Puzzle Pieces

Part Six

Connie spent most of that day desperately trying to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, the terrifying images of what probably had happened to her coursed through her mind. She didn't know that what she was seeing, hearing and feeling were images of what had actually happened to her, returning to her unconscious in flashbacks, or highly accurate imaginings conjured up by her frightened mind. Getting up again in the late afternoon, she reflected that she obviously wasn't going to sleep again that day, and perhaps never again in that bed. Taking a very hot shower, it also occurred to her that she was, by continually scrubbing her body, trying to rid her mind of the invasion that had befallen it.

Going down stairs to make herself a cup of strong sweet tea, she was amused to find a note from Sam on the kitchen table.

"Connie,

As I know that the last thing you will do is talk about what happened, here are hopefully enough cigarettes to last you the weekend. They might help when you can't sleep. There's food in the fridge, and Grace and I are only a phone call away. Whilst I'm out of shouting distance, I will take the opportunity to tell you that I think Ric would also be there to provide whatever help he could, if you would only let him.

Sam."

To her total consternation, Connie discovered that she had tears running freely down her cheeks. Sam was being extremely kind to her, when all she'd ever done was to use him or ignore him at every given opportunity. She was certain of it now, more than she'd ever been that he would make a far more stable full-time parent for their daughter. Let's face it, he wouldn't allow strangers into the house when Grace was there, just because he wanted to get laid. Picking up one of the packets of cigarettes and unwrapping it from its cellophane, Connie walked into the lounge and switched on the gas fire, the light dancing over the artificial coals, making the room both look and feel cosy. Sitting down in the deep armchair next to the fire, Connie lit a cigarette, metaphorically raising two fingers to the warnings she gave most of her heart patients as she took a long and satisfying drag. Even though she was sitting by the fire and was wrapped snugly in a thick nighty and dressing-gown, she couldn't get warm. The things she'd dreamt whilst trying to sleep that day, coupled with what she thought may be returning memories, they all made her shiver.

Around seven o'clock, the doorbell rang. Inwardly cursing an immediate rush of fear at who might be standing on the doorstep, Connie went to answer it.

"Ric," She said on seeing him, moving back to let him into the house.

"Did I startle you?" He asked, coming into the hall and not at all liking the brief look of fear that he had seen on her face.

"Everything's making me jumpy today, that's all," She told him, clearly trying to shrug it off. "Every unexpected sound terrifies me, which I know is utterly ridiculous."

"Connie, it's entirely natural," Ric told her, following her towards the kitchen.

"Oh, so it's entirely natural to feel nothing but total disgust at being in one's bed, to want to drag said bed outside and set fire to it at the earliest opportunity?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," Ric replied mildly, realising that some of her anger was beginning to come out, though he suspected that this was mostly anger at herself, a type of anger that could, if left in situ become corrosive.

"It's only a bed, for fuck's sake," She said, furiously beginning to make them some coffee. "It's not as though whoever was in it with me last night will ever be again." Ignoring what he assumed wasn't usual vocabulary for Connie, Ric said,

"This is because you still can't remember who it was, isn't it."

"I haven't got a bloody clue," She told him miserably. Digging something out of his jacket which he had hung over one of the kitchen chairs, Ric put it down on the table.

"I picked this up for you, because I thought you might have forgotten," He said, gesturing to the packet, which bore the words, Morning after Pill.

"Thank you," Connie said, grimacing at him sheepishly. "And yes, I had forgotten, and I claim to be a doctor." After briefly glancing at the instructions though this really wasn't necessary, she filled a glass of water and swallowed the two little pills, knowing that the next few days weren't going to be a bundle of laughs for her.

When she handed him his mug of coffee and led the way into the lounge, he said,

"How did you know how I take my coffee?"

"I've always known how you take your coffee, from my very first day," Connie replied with the first hint of a smile that she'd had all day. After Connie had regained her seat in the armchair and Ric had sat down on the sofa, Connie lit up a cigarette.

"Ah, the vices one exhibits behind closed doors," He said with a slight smile.

"I hadn't had one before today, since I first found out about Michael and Chrissie, and that was what, three years ago now."

"When Diane, died," Ric said quietly, hesitating over the word died because of the horrendous way in which she had killed herself. "The only thing that prevented me from heading for the nearest casino was that I knew she would have hated me doing that." Connie regarded him thoughtfully through the smoke of her cigarette.

"You really loved her, didn't you," She said into the resulting silence.

"There's always one," Ric said with a fond smile of remembrance, "One who you never stop loving, no matter how many faults you know they have, and no matter how many of your own that they simply can't live with."

After a long silence that was entirely restful, feeling awkward to neither of them, Ric said,

"I came here to talk about you, not to talk about Diane."

"I know you did," Connie said with a smile that quickly turned into a frown. "But I don't think I have the energy to talk about anything, not today. Not at least until I've had some decent sleep, which could be any time from here until the next millennium."

"Connie," Ric promised her quietly. "Any time you want to talk, even if that's just to be angry and cry at how unfair the whole world might feel, I am here and I will listen." She flinched at the word cry, loathing how weak it made her feel. "You managed it once," he reminded her fondly. "On the day Elliott first arrived, and you thought you were going to find it impossible to share an office with him. You've got to let everything out somehow, because I don't honestly think that this is something you can deal with on your own." Looking over at her, sat all alone in the enormous armchair, wrapped in a soft blue dressing-gown, as much to provide comfort as warmth, Ric had the distinct impression that what she really needed was a cuddle, someone to just for a moment take all the pain and the fear away. But this wasn't something he could offer her from where he sat on the sofa, and he wasn't altogether sure that such an advance, no matter how platonic, would have been welcomed. As she sat there watching the ruggedly handsome lines of his face, and the light of the fire gleaming off the occasional grey streaks in his hair, Connie thought about his words, knowing he was right, but not having the faintest clue of just how she could go about purging her soul of the taint of what had happened to her here in this house.

"I will keep in mind what you've said," She told him eventually, wanting the comfort he was offering her, wanting to be held in those strong, protective arms, to stay with her during the long dark night, to keep away the ever terrifying dreams. But this was Ric, and she was Connie, and she couldn't. She couldn't ask something of him that would show him all the vulnerability she currently possessed. He was used to seeing the strong Connie Beauchamp, the firm no-nonsense Connie Beauchamp, the Connie Beauchamp who could deal with anything and anyone who crossed her path. But when she watched him drive away a good while later, she couldn't help but curse her own insecurities. Why couldn't she have told him how frightened she was of being alone in her own house? Why couldn't she have told him of some of the memories that were gradually coming back to her, have confessed some of the things she had done, and had allowed to be done to her? Well, she had managed to just about maintain her barriers today, but how long this would last, she honestly didn't know.

A/N: thank you for reading this. Sorry it's been so long since I updated, but I do promise that in the New Year there will be two further stories in this little series.