Soft Sounds and Hard Impacts
You believe that you're innocent.
You're relieving your guilt.
The Jury seems to be deadlocked.
Look at the drama you built.
- A Rumour of Skin, Stone Sour
Jill sat by the window again early in the morning the next day. She had gotten some sleep, but not much. She was lonely, as always. The only person that had been in the room as of yet was Carla, a friend of Betty's who took Betty's patients on the blond's day off. Jill had been scolded by the woman for getting out of bed, but hadn't been forced to return to the white uncomfortable monotony that it was.
Jill was hoping someone would come visit. Chris had said he would but she knew for a fact the man didn't wake up before eight unless he absolutely had to. She remembered many times back before his coma where she had burst into his apartment and dragged him out of bed so he wasn't late for work. She couldn't expect to see him for another two hours at least.
She felt wide awake, despite lack of sleep. It was as though all those hours Chris had slept during his coma had somehow brought her energy. She hated being so still; she needed to move or she'd get left behind. But the hospital wasn't a place for movement. It was quite the opposite. The hospital was a place for rest and stillness. She was estranged in the large, too white place. When Chris was there, she felt welcome and loved and happy. When Claire was there, she felt as thought she wasn't alone anymore for a brief time. When Betty was in the room she felt as though she had a friend she could talk to. No one else of importance had gone to visit her. Alone at the hospital was the worst thing. Jill hated it.
She pulled her legs up onto the chair with her, hugging them. She wished she could go back to sleep. Sleep could hold her for a while until Chris arrived and spoke to her for a short while. Maybe Chris would hold her too. Her first night at the hospital, with him there, had been fine; devoid of nightmares, peaceful, and full of happy scenes floating lazily through her mind. They vanished from her mind as soon as her eyes opened.
"Jill?" a man's voice spoke. It wasn't a voice she expected at all. She turned.
"Dad? What are you doing here?" She hadn't seen him in over a year, her father, Dick Valentine. "You dyed your hair."
He shrugged and brushed a hand through his now black hair, a timid smile on his lips. "Not much hair left to dye." He offered his arms out. "Can I get a hug?"
She recovered from the small shock at seeing her father and stepped towards him. "Yeah, of course!" A warm hug was shared between father and daughter. When they parted, she offered him the chair and took a spot on the bed. "How did you find out I was here?"
"Well, I called your apartment yesterday morning. Chris answered and told me what happened." He paused, wondering whether or not to address how she was living with her partner, but decided not to. "I bought a plane ticket and came out to see you." He opened the satchel that looped over his shoulder and hung at his side. "I did grab something first, though, before leaving." He pulled out a worn teddy bear with one eye missing.
"My teddy bear!" Jill smiled wide as her father handed her the worn animal. She hugged it to her chest and looked up at him. "Thanks!"
He smiled at her. "I thought it'd help you heal up. Or at least make you more comfortable while you're here."
"He'll definitely help!" Jill set the bear in her lap and looked over at her dad again. "How long will you be in the city? I know you and a lot of people around here don't get along, so..."
Her father chuckled. "Yeah. You're partner is one of them."
"Well, he's got no proof on anything he can arrest you with. Besides, you're visiting me, so he'll be just fine." Jill knew she could get her father out of any issue with Chris. Chris would listen to her, of that, she was sure; he was more than willing to be her slave, but she was less than willing to be the slave master.
"Gonna bat your baby blues at him so he melts and listens to you?" the older man joked, half under the impression that his daughter was in a relationship with the marksman.
Jill blushed and looked back down at her teddy bear. "How long are you staying, Dad?"
"Only the next few hours, unfortunately. I only came to see you. To stay any longer would be dangerous with the people after me in this city."
Jill nodded. "Okay. You'll probably be able to see Chris. He promised to stop by this morning."
"Does he visit you often?"
"Yeah, everyday. For a few minutes before work, and then a few hours after work." She shrugged. "He spends most of his free time here." She gestured to the roses that Betty had put in a vase on the nightstand. "He brought me those yesterday."
"I'm glad he's taking care of you, then. I can't be around to protect my baby girl anymore."
She rolled her eyes. "Dad, I'm not a baby."
He mirrored her eye roll. "However cliched it is, you're still my baby girl. Always will be."
"Dad..." Someone cleared their throat as they entered the room. Jill looked towards the sound. "Oh, hey, Chris! You're here early!" She smiled at him, her grip tightening some on her teddy bear.
He nodded. "Yeah. I wanted to have a little while to spend with you before I have to go in." He glanced over at her father and gave him a nod of recognition. "Sir." He made no move other than that.
The man chuckled. "Don't be so formal. Call me by my first name."
Chris nodded. "Okay."
"I'm glad you managed to pull yourself out of bed early, Chris," Jill said happily. She was in a great mood and she had no idea why. Maybe it was because her father was visiting. She didn't know.
The marksman smiled at her. "I wanted a little longer with you." He stood awkwardly to the side, hands in his pockets.
"You can take the chair, if you want," Dick spoke, starting to stand.
Chris shook his head. "I'm fine, I can stand."
Jill moved over on the bed and patted the spot she opened. "Sit here," she ordered Chris. He did as he was told, sitting close beside her. She held up her teddy bear to him. "Dad brought me my teddy bear." Chris smiled at her.
Jill's father left around twelve, his flight being at one. Chris had left much earlier, closer to eight. He didn't know when the break was in the trial, but he assured her he'd come back, and bring her lunch. Her good mood had faded some, but not much. She cuddled down into the blankets, hugging her teddy bear close.
Chris was a constant in Jill's mind. Laying there in her hospital bed, he was the basis of her thoughts. She enjoyed his company and she loved him. She shouldn't; she had caused his coma in her failure to disarm the bomb, not to mention she was in a relationship with another man. Chris was too good for her, any how.
She tried to turn her mind turned off the subject of Chris (it was painful at times) to the subject of her father. His visit had been a surprise, and a pleasant one at that. She only got to see him, at most, twice a year. He was in a bad way with many of the city crime units in the area. He didn't go into the city often, for fear of threats on his life.
Jill hadn't left the city in the past two years, one month... Or was it more than one now? Almost two months now, since the two year mark in Chris's coma. She was thankful they could move on from that, though, she guessed they really hadn't yet. He had developed feelings for her in that Dream of his. She was jealous of herself, the her that got to spend over ten years with him. Ten years of a relationship with Chris. It was a tantalizing thought, one that sparked hope in her chest, warm and over-coming. But only moments after that feeling came the knowledge it would never happen. She was a danger to him; she couldn't protect him. The warmth that had started within vanished, taken up by an icy expanse of pain.
She curled in on herself, teddy bear clutched close. She made a wrong movement and cringed as pain flew over her shoulder before sinking in and turning into a tender ache. Why couldn't the bullet have just hit a few inches lower and gone straight for her heart? If that had happened, she wouldn't be going through the emotional or physical pain she was at that moment.
She closed her eyes to try to shut out the thoughts and, before she knew it, dozed off.
She wasn't sure how much later she was woken up by Chris. "Hey, wake up, V. I've got your lunch." She sat up and yawned, stretching her arms out. He held up a subway bag. "Toasted italian bread with hard salami, lettuce, tomato, onions, mayonnaise and banana peppers."
She smiled. "You know me really well, Bear."
He nodded and smiled back, handing her the bag. "You're my partner. How could I not?" He had his own sub with him as well. He sat down in the chair after pulling it closer to her.
"How's the trial going?"
He groaned. "Let's not ruin lunch with work talk." She rolled her eyes as she took a bite of her food. "How're you feeling? How's your shoulder?"
She shrugged on her uninjured side. "I'm fine. Shoulder's in some pain."
"Did you ask the nurse for pain killers?"
Jill shook her head. "I'm fine. I don't want any."
He sighed. "Jill..."
"Chris, I'm fine. I can handle a little pain."
"But I don't like that you're in pain..."
She rolled her eyes again and looked over at him. "I'm perfectly okay, Chris."
He grumbled to himself, something about her needing to take her medicine, before taking a bite of his own sandwich.
They talked about things they wanted to speak of, not the things they would someday have to speak of such as their mutual feelings for each other that only she knew about, or her known depression that, though he didn't know it, he was helping her past. Their voices were happy and only for each other, speaking of what Claire was doing, what was going on in the office, and, late in the conversation, the trial.
"Well, you won't like it…" Chris stated cautiously. "I don't like it. In fact, I hate it. I wish I could go up there and give them a piece of my mind," he grumbled; she could hear the frustration in his voice.
"What's going on…?" she asked in a wary voice.
He bit his lip, looking at her. "Cuilter is trying to claim Hannah is the one that shot you."
Jill's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. "… What?" He didn't need to say it again. "How?!"
"They're making the claims that the blood spatter is suspicious, and that since you were the only one not associated with the crime in the room, he can make a claim like that. They're trying to create reasonable doubt so he can get out of the attempt at murder charge and the charge of shooting as officer of the law."
She sighed, angry, and stood up from the bed, a grim look on her face. She picked up her shoes from where they were stashed near the bag of clothes she had. She moved back to the bed and sat on the edge. With some effort and a great deal of pain around her stiches, she pulled her shoes on.
"Jill? What are you doing?" Chris asked, eyes widening some.
She didn't answer, but asked, "When do you need to be back in court?"
"I have to leave here in a few minutes. Why?"
She stood up again, cringing and holding a hand over her shoulder, but only for a second. She grabbed her bag of clothes and started walking out the door. "Let's leave then."
"Jill, wait—" He stood and was by her in half a second. "You aren't leaving. You aren't healed enough."
She turned on him, pressing a hand against his chest, pushing him back. "I am leaving, Christopher. I'm going to go testify and get Cuilter's lying ass thrown in jail." She dropped her hand down to grab his. "I won't let Hannah go to jail for something she didn't do. I'm going to that court and I'm going to fucking tell them what happened, including how Cuilter shot me, not Hannah. You're driving. Okay?"
He nodded, overwhelmed by her anger. "Okay." He hesitated, wishing he could kiss her. "I love you, Jill."
She was caught off guard by his sudden statement. She pulled him into a tight hug, ignoring the now furious pain in her shoulder. He hugged back, trying to be gentle as he enveloped her. She pulled away and grabbed his hand up again. "Let's go, Chris."
They arrived a little late, but took their places. She was added to the witness list, much to the chagrin of Cuilter's lawyer. She saw Cuilter, a large purple bruise on the side of his face. She also noticed Hannah sitting on her own side. It was a long while before Jill was called to the stand.
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
"I do," Jill answered.
The first up to question her was Hannah's lawyer. "Miss Valentine, it's true that you were undercover at Oak Grove Amusement Park, correct?"
"Yes."
"And while undercover, you made contact with my client, Hannah Ohera?"
"Yes."
"And is it true she led you to the place where you were shot, promising the sale of drugs from her boyfriend's hands?"
"Yes, that's true."
"And when you entered the room she led you to, you saw Mr. Cuilter there, right?"
"Yes."
The man paused before continuing on. "How is it that you recognized Mr. Cuilter?"
She glanced over at Chris before returning to the man questioning her. "I went with my partner to one of his shrink appointments. Cuilter was the shrink."
The lawyer nodded, understanding. "Okay, Miss Valentine, one more question; who is it that shot you that day?"
Jill scowled. "Kevin Cuilter."
"No further questions, your honor." He stepped back and returned to his spot beside Hannah. Jill's eyes met Chris's as Cuilter's lawyer was called forward. She took a deep breath and pulled her eyes from him to the lawyer. "Miss Valentine, are you aware that, after shock or injury, people often black out and are unable to remember anything after that?"
"I'm aware of that."
"So are you certain you remember the happenings after you were shot?"
She scowled. "Every last detail."
"Are you sure the events you remember actually happened? That it's not just space filled with what you want to remember?" He walked back and forth in front of her as he spoke.
She spoke, anger hidden in her voice. "I am more sure of who shot me than you are of the possibility that you are a failed abortion." He paused in his steps and frowned. She continued to speak. "I remember every second of what happened from when I was shot to when I passed out." She clenched her fists. "I remember stepping into the room and seeing him. I remember the feeling of a bullet piercing my skin, digging into my flesh, and me falling to the ground. I remember Hannah trying to stop the blood until Cuilter grabbed her by the throat and started screaming at her!" Jill's eyes flashed, voice rising in level with every sentence. "I remember my partner bursting into the room, punching Cuilter, and then kneeling over me, pushing his hands over the wound! I remember him begging me to stay awake! I remember looking up at him and trying to speak! I remember the words I wanted to be my last as my partner watched me die!" She shouted the last part, standing and slamming her fist on the surface in front of her. "Does that sound like I don't remember?!" She cringed as the pain rushed over her, sitting back down with a hand over her injury.
Cuilter's lawyer took a step back. "No further questions."
Jill was excused from the stand and she returned to Chris. "Bring me home," she mumbled. "I don't want to be here anymore and I refuse to go back to the hospital."
He sighed and nodded. "You should go back, but I won't make you." He stood, following her out. "What do you want for dinner?"
She shrugged. "I don't care."
"We can pick up some Chinese food on the way," he offered.
"Okay," she answered. He led her to the car. His mind was on the ways he could make her happy, a nearly impossible thing with the mood she was in.
He took her hand as they drove and her grip on his became iron. He pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. She relaxed some at his touches, enough so that she was able to go into the Chinese place with him. She didn't let go of his hand though, but clung to it. Half of the reason was the pain pulsing through her, the other half being how she wanted to be closer to him.
They arrived back at her apartment and ate, neither speaking a word.
After they finished, she disappeared into her room. He sat on the couch, head leaning back, eyes staring at the ceiling.
"Chris?" He looked up towards her voice. She was at the end of the hall and had changed into her pyjamas.
"What is it, V?"
"Can…" She hesitated. "Can you lay with me? At least," she paused and bit her lip. "At least until I fall asleep?"
He seemed surprised by the request, but stood. "Yeah. Yeah, of course." She gave him a half smile and went back into her room. He followed and got there when she was already settled into her bed. He climbed in beside her after closing the door so the light that echoed down the hall from the window couldn't keep them awake. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close. She sighed, already falling prey to sleep.
He stared at what little bit her could see of her; the side of her face, her hair, part of her neck. He was reminded of a couple nights earlier when they had slept nestled together in her hospital bed. She had claimed then that she didn't remember what she had tried to say to him. But in the courtroom, she had emphasized the fact that she had remembered.
He closed his eyes, focusing on her in his arms. He didn't need to know right then. If it was important (and it must be if she had chosen them for her last words), she'd tell him later.
He could wait forever for her.