Author's Note: Well, Hurricane Sandy didn't hit me too hard. The lights flickered a couple of times, but that's it. Otherwise, I had peanut butter, crackers, bottled water and a flashlight all at the ready. (Also wine, but that's a different story...) Thank you to everyone who's sent me their thoughts, prayers and advice.
To Smithy - Thanks for the advice! Gotta love living on the East Coast.
To Sally On - EGADS indeed! I like your idea for a stylist for Allura, I might have to incorporate that in...
To Emie Mac - Trust me when I say I am not a SmartUser either...but I'm glad you can finally read the chapters!
To FroofyB - Being a recovering dental student, I WOULD know all the top-shelf liquors. They helped make for a good bachelor party, and maybe even a good wedding, too!
To bknbu - I love, love, LOVE Jon. I highly suggest to everybody who's reading along to check out some episodes of Vehicle Voltron (not the first episode, though, and definitely not the pilot). WEP made us all think that Jeff, Crik and Cliff were the main characters, but really, it was Hawkins.
Title Song: "Don't Leave Me (Ne Me Quitte Pas)" by Regina Spektor
When Lenora awoke in the morning, her body ached. Jon was asleep next to her, barely even shifting when she got out of bed. Completely undressed, she tip-toed her way to the bathroom. As she made use of the facilities, she remembered the last hour she'd been awake before falling asleep.
Jon had been rough with her in bed. He had never been like that before, and she wasn't ashamed to admit that she liked it. She loved being intimate with her husband, but she was paying the price for it now. Her bones and muscles ached. Even her skin ached.
As she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, she realized why her skin ached so much: she was covered in bruises.
For a moment, she was stunned. She examined her skin in the full-length mirror, checking out the location, size, and sheer amount of her bruises. They all seemed to be clustered on her torso, shoulders and upper arms, though there were a few on her hips and back as well. Each was faint, a pale green shade tinged with an even paler shade of purple. And each was roughly the size of her husband's fingertips.
Maybe he was a little rougher than I thought...
"Mmm, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life."
She looked over to find Jon in the doorway, gazing at her lovingly as she stood in front of the mirror. As he gazed over her body, the expression on his face changed from adoration to horror. He saw the bruises. He realized that he'd put them there.
"Oh, God in heaven." He brought his hands to his mouth. "What did I do to you?"
"Jon, it's okay -"
"No. It's not okay." He looked like he might cry as he continued to study the bruises. "How could I have hurt you? I love you so much, Lenora. I can't believe I did that to you."
She placed her hands on his shoulders. "Jon, it's fine. You had just come home from the bachelor party, you'd had a little too much to drink, and you were a little rougher than normal. It's fine. I'm fine. And the bruises will be gone in a few days. By the time the wedding rolls around, it'll be like they were never there."
"They should never have been there in the first place." He moved back into the bedroom, where he sat down on the bed and began to pull his jeans on. He looked terribly upset and ashamed. "Maybe I was wrong about everything. Maybe you would have been better off married to Holgersson or Dalloway. They never would have left bruises on you."
She almost threw up. "Are you leaving me?"
He was incredibly sad. "I think so. Yes."
For the second time in the span of twelve hours, she felt like her entire world was crumbling around her. "No. You can't. You promised, Jon. You promised you would never leave me." Her heart and voice both breaking, she sat down on the bed next to him and hung onto his arm. "You told me when I became your girlfriend that you would never leave me. You told me those exact same words when I became your wife. For better or for worse, remember?"
He leaned over the bed and pulled her black Matinee kimono out of the top drawer of her nightstand. "Yes, but that was before I hurt you. Please put this on. I can't bear to look at those bruises. It's killing me. Oh, mon ange, I'm so sorry."
"Stop apologizing. I'm fine." She stood up to wrap herself in the lacy piece of Agent Provocateur lingerie. "Physically, anyway. Mentally, I just went on a head trip. Don't you ever threaten to leave me again, Jonathan. I can't take it. It's hard enough when you leave on the Explorer..."
It was too much. The dam broke, and Lenora collapsed into her husband's arms. It was too much. The kidnapping, the wedding planning, dealing with Sven, Jon threatening to leave her...it was overwhelming. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of chaos. Was this her punishment for that one night on Arus?
Gingerly, he held her against him, afraid of causing her more pain. "I don't know what I was thinking a few moments ago. Maybe it's because I hate myself for hurting you." He covered her face in kisses. "But I love you with everything in me, and I swear to you I'll never leave you. And I promise I'll never threaten it ever again."
"Good." She kept a tight grasp on him. "Besides, we're going back to Paris soon. I think we really need it this time."
"We are?"
He'd forgotten. She couldn't blame him; after all, they'd been through so much since their moments in the hangar before the Explorer took off. "Remember, you told me to book the tickets but not to buy any lingerie...?"
Suddenly smiling, he tightened his embrace around her. "I didn't think you'd actually do it, but I'm so happy you did. It'll be nice to get away from everything for a little while." He lifted an eyebrow carefully. "As long as you can forgive me for the bruises."
"If you mention one more thing about the bruises, I'm gonna put some on you, and we'll be even. Got it?"
"Got it." He released her from his grasp and took her face in his hands. "Je t'aime, mon ange."
"I know. I love you too."
Christiane lifted her eyebrows in amusement as she and Morgan stepped through the front door. The place was a mess and smelled like an ashtray. Obviously no one had thought to clean up the night before. "What's that smell?"
Morgan swore. She didn't even bother to do it under her breath. "Oh, gross. Well, they sure had a lot more fun last night than we did, huh, Baby Girl."
"Uh...yeah." She found the source of the stench and stepped over what looked suspiciously like a puddle of vomit on the kitchen tile. She hated to think who had spewed that mess up. She probably could have found out by touching it, but she wasn't that desperate to find out the answer.
Morgan looked like she wanted to knock some skulls together. "Blast it, David Nathaniel!" she cursed her husband. "You really couldn't be bothered to clean this mess up before you went to bed last night? Seven hells." As she began looking through the storage closet to find a mop and bucket, Christiane slid away and up the stairs to find her fiancé. She had something to tell him.
He was still in bed when she opened the door. He squinted in the sunlight as though she had woken him. "Hi, Baby," he mumbled as she sat down next to him on the bed. She looked around the room, which was mostly packed up and devoid of most of their belongings. "How was your night last night?"
"Not as good as yours, gauging from the puddle of vomit in the kitchen."
"Oh...I swear it wasn't mine." Jeff rubbed his eyes. "I think it might've been Zandee's. The dude never could hold his liquor."
"Ha." She nervously rubbed his arm, then inhaled sharply. "Jeff, I have to tell you something, and you're not gonna like it."
He bolted upright in bed. "Wow, what a way to start my morning." He looked near panic. "Okay, spill it. What happened?"
"Jeff, when I was kidnapped, I, uh..."
Their eyes met, and suddenly Jeff knew. He had a terrible feeling about what she would tell him, but he had to know. It would kill him not to know, and besides, he didn't want to begin their marriage with secrets. "What did Lotor do to you, Chris?"
She looked away and down at the mattress. "He raped me."
He closed his eyes, absorbing the information. It didn't hit him like a sucker punch to the gut as he thought it might. Instead, it made him feel sad. "Oh, Chris. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would've been...aw, heck, I don't know. But we would've gotten through it together."
She nuzzled into his side. "At first, I just wanted to put it behind me," she murmured, burying her face in his shoulder. "It was too painful and embarrassing. But then I realized that I didn't want to keep anything from you. I'm willing to put my emotions on the line for you." She swallowed before she finished. "I was afraid you might leave me."
"What? Are you crazy?" Jeff wrapped his arms around her. "Chris, I love you. I would never leave you. And never be embarrassed about anything that Lotor did to you." His face darkened. "Does anyone else know?"
"I told Keith. I think Sven might know too, just from how I reacted on Crydor. But they're the only ones." Her turquoise eyes pleaded with him. "Don't tell Morgan. She'll go crazy."
"I'm going crazy. But overall, I'm taking it better than I thought I would." He tightened his embrace around her. "I love you, Christiane Eiko. You're my whole world. I could never leave you. I don't have it in me."
"Good. Because I really thought you'd be angry at me for not saying anything earlier."
"You're a seer, and you thought that?
"Hey, I don't know everything."
"Do you know how Lotor had better hope I don't run into him? 'Cuz if I do, I swear I can't be held accountable for my actions. I'll kill him."
She shook her head. The miniscule scraps of Lotor she'd been seeing in her visions proved otherwise, but she wasn't about to tell him that right now. "Oh, thank God you're not leaving me. I was so scared that you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier. That you'd call off the wedding. But I don't want to build our life's foundation on omissions and secrets. I wanted to come clean and tell you everything before we get married."
"Good." He pressed his lips to her temple. "I feel the same way. I don't have any secrets, I promise."
"I don't have any other secrets, either."
The engaged couple laid back down on the mattress and snuggled into each other. Jeff's head began to pound, most likely from the combination of different shots he'd had at his bachelor party, and he grabbed onto Christiane as though he might float away if he didn't have her to anchor him. "I love you, Chris. Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. I'll always take care of you and I'll always love you."
Satisfied, she nodded against his chest.
"There...your hair looks beautiful."
Romelle's tired eyes reflected back at her in the mirror. Emma had spent the morning with her, simultaneously helping her prepare for her session and play with Erik at the same time. Romelle had to admit that Bandor could not have picked a better wife if he'd tried. Emma was her best friend and, at times like this, her savior.
The young princess - technically, she was the queen of Pollux through marriage, though she would always be the crown princess of Exxus - didn't act as though she was the highest-ranked female on Pollux. She was sweet and charming, helpful and concerned. She cared about Romelle and Sven, she adored Erik, and most of all, she was deeply in love with Bandor. Queen Emmaline of Pollux was the best decision that any member of the royal house had ever made.
"I like it. You did a wonderful job, Em." Romelle turned her head to study the twist that her sister-in-law had crafted with her hair. Emma's hair was shoulder-length and brown; it was far from her crowning glory, and certainly a far cry from her sister Clarissa's mahogany mane. It was amazing that she knew how to style hair at all.
"I'm glad you like it." Emma looked proud of herself. "I thought you might want to look extra special, seeing as how you're off to see your therapist this afternoon."
They'd been seeing a lot of their marital counselor lately. Dr. Deldosa had been busy with them three times a week. She and Sven each saw him once a week for a private session, and together once a week for a joint session. She didn't mind the individual sessions; she found them to be therapeutic. It was the joint sessions that she dreaded. How helpful was it for her to hear that her husband was in love with another woman? And furthermore, how would it help him to know that she craved Erimar's touch more than she craved breathing? That the most difficult thing she'd ever done was send the prince away?
Instead of focusing on her upcoming session, she studied her hair in the mirror. Emma had done a lovely job, and in conjunction with the make-up she'd painted on, Romelle felt like a different person. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had doted on her like this. Certainly, it hadn't been Sven.
"Do you think he even loves you at all?" she whispered to her reflection.
"Of course he does," Emma answered her. Her tone was gentle and soothing, but at the same time, it wasn't a voice in denial. "I know he does. So what if he loves another woman? You love Erimar." She shook her head, but in a non-judgmental way. "The truth of your situation is that you do love each other. Maybe not as passionately as you love your, uh, objects of affection, but that doesn't mean the love's not there. It's just figuring out what kind of love you have, and then deciding how to work with it."
That sounded sensible. In fact, it was a lot better advice than she'd heard from Dr. Deldosa in a month. What would she ever do without Emma? She hoped she would never have to find out.
"I'm not leaving him," Romelle said firmly. "We have to work through this until there's nothing left. I'm not giving up on him, or us, or our family."
Emma raised her eyebrows in a hopeful manner. "Go get him, girl," she cheered, doing a little happy dance behind her. "I won't let him leave you, either. Now, go get to your appointment. You look smashing. I'll look over Erik 'til you come back."
Romelle planted a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you for everything, Emma. You know that I'll never be able to repay you for everything you've done for me."
Emma winked. "You owe me nothing. Now get to your appointment."
With a deep inhale, Romelle glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed well, her hair looked good, her make-up was expertly applied. She looked beautiful. And as she looked at the determination radiating out of her aquamarine eyes, she realized that the old Romelle was back, and would never leave again.