A/N: The past two chapters and this chapter deal with a heavy topic. Sexual assault. It's a serious problem in the US and elsewhere. 80% of sexual assaults are committed by someone the survivor knows (cite RAINN . org). It is never the survivors fault and there a whole myriad of reactions to one and none are a "wrong" way to act. If you or someone you know has been a victim, please reach out for support. RAINN . org (remove the space between the ".") has great resources. You are not alone.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the usual suspects.

Plum & Prejudice

Chapter 16:

"The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it, and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistencies of all human characters and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense."

Time is an interesting concept if you really think about it. Humanmade. Truly an illusion for a species that feels better if they believe they can control the unthinkable. Last night's events warped my sense of time.

I spent the morning hours in a dream-like haze, drifting from dream to semi-consciousness. Thankfully, the warmth and the feel of Jen's hand in mine seemed to keep me rooted out of memories less pleasant. I woke when Jen checked my pupil's response for a few hours as a precaution, and then it was all dark. My dreams don't make much sense to me. All I can remember is the pain.

That's how I wake up—mumbling about the pain and twisting my neck the wrong way. Stray tears leak down my cheek and stains the pillowcase a dark gray even before my consciousness catches up.

"Steph?" Jen croaks blearily, "are you okay?" To me, today, that is a silly question. I am very much not okay, and funnily enough, only time will help me.

"Pain," I groan, trying to block the images out of my brain. Pain triggers the memories of what caused the pain. More tears. Goddammit! I wish these tears would stop. I feel Jen roll over and get up. She shuffles down the hall and returns shortly with some pain medication. I sit up gently and swallow the pills. She brushes my hair back from my face.

"You need to call your work and let them know you won't be in today," she tells me, "you're sick." I sigh but know she's right. Another thing changed because of him.

"After we go to the doctor, I can go back to my apartment," I say, stretching and then regretting it. Jen puts her hand on her hips and gives me a stern look.

"No," she replies quickly with a voice daring me to rebut her. I don't particularly appreciate feeling my independence taken away.

"Why not?" I ask, wanting a fight even though I do want to stay here. I just don't want to want to... don't want to feel like I have to. Cue the tears. I wipe them away angrily. Jen sits on the edge of the bed. She puts a firm hand on my thigh.

"Stephanie," she says quietly, grabbing my attention, "I know you're hurting. I know. I've been there. One of the only things that will help you is leaning on your friends and family." I look at her with wide eyes. She sighs.

"I was a sophomore in college," she begins, her eyes growing distant. I grab her hand.

"I had just finished studying at the library late one night before a test the next day, and one of the guys from my class offered to walk me home. I said yes, of course. I thought he was kind of cute and liked the excuse to spend more time with him…" she gets quieter as she says the last part, "I didn't pay attention. Next thing I knew, we were in a pitch dark part of campus, and he had knocked me to the ground. I had no warning." I squeeze her hand. She had never told me this before.

"Anyways, I wasn't strong enough or prepared enough to stop him," she continues, biting her lip, "He said 'thank you. See you for the test tomorrow.' and left me there on the ground with my pants down. I couldn't believe what just happened."

"Oh Jen, I'm so sorry he did that to you," I say, moving in to wrap her in a hug.

"Everyone reacts differently. No one ever deserves to be assaulted, and it does usually mess up routine for one to six weeks. Sometimes more if you don't have the support and some even when you do have support. I'm telling you right now, Stephanie Michelle Plum, you have the support. Use it." I hug her even more fiercely.

"I'm so lucky you're in my life," I tell her sincerely, more tears dropping unbidden from my eyes. She returns the hug and rubs circles on my back.

"So here's the game plan for today: you call your boss about being sick, we head into the clinic, get you x-rays and blood tests, and then we come back here for movies and ice cream. I will call Valerie and let her know what's happened, and she can join us. In between all of this, you decide when you want to read that letter from a certain handsome man," she says matter-of-factly. I let out a sigh.

"I know you're right. Can we add a stop to my apartment so I can get some of my clothes?" Jen grins and nods.

The day goes much like Jen predicted. I went to my apartment to get some clothes for about a week. I had the x-ray and blood tests done. Jen took excellent care of me. Valerie came and cried. She felt it was her fault because it could have been avoided by not taking a cab. We both assured her that it would have just put her in danger too. Chunky Monkey Ben & Jerry's flowed. I was able to push the bad thing from my mind with warmth, love, and laughter. Ranger's letter stayed on the nightstand waiting for me to read it.

xxx

A week later, I'm back at my apartment. It feels good. I let out a sigh as I open the door and then lock it. It's so quiet in here. I set my bag down, shrug off my jacket, and go directly to the couch. I have the small white envelope in my hand. It didn't feel right to read it at Jen and Joe's. My hand is trembling a little bit. Ever since that day, I felt something shift in regards to my feelings towards Ranger. Respect...maybe?

I take a deep breath and run my finger underneath the flap, breaking the seal. My mind speculates on what it will be. A rude letter? A begging letter? A goodbye? I slide the paper carefully out of the envelope. It's folded neatly, and I can see parts of the black ink that soaked through.

I unfold it and begin reading it.

Stephanie,

I apologize for the way the other evening went. I will not rehash the sentiments I shared with you, but I would like to explain the two items you accused me of.

One - splitting up your sister and Steve. Yes, I did highly hint at Steve that it would be for the best if he didn't continue seeing your sister. Like I had said, I believed that she did not genuinely love Steve in the same way he feels for her. He already had those same doubts. Would it truly work out if he had those doubts? That is where I myself am doubtful. Coupled with your mother's behavior at the ball and her subsequent act when we visited your home, she made it clear she only wants the two of you to keep in mind the wealth status of the man you choose. I stand by what I did.

Ugh, even after I told him how Valerie feels, he's still smug and happy by breaking them up. Of course, he brings up my mother again. I feel my eye twitch, and a slight headache begins—nothing new with mom messing up our happiness. I hate how he's insulted our family. It made me furious that night when he asked me out, but the truth is- my mom is embarrassing. She's not the normal embarrassing; she's the 'I don't know her' type of embarrassing. So, should I really be so surprised he would comment on her behavior? Should he judge my sister or me for her? No, I should hardly think so. I continue with his letter. The following line stops me in my tracks.

Two - Morelli in Ranger school.

I have to pause my reading at the second item. Morelli. The name makes me feel sick to my stomach. My heartbeat is pounding in my chest, and my hands feel clammy. I put the letter on the sofa and get up to pace a little bit. Can I read this? Do I want to? I defended Morelli to Ranger that night. Oh, God. I sprint to the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet to throw up. I sit back on my haunches, arms still over the toilet, to see if any more of my lunch will come up. When I'm satisfied that I'm through, I flush, wash my hands and splash my face with water. I put my hands on the counter to study my reflection in the mirror. My lip is no longer swollen, and the scratch is barely noticeable anymore. My eyes look sadder than before. My hair hangs limply. My curls are somehow not as bouncy. I also know I've lost a couple of pounds. Food just hasn't held the same appeal to me, especially pizza.

I head back out. I stop by the kitchen and grab a ginger ale. I take a few sips, set it on the coffee table, and pick up the letter again. My eyes skip back to that line.

Two - Morelli in Ranger school.

I can't say anything about his time in Navy school, but he was never honest when I knew him. He paid guys off and cheated on almost every written exam. He was cocky and full of shit. None of the guys particularly liked him, but he had a way of covering his ass with superiors, so they never suspected a thing. We used to go to a bar off base. My second cousin worked there at the time. Morelli pursued her aggressively even though she was in a committed relationship. I did my best to protect her, but he got to her one night.

I can see the ink getting darker as he continues this paragraph. He must have been pressing the pen down extremely hard. My stomach is in knots again. I realize my hands are shaking enough that it's hard to read the words written. I place the letter beside me. I take a deep breath, a few more swallows of ginger ale, and then pick it up again. My eyes re-scan the page and re-read the last line.

I did my best to protect her, but he got to her one night.

She quit her job quickly after that and moved back with her parents. Catholic. She had a daughter nine months later. I was furious, and so were some of the other guys. We reported his conduct. All of it. The cheating and his assault. Rachel was too scared to press charges, so the school didn't believe those, but they retested Morelli on everything. He flunked and blamed me for his bad luck.

This is not my story to share, but I wanted you to know what kind of character you defended. Please be careful around him.

Best Wishes,

Carlos Manoso

I'm startled when tears hit the note I'm still clutching. I put it down before it gets ruined, not that I will ever re-read it. It's burned into my retina. My brain is thinking quickly. My emotions are a rollercoaster. I know one thing, Ranger is honest. I can feel a change in how I see him. Joseph Morelli, however, is scum on Earth. He does not deserve to walk around free. I'm swirling with emotions, but one thing is clear.

I pick up my phone to dial Uncle Joe. I've made my decision on pressing charges, come what may.