What Love Is

Author's Note: My computer was being annoying and not letting me post chapters for a while, and even though I have suddenly regained the ability, I don't know what caused the confusion in the first place, so chapters may be sporatically added.

Chapter 3: Handle

Eyewitness: Martin Fitzgerald

I can't move.

With every muscle twitch, pain shoots through my body like a lightening bolt. I want to cry, but I hold it back.

I need a plan.

I need to get up.

Later.

Think now.

I need to go to the hospital. That still requires getting up. Damn.

Ignoring the pain as much as I can, I flip my body over. Owe! Okay…

Sitting up is harder, but I manage. Okay, sitting is bad. Standing seems impossible, but anything has to be better than sitting. Straining muscles I never knew I had, I'm standing. Walking is next. One foot in front of the other…it's not so difficult. I can handle this.

Very slowly, I pull on sweat pants and a shirt. I wrap a sweatshirt around my waist, just in case there's a stain…I don't want to think about it.

I take the elevator down to the garage, because I don't think stairs are even a possibility at this point, and find my car. Grimacing as I'm forced to sit again, I discover I'm actually handling the pain better now. Adrenaline is handy.

The hospital is only a twenty-minute drive, and as I step out, I realize I'm at the end of my plan. I made it to the hospital, but what now? Am I an emergency? I'm not dying.

The nurse can handle that. I need help, so I'm going to the closest entrance there is: Emergency.

With a noticeable limp, I make my way to the admittance desk.

The nurse there, who can't be more than twenty-two, glances up at me, "How can I help you, Sir?"

"I'm admitting myself to the hospital." I feel this is fairly obvious.

"Please just take these forms and we'll be with you as soon as we can."

"I can't wait."

"Sir, unless this is a real emergency, you need to wait over there."

I lean in close, "I was just raped, and the evidence will only last so long. I need to see someone now."

Her mouth gapes open, "I'll page Dr. Ryner."

That got her. It got me, too, though. I didn't think I would be able to admit what just happened to me so easily.

The next few minutes are a blur. Dr. Ryner, I assume, guides me to a small room and shuts the door. The walls are white, and the bed is soft. I find a position in which I can sit almost comfortably.

"I need you to remove your pants."

What? "What?"

"I'm going to run a rape kit on you. It will only be a few minutes, and I'll be as careful as possible, but I need you to remove your pants first."

I just stare back. I know I'm being uncooperative, but staring is just easier.

"Listen, I know this would probably be easier on you if you had a male doctor, but I'm the only doctor available. I'll make this as quick and painless as possible, I promise."

She covers the lower half of my body with a blanket and my pants come off.

Dr. Ryner keeps her word. Aside from the fact that I have to be penetrated, again, the procedure is bearable.

"There is minor tearing, but nothing you should be worried about. This should fix you all up. I'm going to apply an ointment. You may want to pick up some hemorrhoid cream." That said, she returns my pants.

A knock comes from the door, and who would have thought that would be a trigger for unwanted memories? I suppress them, knowing I'm just going to give myself an ulcer in the end, yet not caring.

Dr. Ryner answers it, and a police officer enters. Oh, I hate parallelism.

He walks toward me, and I don't flinch. He holds his hand out, and I complete the handshake. I'm holding it together.

"Hello, my name is Lieutenant Kyle Biggs."

"Martin Fitzgerald."

His eyes widen, "As in Director Fitzgerald's son?"

Seriously?!? This could not get worse. "As in Special Agent for the FBI."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. Special Agent Fitzgerald, are you planning on making a report?"

I think about it. Do I want this to continue? Could I just drop it if I wanted to? No, I started this, and now I have to finish it. I nod my head.

"Do you know the identity of the person who attacked you?"

I just stare back at him. I'm becoming pretty good at that.

Biggs chews on his bottom lip for a moment, seeming to mull something over in his mind, "Listen, you're more than capable of making this report on your own. I'll just gather the evidence and testify for you in court."

The clouds part. That's the nicest thing I've heard in…hours, "Thank you."

"No problem, Sir," and he leaves.

The 'Sir' is completely unnecessary. He says it just to show he still respects me. I'm actually happy. I think I'm even smiling.

Dr. Ryner nods, "He's a great guy. Now, let me take a look at that cheek. You've got a real shiner there." She applies gentle probes to the bruised area and I grimace. "Tender?" she asks. At my nod, she pulls back, "Well, it doesn't feel like anything is broken, so we'll just have to let it heal the old fashioned way: with time."

She scribbles something down on my chart, and stands up, "Now I'd like to admit you for overnight observation-"

I'm already shaking my head.

"-but, I didn't think you'd go for that. I'll have your tests done by Friday, and I'll hold that as leverage to ensure you'll show up for a check-up on that day. Oh, and fill these out," she hands me the forms I'd received at the admittance desk.

We each fill out our paperwork, and I welcome the quiet. I complete most of it without paying much attention, so I'm only vaguely sure my information is accurate. Upon completion, I ease off my bed, "Are we done here?"

Dr. Ryner clicks her pen closed, and takes my papers from me, "I believe so. There is a bathroom right in here. You can use it to clean up a bit."

"Thank you. Good night."

"See you on Friday," she corrects, and shuts the door behind herself.

I enter the small bathroom connected to my room, and it dawns on me that I'd been treated in a patient's room, not in the normal treatment areas, where privacy comes in the form of a flimsy curtain. A lot of people went out of their way to accommodate me tonight. It brings newfound warmth.

My luck must be on the rise, because my bathroom has a shower in it. I lock the door behind me and turn the water on hot. Stepping out of my clothes, I decide, no matter how unsettling it may be, I have to check my pants for stains. My luck holds: they're clean.

I step into the shower and instantly feel better. The horror and filth of the day is rinsed away in soapy heat. I walk out of the shower feeling refreshed, all bad thoughts pushed to the back of my mind. I dress and make my way out of the hospital.

As I sit in my car, it hits me: I can't go home. I can't sleep in my bed. Oh no…

Could I go to Danny? I don't even know where I stand with him. We only had one night, and he wasn't there when I returned home. Should I expect him to take me in without warning?

Should I expect him to deal with me now that I've been raped?

I can't tell him. He may accept me showing up late at his doorstep, but I can't risk giving him anymore reason to reject me. I need him now…

I'm driving. I don't remember starting the car or pulling out of the parking lot, but I'm driving. I'm driving to Danny's place. Apparently my body made the decision and didn't want the mind to interfere. I can't blame it.

I'm walking up to his building. Apparently my body parked the car somewhere. I hope I can find it tomorrow.

I'm knocking on his door.

There's no answer.

Danny is a pretty deep sleeper, so I'm not surprised my shy taps don't wake him.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my keys. Danny's house-key lands on top. He gave it to me years ago, probably so I could tend to his home at some point, and until now, it has never been used.

I slide it into the keyhole and quietly unlock the door. I lock the door behind myself and set my keys down on the coffee table, making myself at home.

It's not easy in the darkness of night, but I find Danny's bedroom. His door is open, so I invite myself in.

"Danny?" I whisper.

"Hmm…Martin?"

"Yeah, it's me."

The faint light of a sign across the street illuminates Danny's bed, and I make my way over to him.

He shuffles to the side and pats the portion of mattress in front of him, "Come here." His voice is still thick with sleep.

I slide into bed and press my back into his chest. The warmth is comforting.

He brings his hand under my shirt as he kisses the back of my neck.

"Danny, th-that's not why I'm here."

He pulls his hand away, "Why are you here, Martin?"

I turn myself over and curl up against his chest.

Only momentarily startled, Martin relaxes with a happy hum. He brings his arms around me and holds me close.

I allow the security of his embrace to lull me into sleep.