You can shine your shoes and wear a suit
You can comb your hair and look quite cute
You can hide your face behind a smile
One thing you can't hide, is when you're crippled inside

John Lennon - Crippled Inside

Scars are part of the body's natural healing process; physical, emotional, mental or internal. But it's the unseen scars that are often the worst, the ones that need cared for the most.

Her body carried the silvery, flat reminders of an appendectomy in her twenties and a skiing accident in teens. Her soul tried to hide the suffering caused by the loss of her Mother and the cruelty she saw each day on the streets.

He too was scared, inside and out; the death of his Mother, the times he'd drawn his service weapon and shot to kill. Being caught in the office block bomb; having Mac Taylor's hands in his abdominal cavity then hours of surgery, weeks of hospitalization and months of recovery. Although his body had healed and was left with only a jagged pink scar from nipple to naval, the demons still festered inside; the flashbacks, the tortured dreams and the hesitation.

She didn't shy away from the ugly reminder; delicately trailing her finger along a parallel route and grinning slyly, "Hot...definitely hot", but holding him a little closer.

:-:-:

She'd been out of the city when the Wicks blast hit; enlisted on a joint operation between NYPD and the Quebec authorities.

Grateful for the invention of the Blackberry, they'd e-mailed back and forth since she left; trading photos of where they were at that moment (in the Italian deli near the Precinct waiting for a meatball sub and standing on a sun washed corner at Notre-Dame Basilica), exchanges of banter then sweet words and, very, explicit details of what each had planned for the other on their reunion.

On the night of the blast, she'd called; even though she was out of the city, she'd heard about the case through the grapevine and her heart had sunk a little. Although she didn't make mention of the case, simply asking how he was and telling him that she missed him, he knew her call was more than coincidence.

:-:-:

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She'd messed with his cell sometime ago, programming her entry with a dated rock tune that he couldn't quite place. Although the song initially drove him crazy, she had a habit of randomly humming it too and so, it eventually grew on him; plus he liked that he knew it was her calling before looking at the display.

"Bonsoir Détective Flack, comment ca-va?"

He laughed, his mood instantly lifted, "Bonsoir Detective Angell, back to being a little French frog then?!"

"Oui, une petite grenouille mignonne! Were you sleeping Don? I didn't wake you did I?"

Settling further under the covers he sighed, glad to hear her voice, "Nah, I was awake. How're things across the border?"

"Freezing," she groaned, "the harbor's still iced over and I've drunk way too much hot cocoa to compensate. Maybe we could come back up for a few days though, me and you; catch the end of the snow? You might like it, even with the 'plane trip? Good skiing, good bars..."

Grinning at her suggestion of going away together, he teased "Hot slopes, a hot girl andbeer?! A guy can't ask for much more! It sounds really good Jess."

She laughed "Cool," before asking casually, "so, you okay Don?"

:-:-:

The bomb had affected him more than he'd imagined it could. While the physical scar didn't really bother him and he'd as good as put the long, tedious recovery process behind him; nothing prepared him for times that it cruelly consumed him. The way the day flooded into his dreams, both real memories and what his mind chose to fit into the gaps; waking him in blind panic, eyes glazed and furiously grabbing at the sheets.

He'd been humiliated, the night it'd happened when she lay in bed next to him; that it had been her soothing voice that roused him into consciousness and her gentle hands that held him close, "Ssh Don, you're safe; you're okay".

As he drew up to the Wicks scene he'd hesitated; heart pounding and blood pumping, the sound ringing in his ears. His hands had gripped the wheel; seeing himself back in the building, back in pain.

:-:-:

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tell me about you though! Are the Canadians playing nice?"

Sensing, that for the time being, he wasn't going to expand any further, she allowed the conversation to digress; teasing "Uh-huh, the guys are all being very nice" and then laughing at his disapproving grumble. "It's a whole lot of sitting around really, waiting for the lowlife to turn up. It's sunny though, and very pretty."

Rolling her eyes at his response, "Interesting, but tell me about you...what'cha up to just now?", she indulged him by lazily explaining how she'd taken a little nap, then a shower and was currently dressed in just a towel; but her next task was to decide what underwear to select before dressing and heading out to cover the night shift surveillance.

"That black lacy stuff. Oo-la-la!" he enthusiastically advocated, growling dirtily before hastily withdrawing, "Actually, on second thoughts; if you're spending the night with another guy I want you wearing something nasty."

She snorted indignantly "I don't own any 'nasty' underwear Don" before smirking at his groaned "Don't I know it".

"Poor boy! I tell you what, if you're good; when I get back I'll see if I can find that black lacy stuff you seem to be fond off. That sound fair?!"

She entertained his interest in her lingerie for a few more minutes before regretfully telling him, "As much as I'm enjoying this conversation, I'm going to have to make tracks Don. I'm meant to be downstairs soon."

They parted, "Be careful Jess, and keep an eye on those Canadians...I don't trust them round you!" and "I'll be back on Monday; or sooner if we get lucky. Call me though Don, if you want to talk...about anything. You know I'm always here."

As she stood in front of the mirror, half dressed and blow drying the last few sections of her hair, she grinned mischievously; lifting her cell once more, clicking a few buttons then e-mailing with one hand as the other fastened her jeans.

Moments later a reply appeared: Jeez, I said 'nasty'...not smokin'! Watch 'em!!!

Then a few minutes later another: I'll tell you about the pipe bomb when you're back. I know you're there and I'm glad you are. D xx