Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with TNA. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.
Chapter Content & Trigger Warnings: Nothing major. Some angst, fluff, and a makeout session.

Chapter 12

Joe closed the door, then turned and gazed at Ella as she stood near the kitchenette. She felt his eyes on her and glanced up at him.

"Are you okay," he asked softly, eyeing the pallor of her skin.

"I'm better than I thought I would be," she answered, rubbing her arms.

"Is it okay…if I…" he stepped closer to her and motioned that he wanted to hold her.

"I don't… I don't think it's a good idea, Joe," she said softly, avoiding his eyes.

"I do," Joe retorted, moving even closer to her. "Letting me hold you won't hurt anything, Ella."

Oh, yes it will, she thought moving a step back. Biting her lip, she noted that he doubled the length of his stride. A second later, he was right in front of her, and gently took hold of her hands.

"Please, don't…" she whispered. "I don't…want…"

"Shhh…" he lifted her hands in his and draped her arms around his neck, clasping her hands together at the back of his head. "That's not so bad, is it," he asked softly, then wrapped his arms around her waist.

She's lost way too much weight, he thought, but kept the observation to himself since she'd always been so sensitive about her scrawnier years. He pulled her closer, and rubbed his hand over her back in soothing circles.

Her arms came from around his neck and she pushed at his chest with her hands. "Okay, you hugged me," she said, fighting the strong urge to stay in his arms. "I-I want…I want to get ready for bed now."

"Ella, wait-" Joe started, holding on to her waist.

"No," she tugged at his hands, trying to free herself. "Joe, let go."

He knew he'd frighten her if he didn't release her, so reluctantly he removed his hands from her waist. He watched as she immediately went over to her suitcase and rummaged through it. Pulling out a tank top and pajama pants, she then grabbed her bag of toiletries.

"How about some food," Joe asked, heading over to the phone book. He flipped through the yellow pages in search of a place that would deliver.

"I'm not really hungry, Joe. I think I just want a can of Sprite."

"Unacceptable," he said, still flipping pages. "You have to eat."

"Fine, fine," Ella relented. "Just order me anything. I'm not picky. I think I'm going to take a bath."

"Okay," Joe said, grabbing his cell phone. "I'll be here if you need anything."

Ella nodded, and then went into the bathroom. She heard Joe ordering Chinese food as she closed the bathroom door.

}i{}i{}i{}i{

"Oh, God."

Ella stood before the bathroom mirror without her clothes as she ran a bubble bath. She was seeing for the first time the damage to her body. She had purposely avoided the hospital room's mirrors till then, for fear of what she would see.

Her left shoulder was scarred on both sides from where the first bullet had both entered and exited her body. Her ribs were still bruised, though the contusions were quite faded. Her rib-cage also contained a scar from her pleurodesis procedure. Her eyes shifted to her stomach and she nearly cried out, finally seeing the scar from her liver re-sectioning. The scar ran from just below her sternum to her belly button. Tears burned her eyes, as she looked at the right side of her abdomen, where the other bullet had entered her body. Yet another angry scar glared back at her in the mirror's reflection. She covered her mouth with her hand, and stifled the sobs as best she could.

Her once flawless, alabaster skin was now marred. She knew she shouldn't care about such frivolous things. Not after everything else that happened. But it was such a horrific sight to see. Don't be vainDon't be vain, she repeated in her mind. But the tears still fell. The scars' appearances weren't all that worried her. She knew they would remind her of that fateful New Year's Eve every time she looked in a mirror.

Joe knocked at the door then, "Ella?"

"Ye—" she cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm—I'm fine," she wished she could have stopped the tremor in her voice, but her throat had thickened from her tears. "I'll be out in a few minutes." Ugh, now my nose sounds clogged. He'll know I'm crying.

"Take your time. The food won't be here for a little while anyway."

"Okay."

She heard his footsteps walk away from the door, and slumped against the lavatory, relieved he didn't drag the conversation out.

Gingerly climbing into the tub, Ella slowly settled back against the slanted back of the tub, letting the hot, sudsy water calm her anxieties. She washed quickly but gently, so as not to cause any pain. Then she was relaxing against the back of the tub waiting for the foamy water to lose its warmth. Sighing softly, she placed a wet washcloth across her eyes to reduce any puffiness caused by her crying.

There was a knock at the hotel room's door and she sat up straight, yanking the washcloth from her face. The sudden action sent a tremor of pain throughout her healing body. She gasped at the discomfort and slowly lay back against the tub again. It's just the take out, she thought as she resettled herself.

Listening closely, she heard Joe's muffled voice through the bathroom door. She stood and grabbed her white, terry-cloth bathrobe and quickly wrapped it around her slender frame, securing the belt around her waist. She stepped out of the bathroom to make sure everything really was okay, and saw Joe at the door paying for the food. She instantly noticed a handgun tucked into the back of his jeans. He closed the door and turned around to see her watching him with a wide-eyed stare.

"Hey…you okay," he asked, setting the food down on the small dinner table. His eyes darkened with concern. He could see she'd been crying. Her eyes were bleary and reddened.

Ella nodded. "Yeah…I just saw—noticed the—the gun you have b-behind you."

He reached behind him and pulled the gun out. "It's okay," he assured her. "I know how to use it. It's on safety right now and I can take the safety off really fast if I need to."

She gulped. "Wh-where did you get it?"

"Jeff brought it earlier," he told her. "Does it bother you?" Not wanting her to fear the firearm, he set the gun on the table next to the food.

She shook her head. "Not the gun so much. Just the possibility of needing it."

"It's just a precaution, honey," he said. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

She nodded slightly. "So, what'd you get to eat?"

"I ordered shrimp lo mein, sesame chicken, and a pu pu platter. Does that sound okay," Joe asked as he began opening the food and grabbing the chopsticks.

Ella nodded, though she wasn't sure as to how the food would stay down. Her stomach had been queasy ever since she awoke from surgery. During her hospital stay, the nurses had tried everything short of force-feeding her in order to keep some nutrients in her.

"I'm going to go put my pajamas on real quick," she announced and went into the bathroom to change her attire.

A couple of minutes later Joe saw her hurry from the bathroom and into the bedroom. Before she could close the door he caught a flash of her tank top and pajama pants. After mere seconds, she returned wearing a white sweatshirt in place of the tank top. Then she gingerly sat down next to Joe at the table and they began putting food on their plates.

"What happened to your tank top? Are you cold," he asked her.

Ella looked down at herself, "Oh—I, uh—no. But I don't want to get cold. It's hard for me to warm up once I do."

She was surprised how easy the lie came to her, but could see it evidently was unconvincing as she watched suspicion cross Joe's face. Much to her relief however, he simply nodded and didn't press the issue.

Internally breathing a sigh of relief, she took a bite of sesame chicken and chewed it a few times before managing to swallow it. She quickly took several gulps of her drink to get rid of the sickeningly sweet flavor of the chicken's sauce.

"Good," Joe asked as he snatched up a bite of the lo mein with his chopsticks.

Ella nodded implausibly. "Y-yeah."

Joe could see she was struggling to eat the food. He felt terrible for her, but he knew she was in desperate need of nourishment. He watched as she began to poke at her lo mein noodles with her chopsticks.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't think about Chinese food being difficult for you to eat. Is there anything else you would find more appetizing," he asked.

She laid her chopsticks on the table and looked down at her lap. Shaking her head slightly, she replied, "I'm sorry. I'm just…so sick to my stomach. All the time. It never goes away."

"Don't apologize, Ella. You have more than enough reason to be nauseous after everything you've been through." He laid his chopsticks down as well, and went to the room's phone. "Would you like to try something blander? I could order you something from room-service. Maybe a sandwich? Cereal?"

Ella shook her head fighting off a gag reflex. "I just can't eat right now, Joe." She rose up from her chair and went over to the sofa, gingerly lowering herself to the cushions. Joe could see her eyes growing heavy, and knew it would be only a matter of time before sleep claimed her.

He continued eating until he finished his meal, and then disposed of the containers. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. Ella could hear running water and the sound of him scrubbing his teeth.

Minutes later, he re-entered the living area, and picked up a pay-per-view pamphlet from the television. "Want to order a movie before we go to bed," he asked as he sat beside her on the large sofa.

Ella nodded, "Sounds good. I don't want to sleep anyway." She stifled a yawn and watched as Joe flipped through the booklet of available movies. He scanned through it to see what the newest movies were.

"There's American Pie," he said, rolling his eyes. "Deep Blue Sea, End Of Days, Man On the Moon, and The Mummy."

Ella's face flushed at the mention of American Pie, "I think we can rule out American Pie," she commented. "I saw it with some friends, and it's not great to watch with mixed company."

Joe saw an opportunity to tease her, and took it. "Yeah, I can see that. You're blushing crimson."

"Only because I'm pale," she said softly. "It makes it more pronounced. Sometimes I hate it," she prattled on, growing more nervous by the minute. He was looking at her so intensely. "Any time I get embarrassed, I always flush and—"

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with pale skin," Joe interrupted her, reaching over and brushing the back of his hand over her cheek. "Especially yours. It's beautiful."

Ella shook her head and looked away. "No. It's not. At least, not anymore."

"What are you talking about," Joe asked. "If you mean the bruises…they'll go away soon."

She shook her head again. "The bruises are the least of my worries. I saw—when I took my bath—the scars. Not just from the surgeries, but from the bullets. I'm mangled."

And with those soft-spoken words, Joe was immediately right next to her.

"God, Ella—no," he turned her face back to meet his gaze and shook his head. "You're not mangled—at all. You're beautiful."

"No," Ella protested, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. "You have no idea what the scars look like. And they're everywhere."

"I don't care where they are, or how they look," Joe said gently. "You're beautiful in my eyes, and I'll prove it." His hand reached out and took hold of the hem of her sweatshirt, lifting it a fraction to make sure her tank top was still on underneath.

"Don't, Joe," she cried, yanking her shirt out his grasp.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "May I take your sweat shirt off? I just want to see your scars."

She shook her head. "I really don't want you to see them."

"Please?"

She was silent for a moment, and decided this could help her move past Joe. He'll see the scars, be disgusted, and will finally quit messing with my head.

"I'll take it off," she said, and then pulled the top over her head, while keeping her tank top in place with one of her hands. She avoided his eyes and tried not to notice how silent the room was. "I told you...they look horrible."

Avoiding his gaze, she didn't see the awe in his eyes.

"You have no idea..." Joe trailed off, unable to find adequate words to describe the beauty sitting beside him.

Her eyes widened, and then humiliation crossed her face. "Yes, well... I tried to tell you," she replied, swiftly tugging her sweat shirt back on.

He groaned. "I'm screwing this up," Joe muttered. "No, Ella, I didn't mean that. I meant that-"

"It's fine, Joe. I saw the scars myself. I just shouldn't have let you talk me into taking the sweat shirt off. I knew better."

"Ella, listen to me for a minute," Joe said. "I didn't finish my thought because I was having trouble finding the words to describe how absolutely breath-taking you are to me." He reached up and brushed his fingers lightly over her jaw.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Nice save, Joe." She rose from the sofa and turned to go into the bedroom.

Joe reached out and took her hand. "Ella, don't."

She tried to tug her hand free, but he kept a firm hold on it. He brushed his lips across each of her knuckles with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes.

"Joe, please," she whispered, watching as he proceeded to kiss her wrist. Finally she yanked her hand away. "Stop." Fearing she would finally give in to his advances, she turned and went into the bedroom. She wasn't surprised to hear the bedroom door close a second later.

"Why," he asked. "Because you hate me now, and you can't stand for me to touch you?" He couldn't help the bitter tone in his words. He was desperate to get through to her and no matter what he said—no matter what he did—it just wasn't enough.

She spun around to face him, her blue eyes flashing fire.

"I think you have that a little backward," she took another step away from him. "You didn't want to see me again—you hate me. And Besides…I'm just a tease—remember? We women are all the same. Remember all of that? Because I sure do."

Joe's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes.

"What? Did you think my amnesia erased that from my memory too," she pressed.

"That's enough, Ella."

"I agree," she said, her chin trembling. Her eyes burned into his. "I pined over you like some love-sick puppy for the past ten years of my life. And…and all it's been is a few fake good memories thrown into a decade of pain! All you'll ever do is hurt me!"

"You're not even giving me a chance to explain myself," Joe shouted. "You won't even listen when I apologize to you! Let me fix this, Ella. Please."

"I'm tired, Joe," she whispered warily. She looked away then. "I just…I can't do this anymore. You always wanted just friendship, which was fine with me at one time," she said softly. "But then…you kissed me that night—and I fell in love with you even more." She sniffled, and grew frustrated at the lump forming in her throat. "And then you…you destroyed everything. You said things that I don't think I can recover from, Joe." She dared to meet his eyes for an instant and then settled her gaze on the blank television. "I always felt like I was nothing special. But I've never been treated like I was nothing special…till that night. You treated me like nothing more than a ring rat." She turned away from him, unwilling for him to see her tears.

Joe darted over to her so fast she jumped back out of reflex, but he wouldn't have it. He grabbed hold of her wrists with a firm grip—though not enough to hurt her—and pulled her closer.

"Let me go," she whispered, trying to free herself.

"Shh, Ella," he said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. You know I'd never harm you."

"Then let me go," she insisted, trying to tug her wrists free. "Take your hands off me."

"In a minute," he said. "But first, you're going to hear me out. I've listened to you plenty—you can listen to me, now."

Her tears fell freely then. "I don't want to," she sobbed. "Because it's just words. I know I'm not enough for you now. I never will be. So, please just let me try to heal."

He lightened his hold but didn't release her. He breathed hard, not knowing how to get through to her. Before he realized what he was doing, he began spilling his very soul to her.

"I was scared to death that night. I was terrified I wouldn't get to you in time. I-"

"Guilt," Ella whispered, looking down at the floor. "You only wanted to save me because you felt guilty—and because you knew Uncle Jeff couldn't handle losing me and Mom both."

Joe glared at her. "No. Stop telling me what I think and feel, because you're completely wrong, Ella. I felt love." His voice broke then. "I lied to you that night. Every bit of it was a lie—when I said I never wanted to see you again, when I mocked your love for me—all lies." He felt his heart race as he spoke his next words. "The truth is, Ella…I love you, and if something happens to you... I'd be better off dead."

She shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing.

"Yes," he whispered. "I'm speaking the truth." He turned her chin upward and forced her to meet his gaze. "And you are something special—you have no idea how special you are to me."

"Joe…" she was shaking now as she met his eyes, and slowly realized she had stopped trying to free herself.

"I love you," Joe told her, a tremor in his voice, "and I will never hurt you again. I won't drink again, because I hate who I become when I do. I hate how I treated you. I'll never forgive myself."

"I'm the man who's in love with her. You'll have to kill me, because I'll die before I let you take her."

Joe's voice rang through her mind, and she recalled the new memory with sharp clarity.

"Oh, God," she whispered. Does he really love me, she wondered. Hesitantly, she stared into his eyes, and could find no signs of deceit. "I want to believe you, Joe," she whispered. "I really do. But-"

Joe pulled her against him then cupped the back of her head in his hand. His face slowly inched down to hers. "Don't be scared," he whispered. "I won't hurt you." Then he kissed her chin lightly. Moving his mouth upward, he brushed a kiss over the corner of her mouth and teased her lips with his own.

Ella could feel his lips dusting small, barely-there kisses to her lips. Then, growing impatient, he captured her mouth underneath his with a light groan of satisfaction.

She gasped at the sudden feel of Joe's warm mouth covering hers. Then she lost all ability to think as he shifted his head a little, slanting his mouth at a different angle. She moved her lips against his and raised her arms to encircle his neck.

The sound of her soft moan nearly drove Joe mad. He struggled to control his actions. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her fear. And he also knew for the time being, there was only so far the episode could go. He didn't want to do anything to hurt Ella, or cause Jeff to not trust him. Even so, he found himself nudging her toward the bed, his hands wandering down to her waist.

Ella felt the edge of the bed bump into the bend of her knee as Joe kissed her. Before she could fall, he held her close, and eased her down onto the mattress. Then he was on top of her, careful to not put his full weight on her. His hands stroked over her ribs as his mouth reclaimed hers.

"Ella…" he whispered passionately against her mouth. He stroked her jaw with his thumb and then urged her face even closer. He was vaguely aware of a THUD in the central heat vent, but thought nothing of it. He figured it was just old vents that made the noise.

Ella felt him deepen the kiss and gasped in pleasure when his tongue urged her lips apart. She obliged, wishing he would never stop.

"I w-was so s-sure you ha-hated me…" she whispered in between Joe's soft, fervent kisses. She whimpered again as his lips traveled down to her neck. Goosebumps prickled her skin and she shivered in his arms.

"Never," he said huskily, kissing down her neck. "I'll never hate you." Then his mouth was back on hers, and gently, his tongue swirled over hers, tasting the warm, sweet cavern of her mouth. He groaned softly and grasped her waist, feeling as though he would never get enough of her taste and feel. Ella moved her lips with his, savoring the sensation of his mouth dominating hers.

She felt his hands again, carefully removing her sweatshirt, leaving her tank-top intact. She knew he was aiming to see her scars. Once she was free of the garment, she looked away, unable to meet Joe's gaze. She knew the scar on her shoulder was visible. "They're horrible," she protested.

He placed a soft kiss on her mouth, "I want you to know that when I see those scars…they won't stop my love or desire for you. I'll always love you and want you." He softly brushed his hand over her clavicle, and then rested it lightly on her shoulder. Tracing his thumb over the tissue ever so slightly, he whispered, "I still find you beautiful, Ella."

"But it's so—"

"Shhh…Trust me."

With that, he leaned down, sweeping his mouth across her once wounded shoulder. He trailed his lips lightly over the scar, kissing it softly a couple times before moving to her collarbone. Then he flicked the tip of his tongue into the hollow of her throat with a tender, lazy stroke.

"Joe…" Ella whispered, clutching his arms for dear life.

"Shhh."

His lips scorched her skin as he turned his attention back to her shoulder, and then her arm. His teeth nipped her lightly at the bend in her elbow and she whimpered softly, though not in pain.

Joe heard the soft cry that broke the silence when his teeth lightly grazed over her soft skin. He pulled back a little to gaze into her face. Mesmerized, he watched as Ella dreamily closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. The sight was enough to drop him to his knees if he weren't already lying down.

"Believe me now," he asked huskily. His hands went to the hem of her tank top, and her hands caught his.

"Joe, I can't," she said shakily. "I-I...I'm a Christian now—I don't believe in premarital sex."

Seeing the trepidation in her eyes, he spoke softly. "I won't undress you. And I won't try to force you to do anything you're not ready for. The second you start feeling uneasy, tell me and I'll stop right there. I just want you to know, without a single doubt, how beautiful you are—scars or no scars."

Even though he assured her he wasn't undressing her, and she did trust him, she was still stunned by the sudden feel of his fingers pushing her tank top up off her stomach. She gasped, fighting off raw nerves.

"I'm just lifting it enough to see your scars," he whispered, seemingly reading her mind. "Try not to be nervous," he whispered.

She felt his mouth brush over her stomach—over her scar—and all rationality fled. He dusted the length of the healed wound with soft kiss after soft kiss, until Ella thought she would lose her mind. She reached over with her hand and stroked the back of his neck, encouraging him to continue.

With a soft growl, Joe then kissed his way up to the scar on her rib-cage. Her fingers curled and tangled into his thick, black hair. His tongue brushed over a fading bruise, and then he kissed his way down her stomach again.

"Joe—please…" Ella pleaded breathlessly.

"I know, lo'u alofa. I know," he whispered, understanding full well he was about to break his promise and go too far. He pulled away from her stomach, knowing he was on the verge of losing all control just as Ella was. He brought his face back down to her neck instead, and nuzzled the crook of it, placing gentle but firm kisses along the soft skin.

Ella turned her head and began shyly returning his kisses, all the while knowing it was foolish to let herself indulge so deeply. She framed his face with her hands and pulled his head down to hers and brushed her lips over his chin, his dimples, his jawline, and then down to his neck. He groaned passionately when she nipped below his ear.

He pressed another loving kiss to her neck. "Ou te alofa ia te oe," he murmured softly in her ear.

"What," Ella asked. "What does that mean?"

"I love you," Joe replied. "It means I love you."

She no longer thought Joe was trying to hurt her, but she was still afraid to believe he truly loved her.

What if all of this has just made him think he loves me, she wondered. What if we get through this, and he decides he's bored with me?

Still, she couldn't bring herself to distance herself from him anymore. She wanted whatever he was willing to give. And if that was only a short amount of time, she'd find a way to heal when he was ready to move on.