Linda tries to keep the scar hidden from Danny. It's ugly—she knows it's ugly, even though she hasn't taken the bandage off, she can see stitches peeking out from beneath the large bandage, and it's ugly, and he's going to be disgusted by it and not want her anymore.
She bites her lip as Danny kisses her everywhere he can reach, not responding the way she normally does to his lips and his hands. He's always gentle, but now he's being even more gentle.
She closes her eyes as they literally and figuratively become 'one flesh,' aware only of the throbbing in her side.
His hands grip her hips, and she bites her lip. His left hand is right over the bandage, his wedding ring scraping one of the stitches, and she whimpers in pain.
Danny kisses her again.
She blinks back tears.
"Babe, what's wrong?" Danny asks, pulling the sheet over her.
She shakes her head. "Nothing. I'm fine."
"Linda, you're crying. You're not fine. Did I hurt you?"
She sniffles.
"Babe, please tell me what's wrong. Do I need to take you back to the hospital?"
She wants to get up and run into the bathroom and take a hot bath, but her entire side is on fire—and not in the way Danny normally makes her feel on fire—and she still can't get the stupid stitches wet.
She rolls onto her side—her injured side—so he can't touch the bandage, and gasps in pain.
Strong hands lift her up off the bed, and she whimpers.
"Shhh, it's me. You're safe. Please tell me what I did," Danny whispers, sounding panicked.
"You touched…the bandage. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Danny very carefully moves them so he's sitting up, holding her in his arms, her good side closest to his chest. "Shhh, babe, it's okay. I'm sorry I hurt you. I wasn't thinking…I forgot about you being hurt."
"I didn't want you thinking about my ugly scars while we were…making love," she sniffles.
"Babe, I haven't even seen them yet—and I guarantee you, they're not ugly. Nothing on you could ever be ugly."
She sobs into his chest, and he runs a hand through her hair, which desperately needs to be washed, but she's been hurting too much for him to wash it at the sink for her.
He sings to her until she's cried herself out.
He thinks she's asleep, and then he hears her talking to herself in a low voice.
He strains his ears to hear her: "Stupid…selfish…how could you…?"
He puts a finger under her chin, lifts it, kisses her, stopping the stream of self-loathing coming out of her mouth.
When they break for air, she says in a tearful voice, "What was that for?"
"To make you stop saying such negative, hateful, untrue things about yourself."
"But…"
"No, babe. You aren't stupid, and you aren't selfish. I should have been more careful. And you need to tell me when something hurts you so I'll stop. Hell, you probably shouldn't even have been moving around that much, this soon after surgery."
"I thought you wanted…"
"Babe, I did…but I can't enjoy myself if you're hurting. We'll wait until you're healed—and until the surgeon says you can move around that…vigorously. Now, how 'bout a massage?"
She nods, and he massages all the knots out of her back and shoulders and arms and legs. She's almost asleep in his arms when he hears her whisper sleepily, "An' I'm gonna give you fireworks when I'm all healed."
He kisses the top of her head. "I'm sure you will, babe, I'm sure you will."