Rifiuto: Non Mirena

"Go home, Carter. Get some rest. I'll stay with her." The sheriff turned; Zane stood behind him, concern in his blue eyes. Carter sighed; Zane had caused sheer hell when he first arrived in Eureka, nearly two years ago- he still raised hell, usually just for fun nowadays- but overall, Carter had to note, that he'd turned into quite a fine young man.

'The best ones are wild, like a portini mushroom.' He shook his head, as Sam Lovejoy's words came rushing back to him, before he got up. He turned to Zane, eyes tired. "If anything happens-"

"I'll call." He nodded, patting the younger man on the back and leaving the room. He cast one last glance back to see Zane sit, and reach out to take her hand. She shifted in her sleep but didn't stir. Once the sheriff was gone, Zane turned his attention to studying the young woman in the bed. She looked like she were in her mid-teens, not in her early thirties. Her long dark hair was down around her shoulders, coarse and thick, and her skin was a beautiful shade of olive, though she still appeared pale and fragile. She was thin, as though she'd lost serious amounts of weight, making her look more like a Holocaust survivor than a girl. There were dark circles under her eyes, and he could see the sharpness of her beautiful high cheekbones, her long, dark lashes casting shadows onto her skin. Her breathing was even, as though this were the first good sleep she'd gotten in years-

It probably is. Zane sighed, watching as she shifted onto her side. He studied the small, slender fingers he held, noticing the knuckles cracked and broken. Her hands were small, tiny even, and he wondered what it would be like to lay in bed with her on his chest, to play with her fingers after a night of making love. She shifted, catching her breath, and he stopped his examination. Her chest rose and fell slowly, her face turned away from him. He glanced behind him; the night staff were probably off in the lobby, leaving them alone. That they would trust him like this-

Well, they trusted him because Allison trusted him.

Eventually, Zane got up, slipping into the lobby and grabbing a magazine, figuring he'd need something to keep himself occupied while she slept. When he returned, he settled back in the chair, flipping open the magazine, casting a glance towards her every so often. She didn't wake; barely stirred, but when she did, it was with a soft, sharp intake of breath. Her eyes snapped open, and she slowly turned onto her back, to see Zane sitting beside her. He watched her, his blue eyes drinking in the pain that flashed over her features and the fear in her eyes. He quickly put the magazine down and scooted to the edge of the chair, reaching out to take her hand. "Hey sleepy head. You okay?" She winced as he reached out and gently brushed a tear off her cheek, her dark eyes darting up to examine his face. Slowly, he pulled away, realizing that the emotion in her eyes was distrust, panic, and hurt. A moment passed, before she pushed herself up and laid back against the pillows.

"What... are you doing here? Where's... Sheriff Carter?" He sighed.

"He went home to get some sleep. I... told him I'd look after you. Is that okay?" She seemed to consider this, before eventually nodding. They fell into silence for several minutes, before she asked,

"What's your name again?"

"Zane." She nodded, her mouth silently going over the letters of his name.

"Zane... what's it mean?" He started.

"Um... I... I never really... I don't... I don't know. I never really thought about it." She nodded again, thinking.

"The... original meaning is... unknown, but some... speculate that it could mean "God's gracious gift" in Hebrew. It's also... popular as a girl's name in Latvia. Another possible meaning could be 'beloved'; it's strong and spirited, wild. It does have it's roots in literature as well- the well known western fiction writer Pearl Zane Grey dropped the Pearl and wrote under the name Zane Grey. He wrote over ninety books in his lifetime; his most well known is perhaps The Lone Ranger, that was published in nineteen-fifteen and made into a film in nineteen-thirty, it was originally a radio show. He had a son- Romer Zane Grey who was an animator. Zane Grey died on October twenty-third, ninteen-thirty-nine in his home in California from heart failure at age sixty-seven. He's... still quite popular today."

A moment passed, before he asked, "How... how do you know that? You read?" She shrugged, looking down at the blanket.

"There wasn't much to do. I read everything I could get my hands on- everything I was allowed. He always kept books around; I had to teach myself; he wouldn't send me to school." Zane nodded. He bit his lip. He could ask her, but there was a good chance she'd shut down and not tell him anything. Better to take a chance than not.

"Um... Jo..." She looked up from picking at the blanket. "What's... what's he like? Your captor?" Her dark eyes filled with something Zane couldn't identify.

"He wasn't my captor. He... he was but... but he wasn't..." She stopped, tears in her eyes. Gently, Zane reached out, brushing tears off her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. What was he like, then?" She took a deep breath, teeth sliding out to grasp her lip. "Okay, you don't have to tell me. It's probably still fresh-"

"Like it happened yesterday." She cracked, a small smile tugging at her lips. He gave her one in return, and she sighed, laying her head back against the pillows. "When can I go home?"

"Not for a while, Jo." Zane whispered, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "We need to make sure you're okay. Make sure you're all right, that you're healthy and that this guy gets caught." He watched the panic and fear flash across her face, and Carter's words rushed back to him.

"A captive exhibits empathy or sympathy for their captor. It's not uncommon, they feel responsible for their captor being captured or killed, they feel abandoned without their captor around, and so try to rationalize it away- the feelings of relief and freedom. Most who suffer don't feel like they deserve to be out of their captivity, because they've been in it for so long and don't know how to adjust."

When he looked up next, it was to her dark eyes watching him intently. He swallowed. "Um... are you okay?" She shrugged, reaching down to play with the blanket. "So..." He thought back on their first ever conversation. "What exactly do you want to do when Allison releases you?" She seemed to think for a moment. "Besides go home."

"I guess... I... no."

"What?" She shook her head.

"Never mind. It's stupid."

"Not if it's something you want to do." She looked up at him, biting her lip. "What is it?"

"I... I want to have a hotdog. With everything on it- relish, onions, everything. And cherry pie. And chocolate ice cream. And... and a candy bar... and... and... popcorn, straight from the bag and... and chocolate chip cookies and candy canes and... and my dad's chili and cupcakes and... and soda and..."

Zane chuckled. "You didn't get enough of that stuff when he had you in captivity?" Her face fell.

"I didn't get any of that. He wouldn't let me. He hunted everything we ate. Never went to the store. I hardly ever left the cabin- except to go with him to the apartment." Zane nodded. He stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Where are you going?" He turned back to her.

"I'll be right back, I just have to make a phone call, okay?" He whispered, before- and he had no clue what possessed him- he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. As he slipped into the lobby, the feel of her skin still on his lips, he quickly dialed his number, silently ordering Carter to pick up. Ten minutes later,

"'llo?"

"Carter? It's Zane... yeah, I... I've got something you might want to know..." He glanced back towards Jo before continuing. "I think Jo just gave us a clue as to where he'd been holding her."