March 1989

Darien had his hand on the door when the phone rang.  He grumbled under his breath about crappy timing while he debated the merits of answering it versus walking out the door and letting the answering machine do the work for him. He managed to delay a decision long enough that the machine kicked in and sent his roommate's voice wafting out into the apartment.

"We ain't here.  If you're a babe make sure to leave your name and address and I'll be over to make your every fantasy come true."  The message was followed by series of musical beeps.

Darien rolled his eyes wondering when Martin had changed the message to that piece of crap.

"Well, that was ... different, Marty.  What if your mother were to call?" The female voice admonished. Darien recognized instantly.  He chuckled at her commentary, especially since he knew Martin's mother called every Sunday at 8 PM on the dot and that she would not appreciate the message at all.  "D, bud, give me a call when you get in.  I need a favor."

Half a dozen steps and the phone was up against Darien's ear.  "Hey babe, whatcha need?"

"Company.  I'm having a crappy week.  Think you could come up for the weekend?"  'Chele asked, sounding more than a little strained to Darien.

"Yeah, sure." He answered without hesitation. He ran over his schedule for Friday in his mind.  "Hmm, last class tomorrow gets over at 3PM.  I can be at your place by dinner."

"That works." Her voice shook ever so slightly; just enough for Darien to guess something beyond schoolwork stress was going on.

"'Chele, are you okay?" he asked softly, concern tingeing his words.

"Well enough.  Not about to drop dead or anything.  How about you?"  Her interest was real and she made an obvious effort to perk up a bit.

"Life is good.  Busy, but good."  Darien smiled at her soft laugh.  "I'll see you tomorrow evening."

"Thanks, Dare." 'Chele said, quickly followed by a click as she hung up.

"Huh." Darien muttered as he set the phone back in its cradle and glanced at his watch.  "Crap, I'm late." He grabbed his books and bolted for the door.

The left turn blinker clicked rhythmically as Darien turned into the driveway of the cozy little house 'Chele had bought a few years previously.  The house was on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood lined with ancient shade trees and sidewalks cracked by the shifting of the earth.  It was well away from LA proper, forcing her to commute to school, but the peace and quiet she'd gained had made it more than worth the hassle for her.  The lawn was neatly trimmed and the flowerbeds were beginning to bloom in the warming weather of early spring he noticed as he pulled around back to park next to her Mustang.

Shutting off the engine, he grabbed his duffel and slid out of the car, tucking the keys into his pocket as he mounted the wrap-around porch's steps.  Pulling open the screen door, he was surprised to find the second, far more solid one, securely locked.  "'Chele?"  He was just about to dig out his keys to open it himself when he heard the sound of the locks disengaging.

The door swung open slowly and Darien could only stare in shock.  Her hair was pulled away from her face to starkly reveal the massive bruise on her left cheek, the eye half filled with blood due to burst blood vessels.

"Hey, Dare."  She reached out to set a hand on his forearm, but didn't move out of the doorway to let him enter.

His hand came up to brush along her cheek, but she flinched away and he dropped the hand back to his side.  Never, in all the years he had known her, had she flinched away from him.  "What the hell happened?" he asked at a hoarse whisper.

Tugging on his arm, he let her draw him into the house. "I...I'll tell you everything."  She locked the door as Darien dropped his bag on the floor then moved to pull her into a hug that he was certain she needed.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, stepping away quickly, her eyes wide in fright.

"Hey, it's all right."  Darien said in a soothing tone as he followed her motion and then closed the distance between them.  He watched her and waited for the fear to subside and for her to reach out to him.  She'd been right, psychology had been very useful to him over the years. But this was the first time he'd needed to actively use it with her.  Since she was obviously frightened he forced himself to relax, to slouch a bit to reduce his height, his hands falling open to show he was unarmed and unthreatening.

He patiently waited for the fear to subside and for her to reach out to him; her hand was surprisingly steady as it lifted up and he took it into one of his own. He drew her into a gentle embrace wanting to question her about what happened, but somehow knowing she needed to do this her way, to tell him in her own time.  She shook in his hold, a delicate tremor running through her entire body as some infinitesimally small amount of emotion leaked out.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her face pressed against his chest and tipped downward as if afraid to look at him. "It's been one hell of a week."

His fingers curved under her chin and he tipped her head up, thankful she was allowing the movement as he didn't want to force her, in order to get a good look at the damage.  The bruise took up most of her cheek and shaded from red about the edges to a deep purple that boarded on black near the center. But it was her eye itself that was the most shocking. The glorious gray-blue of deep cold waters now dull as granite, the outer edge filled with blood, a near perfect line dividing the white from the red right down the center.

"When did this happen?"  Medically he knew enough between her, Kevin and his own classes to know the bruising was in full bloom and that the pooled blood had not yet begun to subside.

"Wednesday." she replied, suddenly back in complete control.  Stepping away, she motioned for him to follow her. "Come on, you're gonna want to be sitting for this."

Darien trailed along behind her, trying not to crowd her since it was good bet she'd just try to hide away from him again.  They ended up in her huge eat-in kitchen where Darien was once again surprised at how normal it looked.  Kev's place, at least the few times he'd visited it, was filled with glass pipes and tubes transferring noxious substances from one to another, leaving little or no space for the simple task of preparing and eating a meal.  Almost every available surface quickly became nothing more than another place to conduct his interminable experiments.

'Chele's kitchen, on the other hand was open, with huge bay windows over looking the backyard, and homey. Fresh herbs hung out to dry, wines and flavored oils sat in their designated racks and plants, and there was seemingly a jungle's worth of plants on shelves, windowsills, and every available surface without encroaching on the needed work areas. The counters were clear, as was the table, which held nothing more than a miniature rose, two glasses and a half-empty bottle of Cuervo Gold.

She settled into a chair and filled both glasses with a good six ounces of tequila each. "'Chele, you know I don't drink much."  It had been one of the deals he'd made with himself when starting college after talking to 'Chele about her experiences and observations and he'd found it a surprisingly easy promise to keep.

"Trust me, you want that in you before you hear this."  She picked up her own glass and downed a good half the contents in one swallow.  Though she did not appear to be drunk Darien feared that she had been the one to drain the bottle, and recently at that.

Looking her over he got the distinct impression she wasn't kidding about him needing the alcohol in him to hear whatever news she wanted to impart, news he suspected was going to be less than pleasant.  He raised his glass and swirled the golden liquid about for a moment before downing a fair portion.

"Do you remember Jess?" she asked as he set down the glass and tried not to gasp as the tequila burned its way down to his stomach.

Darien had to think, he'd met quite a few of her friends over the years, but he was pretty sure Jess was part of the group she'd fallen in with early on.  Majoring in microbiology, Darien seemed to recall.  "Uh, about my height, blonde, looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ?"

'Chele snorted.  "Yeah, that would be Jess.  And to think I have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"'Chele?"  Darien was unsure where this conversation was going.

"A bunch of us were gonna meet up.  One of our discussion groups." Darien nodded, knowing all about those, he had even joined in a few when they'd coincided with his visits.  A random topic would be chosen; anything from quantum physics to the meaning of Bloom County. They would pick it apart while swilling vast amounts of alcoholic libations and eating pizza and chips.  They were fun as hell with the speculation getting wilder the drunker the group became.

"Jess offered to drive me."  She shrugged.   "No big deal really, it wasn't the first time.  Instead of going to Tate's he drove us to The Point."  When Darien looked at her blankly she elaborated.  "Uh, local Lover's Lane."

"What?  And you've never taken me there?" Darien asked sounding mock offended in hopes of easing the swiftly building tension, but with no success. Instead she finished off the drink with a hand that shook noticeably and refilled the glass.

"Jess explained he wanted to talk to me before the party.  He asked if I'd taken one of the job offers yet and I told him no, but that I had narrowed it down to two."

"Gentech and Hollow Brook, right?  Unless you changed you mind about that government job."  Darien was surprised with the way she suddenly brightened at the slight change in topic.

"Nah, I want my work to be of use, not buried under mounds of bureaucratic red tape.  And I'm leaning towards Hollow Brook.  The pay is less, but they are more willing to meet my conditions." She gave him a half-hearted smile.  "Jess was thrilled I'd not made a commitment yet and told me he had another offer for me to consider."  She closed her eyes as if needing to cut off the sight of the world around her to concentrate and more easily recall what happened.  "Next thing I know he's got this ring out and he's going on about how close we've become, how he wants nothing more than to protect and keep me."  She laughed bitterly.  "And there I was with no bloody idea what he was talking about."

Darien sat there stunned for a moment trying to absorb the fact that Jess had proposed to Michele. "You been... dating him?"  Darien knew she'd had several relationships over the years, mostly short term, but always ending well.  She was still friends with all of them, hell, Darien knew quite a few of them and knew that they didn't hold anything against 'Chele.  The pressure and tough working conditions often led to relationships of convenience and not of love.

'Chele slapped a hand on the tabletop. "No, damn it!" She lifted the glass and drank down even more of the tequila.  "No.  At most I've maybe given him a stray kiss or hug.  Nothing else. There was always something that just kept me from taking it further."

Darien took one of her hands into his.  "You don't have to do this for me."

"I need to do this for me and you need to understand." Her voice was faint and laced with such raw pain that he could only nod and try to remain calm while she told him the rest of the story.

"Once I stopped being utterly confused, I very politely thanked him and told him 'no'." She looked Darien right in the eye, strength returning to her for the moment. "You know I have no plans to get married and why."

Darien nodded. While the details were still vague even after all this time, he knew she wanted nothing to do with having kids due to the genetic anomalies that had come to light fours years ago.  Darien also knew he was one of very few people she trusted with that information.

"He got a bit upset.  Kept insisting it was going to happen one way or another, that we were meant for each other, and that I should just give in."  Her grip on his hand tightened even as her voice flattened, the emotion leaching away.  "He wouldn't let up so I got out of the car.  Figured I'd walk to the phones near the entrance of the park and call Ginny or Tom to come pick me up. But he came after me.  Managed to catch me off-guard and clock me a good one."  Her fingers traced lightly over the bruise on her cheek.  "We fought, I put him down and ran."

Darien got a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was not nearly the worst of it.  Not yet.  "Michele,"

She shook her head, silencing him.  "They - the police -- think he nailed me in the head with a branch.  Hard enough that really fighting back was impossible.  I tried as best I could with my head aching and the world spinning around me, but he hit me a few more times with his fists until I couldn't fight any more." Her voice broke; becoming this pitiful hushed wail. "He told me he'd make it so no one else would want me and raped me."

"Oh crap."  Darien mumbled, his heart breaking for her, feeling guilt for not being there to help her, to prevent this from happening.  He lifted his glass and drank down the remaining liquid; she was right, he needed it in him to handle this.  She knew how he reacted to abuse and this time was no different. A sudden white-hot rage competed for dominance with the need to comfort 'Chele, but one glance at her and the rage settled, banking itself for later use.

He slid off the chair and crouched beside her.  "Damn it, why?"

She laughed, hysteria just on the edge of the sound, her eyes more than a little wild.  "Like I know.  I've been asked that so many times the last couple of days and I have no more idea of why he did this than anyone else." Hesitantly she set a hand against his cheek.  "If his goal was to make everyone despise me, it's worked pretty well.  People I've known for years want to know what I did to provoke him, why I led him on.  And I didn't.  I swear I didn't."

"I know."  Darien stated in complete agreement.  "You may be a hopeless flirt, but you have never crossed that line."  She shuddered as if relieved to know one person believed her. "You don't have to answer this, but have you been to a hospital?"

'Chele nodded.  "When Jess was done and I'd gathered my wits about me, I made it to the phone and called 911.  Jess had wandered away and left me alone for some unknown reason." Her voice dropped to a whisper.  "News is all over campus along with dozens of rumors, most of which color me as the instigator of the incident." She moaned then, paling dramatically. "Crap, I'm gonna be sick."

Darien moved out of her way as she dashed down the hall to the bathroom.  He followed, not allowing the poorly closed door to bar his way.  "Ah, sweet thing, I am so sorry."  He knelt beside her while she got rid of what seemed to be several days' worth of liquid meals. He forced his gag reflex to not react, suddenly thankful for his booze happy roommate.  When she finally settled back coughing he fetched a glass of water, which she used to rinse her mouth before weakly yanking down the handle to dispose of the evidence. Then she burst into tears.

Darien pulled her into his arms as she released the emotional storm that had been building since Wednesday, and he somehow knew this was the first time she'd allowed herself to break down since it had happened.  "It's all right.  You're safe now.  I won't let him hurt you again," he whispered, along with dozens of other similar phrases as he tried to calm her.

It was about an hour before she'd cried herself out and by then she was an exhausted mess.  Not that he was doing much better, her news had hit him just as hard and he'd run through the gamut of emotions. His own share of tears had mingled with hers.  She was still conscious, but completely limp and numb. Making sure she could sit up on her own, he moved over to the shower and turned it on.  With no hesitation he stripped and then did the same to 'Chele.  She didn't comment, didn't fight him or resist, but neither did she help.  It was as if she wasn't even really there any longer. 

He carried her under the falling water and shut the door making it just the two of them alone and apart from the rest of the world.  For long minutes she didn't move, her forehead resting against the side of his neck as he held her, wishing he could wash away what had happened along with the water rushing over them.  Eventually she seemed to swing back to the here and now and shuddered in his hold.

"I can stand on my own, you know." 'Chele commented with little energy in her words.

"You sure?"  Darien asked, relieved she was still with him.

"Yeah, I'm sure."  He set her down carefully, ready to catch her if she was wrong and her legs wouldn't hold her up.  She did manage to stand, but she leaned against him needing both physical and emotional support.

After a few minutes with nothing more than the sound of the water he lifted the bar of vanilla scented soap from its little shelf and tried to convince his shaking hands to work up lather.  Although outwardly he did his best to maintain an air of calm, inside that anger was burning merrily away.  Simple, yet astonishingly violent fantasies of what he would do to Jess once he got his hands on him.  And he fully planned on getting his hands - literally - on the bastard and making damn sure that pretty face would be far more likely to be seen on the cover of Fangoria instead of the aforementioned Gentlemen's Quarterly.

Using the lather he gently washed her, each bruise, each mark that had been left behind only making him that much angrier. Her ribs bore obvious knuckle marks from Jess' fists; her wrists and forearms bore defensive bruising as she'd attempted to block his blows.  The back of her head still sported the goose egg where he'd hit her with some piece of nature and taken the fight out of her.  Her thighs were the worst; the bruises there were seemingly minor in comparison but far more telling. There were fingerprints, some near perfect with the lines and swirls easily visible, while others were simply darkened blobs that gave evidence that she had in no way been a willing participant in what had happened.

The overall number and severity of the bruises made his blood run cold and the need to give her some sort of vengeance was almost unbearable.  Once she was rinsed he tenderly kissed each and every bruise, which caused her to shudder and moan softly in reaction. It wasn't sexual on his part, just some primitive need to try to make the marks, the pain go away.

When the water began to cool he shut it off and stepped out to retrieve a couple of towels. He secured one about his hips and wrapped the second about her when she appeared in the open doorway of the shower.  Scooping her up in his arms, heedless of her protests, he carried her to her room and set her down on the bed.

"I am not an infant, Darien."  'Chele complained, glaring at him.

"Nope, you're not. Now, what would you like to wear, or should I just choose?" He forced a suggestive grin on his face as he pulled open her lingerie drawer, knowing damn well teddys or garters were not what she wanted to be wearing right now.

"Damn it, Dare." she snapped, not the least bit amused.  Getting to her feet she went to her other bureau, yanked open the top drawer and pulled out some skimpy piece of cloth, which she slipped on under the towel.  Shutting that drawer she opened the next one down and removed a delicate-looking set of pajamas.  "Darien,"

"Yeah, I'll get my bag." Leaving her alone to dress without argument, he grabbed his duffel from where it still lay by the back door and dug out underwear and a set of comfortable sweats, as it was a good bet they would be staying in this evening. He dressed quickly, not wanting to give the neighbors or any stray passerby a free show through the open windows.

Going into the kitchen he rinsed the glasses out in the sink and put the bottle of tequila away.  Neither of them would be touching it again tonight.

He wasted a few more minutes checking the fridge and cabinets to see what she had for food and found them well stocked as always.  When he finally headed back to her room he didn't see her and became instantly worried.  No matter what she said or how she protested, she was a mess and needed his help.  A quiet sob led him to the far side of the bed where she lay on the floor curled up in a fetal position, the tears once again flowing down her cheeks.

"Ah, sweets, don't do this."

"S...s...sorry." she stuttered. "C...can't seem to s...stop."

"I am gonna kill him for this."  Darien snarled softly.  Her reaction was swift and startling.

Sitting up quickly she jabbed him in the calf hard enough to give him a charley horse and send him to the floor with a grunt of pain, his hands heading for the induced cramp in a vain attempt to massage it away.

"Don't you even think that, Darien Fawkes.  You wanna end up like him?  Someone capable of hurting people like this?" She gestured at herself, the bruises on her face and arms easily visible.  "Thinking crap like that is the way to go about it."

Darien fumed silently, not wanting to listen to her words or her reasoning.  As far as he was concerned any damage he could do to Jess was completely justified.

"Darien, I know how you feel about abuse, but I don't need you to defend me or enact some medieval vendetta for me.  Please?" she begged and Darien's anger cracked.

"'Chele I don't want him to touch you again." he told her, trying to get her to understand what it was he wanted to do and why.

"I know, but if you do this, if you find him and hurt him, how are you any better than him?"  Her voice had gone icy cold, but her eyes flared with barely restrained anger and hurt.

"'Chele, I am nothing like him." Darien hissed, lashing out verbally at her in frustration.  "I would - could - never do what he did to you."

"Not of your own free will maybe, but how is what you are contemplating any different?" She threw the words at him, with little effect.

"He raped you, 'Chele. He deserves to hurt for that." Darien snarled, not willing to back down for an instant.

Michele paled.  "Get out," she ordered in a voice gone faint.

"What?"

"I said 'Get out.' You want to cross that line, go right ahead, I won't stop you. But I will not have you doing it in my name."  She forced herself to her feet, visibly shaking with the effort it took.  "Not for me, my honor, or whatever macho bullshit reason you've come up with.  Just get out."

Darien shook his head.  "I can't, not now.  You need me here."

"Not like this." she disagreed.

"Shit, 'Chele.  What am I supposed to do?  Let him get away with this?  With hurting you?"  Darien yelled no longer able to contain his frustration with her or his anger over the situation.

"Yes." she spat, one hand snapping up to point at the door.

Darien's temper flared brighter, the pyre verging on a conflagration of epic proportions. Getting to his feet he glared down at her, perhaps unconsciously trying to use his height advantage over her to get her to back down, and shook with barely restrained rage.  That's when he saw it in her eyes; it wasn't anger or hurt or pain, it was fright.  She wasn't upset with him she was terrified... of him.

His anger drained way instantly.  "Baby, Michele, I'm sorry."

She lowered her shaking hand and the vibration translated to the rest of her body causing her to shudder violently in reaction.  "Why Dare?  He was my friend, why would he do this to me?"  The utter confusion in her voice startled him, but he could sympathize since he had no more comprehension of why Jess had done this than she did.

Stepping forward, he sighed in relief when she allowed him to wrap his arms about her. "I don't know 'Chele." He felt a great shudder run through her as her hands came up to rest against his chest. It was a fair bet that she was more than just emotionally wrung out, that she was suffering from exhaustion as well.  Tipping her face up he noted the dark circle under her good eye, the lines about her eyes and mouth, all the little signals that told him she'd been awake for far longer than was healthy.

"When did you last sleep?"

"Uh...Tuesday." she admitted, which made him frown in concern.  "I just couldn't.  I close my eyes and he...and..."

"Hush.  No wonder you're such a mess, too much tequila and not enough unconsciousness."  He nudged her towards the bed that stood a mere foot away from them.

"Darien, I don't think I can." she said, the fear back in her voice.

"Try, please.  I'll be here." She shook her head and attempted to move away, but he held her in place.  "Trust me?"

"Yes." It was faint, but it was also the truth or else she wouldn't have said it.  Between them, trust was never a joke or something to be abused.

He didn't say a word as he pulled back the covers and waited for her to crawl into bed.  It took a couple of minutes during which time she stared at the offending piece of furniture like a rabbit trapped by the headlights of an oncoming car.  When she finally lay down, she curled up in a little ball and gazed up at him in total misery. He slipped in next to her, wrapped his arms about her and pulled her close.

"Darien, you don't..."

He silenced her with a kiss, tasting the salt from her tears on her skin and wishing he could wash away the cause of them as easily as he removed the tears from her cheeks.  His hands slipped under the silky material of her top to gently knead the muscles of her back, his actions intended to do nothing more than relax her and maybe help her begin to heal the far deeper wounds on her heart.

It took a good 30 minutes before she finally released her grip on her fear to slip under and another hour before she stopped jerking awake every few minutes in response to whatever images her unconscious mind kept dredging up and shocking her with.

Darien held onto her the entire time, frightfully aware that he could have lost her if Jess had been just a bit more vicious in his attack.  And the one thing Darien didn't want was to lose her ... ever.