A/N: While home sick last week, I found these threads of this scenes and remembered how I had never mentioned Johanna's stitches from her wound in chapters 7 and 8 again. I had already done the deleted scene of her dinner with Jim the night of the shooting incident and despite their conversation in her hotel room that night, they never really talked about the incident 'onscreen'…and I felt it was time they did. This chapter is set in the area of chapter 13, early in the aftermath of Jo and Kate not finding any answers in her papers. I hope you'll enjoy this missing scene.

Chapter 15 – Stitches

Johanna breathed deeply as she pulled the scissors and tweezers out of the hot water she had dropped them into a few minutes before. She glanced at her phone that she had propped up on the sink, the instructions for removing stitches on the screen. Another breath crossed her lips; she hated to do it but it needed to be done…and now that Jim had dozed off while watching a ballgame on TV, she had the chance to get it done before Katie got home. She rooted through the cabinets and found the rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, bandage and Vaseline that she needed; glad that her daughter was better prepared with first aid supplies than she had been with groceries. Johanna shook her head, Katie was taking after Jim with that lack of grocery shopping.

She took a handful of cotton balls out of the bag and laid them on the towel before undoing the buttons of her blouse and pulling her arm out of her sleeve. She reached out and touched the screen of her phone, reading the first step instructions once again. Taking a breath and steeling herself to get the task done, she picked up the tweezers and shifted a little so that she could see the stitches in the mirror.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jim asked as he walked through the bathroom that she hadn't closed all the way.

She jumped, the tweezers falling from her hand as she hurriedly pulled her blouse back around her. "What the hell are you doing?" she retorted.

He smiled a little as he watched her. "You don't have to put your shirt back on, I've seen you without it before."

She smirked at him. "Not lately."

"Can't say that now," he said with a laugh.

Her cheeks reddened as she clutched the material of her shirt. "You still blush," Jim murmured as he moved further into the room.

"I thought you were asleep," Johanna said, ignoring the remark.

"I woke up…now you want to tell me what you're doing in here?"

"You could've knocked," she stated.

"You could've closed and locked the door," he reminded her. "But you didn't…so what's going on, Jo? You've been acting off all day."

She scoffed. "I hate to tell you this but I've been off for years."

Jim felt like that was a statement best left unanswered given that she didn't seem to be in the best of moods today. "You still haven't told me what you're doing."

Johanna huffed a little. "If you must know, I'm taking out my stitches."

"You can't do that!"

"Yes, I can. I googled it," she said with a nod at her phone. "It's not complicated, you just lift up the knots and snip the threads, pull it out of the skin. No big deal."

"It is a big deal," he replied. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I have directions, I assure you that I can still read and understand things despite everything."

He looked at her oddly. "What do you mean by that?"

"It means I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were…I just don't think you should do this. It needs to be done by a doctor…is it even time for them to come out?"

"Yes, they should've come out yesterday."

"I'll have to take you to the doctor."

She shook her head. "You know that's not an option now that I'm here."

"Johanna…."

"I'm doing this, Jim. They have to come out. I did everything it says to do, I put the scissors and tweezers in boiled water for several minutes and I got all the supplies I need."

Jim picked her phone up from the sink and read over the instructions. "Did you clean your wound with alcohol?"

"Not yet," she admitted; cringing inside that she had forgotten that step. Her brain was muddled with thoughts, that dark cloud hovering over her ever since she hadn't been able to find an answer in her papers.

"See, you're not following directions," he stated.

"Because you came in and startled me!" Johanna exclaimed. "I didn't get a chance to do anything."

Jim shook his head as he picked up the tweezers and put them in the bowl of water. "You're not doing it yourself."

"There's no one else to do it."

"What am I, invisible?" he asked as he took the tweezers out of the water and dried them before opening the bottle of alcohol and wetting a cotton ball that he then wiped over them.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Bull; you just wanted to be stubborn as usual."

She glared at him. "Why ask me if you're going to deem my answer a lie?"

He blew out a breath as he washed his hands. "Don't get your feathers ruffled, okay?"

"Maybe you ruffled them when you barged in on me."

"I woke up and couldn't find you; the door was half open so I came in…because my mission was to search every room for you. I'm not sorry."

"I didn't ask you to be sorry."

"Did you sleep last night?" he asked.

"Not much, why?"

"Because lack of sleep usually makes you cranky and you're a little cranky today, honey."

"I can't imagine why. Now I need to do this so just let me do it."

"You really shouldn't," Jim stated as he wiped the scissors down with alcohol. "It should be done by a doctor."

Johanna sighed a little in frustration. "I told you; I don't have that option anymore."

"I'm sure Katie could take you to get your stitches out."

"I'm not asking her to do that. I can do it myself."

"Just because Google says you can do it yourself doesn't mean you should."

Johanna took the scissors from his hand. "They're clean enough. I'll be fine. Go watch TV and I'll make you something to eat when I'm done."

Jim took the scissors back out of her hand, not particularly liking the feeling that she was dismissing him. Her mood had been all over the place for the last two days and he wasn't sure how to fix it. "I didn't say I wouldn't do it for you."

"I didn't ask you to do it," she said firmly.

He laid the scissors down on a towel and eyed her. "What's that all about?" he asked.

"What?"

"You know, telling me you didn't ask me to do it."

She shrugged. "Well I didn't."

"Which brings up the good question of why haven't you asked? You're here all evening with Katie, why haven't you asked her to do it?"

She scoffed a little. "I'm not really comfortable with the idea of Katie coming at me with a pair of scissors if you want the truth…there would probably be an 'accident' and no one would believe my word over hers."

"I don't think Katie would deliberately hurt you."

"Maybe, maybe not…but why put the weapon of opportunity in her hand and find out?"

"Okay," he said with a nod. "I know things are shaky between you and Katie and I guess I can understand why you don't want to ask her…but why haven't you asked me?"

Her gaze flicked away from him, a multitude of irrational feelings fluttering inside of her that she didn't want to give voice to…like the fact that no one had brought up her wound since the morning after it had happened so she had kept to herself like she figured everyone wanted.

"Jo?" he said, waiting on a response.

"Because I can take care of myself," she muttered as she moved toward the scissors.

Jim blocked her path, keeping his gaze trained upon her face. "Put away your tough girl card, Jo; tell me what's going on with you. One minute you're fine and the next you're all folded up into yourself. You need help and want to give your standard 'I can take care of myself line'."

Her chin jutted upwards, a trait he so well remembered but he schooled himself not to smile in response.

"I can take care of myself," she stated. "I can put windshield wiper fluid in my car and I can even get the sink unclogged on my own."

He smiled a little at the note of McKenzie arrogance in her tone, the flicker of fire in her eyes. "Babe, I hate to you this but putting windshield wiper fluid in your car isn't the big flex you think it is. It's one of the easiest things in the world to do. You could've done it thirty years ago; you just didn't want to…and I was fine with that because I like being your personal mechanic."

"I still unclogged the sink myself!"

"It's not hard to pour drain cleaner down the drain," he laughed. "You've done it before."

Her eyes narrowed. "Drain cleaner didn't work. I had to use baking soda, vinegar and a plunger!"

Jim whistled. "Wow, such manual labor for a woman of your class and stature."

"Shut up!" she said tartly.

He laughed, knowing that he was goading her but maybe it was what she needed to draw her back out of this strange mood. "If you really want to impress me, take the pipes apart and clean out the clog…and change the windshield wipers yourself."

"I tried; they flew off!" she exclaimed.

Jim laughed all the more at the statement, his eyes gleaming with lightness despite the fact that he could tell he was just ruffling her feathers all the more. "Sweetheart, you're a very intelligent woman, but car maintence has never been your strong suit…in fact, you shouldn't do anything to your car but drive it and put gas in it…everything else you should leave to someone who knows what they're doing."

Johanna smirked at him. "Thanks for your vote of confidence."

"I'm sorry," he teased. "Congratulations on your windshield wiper fluid accomplishment."

"Give me the scissors so I can take out my stitches," she demanded. "Despite what you think, I can take care of myself…it isn't like I had a choice not to."

"Hey," he said, gentling his tone. "I know you can take care of yourself…but I don't want you to be an overachiever about it…I mean if you start fixing cars and clogged sinks, and taking out your own stitches, what will you need me for?"

She needed him for plenty of things but she wasn't sure he really wanted her to answer the question; after all, he was still carefully doling out small expressions of affection and there still weren't any words of love. A long time ago, he would've driven her crazy about any injury she might have…but this time he hadn't mentioned it after that first morning…and neither had she, figuring he needed distance from the incident…and maybe she didn't want him to remember it either.

"Johanna," Jim said, his hand brushing against her arm.

"What?" she asked with a shake of her head.

"Are you okay? You seem to keep going away somewhere."

"I'm fine, I just need to take these damn stitches out so move so I can get the scissors and get it done. They've already been in a day longer than they should've been."

He gave a nod of understanding; they should get them out…he'd rather a doctor do it but she had ruled that out. There was no choice but him and he'd have to do it…even if he did hate the thought of it. It dawned on him then that he hadn't seen her wound since the night it had happened.

Jim breathed deeply as he regarded the stitches in her arm; a row of black threads that symbolized the end of the date they had been on that night. He frowned a little; everything had been going so well that night…there had been nerves about their first dinner date since her return but they had settled into old habits and things had grown cozy and nice…giving him hope and peace…allowing him to consider pushing against those boundaries he had set. In an instant, the night had been stolen from them and in the chaos he had back peddled, throwing that wall back up to protect himself while she laid in a hospital bed and cried, pretending her tears were for the wound in her arm when they both knew they were really about how he had rejected her touch, pulling his hand from her grasp when she had needed it the most.

Fear, hurt, and anger had driven him that night…and in hindsight he realized that in the aftermath, he hadn't done well at comforting her. He had yelled at her…threw thirteen years worth of grief in her face, hung a multitude of actions and hurts on her slender shoulders when he knew they were already weighted down. Another breath crossed his lips, he had stayed with her the night of the shooting, had held her while she slept but he hadn't been much comfort. They didn't talk about it…he didn't ask about her feelings or fears…had only worried about his own and tried to push the rest away; tried to forget that the incident had happened.

"I can do it myself," Johanna stated, her voice taunt with emotion.

Jim shook off the cobwebs, her voice pulling him from his thoughts. "You know that you can't do it yourself; you'd only be working with one hand and that's not going to work."

"Then do it," she said, her tone clipped and full of tension. "Quit staring at it and do it or I'll try to do it myself and if I can't, they can just stay in there. In fact, let's just do that," she remarked as she shifted away from him, tugging her blouse back around her as she slipped her arm back into the sleeve.

"We can't leave them in," he said firmly. "So pull your arm back out of your sleeve."

"Then do it this time instead of just staring at it," Johanna retorted as she drew her arm back out of her sleeve. "It doesn't take this long to get a tooth pulled."

His jaw tightened, her attitude chafing him a little. "You want me to pull one for you now?" he asked tartly. "I could probably loosen a few for you."

"If it would make things better, I'd let you knock them out…but it won't so I think I'll just keep my teeth."

"I'd never lay a hand on you, Johanna."

"No, but you'd probably like to…so you'd think you'd enjoy ripping the stitches out but you still haven't done a damn thing."

"If I'm not moving fast enough for you, then you should've asked your daughter to do it. I'm sure she'd enjoy ripping them out…I bet she'd do it really fast and painful so maybe you should've asked her since that's what you seem to want."

"I'm sure she would enjoy it…but I think it's in bad taste to ask her to remove stitches from my bullet wound when I'm the reason she has one of her own! I can just imagine how that would go…her reminding me that it's my fault that she has that wound…how I wasn't there to tend to her wound or take care of her. So yeah, I think it would be in bad taste to bring this up," she said, her voice cracking as emotion broke through.

So that was why she had mentioned needing her stitches removed, Jim thought to himself as the first teardrop tumbled down her cheek. His heart ached and he tugged her into his arms despite her trying to resist his embrace. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I should've realized that was why you didn't ask her…and I don't think for a minute she'd say those things that you think she would. It's not your fault that she got hurt."

"It is," she cried.

"It's not…and I know you've been upset about not being able to give her the answers she's looking for but it's going to be alright, we'll find them."

"I keep trying to remember all the little details…I had to have known the answer and didn't realize it yet at the time…I had to have known."

"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't…but pressuring yourself isn't going to make you recall it at the moment…but maybe you can answer a question I have because I know you have the answer to it."

"What?" she asked as she pulled away from him and swiped at her tears.

"Why haven't you told me about your stitches needing removed?" Jim asked as he met her eye and held it.

Her gaze fell to her feet and she suddenly felt self-conscience standing there with her blouse half off, waiting for the stitches to come out and it didn't seem like they were ever going to.

"Jo?" he prodded.

"You hadn't asked anything about it…so I figured you wanted to forget about it," Johanna said quietly.

"It's not like I can forget that it happened," Jim replied.

"When you didn't ask after that first morning…I figured that you didn't want to know…that maybe you felt better not mentioning it so I just kept quiet about it."

"I guess that's why you've been wearing long sleeves more often than not lately."

"Yes," she admitted.

"What exactly do you mean when you say you kept quiet about it…what about it did you keep quiet?"

Johanna shrugged a little. "That it hurt the first few days…trying to keep the stitches from getting wet and changing the bandage…that it's been itchy for several days…not that it's anything worth mentioning."

"You could've told me. I could've put the clean bandage on for you. I could've tried to find you something to help with the itchiness."

"You didn't want to know," she murmured.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, a touch of anguish in his tone that he hated.

"Because you didn't ask."

"You could speak up without me asking."

"Maybe I'm not always sure of that," Johanna admitted. "Now are we going to do this or not?"

Jim nodded and turned back to the sink, grabbing a cotton ball and soaking it in alcohol before he rubbed it over the area of her wound. He picked up the tweezers and the scissors and carefully regarded the stitches before he found the knot and carefully pulled it up with the tweezers and then slipped the scissors under the thread and snipped it, pulling it carefully from her skin. "I guess we never did talk about it," he said quietly as he carefully continued his task.

"Talk about what?"

"What happened that night."

She worried her bottom lip for a moment. "Didn't seem to be a need to, we were both there."

"Yeah…but I think we probably should have. We should've talked about that night as a whole; not just this part."

"There's not much to talk about," Johanna replied, doing her best to ignore the soft tug on her skin as the stitches were pulled out. "We went out, started to have a nice time and then it was ruined…end of story."

"That's not the end of the story…it's not even the whole story."

"Isn't it?" she asked.

"I don't think so. I know we were a little nervous at the beginning of the evening but I was hoping for it to be a good night."

"So was I…but we know how it went."

"You worry me when you're like this, Jo."

"Like what?"

"Numb," he replied. "Like you're just completely numb to everything."

"Sometimes you have to be numb to get through life, Jim. It's something I've learned along the way."

"Unlearn it," he stated as he snipped another thread. "I don't like it."

"It might be a hard habit to break," she admitted. "But we really don't need to discuss that night."

"I say we start breaking the habit now…because we should talk about it and we're going to."

Johanna blew out a frustrated breath. "I don't know what you want to talk about, Jim. We went to dinner, someone shot at me on the way back to the hotel. That's all there is to it."

"It's not…we were having a nice time that night…weren't we?"

Her eyes closed as if she didn't want to be reminded. "Yes…but we know how quickly that ended."

"I never asked how you were feeling that night…and I don't mean pain wise; I mean everything else."

"It doesn't matter," she murmured. "Take out the rest of the stitches please."

"I think it does matter…maybe if I had asked and we had talked about it, you wouldn't have been trying to take out your own stitches without telling anyone."

"Jim," Johanna said softly; a note of pleading in her voice.

"I enjoyed our dinner date," he went on, purposely being slow about taking out her stitches. "I had high hopes that night, for lack of better words. I wanted everything to go well…I wanted to just enjoy having dinner with you again, hearing you laugh…put worrying in the back of my mind and just be. I didn't want the evening to end…that's why I suggested we go back to your room and watch a movie…because I just wanted to stay with you that night, pretend worries and problems didn't exist for awhile."

"You did stay with me that night."

"Yeah…but not the way I intended to. When we got back from the hospital, I was…well, I lashed out at you, yelled at you, demanded you go to bed."

"It's alright, you have a right to yell," she replied.

"Maybe in some ways…but I still could've done better that night. I could've asked what you were feeling and thinking…I didn't but I'm asking now. What was going on in your mind that night, Jo?"

She scoffed a little. "If you really want to know, I felt like a fool."

His brow furrowed as he gently pulled another thread from her skin. "A fool?"

"Yeah, a fool," she confirmed, emotion leaking into her voice.

"Why?"

"Because I was stupid enough to believe that I could have some magical night with you and everything would be okay. I was nervous…but you told me you were too and I helped you with your tie and it felt like it used to be. We went to dinner and things were good and I could almost forget that so much was wrong…and you were starting to look at me the way you used to…and then everything was ruined and you weren't looking at me that way anymore. Everything good about that night was gone in a second like a puff of smoke in the night air."

"What do you mean I stopped looking at you like I used to?"

"You know what I mean."

"I don't," he said with a shake of his head. "You say I was starting to look at you like I used to and then stopped…."

She nodded. "You went back to looking at me like you were thinking maybe you didn't know me at all…and you haven't really stopped since then."

"How can you say that?" he asked, a touch of offense in his voice.

"I can say it because I look at you every day and see it," she retorted. "It's not going to change…I've accepted that. You're never going to look at me the way you used to and that's no one's fault but mine…but for a little while that night, you did look at me like you used to but it didn't last, part of me knew it wouldn't but I wanted to hope. I got to have hope for a little while that night and then it was gone…just like it's been gone for years…so what does it matter that we didn't discuss what happened that night? We know the facts…we know it ruined things. You didn't want to know how I felt, that's why you didn't ask and I wasn't going to volunteer…because what did it matter? All that mattered to me was that you stopped looking at me the way you had dinner…that the little thread I had been hanging onto all night had broken and left me laying in the dirt again just like I had been for thirteen years…so what does it matter, Jim?"

"It matters because you're my wife and I care…and I know I let you down that night…that I hurt you when I pulled away from you. I had put my worries to the back of my mind and everything was good…and then there's a shot and your blood on my hand as I held it over that wound. It scared me, Johanna."

"Do you think it didn't scare me?" she asked harshly. "Do you really think I just brushed it off as one of those things?"

He pulled another thread from her skin. "You seemed to."

She met his eye. "Yeah, I seemed to…because I knew I had to…you would've sent me away if I had said I was scared. You would've told me to go back to Wyoming…you would've demanded it and I would've gone because it would be what you wanted although it's the last thing I want. So, yeah, I had to act like it was nothing…because you'd send me packing and Katie would be there saying I told you so and I just couldn't deal with it so I made myself be okay…just like always because I never have a choice in the matter."

He wanted to deny her words…but part of him felt they were true; if she had trembled and shown him fear, he would've demanded she return to hiding…even though he didn't want her to go and so he had played along, because it had been easier to let her play her tough girl card than to accept that she had to be afraid…that she was in pain in more ways than one and that he had added to it by hurting her that night in the hospital when he pulled his hand away from her.

"You always have the choice to tell me the truth," he murmured. "I always want to know your truth, Jo."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she worried her bottom lip. "Fine," she said with a strained voice. "If you suddenly want to know so badly…I was scared. Scared I wasn't going to get the chance to try and end this. Scared that you would get hurt because you were with me. I was scared that the little bit of happiness I had that night would be the last I ever had. When you started looking at me again the way you had been since that day I came back…when you pulled your hand away…I felt something shatter in me but I couldn't say a word because I didn't have a right to. I let you yell that night because you had a right to yell and throw at me what you wanted…and I hated that the only reason you stayed was out of obligation…and yet I couldn't let go of you that whole night because I didn't know if I'd ever get to sleep beside you again. So now, weeks later, you want to know how I felt…I was scared and sad and hurt and a bunch of other things I can't put a name on and I don't want to, I just had to get over it and I did…so finish with the stitches and I don't want to talk anymore about it."

Jim swallowed hard; his throat tight as he stared at the remaining stitches. "I'm sorry," he told her as he met her eye. "I'm sorry I hurt you that night…and I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the way I should've been, especially when things had been going so well that evening. I let the fear of losing you again rule me and I pulled away from you…and I shouldn't have. I don't look at you differently…I know you think I do but I don't and I'll work on proving that to you. I stayed that night, not out of obligation, but because you're my wife and you mean the world to me and I wasn't going to leave you alone when we had already had a close call that night. I don't know what the future holds in regard to this case at the moment but I can promise you that the mistakes I made that night aren't mistakes I'm going to make again. I want you to believe that…because you mean more to me than my fears, Johanna. Do you understand that?"

Her chin trembled as she remained quiet. "Do you understand me?" he repeated. "You mean more to me than anything else…just like always. Do you got that?"

She nodded as she sniffled. "Say it," he coaxed. "Or I'm going to be even slower taking these last two stitches out."

"I understand," she said softly.

"Good…and just so you know, you don't always have to play your tough girl card…and you don't always have to be okay. I know you're not okay this week…I know you're disappointed and upset and you're dwelling all the while saying you're fine but we both know you're not…and it's okay, Jo. You don't have to be fine all the time…I can take the truth and your moodiness," he said with a small smile. "So just let it out when you need to…or admit it when you need to. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" Johanna found herself whispering.

Jim nodded. "I promise. Do you promise to find some hope for me again?"

"I always have hope for you."

"I'm glad to hear that…but I mean in every regard."

"Sometimes it's hard," she admitted.

"But you'll try?"

"I'll always try for you," she told him as she met his eye.

"Okay, then we have a deal…we'll both do better."

"Can we finish with the stitches now?" she asked.

Jim resumed his task, snipping the remaining threads and pulling them free from her skin. When he finished, he applied a thin layer of Vaseline to the area as the instructions said to do and then he carefully put a clean bandage over it; his thumb smoothing over it to make sure it was secure before he dipped his head and brushed a light kiss against her skin above the bandage. "All better," he murmured.

"I wish that was true," she whispered.

"It is…because we're going to make it that way."

"How bad is the scar?"

Jim shook his head. "Not bad at all; it'll fade over time, nothing to worry about."

She breathed deeply. "At least that's one thing off the list."

Hu tugged her into his arms, holding her tightly as he ran a hand over her hair. "We'll work on knocking the rest of them off the list…and I'm sorry for letting you down, but it's not going to happen anymore."

Johanna shook her head as she allowed herself to cling to him. "I'm sorry I'm a mess."

"It's okay, I don't mind…is there anything else you need to get off your chest?"

"I'm tired," she sniffled; knowing it wasn't the kind of revelation that he meant but it was the one that was suddenly on her mind…she was just so very tired today.

He gave her a tight squeeze and then pulled back a little, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "I know, I can tell…so why don't wash your face and I'll get you a pillow and you can lay down on the couch and try to sleep a little."

"Will you stay?"

"I'm not leaving just because you're taking a nap."

"No…I meant…will you stay with me…on the couch?"

He brushed a kiss against her cheek; she needed comfort…and this time he wouldn't let her down. "Of course I will. Come on, get cleaned up and we'll get settled."

Awhile later, after she had washed her face and changed into a short-sleeved shirt now that she didn't have to hide her wound, Johanna was curled up on the couch sound asleep, her feet in Jim's lap. He smiled a little as he watched her, his fingertips continuing to caress her ankle as it had seemed to help lull her to sleep. They hadn't solved anything other than removing her stitches…but somehow he felt a little better anyway and he figured she must too since she had willingly given in to the need for a nap. He leaned his head back against the couch, the soft sound of her breathing and the television the only noise in the apartment. As he began to doze off once more, he thought to himself that he had let her down the night of the shooting incident…but he wasn't going to let himself do it again no matter what the future held.