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Claire didn't like this feeling. The feeling of being out of control, like she wasn't capable. She'd been doing fine, minding her own business. However, her strong prowess faltered and shrunk behind the nearest object it could hide behind when she saw a face she had vowed would never torment her again. The girl who he took advantage of was left behind, left to die in her sorrow as another moved forward for her. There was still a future to be lived, but not for the girl she used to be.

Before she could be spotted, Claire was careful to keep her steps the same, her stride as assured as before. Her feet carried her on to a destination she wasn't planning on visiting. She'd planned on going home, putting away her things from class, not coming to the hole-in-the-wall bar where Francis and his friends sang. It was still early, but she knew they liked to gather here to rehearse songs they hadn't done before. They'd been together for a few months, but she still hadn't heard him sing. She'd heard him hum in the shower or in the car a few times, but nothing like what she was hearing now.

The bartender wiping down glasses gave her a disapproving look seeing she was underage. She tilted her head towards Francis and his friends near the stage, providing a reason for being there other than to risk the building's liquor license. As she got closer to the stage, she smiled hearing Francis's voice among them. The tinge of anxiety still left in her stomach seemed to unlatch and sink back to wherever it came from, leaving her to just enjoy the boys sing a song about war and love. She smiled seeing Francis so animated while singing. It was rare for him to be that way in public, hardly ever.

When his eyes met hers, he grinned, giving her a wink and a single finger to let her know he'd be done in a moment. She just smiled back and set her bag on one of the nearby tables.

"Well," Tim spoke first when the song ended, gesturing to Claire with a smirk, "who knew Frank would be the one to give us our first groupie?"

Claire laughed, shaking her head as Francis hopped off the stage and greeted her with a quick peck to her cheek. "And, here I am without anything to get your autographs on." She gazed up at Francis, biting her lip. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Francis wrapped his arms around her. "No, we were actually just wrapping up. I wasn't expecting you though. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Claire lied somewhat, resting her hands on his chest. "I wasn't really planning on coming. I was going to go home, but I ended up here." She saw that her half truths weren't selling for him. He was seeing through her, even if he wasn't calling her out on it. "I'm fine. I promise. I would tell you if something was really bothering me, Francis."

Francis nodded once, not doubting her words, but knowing there was a reason she showed up. He knew her. He might not have known her for very long, but he knew her enough to know that she rarely sought him out. She had boys all over campus willing to answer her beck and call. He was her intellectual equal, someone who was going places and wanted to be with her on her journey. He was never a comfort to her, or at least that's what he thought. "Well since you seem to be free, how about I take you home for the night? We'll order in, talk shop, plan our summer. Whatever comes up."

"Our summer? Don't tell me you want to go backpacking through Europe or something." Claire giggled, picturing Francis walking around with an overstuffed backpack and a language book in hand.

"I was thinking I could drive you home to Texas and meet your folks." Francis suggested softly, knowing parents was a sore topic for both of them. He refused to bring her to meet his parents, and she understood why. He knew her mother was her issue, but her father was her rock.

Claire sighed, frowning at him. "You want to spent your first week of sunshined freedom in Texas getting berated by a middle aged woman?"

"Frank!" Tim's voice broke them out of their conversation, oblivious to the talk they'd been having while he spoke with the other guys. "You bringing Claire out for drinks?"

"Nah," Francis waved him off, grabbing Claire's bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I'm going to call it early tonight. We'll do drinks next time." He wrapped his arm around Claire's waist and headed for the exit, ignoring Claire's protests not to cancel his plans and glancing back when he heard one of the guys call him 'whipped.' "I'm a gentleman." He called back with a grin.

Claire stopped their tracks when he turned to take them towards her place. "Do you think we could go back to your place instead?"

That sent up every red flag for Francis, and his tongue couldn't be held back. "Claire, what's going on? Is someone bothering you that you don't want to go home?" He waited for her to refute him, but it seemed she couldn't even bring herself to lie to try and make him believe otherwise. The silence spoke volumes and made an energy course through his veins that he knew would be fatal to the person on the receiving end. "Who, Claire?"

She felt her throat close, her words fighting to break through. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nearly molded herself to him. His arms didn't hesitate to engulf her. "Just get me out of here, Francis."

Whatever had happened to make her feel this way was worse than he knew he could prepare for.

Francis brought her back to his place, keeping an eye on her as much as she loathed feeling like he was coddling her. She remained quiet other than answering simple questions he asked about dinner. When the restaurant had been called and their order placed, he walked out to his living room to find Claire sitting on his couch, lost in thought. He shoved his hands into his pockets, perching on the armrest of the chair nearby. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," Claire shook her head, looking up at him and giving him a brief, sad smile. "This can't be fixed, Francis. We can only move forward."

"We?" Francis asked, aware of how monumental it was for Claire to voice that they were together moving forward. He pushed off the chair, moving to sit on the coffee table in front of her. Seeing her wringing her hands, he offered his, squeezing her own when she immediately accepted the invitation.

Claire smiled down at their hands with a nod. "We." She confirmed before biting her lips, the moment of happiness fading rapidly. "Francis, what I'm about to tell you is something I haven't told anyone else. As far as I'm concerned, I don't intend on telling anybody else. At least, for the foreseeable future that is. But, I know you. You'll want to fix it, but I'm telling you right now, Francis. I'm moving forward, and I'm not going to drag it forward with me. I can't carry it."

Francis felt his own chest tightening, having a feeling as to where this conversation was headed. "What is it, Claire?"

"Towards the beginning of the year, I went out with somebody. A date. He seemed like enough of a gentleman at the time. He was hard-working, had goals of his own. He wasn't just some rich kid who was going to school to get a business degree that his parents were making him get." Claire began, tearing up knowing that her seemingly innocent date turned into something horrendous. "When he brought me home, I was going to say goodnight and go inside, but. . .he wasn't ready for things to be over. I tried to fight him off. He didn't let it stop him."

Francis gulped, squeezing her hands tighter when he felt them trembling. "He raped you?" The single nod from her broke his heart and ignited an anger so hot it felt like it was searing his insides. He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes when her hands moved to his arms to welcome the affection. "You know it's not your fault, right?"

"I do." Claire breathed. She did know that, but the words seem to break a dam inside her hearing them from somebody else. After years of hearing from her mother that the actions of boys and men were the fault of women, the fault of her own, the affirmation from someone else made her realize just how much of her mind still felt her mother's words and actions. "I'm not giving you his name though, Francis."

"He should be punished." Francis reminded her, his words spoken into her hair.

Claire pulled back to meet his gaze, letting him wipe the tears from her cheeks that had fallen. "I agree, but I'm not waiting months for him to go to trial. I'll be labeled as the girl who was raped. It's my word against his, and it was months ago. A court or jury could drop the charges or find him not guilty."

"I'm not talking about court." Francis breathed, shaking his head. He saw Claire's confusion. "Tell me his name, and I'll take care of him."

"Francis-"

"I'm serious, Claire." Francis stated flatly, letting his proposition sink in. "No one will ever hear from him again."

Claire cupped his face in her hands, seeing the determination in his eyes. "But, people will look for him though. He's not worth it. We have so much ahead of us. I'm not letting you risk your career or yourself over someone who doesn't deserve our efforts."

"He hurt you, Claire."

Claire felt his pain mirroring hers, assuring her of her decision to tell Francis. She hated vulnerability, loathed displaying it. This was her darkest secret, her lowest low. And, Francis was meeting her on her ground. Yes, he was offering to take care of things himself with violence, but he was being her partner first and foremost. While most would insist on pushing her to tell authorities or ask if she had given signs that led her attacker on, his main concern was her and what would be best for her to move forward. He didn't ask for further details. He knew enough from what she said, and he was ready to go to battle if it meant shielding her from ever seeing her attacker's face or hearing his name again.

"I know he did." Claire agreed, brushing his lips with her thumb. "But, he won't hurt me ever again." She stood, needing to breathe as she took a few steps away from him before turning back. "I was stupid. I still feel stupid. I knew telling you would make you want to try and fix things."

"Of course, I want to fix things. I don't want things from your past to be haunting you, Claire. And, you weren't stupid. This isn't stupid. This matters. To you. To me. I will help however you want me to. Just say the words." Francis declared, invading her space knowing that her creating space was her way of trying to run away from the situation. He wouldn't push her on it, but he needed her to know he would be ready in a heartbeat.

Claire closed her eyes when his arms wrapped around her and his forehead pressed to hers. "Do you know what would make me feel better? It may shock you."

"Name it." Francis smiled softly.

"Sing to me." Claire requested, nearly giggling when Francis's eyes widened. "I've heard you with the guys, but I've never heard you on your own. Sing to me. That will make me feel better, normal."

Francis grinned, relaxing when she laid her head on his chest. "Alright. What do you want to hear?"

Claire smiled and hummed. "Anything."

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