He continued to make slow, gentle circles over her heart as he watched her face. She'd closed her eyes, but her tears continued unabated. He was finding it hard to control his own emotions as he comforted her. He wanted to rail at Leo for not seeing what his wife and daughter had done to her, to throttle both Jenny and Mal for hurting her in so many ways and adding to the pain and homesickness that was already there. He wanted to know why none of them had done anything to help her through the psychological trauma of the rape, why nobody comforted her when she was scared and hurting, why no one had shown her more than an offhand gesture of love.

Most of all, though, he wanted to cry. To cry for her and the girl she'd never had the chance to be, her lost innocence, her fragile self-confidence, the fact that she was so painfully shy and scared. He considered what she would've been like if she'd been given the love and care that she needed when she was younger. Wondered if she would've been less afraid of people and situations she wasn't familiar with, less frightened of criticism, regardless of its form. The one thing that he thought about the most, though, was what she might have been like had he been there to protect and care about her the way he'd wanted to when she went back to Massachusetts.

He noticed that her tears had nearly stopped and her breathing had become a bit more regular. Her face looked less tense and she seemed to be holding herself less rigidly than before. Softly, just as he had earlier, he slipped his hand up to her face without breaking contact. He lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb and leaned over to give her a small kiss on the forehead as her eyes fluttered open.

"Hey there, pretty girl. How're you feeling?" he said softly.

She managed a small smile as she looked up at him. Looking into her still-brown eyes, he knew. There was so much sadness there, so much pain. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from showing how much it troubled him. He couldn't let her know how much this bothered him, because he knew she'd feel badly about causing him to worry and she'd begin to hold it all inside again. He'd seen what that had done to her when they first met, and he'd be damned if he was going to let it happen again.

"Tell me what happened between you and Mallory, Beth. Help me understand what you're feeling," he said gently as he looked into her eyes.

She sniffled quietly. Just thinking about what had happened made her teary all over again, but as she looked into Sam's eyes, all she could see was his love for her. She knew he was asking out of concern and an honest effort to understand what she was going through. She blinked and said in a whisper, "Hold me. I need to feel you holding me, Sam. Please."

The words were hardly out of her mouth before his arms were around her, pulling her close. He moved one hand to her head and gently pressed it to his chest. Closing her eyes, she could hear his heartbeat and knew then that wherever he was, she would be as well. His gentle voice continued to calm her.

"Shhhh. I've got you, little one. I'm right here. No one's going to hurt you, I'll make sure of that. You're safe now. Don't be scared. Tell me what happened, sweetheart. Let me take some of the pain away."

She let herself melt into his embrace. It felt so good to give up control for once and let someone else do the worrying. She was so tired, so very, very tired. She wanted to stop fighting, stop looking over her shoulder at the least little noise. As she continued to listen to his heartbeat, she could feel herself surrendering more and more. She exhaled deeply, letting down the barriers that had been keeping her from talking about what happened.

"She always calls me 'mouse'; I guess 'cause I'm so plain and shy. She said that I either paid you to bring me with you," Sam cringed when he heard that, knowing that one comment alone had sliced her fragile self-confidence to ribbons, "or that you were really desperate for a date. She said that I wasn't dressed properly and that you had much better taste than to be seen with me." He could feel the heat of her tears on his skin as she talked. Sniffling softly, she continued, "She said that you wouldn't think I was pretty with this cut and you wouldn't want to be with me anymore; that you'd go to her instead. I told her that you'd sooner go to Laurie and risk the scandal than go to her." He smiled to himself and gave her a small squeeze. She still had some fight, even though what Mal had said to her had really done a number on her. "That's when she told me that I'd get a beating much worse than anything that I ever got from Aunt Jenny and that you wouldn't be able to protect me from it. I didn't let her see me cry, Sam. I didn't let her see me cry, but I'm so afraid now. I'm afraid that I'm really going to get it and I won't be able to bear it up the way I have in the past. I'm scared and I don't know what to do."

"Hey," he said softly as he ruffled her hair, "you're no mouse; far from it. Yeah, you're shy, but to me, that's one of your most endearing qualities. You don't force things; you don't try to be what you're not. I love that about you. We both know why you came to the dinner; and I think that you were the best-dressed one there." His expression turned slightly serious as he searched her eyes. "You really don't realize how beautiful you are, do you?"

She moved her head slightly so she was no longer looking up at him. "I'm not beautiful, I know that. I'm plain and small; that's all I've ever been."

He stared at her in shock. "You don't understand at all, do you, Beth? You are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, from your amazing eyes to your gentle, loving heart and everything in between. You have the most exquisite spirit; always so giving, you never stop worrying about other people and put your own problems aside if you think that someone needs help or comfort. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. Don't you remember the first night you were at the apartment with Mike and I, and you and I talked about school? I told you how I'd been through a similar experience to yours and the first thing that you said was, 'I'm sorry you had to go through this, too. I wish I could've been there with you when it was happening.' I couldn't believe it. You were already in so much pain, but you forgot it in an instant because you thought I needed comfort. Even when I said that it probably wouldn't have helped much and that you would've been treated the same, you said that…,"

"I didn't care. I still could've been your friend, if you'd let me. My being there would've at least given you someone to talk to and make you feel better," she finished in a whisper. She looked back up at him with tears in her eyes. She couldn't get used to the idea that someone thought she was beautiful. She was scared that it wasn't real; that she'd wake up and it would all be a dream. A wonderful, torturous dream; a reminder of what she couldn't have, what she'd never have.

He hated to see tears in her eyes. It reminded him of the night they met, the years of pain and heartbreak he'd seen in her eyes at just a glance and all the time she'd been alone, with no one to comfort her or listen to her troubles. He touched her face with the barest bit of pressure. "Pretty girl. My pretty, pretty Beth. Always so beautiful, so exquisite. I love you, my sweetheart, forever." He continued to run his fingertips along her cheekbone, stopping only to brush away the occasional tear that would make its way down her face.

"I love you, too, Sam. I love you too. Please, just tell me one thing?"

He could hear the slight bit of fear in her voice. "Anything, my precious."

She looked up at him, and he could see the fear in her eyes as she said softly, "Tell me that this is real. Please tell me that I'm not dreaming. I need to know that this isn't a dream, Sam. I couldn't take it if this was a dream."

He barely brushed her lips with his. "If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up. I'd rather spend the rest of my life here with you than go through my days knowing that I can't hold you, that I'll never," he brought his head close to hers before whispering against her mouth, "kiss you."

Their kiss was soft, possessive and tender. It was something that both of them needed in that moment; to be reassured that the love between them was no dream, that the person they were with wasn't some cruel illusion.