"Colonel." Spotting John leaving the gym Kate called out, picking up her pace to catch up with him. "You got a minute?"
"If you don't mind the smell." John slung his gym bag over his shoulder as he continued down the corridor.
"I'll manage." She fell in step with him.
"Right, so what's up?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Elizabeth." Kate didn't miss the worry that flashed through John's eyes. "Don't worry she's doing well…at least as well as can be expected any way." She quickly reassured him.
"But…?"
"But we've hit a bit of a wall…you."
"Me?" John stopped walking, turning to face Kate.
"Yes. John you can't deny that there's something between you and Elizabeth. What the extent of that something is I don't know, that's between the two of you. But I do know that she needs you, needs your full support and she doesn't feel like she's getting it."
"Of course she has my support. I'm always there if she needs me." John couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Physically, yes you are…but emotionally, not so much in her opinion. If she needs a shoulder to cry on or someone to hold her it's you she turns to, but at the same time she feels like you're only letting her because you feel obligated."
"What that's ridiculous."
"Look I have a session with Elizabeth today and I think it would be a good idea if you were there."
"Yeah, sure." Absently John started walking again.
--
Later that day John found himself sitting in Kate's office fidgeting slightly; he really didn't want to be there. It was nothing personal against Kate; John just didn't like people trying to poke around in his head. But if she thought it would help Elizabeth than he would suck it up and be there.
"From the moment I met you John I've felt I could trust you. We've always been able to talk to each other about anything. But lately it's like you've walled yourself off from me."
John stopped fidgeting when he heard Elizabeth's words. Noticing the glint of unshed tears in Elizabeth's eyes he adverted his gaze. The tears added more to the tremendous amount of guilt he's been feeling. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond or what he was supposed to do. Looking towards Kate who had been unusually silent since the beginning of the session – weren't psychologists supposed to ask questions and things like that? – John realized he wasn't going to get any answers from her.
Moving to sit closer to John, Elizabeth took hold of his hand. "John I know you feel guilty, I just don't know what you feel guilty about."
He wanted to tell her, he really did. But how was he supposed to look the woman he loved in the eye and admit that it was his fault, that because he hadn't been doing his job, she'd been repeatedly raped and beaten.
"Nothing that happened to me was your fault, if that's what you're thinking. I don't blame you for any of it."
"Well you should, I do!" John pulled away from Elizabeth standing up and moving to stare out the window. "I had one job! To protect you and I failed. I let myself get distracted and you paid for it."
"John," Standing up herself Elizabeth crossed over to John. Grabbing his arm she forced him to face her. John lowered his gaze as she hesitantly laid a hand on his chest. "I. Do. Not. Blame. You. And. I. Never. Will." She used her other hand to punctuate each word by poking him in the chest with a finger.
Shaking his head John pulled away again, "How can you not? I don't even know how you can stand to be around me. I mean shit Elizabeth I all but raped you myself, twice--." He cut himself off surprised by his admission. He'd been so busy focusing on the guilt he felt about everything that had led up to Elizabeth's kidnapping that he hadn't even realized he'd been feeling guilty about what had happened while he was on Arcadia.
"What…?" Elizabeth was shocked, never once had she thought of what had happened between her and John on Arcadia as rape. All this time John had been hurting over something that had never crossed her mind.
Following after him she firmly but gently grab his head between her hands. Elizabeth could see John's heart breaking, saw the guilt in his eyes. "John believe me never once did I think of what happened between us on Arcadia as rape. You kept me safe, you gave me the hope and strength to hold on 'til you were able to rescue me… You reminded me what it felt like to be loved."
Sensing the sincerity in her tone John lifted his gaze to meet Elizabeth's. He felt his breath hitch when he saw the raw emotions in her eyes.
"I can't do this alone. I-I can't. I-I…" She paused as she drew a shaky breath, her eyes softening as her own grief showed. Breathing shakily, she brought her eyes into line with his before continuing the line of thought she had abandoned moments earlier. "I can't do this alone, John," she whispered. "I need you."
With her admission came the onslaught of her tears. Wordlessly, he engulfed her in his arms, holding her head gently against the crook of his neck. Feeling a swell of emotion from deep within his body, he held her close as she clung to him.
"I'm here, you got me." John whispered as Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his waist. He was never going to fully forgive himself, but his guilt suddenly didn't feel so tremendous and unbearable any more.
--
The sound of running water woke John. Groggily rolling over in bed, he frowned finding Elizabeth gone. After the session in Kate's office he and Elizabeth had retreated to his room to talk things out more, exhaustion had soon caught up with them both and they'd fallen a sleep snuggled up on his bed. Sleepily John wiped a hand across his eyes, blinking several times before focusing on the clock on the nightstand.
2:40 am. – What the hell was Elizabeth doing in the shower at two in the morning?
"Shit," he muttered as concern flooded through his sleep muddled brain. Dragging his body into a sitting position he listened to the hard water spray hitting the tiled walls. Sighing, he decided to give her ten minutes before he knocked to check on her to make sure everything was ok. Perhaps paranoia was getting the best of him, but he would rather face embarrassment than endanger her already delicate psyche further.
--
Their hands were everywhere — all of them, all at once. She could not get away from their groping fingers or their lustful, hungry stares as they openly surveyed her prone body, she could not rid herself of their penetrating members. They were all around her, wherever she went, cajoling her, grasping her, pulling her back towards them with terrifying ferocity.
She was still on Arcadia, being brutally assaulted over and over and over again. The scent of their sweat encrusted, throbbing bodies poured into her nostrils; their cries of ecstasy and triumph as they came within her filled her ears, clouding out all that remained of her rational self. They inhabited her every system, her every thought and feeling and sensation…she had to get them out of her…she had to get them out…
--
A dull thud coming from the bathroom turned John's ten minute wait into a mere four minute one. He was on his feet and across the room in a split second, his knuckles rapping lightly on the door as he called her name.
"Elizabeth?" He got no response. "Elizabeth!" He called again, louder this time and with more urgency. Still, she didn't respond; pressing his ear to the door, he strained to hear anything beyond the water pounding against the ceramic tile, but to no avail.
Finally, damning the consequences of his actions should she just be leisurely showering at three o'clock in the morning, he opened the door and stepped into the room, the immediate, overwhelming change in humidity catching him off guard.
"Elizabeth, everything ok?" Still his words garnered no response except the water running out of the showerhead; John felt his stomach begin to churn as the situation began to grow more and more unsettling. "Damn it!" He exclaimed as he impatiently shoved the shower curtain out of the way.
Swallowing harshly, he felt his heart drop from his chest when he saw her huddled into a fetal position in the corner of the shower, beaten into a red sheen by the violent pressure and extreme temperature of the water.
"Elizabeth…" He whispered as he quickly turned off the water and ran his hand along the crown of her head, her hair damp and unnaturally hot. Desperately searching her eyes for any sign of recognition, John tapped the back of his hand lightly against Elizabeth's cheek repeatedly. "Come on look at me," he muttered.
Continuing his attempts to rouse her, his heart stopped when he glimpsed a broken disposable shaving razor clutched in her right hand. Looking closer he spotted the self-inflicted lacerations crisscrossing her upper arms, along with a few on her abdomen.
Snatching several towels from the rack above the sink, he unfurled the smallest one and placed it over her stomach, gently guiding her left arm across her body to hold the makeshift bandage in place. Grabbing another small towel he got it wet and gently ran it over the cuts on her arms. When he was satisfied that the blood flow was beginning to staunch, he pried the razor from her grasp and hurled it into the garbage can.
Gently he pressed his fingers into the heated skin of her back; his fingerprints turned white and then gradually resumed their previous color, the scheme indicative of a first-degree burn. "Shit," he muttered, his eyes closing momentarily before he turned on the cool water letting the gentle stream flow over Elizabeth.
Turning from her, he grabbed a clean washcloth off of the pile beside him, saturating it thoroughly before placing the cloth on the irritated flesh of her back. He knelt next to her, and ran one hand through the damp strands of her hair while the other continued its soothing ministrations along her back and shoulders, the water cooling her skin with surprising speed. Every now and again he would say her name and whisper soothingly to her, his entire being focused exclusively on returning this woman to the present.
Sensing her slow return to normalcy, he increased the frequency of his murmured platitudes, each sentiment punctuated by water dripping from the cloth and down the smooth skin of her back. Hearing her slight sniffle, he stopped cooling her back momentarily and brushed damp hair away from her face.
"Elizabeth?" He asked tentatively, his tone barely audible. "Look at me please."
Elizabeth shifted slightly, but her gaze remained focused on the white porcelain in front of her, refusing — or unable — to meet his gaze. Keeping his eyes trained on her, he resumed cleansing her back, working her shoulders, neck, and upper arms into his routine. Her eyes slid slowly closed and her eyebrows crinkled in response to his continued measures; he paused when he could not decipher the emotion behind her reaction.
"You ok?" John relaxed when she gave a slight nod, eyes still closed. The tension started to ease out of her muscles. Involuntarily she shivered, chilled, her body having returned to its normal pallor.
Placing a soft kiss on top of her head, John wrapped a large bath towel around her shoulders and bent over her, winding one arm across the back of her upper torso and snaking the other under her knees. Picking her up in one strong, smooth motion, he turned to deposit her on the closed seat of the toilet.
Moving Elizabeth's arm out of the way John removed the washcloth from her stomach and gently inspected the wounds, then moved on to look at her arms. A few of the cuts seemed to be pretty deep, but for the most part the majority of the cuts were shallow thin scratches along her skin that would hardly be noticeable in a day or two. Briefly John rifled around the bathroom until he found the first-aide kit he kept in there. Elizabeth stared dully ahead, seemingly unaware of her circumstances or his presence.
Sighing resignedly, John knelt in front of Elizabeth, "Elizabeth…I…" He began softly, his next words hesitant and drawn out. "Ok look I have no idea what exactly I'm supposed to be doing here. This isn't anywhere close to my area of expertise." Taking a deep breath, heavy with the pressure of his own frustration, John scrubbed a hand through his sleep tousled hair. "Help me out here, please." He murmured.
He stayed silent for several moments hoping she would respond, she didn't. "I'm terrified that I'm gonna end up doing something to screw this up, make things worst." Glancing up at Elizabeth, her expression still distant and dangerously vacant, John continued, his tone earnest, "I don't want to lose you."
Gently placing his hand over hers, he blinked several times in an attempt to repress the mist that threatened to overwhelm his vision. He startled slightly when Elizabeth unexpectedly shifted her hand under his lacing her fingers with his.
"You won't." Elizabeth whispered softly. John's eyes slipped closed, his relief and compassion riveting the air, as she spoke hoarsely, her tone reassuring him while her heart lacked the strength.