Day 2: Nobody Said It Was Easy

Allison woke up in a cold sweat. Disoriented, she lay as still as stone, blinking rapidly up at the expanse of the white ceiling above, trying in vain to tame the trembling in her limbs and will her racing heart to slow.

As the remnants of the nightmare scattered and blew away like smoke on the wind, dark echoes remained, pulsing in her head like a quasar, bright and intense. Terrible feelings—the disturbing twin sensations of being helpless and afraid—lingered with a stubborn tenacity that would probably take most of the night to shake.

With an agitated flick of her wrist, she threw back the comforter and grimaced with distaste. Like a second skin, her short satin nightgown clung wetly to the fine sheen of perspiration coating nearly every inch of her body. Jack's heat at her back, so warm and inviting when she'd climbed into bed just a few short hours ago, had become unbearable.

As if he could sense her disquiet even in his sleep, his arm tightened around her waist.

"Are you okay?" His voice was a sleepy croak next to her ear.

"I'm fine." She pushed away from him and hurriedly climbed out of bed, tucking her quivering hands behind her back.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Do you need help with anything?"

"I said I'm fine, Jack." She didn't know why, but the fact that he didn't seem to believe her set her teeth on edge. When he pushed himself into a sitting position, she shook her head and held out a hand to ward him off. "You don't have to get up. I'm a big girl—I think I can manage to go to the bathroom by myself."

The words had come out more harshly than she'd intended, but she didn't take them back. Instead, she pressed her lips together and stared at him in the gloom of the darkened bedroom, daring him to contradict her—almost wanting him to challenge her.

"I know," he said quietly.

"Do you? Because I'm becoming less and less sure about that."

Beyond his understandably natural desire to protect her, Jack had begun to treat her like a piece of fine china that would shatter into a million pieces at the least provocation. He'd been refusing to let her cook or clean or otherwise strain herself, insisting that S.A.R.A.H. had everything covered. She knew that he meant well, but after only two days, it was already starting to slowly drive her nuts.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed closest to her, a slight frown creasing his brow when she backed up a few steps. Just far enough that he wouldn't be able to see that she was a shaky, sweaty mess. In the darkness, she could just make out his expressive blue eyes. They were sad and hurt, yet full of such a soul deep understanding that it nearly brought her to tears.

She steeled herself, refusing to let her fear and uncertainty drown her in another sea of useless tears.

Jack's gaze was solemn as he watched her, silently measuring her. Finally, he nodded, the movement slow and heavy. It was as if the simple act of affirming her statement had physically pained him.

"That's fair," he said, his deep voice as serious as she'd ever heard it. "But I'm not going to apologize for caring too much, Ally. Not about this and not about you."

"I didn't mean…" she trailed off, her heart squeezing painfully as a wave of guilt washed over her. She opened her mouth then immediately closed it again, inexplicably uncertain of how to respond. She stood there for a moment, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, frustrated by her sudden lack of any appreciable communication skills.

"Ally?" he questioned, pushing himself to his feet.

Unable to answer him, she shook her head, turned and fled from the room.

She ran up the long, carpeted hallway and down the stairs, grateful that Jo had decided to stay with Zane for the week. The less people to witness her breakdown the better.

As the bathroom door slid shut behind her, it occurred to Allison that she wasn't quite sure what she'd been running from: the nightmare that had so effectively chased her from a sound sleep or her guilt over snapping at Jack.

There was no question that she had been trying to pick a fight with him. He'd been an easy target. Convenient. There.

Since she wasn't able to confront the person that had violated her, she'd taken out her simmering anger and frustration on Jack. Even though she was self-aware enough to know the psychological reasons behind her actions, the knowledge didn't make her feel any less terrible. And the fact that on some level, she'd actually enjoyed lashing out at him made her feel even worse.

Hastily, she peeled off her sweat-drenched nightgown, breathing a sigh of relief as the sticky emerald material relinquished its possessive hold on her skin. Tossing it carelessly to one side, she leaned back against the nearest wall and sank onto the dark, tile floor. Heedless of the chill seeping through the lilac cotton of her underwear, she drew her legs up to her chest and propped her chin on her raised knees.

She hated to admit it, but this entire situation was killing her. It was slowly eating her alive from the inside out, and if she didn't get a handle on her emotions, she was afraid that they would consume her.

The nightmare had sent her a message…one that she didn't want to hear: that she was weak, afraid, helpless.

She'd always prided herself on her independence, strength, and willful determination. But when she'd needed them most, the same traits that had elevated her to the most powerful position in Eureka—not once, but twice—had failed her. In the end, nothing and no one had been able to protect her from the monster hiding under her bed.

She hadn't even been able to protect herself.

And no one would ever know how she felt. Though she'd tried her best with Jack yesterday, it was hard to vocalize what it had been like to be locked inside her own mind, helpless to resist as Beverly had paraded her body around town like a life-sized Allison doll.

She shuddered, both from the cool air raising goose bumps on her bare skin and her own roiling thoughts.

As grateful as she was for the unwavering support from her friends, and the unconditional love that Jack so unselfishly showered upon her, she felt more lost and alone than she'd ever felt in her entire life. But she would never admit it to Jack. He would blame himself for not following his instincts sooner; the last thing she wanted was for him to feel guilty over something that he'd had no control over.

Jack.

Like the gentle rays of the early morning sun, the mere thought of him warmed her.

She'd been horrible to him, and she needed to apologize.

Right now.

Feeling an almost desperate need to see him, to set things right, she pushed herself up, grabbed a large, fluffy blue towel from the rack and rushed out the door. Her feet had barely crossed the threshold into the hallway when she pulled up short, her hands freezing in the act of securing the loose end of the towel under her arm.

Jack was lounging against the wall across from the bathroom. His bare feet were crossed at the ankles, his arms folded across his chest, and his head—which had been resting lightly against the clear glass behind him—popped up the second the light from the bathroom splashed across his face.

"Jack," she whispered, unable to hide her astonishment. She hadn't thought that he'd come after her, not after the way she'd talked to him, but she should've known better. He'd told her on far too many occasions to count that he would always be there for her, and it was obvious that he'd meant it.

Even when she didn't deserve it.

"Hi," he said quietly, pushing himself to his full height.

"Hi," she answered, her voice almost shy as she stepped closer. "Why didn't you knock?"

"I figured you'd call me if you needed me."

"I need you."

He smiled tenderly. "I know."

He always knows.

He held out his arms and Allison immediately melted into his warm embrace.

"I'm sorry," she said into his chest, her voice muffled against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

"I know that to," he reassured her, pressing a kiss into her hair. "But you don't have to apologize for being human."

"I do," she insisted, nodding vigorously. "I was awful to you."

She could feel Jack sigh, his chest rising and falling as he slid his hand to the small of her back and pulled her closer. "Would it make you feel any better if I said that I forgive you?"

"Yes."

"Then I forgive you."

She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

"Are you wearing this to bed?" he joked, pressing his hand into the plush terry-cloth at her back.

"My nightgown was soaked through," she offered by way of an explanation.

"The nightmare?"

Eyebrows climbing her forehead, Allison pulled back and looked up at him. "You knew?"

"Yeah."

She touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers. "You always know…don't you?"

"Not always." His voice had turned sober, and the inner light that normally made his blue eyes sparkle like diamonds dimmed. "If I did…then…" He let the sentence trail off, but she didn't need to hear the words to know what he was thinking.

"Jack, don't," she begged. "Please don't start blaming yourself for what happened to me."

She didn't think she would be able to bear it.

"Too late."

Her heart contracted. "Jack…"

"Do you want to talk about it?" he interrupted before she had a chance to say more. He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone and bent slightly so that he could look into her eyes. "Your nightmare?"

"Not yet."

And it was obvious that he wasn't ready to share either. Sooner or later, they were both going to have to talk about their fears, but it didn't have to be tonight. Tonight she just wanted to enjoy loving him and being loved by him in return.

Nodding in understanding, Jack took a small step back and pulled off his navy t-shirt in one fluid motion. He held it out to her. "Will this do as a replacement?"

"It's perfect," she said, letting the towel drop as she gratefully lifted the shirt out of his hands.

She slipped it over her head. It was huge on her, swinging around her thighs like an oversized, shapeless dress, but she didn't care. She felt safe, untouchable—like nothing bad could ever happen to her again.

Allison smiled softly to herself as Jack took her hand and led her up the stairs. A small part of her was still afraid of the darkness, but a larger part of her—the obstinate part that loved a good challenge—was readying itself for a fight.

And with her determination and Jack by her side, she had absolutely no doubt that she was going to win.

A/N: I know…I went dark again. I hadn't planned on it, but once I started writing I realized that there's no way that Allison could've escaped being violated the way she was without some scars and some issues that she had to work through. The angst will ease up—promise!—but both Allison and Jack have some things that they need to work through first.

ETA - The title of this chapter is from a verse in "The Scientist" by Coldplay.