Part 2

Jack's jaw was clenched tightly as he pulled into the parking spaces behind the building he used as his Atlanta sanctuary. Dozens of times he'd dreamed of bringing Samantha here, but never had he envisioned this in his worst nightmares. Samantha remained immobile in the car beside him as if in a trance. Rage and pain coursed through him, he'd killed countless people without a second thought, but never once had he forced himself on a woman. The next few hours would be the hardest of his life and Jack knew it. His Samantha needed him to be strong and controlled. Every action and every reaction on his part would forever color her opinions of him and even of herself.

"Saman- uh, Sam, we're here," he told her gently. Then offered, "If you've changed your mind and wish to go elsewhere, you have only to say the word, I won't force-" Bad word choice he realized as her face crumpled into a pained expression.

"Is there a back way in where we won't run into anyone?"

"All these vehicles are mine, I'm the only person who lives here. No one will disturb you my- You will have all the privacy you wish Sam," Jack struggled to tell her. He was trying very hard not to call her Samantha or call her his. Now was not the time to assert his position in her life, but is was so hard to call her merely Sam.

Jack got out of the car and walked around to Samantha's side and opened her door for her. The gallant and old fashioned gesture seemed so perverse after her ordeal that Sam laughed hysterically for a moment then began to sob. Tonight she'd been hurt and violated by total strangers and now the man she'd always hated was being a gentleman. He offered her a handkerchief which she accepted, wiping her eyes and taking a moment's odd comfort in the rose scent that clung to it. Sam felt so lost that anything familiar was comforting. When she saw Ed, she'd been grateful, but then when she realized it he was actually Jack, she felt relieved.

Jack was many things and there were many things about him she didn't know, but she did know he would protect her and help her at any cost. Initially she'd been so shocked by the rape and then being discovered by Jack she'd been uncertain of what to do. But as she'd been sick on the side of the road while his coat was the only barrier between her and the cool night air, Samantha made a decision. She wouldn't and couldn't report it. It was ironic she devoted her life to justice, but she knew the justice system failed women miserably when it came to rape. Sam didn't like being a victim and didn't want to let the press and the courts make her a victim all over again. There was a lot about Jack she didn't know, but one thing she was certain of was his devotion to her. Jack would help her, whatever the cost and tonight that was what she needed.

Jack stood watching the play of emotions over her face and quietly inquired, "Would you like me to carry you or do you prefer to walk?"

"Walk."

Quietly he led her towards the building's door watching her intently. Halfway to the door, her knees buckled and Jack caught her just as she fainted. He gathered her in his arms carefully and took her into the building and up the elevator to his main living area. After unlocking the door to his living quarters, he carried Samantha inside and sat her carefully on the lounge chair. Initially his impulse was to place her on the bed, but in light of her evening he thought it would be less traumatic for her to come to in a chair and to go to the bed of her own volition.

Jack decided when she'd been stripped of rights, one of the best things he could do is to empower her as much as possible and to be very careful about her boundaries. Although she would need to address her feelings eventually, so soon after the incident his Samantha needed to be treated with care and to be given a feeling of control. He moved to the kitchen area and put on a pot of coffee, it was going to be a long night. As the coffee started to go through the machine, he went back to Samantha's side.

Sam roused and looked at Jack and took in her surroundings, seeing her quizzical look, he explained. "You fainted, so I carried you in."

"Let's get this over with. Where do we start?"

"I know he didn't use a condom, I can smell him on you so I need to take a swab for a analysis."

"Them," she corrected almost inaudibly.

"There were two of them?" Jack knelt down and looked up at her downcast eyes.

"Thr- three. There were three of them." She turned her head away from his dark gaze.

Jack took a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand. "I need to take swabs of your mouth and under your nails and-"

"What for?" Sam demanded suddenly suspicious.

"Samantha, sorry I meant to say Sam, I understand you not wanting to involve the police, but you will have justice. Those men will suffer for what they did you-"

"Jack I can't let you-" she trailed off. Then weakly parroted, "Killing is wrong."

"What if I promise not to kill them?"

"Why don't I believe you?"

"I swear Samantha, I won't kill those men." But they would wish he was through, he swore silently.

"All right," she acquiesed. On some level she suspected Jack wouldn't keep his promise, but found she didn't mind as much as she should. After what she'd been through, the idea of those men dying screaming was rather appealing.

"If you're ready then, come with me." Jack rose and Samantha followed him.

He lead her into the bedroom and she studied it with detached interest. She looked slightly quizzically at the disco ball over the bed.

"Sharon," he answered her unvoiced question.

Samantha nodded and looked around uncomfortably as she realized what he would have to do. He had warned her that he would have to examine her intimately. Embarrassment left her as she saw the worried expression on his face. No, Jack wouldn't enjoy this anymore than she would. No, she decided, Jack had probably imagined her in his bed dozens of times in dozens of ways, but this would never have been one of them.

"There are some things I'll need to gather up. I'll need to get more things tomorrow, but I think I have everything we'll need tonight," he told her. Jack disappeared for a minute and came back with a handful of supplies. Taking a couple pillows from the head of the bed, he placed them on the end of the bed. "I think it would be easiest if you laid down on the end of the bed with the pillows underneath you."

Samantha removed the coat and laid down as Jack suggested, "Let's get this over with."

"Saman- sorry Sam would you like me to get you some towels to drape yourself with? I only need to have the areas exposed as I work on them."

"After the night I've had, it's a little late to worry about my privacy," she snapped bitterly then added, "And after all this time you've been stalking my every move I doubt anything about me is private from you anyway."

Jack took her cutting remark in stride, he knew she was trying to deal with her pain and if lashing out at him helped, he would let her. Bringing a rolling stool to the foot of the bed he began to speak in gentle tone. "Your happiness has always been important to me, tonight however, I understand nothing is happy for you. While I can't change that, I can see to your comfort and well being Saman- er sorry Sam."

"For God's sake will you stop apologizing! Just call me Samantha and be done with it! It's not like I'm going to forget who you are Jack just because you're trying to call me Sam!"

"I never believed otherwise," he replied focusing a pen-light flashlight between her legs and studying her thoughtfully. Pulling on a pair of surgical gloves he spread her legs a little further and began his task.

Sam watched in the mirror over the bed in the dim light as Jack gently inserted a swab, then applied it to a glass slide for analysis. Then he repeated with two more swabs and explained, "I want to make certain I have a viable slide. I'm sorry for any discomfort I may have caused you."

"It's fine."

Jack paused for moment and considered carefully before speaking, "The vaginal and oral swabs should be sufficient. We'll skip rectal, I don't think I can take a swab without causing you more pain." He stood up and handed her a swab for her mouth, "I'll let you swab your mouth. Will we get anything if we scrape under your nails?"

"Yes," she answered handing him the first swab from her mouth and accepting another as he began to apply the cotton tip to a glass slide.

After he finished making the slides from her oral swabs he inquired, "Would you like to sit for the next part or would you perhaps prefer to remain lying down, but have me remove one or more of the pillows?"

She considered for a moment. Sitting would be the strong thing to do, but it would also be the more painful and Samantha didn't feel like pretending to be strong. "Could you remove the pillows?"

"Of course," Jack answered and carefully eased them from under her hips. "After your fingernails, you can have a nice warm shower or bath if you prefer, then we'll see if you need stitches."

"Stitches?" Sam didn't like the sound of that at all. "I thought we were done."

Jack sat down beside her and took her hand in his as he gently worked a tiny sterile canula under her fingernails. "Samantha, you needn't worry that I'll hurt you, should you require any stitches, I have medication so you won't feel any pain. Until you're cleaned up I won't honestly know what we're dealing with. My initial examination was to make certain you weren't bleeding profusely and to take samples."

As Jack placed the scrapings on slides and organized them in his slide holder Sam watched. Jack removed his glove and she said needlessly, "I hate this."

Hesitantly, Jack reached for her hand and when she didn't jerk it away, he held her hand and rubbed it delicately with his thumb. Softly he whispered, "I know."

Samantha's eyes teared up and she demanded, "Why are you doing this?"

"I love you," Jack answered simply and released her hand. He longed to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he wasn't about to risk upsetting her with any unnecessary physical contact. "Would you like me show you the bathroom?"

Samantha nodded as she stood up and felt queasy as she saw blood on the sheets and the pillows he'd moved from underneath her. She clutched at Jack to steady herself and he deftly guided her away from the bed. When she was no longer looking at the bloodstains she felt a little better. It was funny, she could look at blood at crime scenes, but seeing her own made her nauseated.

Reading her thoughts, Jack told her, "I know I felt the same way last year when you- uh when I got shot. Should have seen the mess I made of this place."

"You seem to have lived," Sam retorted and then realized wryly, she was actually glad on some level that he had lived through it.

"That's the thing about blood, mix a few drops with other fluids and a couple teaspoons look like gallons," Jack stated casually.

She knew he was trying to comfort her without being obvious about it as he lead her into the brightly lit bathroom. Her calm was short-lived though as they entered the room and she got a good look at herself in the enormous gilded mirror that went from above the double sinks to the ceiling giving her a full body view of her injuries. Horrified, she clutched the counter surrounding the sinks and stared at herself...