A/N: I realized I forgot to put the usual disclaimer on the last chapter, but you all know the drill – the characters here aren't mine, and I'm just borrowing.

Due to a computer glitch, I lost 3 pages of text. --sigh-- And since I decided I'm going to make an attempt to update about once a week, this is a shorter updated than originally intended.

Not too many people are reading this. --another sigh-- Maybe it's the combination of the fandom here being so quiet and that this story has an M rating. Or maybe it's just lack of interest in the subject matter. But many, many thanks to my two reviewers. If no one cared, I probably wouldn't bother.

TJ, since I know you love Joan/Adam stuff so much, I'm going to try to add some more in future chapters. Just for you. The original hand written story doesn't have all that much.

And now, on with the show:

Joan didn't remember getting into her father's car or the ride to the hospital, but somehow she was being led into the emergency room. Memories of the last time she had been there slammed into her mind. She remembered Judith's eyes slowly closing, the chaos of alarms sounding and people shouting, and then silence. She froze, and after a moment tried to break from her mother's hold and walk back out the door. Helen wrapped both arms around her and turned her back around.

"Come on, honey."

"No. I can't be here. I don't want to be here," Joan heard herself say.

"I know. But we have to get you checked out. Make sure you're going to be ok."

Joan allowed herself to be led to the desk where her father stood with a female detective who had been waiting for them. Someone was saying something to her, but she didn't know what. It sounded muffled and far away.

The next thing she knew she was in an exam room and the nurse was handing her a hospital gown to change into, although she made no move to do so. The feeling like she was going to break into a thousand pieces was back again. Was this really happening? She was vaguely aware that her mother was saying something to her, but everything still sounded so far away and she couldn't focus on the words. Somehow, she was changed out of her clothes and into the gown, but she wasn't quite certain how that had happened, whether she'd done it herself or if her mother had. The only thing she really knew was she wanted to be almost anywhere but where she was.

Lying on the exam table, she tried to wish herself away again, but the sharp pain she felt as the doctor began the exam jolted her back into reality. The hands touching her were kind, but she wanted them to go away. She bit down hard on her tongue to keep from crying out. Then she heard the doctor mention something about stitches, and she decided she'd go back to focusing on other things, like the smell of her mother's perfume and the way she was gently threading her fingers through her hair.

Helen watched her daughter with increasing concern. She seemed to begin to retreat into herself once they'd arrived at the hospital, becoming less and less responsive as time went on. She barely reacted at all when photographs were taken or when the nurse took fingernail scrapings. She'd flinched and whimpered softly at the beginning of the pelvic exam, but now it seemed like she was totally shutting down, lying completely still and silent and staring blankly at the ceiling. The ice cold hand that had gripped hers so tightly just minutes before now lay limp within her own.

Helen wondered if Joan was even aware that she stepped out of the exam room so the detective could attempt to ask some questions. But she didn't have to wonder what her daughter was feeling; she knew all too well. And that somehow made it worse.

The drive home was silent, and Joan leaned her head against the window wearily. She suddenly felt so tired, more so than she had ever felt in her life, even with the Lyme Disease. Once inside the house, Joan looked at the staircase with trepidation. Walking was a little painful, and she was so tired she didn't know how she'd be able to climb the stairs. Her brothers had met them at the door, and Kevin read the total fatigue on Joan's face.

"Hey sis, want a lift?"

She stared at him blankly, and he settled himself in the chair and held out his arms. Without really thinking, she sank onto his lap and leaned limply against him as the lift bore them to the second floor.

Helen got Joan tucked into bed, thankful she'd brought the pyjamas for Joan to change into at the hospital. As she'd found out earlier, trying to undress a 5'7" person was not easy. "Do you want me to stay with you, or would you like some time alone?" she asked as she brushed a stray lock of hair off Joan's face.

"I'm so tired. I just want to sleep."

Helen was relieved that Joan had at least answered her. She'd half expected her not to. "Ok. Just come get me if you need me."

Leaving the desk lamp on, Helen turned out the bedroom light and left Joan to sleep. Unfortunately, every time she closed her eyes she saw the man's face. She drifted off eventually, but so sooner than she fell asleep a nightmare began and the events of the evening replayed themselves. "Don't scream," the man in her dream said as he pulled the trigger.

Joan sat upright, gasping for breath. She lay back down, but she was too scared to close her eyes again, no matter how tired she was. Her fear stole over her and surrounded her like a blanket. The little noises of the sleeping house made her start, and the longer she laid there, the more freaked out she got. Eventually, she got out of bed and crept down the hall to her parents' bedroom. She quietly opened the door and stepped inside, waking Helen as she approached the bed.

"Honey?"

When Joan said nothing, Helen turned on the lamp on the bedside table. She took in Joan's ashen features and wide fear filled eyes and beckoned her closer.

"Come here, sweetheart."

She pulled back the covers and Joan slid into the bed next to her. Helen pulled her close when she felt how hard she was shaking, and Joan held on as though her life depended on it, turning her face into her mother's neck and trying to get as close as possible. Eventually, the soft voice murmuring in her ear and the gentle hands stroking her hair and back soothed Joan's exhausted mind and body into slumber.

TBC...