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A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! They mean the world to me! Sooo...

Kathy, If tissues will be necessary, this is the chapter. Although, I'm not entirely sure they will be... I mean, I got emotional writing it, but I always cry at weddings and funerals... always. So... :)

JBCC and GSRMania, you two always always make me laugh. :) Thank you.

Hope you all enjoy! Goodnight!

Chapter Ninety Three:

"My son, Jace…"

The strong, broad-shouldered, stoic man stopped, only the slightest of trembles evident in his expression… and then he swallowed, and continued in a clearer voice, deep and unwavering.

"My son, Jace could be described in a lot of ways. He was a loyal, if sometimes imperfect, husband and a loving and devoted father… In the wake of this tragedy, it's hard to say that any particular aspect is worse than the others but, if there is one… it's that little Ayla will never get to know firsthand what a wonderful father he was. If I was half the father to my children throughout their entire lives as Jace was to his daughter in the short eleven months he had with her, I will consider myself a success."

He paused, breathing deeply, though this was the only sign that he might be feeling emotional.

"At other times in Jace's life, he's been many other things. As a baby, he was a late bloomer, not even starting to walk until he was more than eighteen months… as a child, he wore his heart on his sleeve, frequently complaining that his three headstrong older sisters weren't being nice enough or fair enough… in his teens, he became an independent and confident young man, almost overnight. …I remember wondering, around his seventeenth birthday, when my little boy had become a. man…"

Another deep breath. "Jace was a fighter, unwilling to accept anything but the best from himself. He put himself through school, he made a life with a beautiful woman he loved very much, and he excelled at just about anything he sincerely put his mind to, not because it always came easily to him, but because he was so determined. …Although I distinctly remember each phase of his life, and who he was in each place and time, there are some things about Jace which have remained constant, for as long as I've known him.

"…My son was a man who was willing to make sacrifices and to defend and protect who and what he loved. He shared his toys at an age when no other child was sharing… and his sisters hadn't really grasped the concept yet themselves." There was slight laughter in the church, and I wiped at my streaming face, glancing at Gil. He looked at me from the side of his eyes and without a word, we reached out to each other, clasping hands across Ayla's lap where she sat, blanket in her lap, thumb in her mouth. Had Gil given her the blanket? I hadn't even noticed…

"…I remember the first time he came home crying… he was eight and had gone to the park with his sisters, and when an older boy had tried to take his youngest sister Ali's doll, he'd stood up to the kid and gotten himself a bloody nose. …Those of you who knew Jace in high school know that he was a little rebellious at times, and got into a few fights. At the time, his mother and I were furious… though in later years we learned what the fights had been about. Each and every time, he was defending someone or something… his sisters, his friends, a classmate who wasn't as popular, or simply some vague principle at large which he felt in his heart was worth fighting for. As he got older, he learned to fight with his head instead of his fists… though he never stopped being that person who was so good, to his very core, that thought for himself was absolutely secondary."

This time, Tom's face crumpled and he inhaled sharply, fighting for control. ".My son died to save his little girl… selflessly, courageously, lovingly, threw himself over her body to protect her from a madman… My son was not a perfect man, but he was the picture of self-sacrifice. …My son was a hero." His hands flexed on the sides of pulpit, gripping them in a desperate attempt at remaining stoic, and he let out the breath shakily. "And if there is nothing else that Ayla knows about him, or that anyone remembers about him, it should be that. His entire live, he was giving and loving and forgiving to an extent that I have rarely seen my whole life long… and I cannot begin to tell you how… how much… we love him. How much we'll… miss him."

His entire immovable expression faltered for a single moment in time, displaying the deepest level of grief I had ever witnessed, and then the strong jaw had lifted and his face was returned to normal, save for a few rapid blinks as he stepped down and slid back into the pew beside me that revealed he was quickly losing composure. I reached my free hand to him immediately, and he took it, squeezing it tightly, as if he needed my comfort as much or more than I needed his. I dropped Gil's hand to embrace the man, and though he was silent and no more tears fell from his eyes, the sob that shook his body when he held me spoke volumes.

I don't remember the rest of the funeral, but I remember following the casket out and catching Rachel's eyes—she was sitting in the back row, her eyes and cheeks red and streaked with tears, and I felt nothing… no desire to rekindle the friendship—the betrayal of my trust had been too severe—but no lingering animosity either. If Jace had forgiven Gil and I… I could forgive Rachel an act that she had surely done in an attempt to protect me from myself. It was misguided, but I just didn't have the strength to be angry or hateful anymore. I offered a small, hesitant smile, and she gave me one back… and then we were past her, leaving the sanctuary.

We didn't watch the coffin as it was loaded into the hearse. It was just too much for me. I turned away, pulling Ayla from Gil's arms and squeezing her tightly, drawing strength from her. Gil drove, pulling up behind the hearse, and turned his flashers on while we waited for the procession to pull up. I leaned my head against the window, staring blankly ahead, that night flickering back to me in detail.

I shivered, feeling freezing despite my warm pajamas and the blankets on top of me. I knew that I wasn't thinking clearly, but I wanted to be close to him. Not even sexually, really, just… close. I was nervous and uncertain, but those things didn't necessarily loom large enough in my mind to act as deterrents. I rolled over, wincing at the pressure on my bandaged breast, and curled up to his side, my shoulder tucked under his arm and my head on his chest, arm across his stomach and leg curled over his. He stiffened, tilting his head, and slowly lowered an arm from behind his head to rest against my back.

"…Sara?" He asked gently, perhaps seeing if I were still awake… perhaps more openly questioning my actions. I swallowed.

"I'm so… cold. I just… I need to feel… close."

I could hear the uncertainty in his silence, but after a long moment his body relaxed a little more and the arm around me tightened just slightly. "Okay."

The problem, of course, was me. I don't even think it was sexual, per se… not in a blatant way, although I was aware of what I was doing. I just wanted to feel human contact in a way that wasn't threatening… I ran the hand that had been draped across his abdomen over his stomach and down further than I should have, though not so low as to be obvious… and eventually slipped my palm beneath his t-shirt, running over the muscles there I had wondered about since the first day I saw him.

"…Sara?" This time his voice was a little shaky, but it held a tone of accusation. I swallowed again, ignoring him, tracing fingertips up his sides and relishing in the goose bumps I caused… relishing in warm flesh that was not demanding, but was always gentle. I hitched my leg up just a little higher, and became aware of the effect I was having on him. He swallowed hard, and his voice came more sternly. "Sara. What are you doing?"

I felt tears spark my eyes at what felt like a rejection and grit my teeth. "You want it too, I can feel it." I insisted, finally realizing that this had been exactly where I was going with this. …I didn't necessarily want sex… I mean, not for sex's sake, anyway. I wanted someone warm and gentle and giving to replace the images that kept replaying in my head. I wanted to be loved in a way that I could control—hell, had initiated—by someone who would never force anything on me… I wanted to exhaust myself so that I could sleep without dreaming of it, because I knew that it would happen, otherwise.

"Sara." He said, gently now, catching my wandering hand in his free one and bringing it back up to his chest, over his shirt. "Honey, you're upset because of what happened and you're not thinking clearly, okay? Just sleep, please?"

The tears came over me in a wave again and I bit them back. "I don't want to sleep. …I want you to make me forget him…t-touching me…" I shivered again, sure that I must have hypothermia to be this cold, and felt the tears gain some ground.

His arms came around me, tightly but gently crushing me against his chest, holding me close and safe. "I know, honey, but this isn't the way to do it. You'd regret it in the morning…"

"No," I insisted, shaking my head and tugging my hand free from his, snaking it back onto his stomach, under his shirt. "I won't regret it. I'll be thankful." My whole body shuddered with the cold this time, and I just wanted him to keep me warm. I let my hand skate down to the top of his jeans. He took it in his larger hand again, pulling it away.

"Sara… listen to me." And when I shook my head, he tilted my face up to his, meeting my eyes. "No, listen… You think you want this, and short-term it might feel like it helps… but long-term, it's only going to make this worse to deal with."

"You want it too." I whispered, the tears coming unhindered now, and he swallowed hard.

"No, Sara. My body is reacting to you touching me because you're a beautiful woman whom I've been attracted to since I met you… but I don't want to do this right now. …I want to do it when you're thinking clearly and you know what you're doing… when it's about me and you and us… not about hiding from what he did to you."

The shudder that slid through me felt like a convulsion this time and I choked on a sob. He sat up, grabbing the extra blanket that was still folded gently across the bottom of my bed. With gentle care, he wrapped it around me and had me straddle him, high enough up his body that I couldn't feel what I had done to him, and bent me forward until my head was on a pillow beside his, just above his shoulder. Then he pulled the big comforter over the both of us, holding it tight around me. "Jace…" I said, my voice pleading, and I saw the hurt in his eyes.

His large hands cupped my face, and the shiver that had been building died down. With the extra blanket around my back and shoulders and his warmth seeping up through my chest, I didn't feel quite as cold. "I promise you, Sara Sidle, that if you still want to do this in a few weeks… I will be a more than willing participant. Okay? But tonight, just sleep with me, okay?"

I nodded numbly, not wanting to agree, but realizing a loss when I saw one. I buried my face between the pillow and his neck, tucked my cold toes under his warm thighs, and closed my eyes. And when I felt his hands slip beneath the covers to run over my back and shoulders and sides, over my shirt, but still gently replacing my attacker's cruel contact and my skin's memory of it with warmth and comfort and compassion… my whole body relaxed against him. I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember that I didn't have any nightmares that night…

"Sara? Honey, we're here…" I looked up in surprise, realizing the car had been parked, and we needed to get out of the car and approach the hole in the ground into which they would lay the man who had been my best friend and constant protector, even if occasionally he was misguided in his attempts. In all the years I'd known him, he'd been that man far more often and more consistently than he'd been the man I'd seen as prison warden. I slipped from the vehicle and walked between Gil on my left and Tom, holding Ayla, on my right, with a kind of numb disbelief.

He was gone. Really and truly gone. Not just my husband, but Jace… my Jace. My personal savior and consummate partner.

I felt dizzy just seeing the hole where I knew he would be placed… felt my mind going through the stages of decomposition with a twisted attention to detail… so when I was offered a chair, I nodded and slumped into it, feeling altogether weak of mind, body, and spirit. He was gone.