Shattered

By: Abellen

Chapter Twenty: Fragments

About an hour after Fillmore had left Ariella slipped into my room, her arms full of books. She was smiling, but tentatively, and I could only manage a weak response. I pushed the remains of my breakfast away, having nibbled half heartedly at one bit of toast, and tried not to look too miserable.

'I talked to Fillmore just now,' she said quietly as she stacked the books up on the nightstand next to my bed.

'He said he had to get back to school,' I muttered, only to shake my head when I realised he'd been lying, just to get away from me.

'School's closed today, Ingrid. The police don't want the students messing up their crime scene,' Ariella said gently as she picked up a Terry Pratchett novel and put it in my lap. 'I think you need to talk to him. He looks – haunted. I'm sure he's blaming himself.'

'He doesn't want anything to do with me.' I felt the tears start again and wiped them away furiously. 'He got out of here as fast as he could.'

Ariella sat down in the chair and crossed her legs before she tied her hair out of the way and pushed her glasses up her nose. She gave me one of her most critical looks before asking, 'Ingrid, how long have you known Fillmore?'

I shrugged and tried to think. 'Nearly two years I think.'

'You've known him a lot longer than I have, but even I can see that he isn't trying to run away from you. He's not rejecting you because of what happened with Harris.'

'Well, what is he doing then?' I asked.

'He's trying not to scare you.'

I crossed my arms and looked at my sister. She was twisting her fingers around each other, as though she had to say something that she didn't want to. 'He doesn't want you to think that he'll ever be anything like Harris,' she added.

'What? Why would I think that? I know Fillmore wouldn't - couldn't behave that way.'

Ariella sighed and reached out to take my hand in hers. 'It's a natural response after an assault. Rape victims tend to visualise all men as threats, even if it's only subconsciously. He told me that you flinched away from him, and he thought he was just making things worse.'

'No! I – I just don't want - '

'To be touched?' Ariella asked.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. 'I don't want to find myself thinking of Harris whenever Fillmore touches me. Even if it's platonic the first thing that comes to mind is Harris' hand and…'

I choked to a halt and looked out of the tiny window to my room. It looked out in the same direction as the ICU ward and I could see a small piece of blue sky and green lawn framed by the glass. Ariella held my hand tighter and I looked back at her, the misery written all over my face.

'It's not just him though, it's everyone. Even the doctor.'

'It's normal,' Ariella said, her voice quiet but urgent. 'You know Fillmore's mom is a psychiatrist? She sometimes works with the police to get testimonies from people, and to help the victims get back to normal after a crime has been committed against them. I was talking to her yesterday and she was telling me what to expect as you get better.'

'Will it go away?' I asked, trying not to think of a life where I was too scared to touch anyone ever again..

'Eventually, but you can't expect to be exactly the same as you were before it happened, at least not straight away. You might never be the same girl you were forty-eight hours ago.'

I shut my eyes and tried to think around the jumble of emotions rioting around inside of me. 'What would you do, about Fillmore I mean?'

Ariella shrugged and huffed a breath as she thought about it. 'I'd tell him the truth. Explain to him that you don't want to think of Harris, but you can't help it. Tell him that it will pass eventually, but right now you need him as a friend.'

'But I – I want to be more than his friend, or I did before all this happened,' I whispered.

She smiled when she saw the look on my face. 'Ingrid, if you two are meant to be a couple, or whatever, it'll happen. It'll just take a bit longer, that's all. You've got to be patient. You can't rush yourself.'

I smiled slightly as I settled back onto the pillows. Ariella might only be seventeen, but sometimes she seemed pretty wise. 'What about you and Mark?' I asked, only to laugh as Ariella blushed.

'What about us?'

'Are you going out?'

Ariella spluttered for a moment, before she shook her head. 'No, we're just friends.'

I couldn't help but roll my eyes and laughed again when she threw a tissue at me. 'Hey, you can't throw stuff at me, I'm injured.'

'You seem all right to me!'

I stuck my tongue out and threw the tissue back at her before I said, 'You should go out with him. He makes you happy.'

Ariella nodded. 'He is very nice, but, I don't know. I feel like I should be concentrating on looking after you.'

'Ariella, you're bright. You can concentrate on two things at once,' I replied as I picked up the book and flipped to the first page.

Ariella leaned over and fluffed up my pillows, letting me lean back more comfortably. 'We'll see about Mark, but you've got to promise me you'll talk to Fillmore.'

'If he ever comes back, I will,' I replied.

'Promise?'

' I Promise.'

'Good. I'll go and find him then.'

I looked up from my book, my eyebrows raised in surprise. 'He's still here?'

'Of course. Yesterday he saw you a few minutes from death, Ingrid. I very much doubt that he slept at all last night. He needs to be near you, even if it's only in the same building. He isn't going anywhere.'

'Oh.' I bit my lip as my sister left me, feeling the butterflies flutter uselessly in my stomach. It was all very well talking to Ariella, but talking to Fillmore was something else entirely. It was even worse because part of me yearned to reach out and touch him, to reassure him that it'd be okay, but another part of me feared the memories that physical contact would bring.

I pulled a face and tried to concentrate on the book. It was easy to understand what had happened with me. I could look at it logically and remain totally calm. I could almost pretend that it was just a dream until something happened to link the memories with reality. Then logic fled before the senseless fear, and I was overcome with uncontrollable panic.

I shifted position and felt another twinge in my side. The nurse had given me four tablets to take. One was an antibiotic, and the rest seemed to be focused on keeping the pain to a minimum. Thankfully I hadn't ended up as woozy as before, but I was finding it harder to concentrate on the book than usual. I picked at the cold, tasteless toast and sipped the fruit juice, which was a lot easier to stomach. The only other food in the meagre breakfast fare was a yogurt, which I despised at the best of times.

I was about ten pages into the book when Fillmore knocked on the partly open door to my room. I glanced up and gave him a smile, which got stronger when I saw that he had something wrapped in a serviette. 'Is that more edible than yogurt?' I asked, pointing at it.

'Yeah, I got you the last chocolate muffin.' He put it on the table in front of me like someone making a peace offering, and I put the book to one side. 'Ariella said you weren't eating anything.'

'That's more because I wasn't being fed the right stuff,' I said shyly before breaking off a chunk and holding it out to him. 'You look like you could do with the sugar.'

Fillmore took the piece of sticky cake from me and sat in the chair, close enough for me to reach out to, but not close enough to crowd me. 'Thanks. I didn't sleep well. I ended up having – well, I just didn't sleep for long.' He reached out to steal another chocolate chip and I could see the dark shadows under his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, and it was strange to see him as anything but sure of himself. The Fillmore I knew never admitted defeat, but the young man in front of me looked as broken as I felt.

'Fillmore, I'm sorry for flinching earlier. I didn't mean – it's not because I'm frightened of you,' I stammered, trying to find the best words to say what had to be said. 'It's more a case of I'm frightened of everyone, or every man, anyway.'

Fillmore shook his head. 'You don't need to say sorry. I just, I didn't know what to do or say. I kind of hoped that it wouldn't hurt you or change you, and that sounds stupid.'

'No it doesn't,' I replied softly, 'but it's not possible to go through that…' I faltered as the memories assailed me, and I saw Fillmore look up sharply before I took a deep breath. 'I just wanted you to know that I would have flinched whoever it was.'

Fillmore closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was rough with emotion. 'I should have been there. I should have known…'

'How could you?' I demanded, feeling a flare of anger. 'You're not all knowing. I didn't tell you what was going on, so how were you to know?'

'But I suspected it. From the first time Anza and I talked to Harris there was something about the way he spoke about you. I should have been with you.'

'If you had walked me to school this morning I don't think it would have made any difference. They would have knocked you out, or worse.'

I took a deep breath and rubbed my hands together, suddenly feeling cold and shaky. 'Fillmore, you saved my life. Whatever else you couldn't prevent doesn't matter. If it wasn't for you I would be dead.' The words sounded leaden and chilling in the quiet room and Fillmore looked at the floor, not meeting my eyes.

Very tentatively I reached out and touched him. It was just a tap, a brush of skin on skin but he looked up at me in surprise. I swallowed hard, successfully keeping the memories of Harris at bay, but only just. The tears swelled in my eyes again and I murmured, 'I need you now, as a friend. Can – can you do that?'

Fillmore passed me the box of tissues, and nodded carefully. He didn't return my touch, which I was grateful for, but I did see some of his strength and determination return. He was no longer slumped, and the shadows under his eyes didn't seem as dark.

'Of course I can, Ingrid. Why wouldn't I help you?'

'I – I don't know. I thought you might not want anything to do with me, after what Harris did. Rossi said -'

'You shouldn't believe anything she said,' Fillmore said flatly, his voice becoming icy. 'You don't, do you?'

I shrugged and wiped my eyes again, feeling caught between misery and embarrassment. 'She was pretty convincing.'

'Ingrid, what Harris did to you was terrible and I feel ill just thinking about it, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be around you anymore. It wasn't your fault. You didn't provoke him.'

'But what if I did and didn't know it?'

'You didn't, okay?' he reached out a hand and stopped himself with a sigh, crossing his arms instead. 'What Harris did was unprovoked. He was obsessed with you, that much was obvious.'

'I don't think he was all there. In the shed he was talking strangely, as though he were listening to someone else.'

'It was probably an act,' Fillmore said cynically. 'He'll probably try and plead diminished capacity or something.'

'I don't care what happens to him as long as I never see him again,' I whispered.

Memories from the shed flickered across my mind's eye in rapid succession and I shuddered, before frowning in puzzlement. 'Did you ask me to tell you the table of elements when we were waiting for the ambulance?'

Fillmore looked embarrassed. 'I was trying to keep you awake.'

'With the periodic table?'

'It was the first thing that came to mind. I should have started with something easier, like your name.'

I snorted in disbelief. 'I was tired, it doesn't mean I couldn't remember it.'

'Yeah, right.'

We were both smiling. They were tired, weak smiles, but the tension that had been filling the room seemed to evaporate away. Fillmore's stomach groaned and I grinned. 'Haven't you eaten breakfast?'

'Not much, no.'

'You'd better get something before you starve to death.'

'Yes, Mom,' he said sarcastically as he stood up. 'Do you want anything?'

'Some bread or something would be good.' I looked at the breakfast tray with distaste before I realised I hadn't asked him an important question.

'Hey, Fillmore?'

He looked over his shoulder from the doorway, 'Yeah?'

'Are you okay, going back to the way we were?'

'Of course,' he said softly, as though it were silly of me to ask. 'How long ago were you thinking of going back?'

'About two weeks?' I replied quietly after a moment's thought. Two weeks ago I'd been Ingrid Third of the Safety Patrol, as normal as a girl genius can be, rather than Ingrid Third the injured orphan.

Fillmore paused for a moment, no doubt working out what life had been like two weeks ago. So much had happened it seemed like another world. Finally he smiled and nodded. 'I'd like that.'

I grinned in return before nestling down between the bed sheets as he left the room, whistling quietly to himself.

The tension that had been building up in my muscles gradually melted away and my eyelids fluttered down over my eyes. An hour ago I had looked at my life and seen nothing but debris. Now my existence was still in fragments, but it no longer seemed an impossible task to rebuild it. As long as I had Fillmore to help me, I knew it would be okay.

He didn't seem to mind that we were going back to being just friends and for a moment I thought carefully about what had been happening two weeks ago. Life had been normal, but in retrospect there were little signs of what was to come. Oh, nothing about Harris or the car accident, but little things to show that what was happening between Fillmore and me was already a bit more than just friendship. I knew that I had passed the occasional flirtatious comment, and now that I thought about it some of Fillmore's actions and words hadn't been entirely platonic either.

I smiled to myself and gave a little sigh of contentment. Two weeks ago there hadn't been an "us", but there had been the promise of something more than partners and friends. That sounded good to me, and it was all the more reason to concentrate on recovering. Gradually I drifted towards sleep, content in the knowledge that I had someone to help me mend the broken pieces of my life.

Whatever happened, I had Fillmore.

The End

A/N: There is an epilogue, so don't panic. It will be up on Sunday. Are there any loose ends I haven't tied off? Let me know and Happy Thanksgiving!