broken leg kicked and flew in every direction. He was going to hurt himself. Skye crawled over and pushed her hand down on his thigh to hold his leg still before he tore out his stitches. Jeffrey's left knee slammed into her sternum. He flinched and groaned like he was the one who had been hit. Skye's vision blackened, but she held fast to his leg. She would not let him break himself any more than he already was.
"Jeffrey!" Her voice rose to a frantic shout.
He swung blindly and his fist found her eye. Jeffrey was strong. The punch knocked her off of him. It threw her back with such force she rolled off the mattress. She lay on the floor in a daze. Her head spun. She couldn't see out of her eye.
Jeffrey screamed. Skye pushed away her pain. Now she was positive that she was being stupid, but she had to get him out of this. She was tempted to splash water in his face, but she didn't because she knew that Dexter had drenched him so electricity would travel through him faster. If that's what he was dreaming about, she would only make it worse.
She crawled toward him, but he was thrashing. She saw it coming, but she didn't have time to avoid his foot. He kicked her ribs and she collapsed onto her stomach. It was not a safe place for her to be, his heel crashed into her shoulder. She raised herself up and immediately kicked down again. Her own groans mixed with Jeffrey's.
"Kill me. I'm sorry. Just kill me." His words slurred together and were followed by another vicious scream.
Skye rolled out of the way of his foot, but when she rose up, Jeffrey's knee connected with her chin. She swallowed blood. Her teeth had ripped open her cheek.
Jeffrey was crying now. That was almost worse than his screams. Skye was determined to stop this. She had watched him suffer enough. She did not care if she got hurt.
His visions had changed again. Now he was muttering, "Don't touch her. Get off."
"It's just a dream." Her voice came out raspy. "Jeffrey, I'm right here."
She made it out of the way of his kicking legs, but when she settled near his head, his swinging arm found her again. He struck her hard across her cheekbone. Somehow, completely asleep and still weakened from days of imprisonment, he managed to hit her harder than Dexter ever had.
Her neck cracked when her head flung back. She tumbled onto the floor again. She was stunned. She was sprawled on her stomach with her cheek against the cool hardwood. She tried to move, but dizziness flattened her like a weight against her back. She saw nothing out of her left eye but blurred colors. She could hardly keep it open.
That was enough. She would stay back now. She was battered and aching. Her head pounded, blood rushed to her cheek. She could already feel it swelling under her eye. She forced herself onto her knees and the room tipped so dangerously she thought she would faint. She forced down the threatening darkness. Jeffrey could not wake up and find her unconscious. She only hoped that Dexter's beating was still apparent enough that Jeffrey wouldn't notice anything different. Tears sprang from her eyes. She knew that wouldn't happen. Those bruises were fading, but in a couple of hours, her face would be purple.
Jeffrey had calmed down. He flinched again and moaned, but he wasn't lashing out. Skye wanted to go to him, but she stayed where she was. She could feel her heartbeat in her cheek. She shouted his name at him, ordering him to wake up.
He finally did. He bolted up, breathing hard. Skye sobbed with relief. She threw herself at him before he knew what was happening. She curled her arms tightly around his neck and cried into his shoulder. He was back. Skye could breathe again, though air rattled in her lungs from the blow to her chest.
"I'm sorry," Jeffrey whispered. He was shaking.
Skye tensed. He couldn't already know, could he? "What? Why?" She was a little too urgent.
"You're crying," he said. "I guess that was a bad one, huh?"
Skye sighed heavily. Thank god. He had no idea. "You were talking," she said. She could run with this.
"Oh," said Jeffrey. "Great."
Skye kissed the side of his face several times. "I know you'd already told me, but it was so hard to hear." That wasn't a lie. She was crying about that too. "I love you. God, Jeffrey, you don't even know how much. I love you." She didn't want to stop saying it. It was important he hear it now, in case he found out what had happened. Skye was determined to hide it from him, though she had yet to think of how. The only thing she was certain of was that Jeffrey could never know.
"Fuck Dexter," said Skye viciously.
Jeffrey tried to pull back from her, but Skye shifted her arms so that she had an even firmer hold on him. She was positive that her cheek was a violent red.
"Let me hold you," she begged.
She thought of a Doctor Who quote. It was the twelfth doctor that had said "never trust a hug, it's just a way to hide your face." There was no truer statement. Steven Moffat was a brilliant screenwriter. There was a reason why it was her favorite show. It was science fiction, but it was real. Skye had never had a more dire need to hide her face.
Jeffrey didn't argue. He squeezed her tight, still trembling. Skye kissed his neck repeatedly, muttering again and again that she loved him. He was still bleeding. Some of it got on her lips, but it didn't bother her.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"No." Skye shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for." They weren't talking about the same thing. "I love you, Jeffrey."
He laughed. "You've said."
"Shut up," said Skye. She hugged him so desperately that her fingers dug into his back.
"Ow," he teased. "Ease up, will you?"
Skye relaxed. Her shoulder was throbbing, the harder she held him the more that it hurt anyway. It was foolish to try to hide this from him. He would almost certainly discover her secret. Skye was more scared by that than she had been of anything in days. Her heartbeat was irregular. She was a horrible liar.
"Skye, I'm okay," Jeffrey laughed. "Really."
"I'm not." Carefully, she dropped one of her hands from his back. She made sure to hold fast with the other. Dexter had left Jeffrey's phone on the kitchen table; it had since been returned to him. It was on the mattress, just within her reach. She couldn't grab it without him noticing.
She moved so quickly he didn't have time to look at her. No way he could have noticed the blotchiness of her face in that time. She kissed him with a fervor. She'd discovered that her fears about that the previous night had been a one-time thing. She could kiss him just fine, thank heavens. She opened her eyes. She felt awkward about that with his face against hers, but she peeked around him. She made a show of repositioning herself to kiss him better, and her hand closed around his phone. She didn't look at it just yet. She wanted to get lost in that kiss.
Her neck was sore from being jerked so roughly. With every tilt of her head, sharp pain ripped through her muscles. She ignored it and carried on kissing him like nothing was wrong. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, simultaneously pulling him closer and texting Jane out of the corner of her eye. If he caught her, she was in so much trouble.
The message she sent Jane read: Come see Jeffrey now. DO NOT respond to this and don't say that I asked. She deleted the text. She moaned his name into his mouth so he wouldn't hear her toss his phone back onto the bed. That made her face heat up. With her hand now free, she threaded it in his hair.
"I…love you," Jeffrey said between kissing.
Skye's nerves faded. She could kiss him comfortably now, no longer distracting him with it and instead doing it because she wanted to. She could taste his breath, neither of them had yet brushed their teeth. It should have grossed her out, but she barely noticed. She was insatiable. There was a Jeffrey shaped void in her heart that no amount of making out would ever fill.
The arm Jeffrey had been holding himself up with slipped and they both fell onto the mattress. Skye laughed, but she didn't stop.
Still kissing her, Jeffrey gasped, "I…can't…breathe."
Skye couldn't either, dammit. She broke away and immediately lay her bruising cheek against his chest. Jeffrey hugged her and rested his chin on the top of her head. He hadn't noticed that Skye had yet to look him in the face. Skye prayed to every god she could think of that Jane was awake and had gotten her message.
"I hate that that happened to you," Skye said, referring back to his dream. "I hate, I hate it!"
"I know," said Jeffrey. He sighed and his breath skirted over her scalp. "I wish I could say I'm over it, but I'm not."
"He's so fucking disgusting," Skye spat.
Jeffrey gave a dry laugh. "That about covers it."
He still had strips of scabs across his cheeks from the ropes that had been tied over his mouth. It made Skye want to scream. In fact, she had the day before. She had sat on the floor of the shower with her head in her hands and had let out an angry, guttural shout until her breath ran out. It wasn't just from that, it was all of it. Everything that had happened to both of them. She could scream until she was dead and it wouldn't curb her anger.
"I can't stand it. It kills me. You're perfect and he's just…just…" Skye sputtered to a stop. There was not a colorful enough description to fit the sheer terribleness that was Dexter. She closed her eyes and listened to the beating of Jeffrey's heart. She should focus on that. It eased her.
"Yeah, he is," Jeffrey agreed. He traced his hand up Skye's arm. It tickled her pleasantly. He asked her what she had dreamed about.
"Not Dexter, actually. Not really. Just that you were dead and I was talking at your funeral."
Jeffrey actually kind of chuckled at that. "Public speaking? No wonder you were crying."
"That is when I'm at my weakest. And I'll have you know that my dream self gave a very moving speech." She had said a touching bit about how Jeffrey had never gotten to hear how much she loved him, so the funeral guests would hear it on his behalf. She had talked about how she didn't want to move on because he was her best friend, and so she never would. She refused to. It was all very tear jerking.
"Practice for when you have to later," said Jeffrey.
"Oh no. Dibs on dying first," said Skye.
"That's not fair. I thought that I lost you once, you'll make me go through that again?"
"Yes, because you've already grieved me, what's a second time?"
"Very selfish of you," said Jeffrey. "We could just Notebook it and die at the same time when we're like 90."
Skye loved how he so easily talked like their future was certain. "I've never watched The Notebook," she said.
"No? You should."
"I refuse." The sappy, tragic romance was beneath her.
"You haven't seen Titanic either, have you?"
"Absolutely not," Skye said proudly.
"I will change that," Jeffrey promised.
"Fat chance."
Just then, the door opened and Skye was so happy to see her sister that she almost cried. She could only lay on Jeffrey for so much of the day before it became suspicious.
"Hello, lovers," Jane said with a beaming, cheerful smile.
"Ugh, no," Skye groaned.
"I feel like I've hardly seen you, Jeffrey," said Jane. "What's up with that?"
"You can come to me anytime," he pointed out.
"Skye hogs you." Jane stuck her tongue out at her.
"Guilty," said Skye. She had never been so grateful for her sister. The message she had sent her hadn't been a light one. Jane was undoubtedly worried, but she hid that expertly. Skye hadn't asked her to act like nothing was wrong, but Jane had read between the lines.
Very carefully, Skye sat up. She positioned herself so that the bruising side of her face was out of Jeffrey's eyesight. It wasn't out of Jane's. Her eyes locked onto it and her smile waivered. Skye glared at her with huge urgency, both threats and pleading behind her stare. Jane fixed her smile.
"Tell you what," said Skye. "I'm feeling generous. I'll let you hang out alone."
"Really? Voluntarily?" said Jeffrey.
Skye gave him a sideways glance and smiled. "Careful. I might change my mind." She wouldn't. She had to get out of there before he saw her.
"Then be gone," said Jane. "I need my Jeffrey time."
"Alright, alright. I'm going." Skye kissed Jeffrey's cheek and stood up. It hurt; she had to be careful not to let her pain show in the way she walked. She mouthed "thank you, thank you, thank you" at Jane. Her sister acted like she hadn't.
At the door, Skye said, "I'll see you later."
"Skye," said Jeffrey. "Can you look at me? I kind of miss your face."
So he had noticed. Fuck. Skye frantically searched for a reason not to. Finally she said, "If I look at you, I'm going to cry. I'd rather not, for once." It was the truth, in an incomplete way.
Jeffrey laughed. "Okay, weirdo. Bye then."
Skye closed the door behind her and leaned heavily against it, dizzy because she could not believe she had successfully kept her bruising a secret. Thus far. She had only bought herself time. She didn't know what to do next. She couldn't avoid him forever. She didn't want to have to. She could hear him happily conversing with Jane. If he found out what he'd done, it would destroy him, and that would destroy Skye. It had been foolish of them to sleep in the same bed; they had even admitted that, but only because they didn't allow each other to sleep. Skye had never expected it to get that bad. Her tears began to flow. She crammed her fist in her mouth and dug her teeth into her hand so she wouldn't sob. Not while Jeffrey could hear her.
She wasn't sure how long she stood there, her back pressed against the door. She didn't move until her father joined her, on his way outside for his morning walk.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he said. Then his face clouded with concern. "Are you alright?"
Skye waved her arms and desperately shushed him. She grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hall and outside. Once there, she gave Mr. Penderwick a big hug. He was surprised, but he returned it gladly. They walked together through the gardens. It was so peaceful, the polar opposite of the rest of her morning.
"What happened to your face?" Mr. Penderwick said after a long time of nothing but silence.
Skye hoped it didn't look as bad as it felt. She poked at it gingerly. It certainly felt like a nasty bruise. "Nothing. I guess I kneed myself in the face sleeping. That's what Jeffrey said." She didn't know why she had lied.
"Poor girl."
They were quiet again. They walked past Arundel Cottage and into the woods. Squirrels scampered up trees, birds sang as they flit from branch to branch. It looked like a fairytale. Skye's first summer there had been one. Now, Arundel was just the site of her horror movie of an existence.
"I keep thinking about your mother," said Mr. Penderwick. "And how much she loved you."
"You mean how upset she'd be about all of this."
He sighed. "I do. Skye, if she was alive, do you think you would be able to talk to her?"
"No." Skye was quite certain of that. This was the first time she had been even a little grateful that her mother was dead. She didn't have to see what had happened to her little girl. Skye didn't have to hurt her like she was hurting her father. He thought that he wasn't enough. He didn't think Skye trusted him like she had trusted her mother. She had been seven when Mrs. Penderwick had died. Children trust their parents blindly at that age.
"I'll talk to you about it eventually, I will. Mostly. Maybe completely, I don't know."
"You don't have to."
"I want to. Or I will want to, one day. I know that." Skye stopped. Mr. Penderwick took a couple additional steps before he realized.
"Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what I said."
Mr. Penderwick repositioned his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "It's okay, Skye."
"No it isn't." She vigorously shook her head. "I was horrible. I'm upset, and it's not okay for me to take that out on you."
Her father smiled sadly. "I understand. Truly, I do."
"It was unacceptable and cowardly," Skye carried on. She watched a particular bird tugging leaves from a tree and flying off to build a nest. She wanted to fly away with it. "You've been nothing but good to me, and I was cruel. It was wrong."
"No harm done," Mr. Penderwick assured her.
"I should have apologized days ago. Jeffrey wanted me to, but I didn't listen to him."
"Jeffrey's a good kid."
They started walking again, back towards the house. Skye rubbed at her aching shoulder. It popped if she lifted her arm. Jeffrey's heel had ground underneath her bones.
"I wanted to, I swear. I just couldn't."
"That's alright."
"Please say you forgive me."
Mr. Penderwick smiled again, the same sad smile that always tore at Skye's heart. "I don't feel that I have to, but if that's what you would like, then yes. I forgive you."
"Thank you." That was a considerable weight off Skye's back.
"I too am sorry," said Mr. Penderwick. "You were rightly angry. I should not have said those things."
"I guess we all say stupid stuff when we're upset, don't we?" said Skye.
"Yes. It appears that is the way the world works," Mr. Penderwick agreed.
Skye thought about that for a while, then said, "Jeffrey doesn't."
"That's a wonder we can all marvel at. He is quite the patient young man."
"Well, he puts up with me so he has to be. And with his mother. I don't know which is worse," said Skye.
Mr. Penderwick chuckled. "You know, she can be rather charming when she allows herself to be. I am starting to see why Alec likes her."
Skye was trying to see it. She didn't quite. She knew next to nothing about Mrs. Tifton except that she had a deep, brimming well of love for Jeffrey. That was enough for Skye not to hate her.
"Iantha talks with her frequently. I think they're becoming friends, in fact. Mrs. Tifton asked her to help her decorate her new home once she has moved."
Skye smiled. She wondered if her comment about Mrs. Tifton's hotel-like décor had gotten into her head. Iantha was the right person to ask. She had an eye for interior design. She had spruced up the Penderwicks' home nicely when she had moved in.
"Maybe you'll be going on dinner dates with her and Alec," Skye said with a laugh. That was an otherworldly concept.
"Perhaps we'll bring you and Jeffrey along."
Skye gagged. "That sounds like a nightmare."
"It does, doesn't it?"
They made it back to the main house. Mr. Penderwick opened the door for her and followed Skye inside.
"Daddy, can we make this a daily thing? I miss you." Skye loved taking walks with her father. She could picture herself in the far off, distant future discussing what she had been through with him while strolling through their neighborhood.
"Of course we can." Mr. Penderwick beamed. Skye had shut him out so viciously.
She would make an effort to change that with everyone. She was tired of avoiding her family. She needed them, and she knew that much sooner than she would like, she would even more. She was going to try her absolute hardest to prevent it, but she wasn't dumb. She was aware that Jeffrey would eventually discover that he had hit her. When that happened, her family would be the only thing that could maybe stop her from ripping apart.
A/N: Me, updating at 4:30 am? Whaaaat?