WARNING: THIS CHAPTER TALKS ABOUT AND DEALS WITH RAPE, IF THIS IS A TRIGGER FOR YOU, PLEASE DON'T READ IT. (AND NO, IT'S NOT WHAT OR WHO YOU THINK). NOTHING EXPLICIT, JUST TALK.

PS: I'm not sure anyone noticed or would noticed but I merged Chapters 1 and 2 together, they're now the whole first chapter of this story (no changes to the text though). I did it because I think it makes for a stronger first chapter and more likely to engage new readers, so they continue reading the story.

CHAPTER 6 - A CONVERSATION: PART 2

As I had predicted, Jon was the first to break eye contact with me. He looked away from me and I had this extremely childish, but thankfully fleeting desire to say: "I won".

I was internally beating myself up for that ridiculous thought, which proved I was still off kilter, when Jon's voice interrupted me.

"Yes."

He was back to staring straight into my eyes and I could see pure determination there and some resignation too.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I'll listen to anything you want or need to say. I'll sit here for however long and take anything you feel like throwing my way. I'll just add that your pain does bother me deeply and as a result causes me pain. But, you're right. I asked and I know that any pain I feel can't ever be compared to yours. So, it's not your problem and you shouldn't have to worry about that. I'm here for you. Now and always. Whatever you need, whenever you need it. So, purge away."

"Thank you, Jon."

I really meant it. Jon was such a good man.

Instinctively, I extended my right hand and put it over his left one, an identical gesture to the one he had done to me before. It surprised me. I hadn't consciously meant to do it. I hadn't realized how much I wanted someone, well not anyone, but him, to listen to my story. I had to get it all out, the sooner the better, as I was metaphorically choking on it.

Jon looked down at my hand on his and then back at me. He seemed deeply surprised. I was sure I had an identical expression on my face. I patted his hand, to reiterate my thanks, and pulled my arm back.

I cleared my throat, as if that action alone would be able to clear all the raw emotions and weird vibes floating around my office.

I tried, but I didn't quite manage, to keep my tone light and carefree.

"So, where in the story did I stop?"

Jon hesitated, he looked pained, but he answered me anyway.

"You were mentioning a case about the rape of a minor."

"Irri."

She wasn't just a statistic, she was a person. A teenager. A very dear and real one to me.

"What?"

"Her name was Irri. She was 14 years old. Her family was originally from Mexico City. She was a first generation Mexican-American. Her parents were illegal immigrants."

And complete assholes, but I refrained from adding that bit, in the end they had paid the highest price for their shortcomings, not that they had cared. It was not my place to judge, but I couldn't help it, right or wrong, I blamed them partially for what had happened.

I sounded almost detached now. I guess I had to be. The memories, especially those directly connected to her were too painful.

I fell silent. I was remembering Irri. Her smile, her tough girl act in the beginning, her innocence, and her kindness even after all she had been through. There was so much to her, like there is to all of us. I had grown to love her, maybe as a little sister, maybe as a grown daughter, I wasn't sure. I had felt protective and maternal towards her. But, I was too young then. I didn't know exactly what role she fit for me at that time, nonetheless she had gained a piece of my heart and soul.

I was brought out of my musings by Jon's voice. I was glad. It hurt so much to think about her.

"You said she was a prostitute, how does a 14 year old child end up in that situation?"

I shot Jon a deeply incredulous and jaded look.

"Don't be naive, Jon. There are thousands, millions even, of children like her in that position. You know that. If you're asking me how did Irri ended up in that hellish life, that I can tell you. I spent a LOT of time with her during her case. I was 21 years old, she was 14, and I was the closest in age to her in the DA's office. We bonded. Probably a lot more than what was considered professional. Not that I cared. I don't know if it was because of my age, my demeanor or because I made a point to get close to her and try to help her. I was young, idealistic and not jaded by the job like the rest of them… yet. I made this case, her, personal. We became friends of a sort. I considered her a younger sister. I think she saw me as a role model. She was also in need of a maternal figured, I believe I partially filled that role as well. So, after some time and my persistence, I got her whole life story. It was not pretty."

"I figured that, Daenerys. No child that ends up prostituting herself has a nice story."

"Exactly. I know that, you know that. But, it's different when you're sitting across from a child, one you have bonded with, and hear all the horrors she went through in her short life. You can't help but take it personally. It's very different from reading a sob story in the newspaper about a stranger. I'm not diminishing the pain and horrors of all the other children in the same position, but it was my first time looking directly in the eyes of someone I came to love and hearing her tell me things that no human being, much less a 14 year old girl, should have had to go through."

"You loved her?"

Jon sounded surprised.

"Of course I did. I came to love her. It wasn't like I loved her the first time we met. However, I spend months with her preparing for her case and even more "unofficial" time out of my own free time. I was bonding with her, getting her to trust me, listening to all her pain and secrets, her hopes, her dreams and her life story. I was trying to help her. I was letting her cry on my shoulder, hugging her to me and patting her hair to try and comfort her. I was listening to her scream and rage on when she needed to vent. As I already said we really bonded. The question shouldn't be if I loved her, it should be how could I not have loved her?"

Jon was looking at me very strangely. There was such an intensity in his gaze that it almost made me lower my eyes. I didn't though. I wasn't sure if he was taking my measure or silently judging me, or both. So, I held his gaze and let him. He had said he wanted to understand me better, well he would by the end of the story, one way or another.

I carried on.

"Irri had grown up in a very religious household. Her parents were fanatical in their Catholicism. Their whole lives revolved around the Church. Hers too, of course. She went to Bible study three times a week, at the least. This might sound strange at first, but it was there that her life started to go downhill. When she was 12, a 19 year old guy took over the group. He was considered a paragon of virtue. An example all the younger kids should follow. After all, he could quote basically anything from the Bible, didn't miss one service and said and made all the right noises. He was polite, dressed neatly and always talked about the importance of abstinence, of saving oneself for marriage, of being pure of mind and body. Not long after he took the leadership role, he started to focus on Irri. Paying special attention to her. Her parents were delighted, the idiots. He offered to come to their house and have private sessions with her. He told them that she was a good girl, but she needed more guidance before it was too late and she strayed from the path of Jesus Christ, their Lord and one true savior. So, they welcomed him into their home, they witnessed him discussing the Bible and everything they considered right and good with her. Her mother cooked for him, he ate dinner with them and always left with plenty of Tupperware containers full of food. They were just so grateful for his help and attention. They felt honored. Honored, Jon!"

My voice had gotten louder and louder, and full of derision, while I spoke. I had to pause. An old rage was bubbling up to the surface. I wanted to scream. I had to get back in control of myself.

"Breathe, Daenerys. Just take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

I had momentarily forgotten about Jon. My rage had blinded me, quite literally. I did what he said, it did help a little, and I looked at him. He looked pissed. Jon was no dummy. He knew where this part of the story was going.

I nodded at him in thanks and kept going.

"From the look on your face, you know where all this is leading up to. It doesn't take a genius to get it, most people would see the abundance of red flags, but fanatics become blind to anything that doesn't fit into their limited worldview, unfortunately. Anyway, I'll summarize it for you. Not long after Irri turned 13, her parents left her alone with him at her house to run some errands. By that time, their "sessions" had moved from the living room to her bedroom. He claimed it would be best to have some privacy, because that way she could be completely honest with him about her sins without fearing her parent's reaction. He had gained their complete trust, like a good predator does. Sadly, hers too. But, she was a child. A fucking 13 year old deeply religious and sheltered child."

I had to stop to take a couple of deep breaths and tell myself my rage was a useless emotion. It served no purpose here. I couldn't change what had happened to her. None of it. Although, I knew I would have given a couple of body parts to be able to change her story.

"So, that day when they were left alone in her bedroom, he raped her in her own bed. I'll spare you the details. Sometimes, I wish I didn't know them. After, he pulled up his pants, adjusted his clothes and left her there violated, betrayed and shell-shocked on her bed. She said she didn't remember how long she lay there, but sometime later she got up, saw the blood on her legs and on her sheets, she was a virgin, of course. Then she had the most natural reaction of all, one I think every raped woman has, she went to take a shower. A scalding one and she rubbed herself almost raw to get his smell and sweat off her and the feeling of being unclean. When her parents got home a couple of hours later, she told them what had happened. They didn't believe her. Not even when she showed her mother her bloody sheets. They were enraged with her. They called her a lying demon child and said she was trying to destroy a good man's reputation. They also added that if she had rutted with some boy in her bed, she's was a whore and dead to them, even if she hadn't made it worse by trying to blame this almost "holy" man for her own sins. They said she was trash and as such she didn't belong in their house and was no daughter of theirs. To finish it off, they told her to get the hell out with only the clothes she was wearing, before her father beat the devil out of her. She was a demonic lying whore and they didn't want any of her corruption to taint them or their home."

And my rage finally exploded. I grabbed the glass of water off my desk and threw it with every bit of strength I had into the wall to my right. Glass shattered and fell to the floor, water rolled down the wall. I barely registered it. It was like I was outside my body floating up near the ceiling and looking down at myself. There was a red haze covering my view. I did it so fast, almost casually, like I had just simply snapped my fingers. I had lost control, utterly and completely. I felt ashamed. Not because I threw the glass, not because I was raging, but because I had lost my self-control.

I finally had the courage to look at Jon. He looked shocked. He had never seen me lose control before. His eyes bored into mine, the red covering my vision was beginning to fade, but I wasn't all there yet.

"I'll clean it up." Jon said.

I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Thanks, but don't bother. I made the mess, I'll clean it. Plus, I might feel the need to break something else before this story is over. Did any of the glass get on you? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry about losing my temper."

Jon raised his eyebrows.

"Please don't apologize for losing your temper. You had a very good reason for it and I don't want you to ever feel like you have to hide anything from me. And no, none of the glass reached me, so don't worry. Even if it did, I wouldn't blame you. I didn't know her, but after hearing what you just told me I have a very strong urge to punch something."

I spread both my arms.

"Go ahead."

I looked around studying what would be the best option for him to punch.

"You're serious, aren't you? You looking around to find something for me to punch?

"Yeah, I figured the couch is the best option. If you punch a wall or a door, it'll hurt your hand and we'll have to get it fixed. I think the couch can take a punch even from you and survive, plus it won't hurt your hand, at least not badly."

He laughed like what I had just said was the funniest thing he had ever heard.

"What?" I asked a bit annoyed.

"You're not like any other woman I know. Correction, you're not like anyone I know."

What the hell did he mean by that?

"Ummm, thank you?" I said sarcastically.

"Don't worry, it was a compliment. You just surprise me sometimes, well a lot of times, and I'm not used to that. Which brings me to another point, I never saw you lose your temper like that before. Not even "that" day, as you like to call it. You were completely fine the whole time, the picture of composure."

"What are you trying to get at? That I should have freaked out "that" day? Or that I shouldn't have lost my composure just now? I should point out that you are the one that lost your self-control after the "incident".

"Neither. And I love how you call it the "incident", like it was no big deal. Also, I never denied losing my cool "that" day. I just find it curious that you seemed unfazed."

"I wasn't unfazed, Jon. But, in the end it wasn't that big of a deal."

Jon started to sputter, but I cut him off before he managed to say anything.

"Ok, it was kind of a big deal, but it had a happy ending. I've seen and gone through worst. You're actually listening to something much worse right now. Plus, what do you want me to call "that" day? The Battle of Hogwarts? The Battle for Winterfell? Helm's Deep? The Opening of the Hellmouth? What? Something pompous and dreary? Let's not be overly dramatic here. It was not even a battle and nothing major. Plus, words have power, Jon, and I refuse to put that much of my focus or remembrance into it. I'm not giving it any power over me. It's in the past. It's over and done with. You spent 10 years of your life as a soldier in a war, "that" should have been nothing to you. You're the one that should have been unfazed. You weren't even the target. I still don't get why you're the one that's always making such a big issue out of it."

"I guess you wouldn't." Jon mumbled.

"What? You want to explain that to me?"

"No."

Jon said it firmly and with finality. Fine by me. I had other things on my mind at the moment anyway.

"So, are you going to punch the couch or not?"

"No, thanks."

"Do you want a glass to throw?"

Jon laughed.

"I'm quite fine, Daenerys. Are you?"

"Well, the overwhelming rage has passed for now, so I guess I'm as good as I can be while discussing Irri."

He nodded his head in understanding.

"Do you want to stop? Or, at least take a break?"

"No, I need to get it all out. I'll feel better when I'm done."

"Okay, it's your call. Anytime you want to stop, take a break or break something, just do it."

"Oh, don't worry. I will."

Jon nodded and I continued the story.

"After Irri was kicked out of her house by her parents, with only the clothes on her back, she had nowhere to go. The word had spread and she was shunned by her community. So, what was she suppose to do? She was a 13 year old homeless child. To make a long story short, she ended up in a bad part of town. She was a pretty girl, desperate and helpless, so other types of predators came after her. She got a pimp and started her life of turning tricks. Was it hellish and traumatising? Sure it was. But, at least she had some protection from her pimp, some camaraderie with other prostitutes, money to buy food and a few other necessities and a place to sleep. She fell into that routine, numbed herself and about a year later another fucking pedophile found her. This one didn't hide behind religion, he hid behind his family name and money. He portrayed himself as a wealthy, nice, polite, intelligent and athletic college guy. A good old boy."

Jon looked pissed off.

"Couch or a glass?"

"What?"

"You'd rather punch the couch or throw a glass?"

He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

"Neither, but this story just gets worse and worse. The unfairness of it all, all these fucking pedophiles, it makes me want to use every skill I have to hunt them all down."

"I feel exactly the same way. And I have to warn you, brace yourself, because if it gets much worse."

Jon looked nauseated. I completely related to how he was feeling.

"Do you want me to stop?"

He schooled his features into a neutral expression and looked at me.

"No, not unless you want to or need to."

"I prefer to get it all out, if you don't mind."

"I told you I would listen to anything and everything you wanted to say. I'm a man of my word."

"I never doubted that, Jon. But, if you want a break from all this misery I wouldn't hold it against you. Plus, you wouldn't be breaking any promises."

"I'm fine. Please, carry on."

"As you wish."

I took a steadying breath and continued.

"One night she was picked up by this John. He was young, handsome, polite, preppy and was driving this fancy car. He told her he was lonely because his girlfriend had broken up with him. He offered her double her normal fee. She thought it was her lucky night. It turned out to be quite the contrary. He drove them into the woods, asked her to get out of the car saying he wanted to take a walk first and talk, since it was his first time paying for sex. She believed him, of course. Once they were deep in the woods and in the dark he began beating her bloody and proceeded to rape her. I won't get into the details, because I wish I could bleach them off my brain. He choked her and beat her. However, Irri was a smart girl. She tried to fight him off for a while, but she soon realized it wouldn't help. So, she played dead. After he had his way with her and his psychotic rage was spent, he left her for dead. But, he wasn't as smart as he thought himself to be, because he didn't check. She had seen his car, his license plate, his face, everything. He meant to kill her. He was a budding serial killer. Irri waited until the sun rose and walked up, well dragged herself, to the main road, bloody and beaten and she flagged down a car. For once in her life a nice guy came to her rescue. He was horrified by her state and her young age. He took her to the nearest hospital. They did a rape kit and treated her wounds. She was in bad shape and was in the hospital for over a month. Child Protective Services were called, and she was adamant she wanted to press charges. She was fucking brave. She remembered every detail about his car, even the license plate. It was something the older prostitutes had taught her to do. So, he was easily found. And that's how the case came to the DA's office where I was working as an intern."

I had to stop for a bit. Reliving all this misery and pain wasn't easy. I was about to reach for my glass to drink some water, when I realized I had broken it in my little fit of rage. So, I got up and walked towards the mini fridge and got a bottle of water. I was about to get another glass, but thought better off it. It was safer with just the plastic bottle. I opened it, walked back to my chair and gulped down half its content. Jon's eyes had tracked my every move and he looked concerned.

"Are you okay, Daenerys?"

"I'm as okay as I can be. I just needed a little break."

"No wonder why."

"It's too horrifying. The mind can't only take so much, before you want to scream, break something or kill someone."

"Yes. I feel very homicidal right about now."

"I'm sure you do. It's quite normal. I'd find it strange if you didn't. But, don't worry. I'm almost done with Irri's story."

"Why do I get the feeling that it doesn't have a happy ending?"

"Because you're a smart man."

Jon looked murderous, indeed. I didn't think he was doing it consciously, but he had started to emanate this aura of menace. His posture shifted, his facial expression was almost alien. It was his inner predator coming out, his inner feral wolf. I had seen it once in all it's deadly glory. It was the scariest thing I had ever seen, but I hadn't felt scared at all. First, it was Jon and I trusted him even then. Second, I found it incredibly hot and arousing. It was so fucked up and twisted that I even considered calling a fucking therapist. But, I think I had figured it out, or at least tried justifying it to myself to make me feel better and not like a sick woman who was attracted to killers. It was a hindbrain thing. Jon was an Apex Predator, he was at the very top of the food chain. The tip of the pyramid. I figured the most primitive part of my brain was a smart bitch and thought to herself: he's the best hunter, he can protect me and our offspring will be strong and survive. Very Darwin of her. So, her strongest thought was: mate with him now. I couldn't blame her.

However, I certainly could blame me. I wasn't a cave woman. I lived in the twenty first century, plus I didn't need him to protect me and I didn't want to have children. But, it made no difference. I still got hot and bothered when he did that. It was happening now. So, I put a stop to it.

"Hey there, killer. Easy now. There's nothing you can do, unless you have a time machine you haven't told me about. Would you mind tucking your fangs and claws back in? You're scaring the children."

And just like that regular Jon was back, like I had just hallucinated the whole thing. It was incredible how fast he could turn into a predator and equally as fast go back to being a regular, albeit extremely hot, guy. It made it even scarier, or hotter, if you were me.

"I'm sorry." He said abashed.

"Sorry about what?"

He sighed.

"You know what I mean."

"Oh, you mean the whole blink I'm a predator, blink I'm just Jon thing?"

He nodded.

"No apology needed, I really don't mind. I just called you back, because it seemed you were doing it unconsciously. There's no threat, so no need for it."

Jon stared at me, he seemed shocked. I couldn't imagine why.

"You really aren't afraid of me, even when I do that, are you?"

"Nope, not at all. I'm sorry if that hurts your male ego or something, but it really doesn't faze me. It's just a part of you that I rarely get to see, but it's still you. I trust you. If you want to let it out more often, but are afraid of my reaction, don't be. I can't speak for others though, so rein it in around our clients. Other than that, just be yourself. Or your badass self. Whichever you want." I shrugged.

He wouldn't stop staring at me. He had a strange expression on his face that I couldn't identify.

"God, Daenerys. You're…"

He cut himself off, and I almost finished for him: …fucked up in the head.

"What?"

He shook his head.

"Never mind. So, what happened next?"

"Well, her case went to trial. The psychopath showed up with four lawyers, really expensive ones, all wearing three thousand dollars suits. He looked like a perfectly normal 22 year old college guy. He was handsome, well I guess that's a matter of taste, because even if I didn't know he was a pedophile and a budding serial killer, I wouldn't have been attracted to him. Anyway, he went to a great school, he got excellent grades, he was popular, he had dated age appropriate women without any issues, he played lacrosse, dressed like a preppy nerd, was always polite, went to Church and even volunteered at a soup kitchen. Oh, and his parents were millionaires and very well connected, politically speaking."

"He was a smart psychopath, I'll give him that. That fucking scumbag. Anyway, in the other corner we had Irri, a 14 year old prostitute, with no character witnesses, basically asking the Court to take her at her word. The asshole had used a condom, so the rape kit wasn't helpful. There wasn't any physical evidence either, which I find suspicious until this day and nobody will convince me otherwise."

Jon interrupted me.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Jon. NO physical evidence? I accept no semen, since he used a rubber. But, he beat her bloody and she had fought back in the beginning. And there wasn't any of his hair on her? No skin cells under her nails? Nothing at all with his DNA on her? Don't you find that strange? Because I certainly do. My theory is that his family and/or his lawyers bribed the lab technicians to make it all disappear."

"You have a very good point."

"I know, sadly I was never able to prove it. So, as I said it's just a theory. Anyway, so we had this good old boy and then Irri. No evidence, besides her word. The scales were tipped heavily in his favor. Irri was so fucking brave, though. She took the stand and told the whole story, the truth. Every single detail of the nightmare she had gone through. In the cross examination they utterly destroyed her. His lawyers claimed she was mentally ill, that she was just looking to extort money from his family, that it had been her pimp that had done that to her, that they had been in cahoots to explore a respectable and wealthy gentleman. They said she had done it before. It was beyond sickening. Finally, they called her parents and her first rapist to the stand. They confirmed she had a habit of lying and accusing good men of rape, that she had always been a lying whore and had no morals or character. I wanted to kill them all. I really did. And they would have deserve it. Meanwhile, he had plenty of character witnesses singing his many praises. He took the stand and butter would have melted in his mouth. He even had the nerve to say how sorry he felt for her and once he had proven his innocence, he was going to help her get out of that life. I never felt such rage and disgust before while listening to him that day on the stand. If I had been armed I'd have shot him between the eyes and gone to prison with a smile on my face. Things were looking bleak for Irri."

I had to stop. I felt like throwing up. So, I just breathed in and out, in and out…

"Jesus, Daenerys. That's the most horrifying thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, but it gets worse."

Jon looked like someone had just shot his puppy.

"She never had a fucking chance. The jury found him not guilty and that was it. The fucking asshole walked out of the Courthouse with his head held high. A free man, or better yet, a free subhuman creature. And Irri once again was let down, betrayed, humiliated and basically told she was worthless. Her whole life had been misery. It was heartbreaking."

I took a few deep breaths and gulped down the rest of my water. I didn't know if I had in me to keep going anymore, when Jon spoke.

"What happened to her?"

Damn it all to hell. This was it. The hardest part of the story to tell. Not the end of it by far, but the part that had hurt and still hurt the most. It would hurt forever. But I had made my peace with that.

"She hung herself with a bedsheet in a shower stall at the group home Child Protective Services had put her in."

My voice was completely flat and devoid of all emotion, but inside my heart was breaking all over again. I had a crazy thought that I could hear it. Crack, it went. I remembered her smile, her beautiful face, how brave she was, the times she cried on my lap, how she had once hugged me and thanked me while telling me I was the first person who had cared about her ever since her parents had kicked her out. I remembered what they did to her in that witness stand, how they broke her beyond repair. She had survived so much pain, abuse and hardship, but those smug motherfuckers managed to suck her dry, even of her will to live, just with their twisted words, lies and accusations. Even her goddamn parents had helped them do that to her. She was just a child, but they didn't care. Money was their God. I hoped they would all burn in hell when their time came. Not very Christian of me, but I was never a good Catholic girl anyway. It's hard to be very religious when you can think for yourself and have seen some of the shit I have seen.

It was just too much. All my energy was focused on doing everything I could to keep my composure. I wasn't going to cry. I never cried. I couldn't cry. Not in front of anyone. Especially not in front of Jon. I was his boss and more importantly I didn't want him to see me as weak. I couldn't bear the thought of him treating me like I was made of glass. I had worked too hard to become who I was now and to be seen a certain way. Image is power, no matter the lies they tell you that say otherwise.

Unfortunately, sometimes, and in my case, in extremely rare times, your pain and your emotions get the best of you. So, as much as I had tried to use every tactic I knew, thrown up every mental wall, shield and defense I had, I lost the fight with myself. I just wasn't strong enough, but I would work hard on rectifying that, that I would. At least I wasn't sobbing or waling. I should have been grateful for that, at least. Hell would freeze over before I did that in front of anyone, especially Jon. But as much as I tried to contain it, I couldn't. So, big, fat, hot, silent tears started to roll down from my eyes. I was powerless over them. It was like a faucet had been opened and gotten stuck in that position. I couldn't make them stop; I couldn't even slow them down. They just rolled down my cheeks, past my jaw and fell onto the papers on my desk.

Splat. Splat. Splat…

They didn't actually make any sound that I could physically hear, but I heard them in my head nonetheless. In my mind they were so loud, the sound of my shame and heartbreak, although absolute silence reigned in my office. They were the physical manifestation of my pain and there was nothing I could do to hide it.

I had shocked Jon into silence with the end of Irri's story and especially with my reaction. I was deeply embarrassed and wanted to run and hide, but I would never do that. Ever. The crying was already bad enough. So, I just pretended I wasn't crying - nothing to see here folks - and finally raised my eyes defiantly to look at Jon.

He was blurry because of my tears, but I still could read his expression well enough. I had expected pity. It wasn't there at all. He was looking at me with compassion and such tenderness that it made me want to cry even more. What the fuck was wrong with me? The honest answer at the moment was: many, many things.

"Daenerys?"

Splat. Splat. Splat…

"Yeah?"

My voice sounded totally normal. Besides the tears that wouldn't stop coming, it was like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. I refused to wipe them away. It would just call more attention to them. I decided denial wasn't just a river in Egypt and to fully embrace it. It was very out of character for me, but so were the last few minutes. This was a side of me that not many people saw. Actually, just Missandei. And now, Jon.

It seemed he didn't know what to say or do. He had managed to call my name, but now he had no idea how to proceed. If the crack in my heart had sealed itself already, I would have laughed and laughed. Why is it that most men have trouble with crying women? Jon was a deadly, highly skilled killer and an intelligence officer in our military for 10 years. He had seen horrors I couldn't even imagine, and I had a great imagination, especially regarding horrors, but he was completely helpless in the face of my tears.

It was deeply ironic that something so tragic, had caused such comical behavior.

"Daenerys, stand up, please."

Huh?

"Why?"

What the fuck was he on about? I was still too raw and the tears were still coming, so I admit I was not even close to my best. But why should I stand? Did he think standing up made tears go away?

"Just indulge me, please."

His tone of voice had changed completely after he had called my name tentatively and stalled there. Although, he was being polite and saying please, there was a subtle command underneath it all. I was puzzled. At least he wasn't treating me like I was made of porcelain. I guess that's why I obeyed. Even though taking orders from anyone went against everything I believed.

I stood up like an idiot, still looking at him. He stood up too. His gaze was intense and there were a lot of emotions there. I was so off my game I wasn't even able to read any of them. We stood face to face. Me, behind my desk with those fucking non-stop tears, and he across the desk from me. Broad, strong and fierce, occupying more space than anyone had a right to, and he was gorgeous as usual. Was I ever going to get use to his physical presence and looks? I sincerely hoped so.

I knew there was something deeply fucked up about me right then and there. Why was I thinking about Jon's hotness at a time like this? It was twisted. Was it my brain trying to focus on something mundane and agreeable, so I could escape the pain? Can eye candy be considered pain reliever? If so, I should parade Jon through every hospital and hospice, it'd be a great public service.

While I was having those completely irrational thoughts, Jon moved. He walked around my desk and stopped a couple of feet away from me. I turned slowly and instinctively towards him. I was still out of it and wondering what the hell was going on. Why was Jon so close to me and just staring into my eyes? Maybe some of my IQ points were mixed into my tears that were still coming and I was losing them, because I felt like a complete idiot. I was confused about Jon's actions and had no idea what to do or say about them. His eyes bore into mine, and I had no idea what he was seeing there, nor the mental capacity at that moment to read his.

Finally, I couldn't take the deeply weird stalemate anymore.

"What?"

"Give me a hug." Jon said calmly and firmly.

WHAT?

"What?" I couldn't keep the shock out of my voice.

"Just give me a hug, Daenerys. It might make you feel better."

"I don't need a hug. I'm fine." My mental state and traitorous tears said otherwise.

"You're crying."

"No, I'm not. I don't cry." I said indignantly and with conviction.

It was childish of me, but for some reason I refused to acknowledge them to him. I wasn't fooling him, nor me, but my pride just wouldn't let me be honest right then. It was completely out of character, again. I needed to get a fucking grip on myself and fast. Otherwise I'd soon be on a nice and white padded cell in an Institution mumbling to myself and getting regular shots of Haldol.

"Okay. I apologize for my mistake and retract my previous statement. I'll point out instead that you seem to be leaking."

He smiled slightly and tried to keep the sarcasm out of what he said. I heard it anyway.

I laughed a little and crossed my arms over my chest. A classic defensive body posture.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Jon."

He smiled and nodded.

"Okay. I'm still waiting for a hug, though."

He opened his arms. It was tempting. But, I just couldn't do it.

I shook my head from side to side.

"I told you already, I'm fine. I don't need a hug. Plus, we don't hug. We have never hugged before."

Jon rolled his eyes.

"What if I'm the one that needs the hug, Daenerys? Have you considered that? And you're right, we have never hugged before, but there's a first time for everything. Also, I didn't know about this non-hugging rule. Is it in my contract? I don't remember reading it. It's in the firm's by-laws? Now, I'm feeling a little upset that you, as my boss, never mentioned said rule. It seems like a serious dereliction of duty on your part."

Now, I was the one rolling my eyes.

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. You're just being a smart ass."

"I don't think so, I think I'm raising valid questions. What's wrong, Daenerys? Are you afraid of hugging me?"

Now his smile was wide and he had arched an eyebrow.

Son of a bitch, he knew me well. He knew I didn't back out from dares and hated being told I was afraid of anything.

"Yes, Jon. I'm shaking in my boots. My fragile female mind and constitution is afraid of hugging your very manly self and having a case of the vapors. What if I faint? Do you have some smelling salts in your pockets?"

"Daenerys?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and hug me."

It sounded like an order. I was shocked by him telling me to shut up and by his very commanding tone. Well, after spending 10 years of his life in the armed forces, Jon knew how to issue orders. He was so good at it that my feet moved without my conscious command and suddenly Jon and I were hugging. My head was buried in his chest with his strong arms wrapped around me. He felt even bigger when we were so closely intertwined. I felt tiny, safe, comforted and cared for. I cried harder, although I still didn't make a sound and my face was hidden in his chest. But, I knew he could feel it. My tears were soaking his shirt. He tightened his anaconda arms even more tightly around me. I have no idea how long we stayed like that. My awareness only came back when my tears had finally run dry and I felt one of his hands rubbing small circles on my back. How long had he been doing that? I hadn't even noticed.

I felt lighter. The crying had helped, but hugging Jon had been the best medicine of all. I hadn't realized how starved I had been for human contact. I wasn't a very touchy-feely person, at least not since my family had died, and even before only with them. I didn't think Jon was a touchy-feely person either, actually until today I would have sworn he wasn't, but maybe I was wrong. I knew Missandei and I had hugged before, but for the life of me I couldn't remember the last time it had happened. A long time ago, I was sure of it. I shook hands with people all the time, but I hadn't had any close human contact in years. Was that why it had felt so heavenly, even under the circumstances, or was it because it was Jon? That last thought was incredibly troubling to me.

Once I was back to pretty much my regular self, I started to feel uncomfortable. It had felt amazing to be hugged and comforted by Jon, and I couldn't deny that a part of me was still enjoying it and never wanted to let go. That thought and the feeling that he now had the upper hand somehow in our relationship, made me disengage, although I knew I was being petty. He was a good guy, a great guy. He had shown me so much kindness, something not many people had, when I most needed it. I didn't really believe he had done it with any type of agenda, but old habits and deeply ingrained paranoia die hard. I had to treat it for exactly what it was: an act of kindness and friendship. I just couldn't make a habit of hugging Jon. It was unprofessional and the effect it had on me wasn't something I could indulge in. It was better to avoid the temptation. Nothing good could come off it.

So, I slowly unburied my face from his chest, slackened my arms that had been hugging his back for dear life and pulled them back to my side. He reacted to my actions. First, he hugged me tighter to him, very briefly, and then lowered his arms. We were now standing chest to chest, but not hugging anymore. I wanted to look up into his eyes, but I was embarrassed and afraid of what I'd see in his expression, so I chickened out. I was about to step away when he did something that surprised the hell out of me. He kissed the top of my head. It was a quick peck, but it was such a tender gesture, I almost hugged him again. It reminded me of something he had done the day of the "incident", although under entirely different circumstances.

I guess I had been wrong about him and he was a touchy-feely type of person. Who would have guessed?

Finally, I stepped away from him and walked back towards my desk and chair. I needed to sit down. I felt him moving back to the chair he had been sitting in too. I still couldn't look directly at him, but I had to say something, so I did.

"Thank you, Jon."

It was heartfelt.

"Anytime, little lady. I'll even start carrying some smelling salts for next time."

I laughed and finally looked at him. He was grinning.

"Why, thank you ever so much, kind gentleman, but I don't remember fainting. Did I?"

"You didn't, m'lady. I was very impressed."

I laughed harder. And we grinned at each other.

However, something was still bothering me. I hadn't shown that much vulnerability to anyone in years. It left me feeling deeply exposed and weak. I didn't want Jon to see me that way. I couldn't work with him anymore if what had just happened had changed how he viewed me, especially if he started to treat me with kid's gloves. I wasn't made of glass and I couldn't bear if he thought I was. What had just happened was the exception to the rule and I had no plans or worries about a repeat performance from me.

"Jon?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not a delicate flower." I said it in my most serious tone.

"You? A delicate flower?"

And then he was laughing like that was the funniest thought ever. Deep belly laughs. I waited it out. He was chortling by the end. Once his mirth was done with, he looked directly into my eyes.

"Daenerys, that was a great joke. You, a delicate flower. You're Wolverine's Adamantium Claws."

My relief was so great, I didn't even laugh at his comment.

"I'm glad we cleared that up." I said seriously.

Jon looked puzzled.

"Was there ever any confusion? I wasn't aware."

I smiled.

"Well, the whole leaking thing could have caused some misunderstanding."

Jon rolled his eyes.

"Oh yes, your pain for the loss of someone you loved, in such a horrific way, makes you a delicate flower. I just thought it made you human, like the rest of us. If you had no reaction, you'd have scared the hell out of me. You're scary enough as it is."

"I'm scary? You're the highly trained silent killing machine. I think you win by a very large margin on the scary scale. Hypothetical question here, do you have any doubts that if we ever went against each other, you'd easily win?"

"Yes, I have doubts. I might be stronger physically, but you're mentally stronger than me. Of course, in a one on one physical fight I'd have the advantage. But, you'd never confront me that way, you're too smart for that. So, yeah, let's just agree we're both scary in our own ways and have our own strengths. Also, I didn't know this was a competition."

I was rendered mute by his words. He seemed completely honest and I was deeply flattered, although I disagreed.

"I never said it was a competition, it's not. Hence, the use of the word hypothetical. Plus, we're a team, aren't we?"

"We are. You have no idea how glad I am of that fact."

"Me too."

We smiled at each other.

"Daenerys, are you okay?"

"I am now. You're a big reason why, so although I already said it, thank you."

"It was my pleasure. As we just agreed, we're a team, so I'm here whenever you need me. And I'm sure you'll be there for me when I need you."

"Of course, I will." I said with conviction.

Jon smiled.

"I never doubted that for a minute."

"I'm glad. And don't worry I'll get some smelling salts too, so when you're the one needing a hug, you won't faint, at least not for long, from all my womanly charms and power."

He laughed and we lapse into a comfortable silence. It was a great respite from all the talking and all the pain of the last hour.

Jon got up and started to clean the mess I made when I broke the glass. I protested that I should be the one doing it, since it was my mess. He replied that he was my assistant and it was his job to clean up my messes. It was all very playful and in the end he won the "argument" because I was mentally and physically drained. I knew he knew that and it was the reason he let me sit and relax while he cleaned everything up. I was lucky to have him in my life, both professionally and personally.

After he was done and I was also done printing new copies of the papers that had gotten ruined by my tears, Jon sat back down in the chair across from me.

"Are you okay"

"Jon, if you ask me one more time if I'm okay I'm going to shoot you."

He laughed and held both his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender.

"See, scary."

"You're not as funny as you think you are, you know."

"Oh, I don't know. You seem to laugh at my jokes quite frequently."

"That's just to make you feel better about yourself. I'm a benevolent boss. I like my employees to have self-esteem."

Jon dramatically put his hand to his chest.

"You wound me, boss."

"Yeah, yeah, take your complaints to HR then."

"I'm afraid you'll shoot me if I do. I've seen you in action, I'm not willing to take that chance."

"I just might, to shut you up at the very least."

We smiled at each other. Jon looked away for a moment and when he looked back at me his expression had changed. It was hesitant and very serious. What now?

"Can I ask one last question?"

From the look in his eyes and his tone, I knew it had something to do with Irri. He was afraid of causing me more pain, but I was fine for the moment. The worst had been told, felt and dealt with, the story wasn't over yet anyway, so I didn't have any problems with him asking me whatever he wanted.

"Sure. Go ahead."

"So, that's why you decided to abandon your law career? I can understand why that would make someone want to quit."

After he uttered his question, he suddenly looked puzzled, I knew why. I had worked as a lawyer after I graduated for about two years after Irri's death. He was probably doing the math in his head and realizing it didn't add up.

I laughed.

"No, Jon. Although, I was disgusted with the trial lawyers, disillusioned about our Justice System, and devastated by Irri's suicide, that was not the reason. Well, certainly not the only or even the main one. But, I won't deny it was the first seed that was planted in my mind that I wasn't in the right path. What happened next was certainly the nail in the coffin though."

Jon looked utterly shocked, like I had just slapped him.

"There's more?"

He sounded incredulous.

The poor man, he had NO idea. And some instinct told me he would like this story even less than the first. Me, I was partial to the second one myself.

I gave him the first genuine smile I had been able to manage since our whole conversation about my past had started. Though, I must add that there was a dangerous edge to it.

"Of course there is. From what you know of me so far, did you really think I'd let Irri's suicide stand?"

"You were only 21 years old!"

"But, I was still me. Granted, I've changed in the last 12 years, we all do, but I was still the same person. The core of what makes me ME was exactly the same. I think time and maturity only enhances our personalities, very, very rarely they change us in any significant way. Wouldn't you agree?"

He nodded in a sort of absently minded way.

Then he looked torn between worry and curiosity.

"What did you do?"

There was a fatalistic tone to his question and he rubbed his face with both hands. I laughed again.

"If you really want to know, I'll tell you. Do you want to hear the sanitized version or the gory one?"

Jon shook his head from side to side, like he just couldn't believe what he was hearing. And sighed quite loudly.

"I'll take the gory one for a thousand, Alex."

I laughed harder. It was moments like this that made me appreciate Jon even more each new day.

"Gory it is, then."

A/N: So, what did you guys think of this chapter? It's my own favorite so far. What about their banter? Did you like it? And the development of their relationship? And what do you think Daenerys did after Irri's death? I'm still finishing some touches on the next chapter and I can change somethings depending on your thoughts and suggestions. I don't mind criticism at all, I do value all and any feedback though. The more comments I get the faster the new chapter will be up! I'm going to be bratty and won't post the next chapter until I get some feedback/comments, please. I think this chapter deserves it, don't you?

Thanks in advance!

Also, I have already posted 6 chapters of this story and only got 2 reviews so far. If people have no interest in the this story, I'll stop posting it.

PS: I post under the same name on AO3, if you prefer to read the story there.