A/N: Trigger warning - this story is about assault. Please take care.
Thank you, furthershewrote, for helping me think through Seth's initial reaction.
Jessica had been having so much fun over the past week in New York. It was spring and everything felt vibrant and invigorating. She had traveled to Manhattan for meetings with her agent and publisher during the day, as well as to spend time with Grady, Donna, and Little Frank as it was the young boy's spring break. After a long winter, the week in New York had been exactly what she needed. She had asked Seth to come with her, but he couldn't get away from work, although he was set to join her for the weekend and then they would travel back home to Cabot Cove together.
The main reason she had traveled to her apartment for this specific week was to take Latin dance classes. She had an idea for setting her next book in a South American country and she was considering a dance club as the location of the murder. Research was something she always enjoyed doing, as she often had so many ideas for a story and by investigating them, she would narrow down her options to ultimately create her manuscript. Considering herself a life-long learner, it never even felt like work.
She had discovered a Latin dance school in New York within walking distance of her apartment that offered a slew of courses including one that taught the basics of merengue, salsa, and tango. While she would hopefully learn the basic steps of all three dances, the focus of the beginners' course was to become well-versed with the merengue, considered to be the easiest of the three. The tango was viewed as the most difficult, as well as the most sensual. Thus, she decided this beginners' course introducing her to the dances would be the way to go. After the introduction class, she would decide if she wanted to pursue any of them further.
Dancing was something that had been a favorite pastime for her with Frank. After he died, it had been hard to attend events in Cabot Cove that included dancing, but over the years, Seth had become her regular dance partner and best friend, making the activity something she had grown fond of once again.
Jessica loved Seth and had been contemplating a way to pursue him, perhaps even seducing him, as he seemed too afraid to, despite her certainty that he loved her, too. How could two mature intelligent adults be so afraid to express their emotions? She wasn't sure, but she knew it to be true.
The class she was taking was for an entire week, every night for two hours. The wonderful thing about it being in New York was that there were plenty of single people taking the class, so although it was awkward at times to dance these rather intimate dances with strangers, she told herself that she wouldn't see these people after the class was finished. So, it would be alright if she was pushed out of her comfort zone. Being in a dance studio with other beginners would hopefully lessen the fear of making mistakes or feeling the need to be perfect, but instead, a way to experience something new. Perhaps she would also find a way to use one of the dances to become closer to Seth and maybe, just maybe, find a way to seduce him.
And if she couldn't figure out how to do that with Seth, at least she would have done some research for her book.
S/J
Jessica had thoroughly enjoyed her time in the dance class, learning each of the dances well enough to make it through an entire song without stopping, even though her dance partners weren't always the best at leading her through the quick steps as some of the men weren't in the best physical shape. Walking and cycling, along with the occasional hike with Seth, had given Jessica a healthy heart and lungs, meaning that while she still ended up out of breath and sweating by the end of the class, she often felt energized, and not ready to collapse like other students seemed to be every night.
There had been two male instructors and one female, who went throughout the studio, dancing with students periodically to make sure that everyone had the opportunity to practice with someone skilled enough to critique and help them improve. The instructors were talented and knowledgeable and willing to answer Jessica's questions at the end of class every night, as she learned more about each of the dances and their origins within Latin American culture.
On the last night of class, the instructors walked around to say personal goodbyes to each student. There was a lot of chatter in the studio, with many agreeing to go out for drinks at the bar next door. One of the instructors, who Jessica had danced with numerous times, was named Marco and close to her age. Tall, dark and handsome, he knew he had sex appeal, even though much of his hair had threads of silver in it. Wasn't that just like older men? How did they get so lucky to become more distinguished and attractive as they aged, whereas she had to go to Loretta's or her stylist in New York every four weeks without fail.
Marco was from Argentina and had a thick accent, and he had been the instructor she had danced with the most that week. When he sought her out to say goodbye, he shook her hand, staring into her eyes, his charisma almost tangible.
"Jessica, you made real improvement this week. I wanted to let you know that the other instructors and I are offering some private lessons for some of the students who are interested."
Smiling, she answered, "Yes, I would like that, but I am only in New York for a couple more days. Would tomorrow afternoon work?"
They set up a time and Jessica left with plans to return the following day. She hoped that she could work on her timing and perhaps Marco would be willing to answer some more questions for her book.
If only the lesson had been only a lesson.
S/J
"Hazlitt."
"Seth." Her voice sounded strangled. His body went on full alert.
"Jess? Are you alright?"
"I don't think you should come tonight."
"I'm already at the airport. What's wrong?"
Barely a whisper now, he had to strain to hear her, "Go back home, Seth. I'm sorry." She had almost set the receiver back in the cradle, when she heard him shout at her, fear gripping him.
"Don't you dare hang up on me, woman."
"I'm sorry, Seth. Something has come up." She sounded as though she was gasping for air, adding, "Go home and I'll call you tomorrow and explain."
It happened so fast. He couldn't react quickly enough, realizing she had already hung up.
He looked at the cell phone in his hand in disbelief. What in the world had happened? She had to know there was no way in hell he was turning around and going home. But he assumed that whatever was wrong had made her attempt to stall him. He was certain that her promise to call and explain tomorrow was only a delay tactic and whatever she would try to tell him would be a lie. Jessica wasn't a liar, but if she wanted to keep something private and he kept pushing for information, she would hedge and make things sound better than they were. Or simply stay silent, which all but made him insane.
No, he had to get to New York, and he had to get there now. The woman he loved was sick or hurting and while he may not be a knight in shining armor, he would walk through fire to save her.
S/J
Sometime before midnight, Seth knocked on Jessica's apartment door. He wasn't surprised when she didn't answer, but his anxiety spiked. He didn't know how it could increase anymore. His blood pressure had to be through the roof already.
Pulling his key out, he let himself in.
The apartment was dark, the only light coming from the kitchen light mounted under the cabinets. It was eerily quiet for an apartment in New York City. The street sounds were muted this high up in her apartment building, further aided by double pane windows.
Even so, he knew she was here. He could sense her, as well as the weight of sorrow and fear permeating the air around him. He set down his small suitcase by the door and slung his coat across the back of a chair. Turning around, he almost tripped over a pair of black high heels that had been discarded in the middle of the floor.
There were not too many places she could be in her two-bedroom apartment. Once he peered over the back of her couch and saw it was empty, he knew that meant she was in her bedroom. Did he dare to enter it? Yes, apart from everything else, she had sounded ill on the phone, and he was her doctor. Even if she wouldn't talk to him yet, he had to make sure she didn't need medical attention. Her bedroom door was closed and there was no light showing beneath it.
Knocking on the door softly, he called, "Jess?"
No response.
Seth tried to knock on the door once more; this time hearing a sound, as though someone was crying and sniffling through tears. It had to be Jessica.
Deciding to open the door, he turned the knob. Her bedroom was dark, but he could make out her form lying on the bed as she was curled into a ball, a pillow clutched to her middle. The sniffling sound he had heard continued, but he realized that she was asleep, making noises as though she was dreaming.
He walked over to the bathroom door, keeping the door slightly open, but turning the light on, to see her better.
She was lying down on her side facing him, with her arms wrapped tightly around the pillow. Stepping closer to the bed, he realized that she was fully dressed, in a full black skirt and a long-sleeved red blouse. He couldn't make out the details in the light with the pillow blocking her torso, but when he looked down at her face, his gut started to churn as he saw she still had a full face of makeup, but she had cried so much that the mascara had created black trails down her face. But that wasn't what had him about to lose his stomach and made his blood run cold. No, the large bruise that had discolored her cheekbone—that had him feeling like he was going to retch.
Who the hell did this to her? He would kill him with his bare hands. Forget any moral or ethical code he had ever believed in. If whoever had done this was in front of him right now, he knew that not only was he capable of murder, but he would have already committed it. That knowledge should have terrified him, but instead a cold fury overtook his body, his hands beginning to shake and his heart racing, as a blind rage seeped into every pore of his skin.
He had to get a hold of himself. He had to! She was hurt and he didn't have any details of how she had been hurt. She could have other injuries he couldn't see yet. Jessica was the only thing that mattered to him in this world. In his life. In the here and now. He could not-he would not–-allow any other emotion to get in his way of taking care of her.
Tempted to leave her bedroom for a few minutes and to find something to break and destroy, he suppressed that desire almost as soon as it crossed his mind. Maybe in a few days or a few weeks, he would be free to express this turmoil and cold, furious, rage in a way that wouldn't scare her, but not now. Right now, it was about her and everything and anything he could do for her.
Instead, he stepped into the bathroom. Looking at his watch, he gave himself sixty seconds, breathing in and out as deeply and as slowly as he could, attempting to force his anger out with every exhale he released. His heart ached though. As soon as he saw her, it had been obvious she had been abused. He feared she would wake up frightened and possibly confused. He would not add to her suffering with his own anger. He would not.
After the full sixty seconds, he squared his shoulders and stepped back into her bedroom.
He didn't want to wake her, but she wasn't sleeping soundly. He could tell by the sounds she was making and the grimacing of her face. Knowing that her cheekbone had been injured, he needed to know how else she was hurt. Head injuries were not something to be careless about and certainly not when it came to Jessica.
Yet, he had a feeling that due to the obvious nature of her injuries, she would react strongly when she woke up and saw him there. There was no help for it though.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, so as not to tower over or crowd her, while making sure he didn't touch her, he spoke, "Jess?"
A groan of pain was her only reply.
A little louder, while doing his best to keep his voice soft, he said, "Jessica. I need you to wake up."
Still, she was asleep, although her hands started to twitch.
He knew not to touch her, but he had to. She wasn't waking up with words alone and he had to make sure she didn't need to go to the hospital.
As lightly as possible, he reached out to touch her hand, shaking it just enough to wake her, "Jess? Please wake up, sweetheart." They didn't use endearments, but if ever there was a time to assure her of his love and care for her, it was now. She was safe with him. He knew she was aware of that, but he needed to remind her of it.
As Seth had feared she would, Jessica jerked awake, scurrying across the bed away from him at lightning speed, her blue eyes wide and fearful, darting to and fro. From the bathroom light, now that she was sitting upright, he could see the bruise on her face better as well as the fact that the scoop neck of her red blouse was ripped several inches, exposing one side of her pink bra, even as she tried to cover herself with both hands. He forced himself to breathe; he would not upset her further by his reaction.
She didn't speak but began to cry. He wanted to reach for her but didn't. She looked like a deer in the headlights and his heart ached to comfort her. Instead, he stood, grabbing the pillow, and moved around to that side of the bed. Before he sat down, he made sure there were several inches between them, and as soothingly as he could say, he murmured, "It's just me, Jess. You're home safe. I'm not going to touch you. But I am going to sit here, and if you need to hold my hand or need anything else, I am here. Alright? I'm going to be here for whatever you need." Placing the pillow down within reach, he watched as she snatched it from the bed, and pulled it back to her chest, covering herself.
She still hadn't said anything, but she didn't move away either. The air in the room was tense and heavy; she was on full alert despite the tears coursing down her cheeks and the fact that she wouldn't make direct eye contact, she maintained an alert vigil, her body rigid.
They sat next to each other in the quiet of the bedroom, with only the sliver of light showing from the bathroom. He didn't stare at her, but he kept close watch on her out of the corner of his eye, keeping his body as relaxed as possible and his hands free if she needed to reach out.
He wasn't sure how long it was before he noticed a slight movement from her. Slowly, so slowly that he had to concentrate on regulating his breathing so as not to make any sudden movement, she reached out one hand to touch his own, leaving her hand resting against him. It was ice cold and trembling. He wanted to squeeze it, but he kept his hand relaxed, though he did enclose it around her hand gently.
"Jess…you don't have to tell me what happened. Ever if you don't want to. But I do need to know if you need medical attention. Could you tell me if you are injured anywhere else besides your face?"
"I think…I think I have a few bruises."
"Could you tell me where?"
She licked her lips, trying to get some moisture in her mouth. He could hear the dryness, as she tried to move her tongue and swallow. "I haven't looked. I'm just a little…sore."
Oh, dear God. Not that. His face must have said what his mouth couldn't, when she said softly, "Not that. I…got away before that could happen."
Thank all that was holy in the world.
"When you got that bruise on your face, did your head hit anything?"
She shook her head no.
His preference would still be for her to get a CT scan to make sure she didn't have any significant head injury from the obvious blow to her face, but he would not force her to do anything she wouldn't or couldn't right now. At least not unless she started to complain of headaches or dizziness.
"Anything else I should know about?"
A quick shake of the head. Certain she would not want to be examined regardless of injury, he did believe she was telling the truth. For now. Perhaps after the shock wore off, he would learn more.
"Alright, woman. I'm fine to sit here as long as you want. But is there anything you need?"
Looking down at herself moving the pillow slightly, she grimaced when she saw her ripped blouse, as though she was noticing it for the first time. Perhaps she was.
"I would like to get out of these clothes and take a bath, Seth. But I don't have energy."
"Would you let me help you?"
Shaking her head, she said, "It's not you, but—I don't want to be touched."
With the lightest of squeezes on her hand, he said, "Shh, I understand. If I start the bathtub, do you think you could sit on the edge of it to undress and slide in? I could set out fresh pajamas and a towel and I would be close by if you need me, but I promise I won't do anything you don't want or need me to do."
Nodding, she murmured, "I could try."
"Alright, you wait here, and I'll get the hot water going."
When he tried to let go of her hand to stand, she momentarily pulled him back. He looked at her expectantly, but she didn't say anything. Her look of fear though wasn't lost on him. "I'm not leaving you, Jess. I will be right back."
He paused while she appeared to release every muscle in her hand one at a time to let his hand go steadily. When she did, he went to the bathroom to get everything ready for her, turning on the small bedroom lamp on his way. He lit a row of candles on the bathroom counter, so that the overhead light could be turned off. Between the candles and the lamp in her bedroom, the dim glow they created would be less harsh on her eyes, hopefully preventing a headache, while providing enough light to see. Getting a fresh towel, he set it to the side of the bathtub, so she could reach it when she was ready to get out. Back in her bedroom, he asked quietly, "Where are your pajamas?"
She motioned to the dresser in the corner, saying, "Top left drawer. Underwear is in the top right." After selecting a pair of soft cotton underthings that he hoped would be soothing to her skin, he turned around to see her blushing, clearly uncomfortable. He knew going through her undergarments was highly personal. Especially tonight.
Trying to maintain a calming presence, he asked her, "Do you think you can walk on your own?"
Jessica was so quiet, he had to strain to hear her, when she asked, "Could I hold your hand?"
Standing close enough to grab her if she lost her footing, but far enough away for her to maintain personal space, he held out his hand for her to grasp when she was ready. When she hesitantly reached towards him, he watched as she took a moment to feel his fingers first before grasping his hand tightly and standing up under her own power. She walked carefully, as he watched her, making sure her balance was alright and there were no other apparent injuries.
When they reached the tub, he encouraged her to sit on the side of it, asking softly if she could manage to undress on her own.
Now that she was there, it became apparent to her that she would need assistance, considering the circumstances. Watching her, Seth realized the same. He wanted to help, but her obvious discomfort made him wonder about the best way to proceed. Pausing, he waited. And so, by waiting for her to tell him what she needed, he offered nothing, wanting her to have the freedom to choose. But she did surprise him when she said, "I need help getting my skirt off. If I stand up and hold your hand, do you think you could take it off without staring at me?"
"Ayuh." She held his hand tightly, holding her breath, as he tried to keep his matter-of-fact doctor's face on, quickly lowering the back zipper with the skirt following, doing his best not to actually touch her body while doing so one-handed. He had kept his head turned, averting his eyes, where he could see the side of her leg and hip, along with the edge of her pink underwear just enough to do what she asked without skin contact. His heart ached, as he glimpsed the beginnings of another deep bruise on her hip. The urge to vomit again was there, but he held it together. He knew she needed him to.
Once the skirt was off, he asked, "Can you get your underwear off, sweetheart?"
She wavered for a second, thinking. She couldn't stand on her own. Physically she could. But mentally, it was a battle she couldn't conquer yet. He stood next to her, his eyes still averted, as he waited for her to decide.
"I don't think I can while sitting down, so if you can, so I can step out of them…" A low sob escaped her, as she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Seth."
"Shh, don't you dare apologize." Moving his head back enough to look down at her face, her eyes cast down, he said, "You have done nothing wrong, my love, nothing." His voice was soft and kind, but firm. None of this was her fault. He would not, even for one moment, let her think she had done anything to warrant what had happened to her.
Seth turned his focus back to the task at hand. Lowering her underwear without touching her skin was impossible, but he gave her a moment when he first touched her side to breathe, before he slipped the undergarment down her legs enough for her to step out of them. Keeping his eyes on the bathroom wall behind her and not on her body, he waited for her to tell him that she could do the rest. When she said she could, he helped her sit on the edge of the tub, telling her he would wait on the other side of the door and if she needed anything, she had only to ask.
She nodded her head, and he slipped out of the room, keeping the door ajar behind him. He sat on her bed to wait, staying alert for any sounds of distress.
S/J
Seth stayed still for half an hour, his ears attuned to every noise in the apartment, focusing on the sounds of the water, as Jessica shifted occasionally in the bathtub. He could hear her crying, but more importantly, he could hear her breathing. Though her breathing was ragged, as she cried, she was breathing and that was what was important. She was alive and now she was safe. He would see to it.
After half an hour, he could hear the water draining. The sloshing of the water increased, as she must have tried to stand. He rushed to the door in case she needed help, but didn't barge in. He didn't think she had stepped out of the tub, as the noise from the water had not stilled. There was a prolonged pause, before she spoke in a whisper, "Seth?"
He wanted to hurry through the door, but refrained, standing with his hand on the doorknob, saying instead, "I'm here, Jess. Do you want me to come in?"
"Yes, please."
He moved around the corner of the door to see that she was sitting in the tub with her knees up to her chest, the towel strategically placed over top of her. Good—he didn't want to be tempted to look at her when she was traumatized.
Quietly, he asked, "Do you need help getting out?" The bathtub had a wide edge, which had allowed her to get in on her own, but as it was deep, it was probably making it difficult for her to get out.
She nodded, keeping one hand firmly against the towel over her body, as she reached with her other hand out to him. He pulled her up and she stood still at first, gaining her balance, before stepping one leg out at a time. Once she was standing on the bathmat, she pulled away to readjust the towel, verifying she was covered from view. Noticing that the bottom of the towel was soaked and dripping, he retrieved a dry one and turned his back for her to change it.
Before Seth could ask if she needed anything prior to leaving the bathroom again, she asked softly, indicating her clothes on the floor, "Would you take those and throw them out?"
He nodded, doing as she asked, taking her blouse, skirt, and undergarments into the kitchen and placing them into a trash bag. Without hesitation, he walked out to the hall trash chute, dumping the bag inside, never to be seen again.
By the time he returned to the bathroom door, she had managed to dress in the pajamas he had set out for her, and she was sitting down in the chair in front of her vanity. He did not announce his presence, but she made eye contact with him in the vanity mirror. She did not speak, nor did her expression change, but he understood that she wanted him close by. He watched as her eyes then shifted to her face in the mirror, inspecting it closely. Running her fingers over the mascara streaks that had run down her cheeks, mingling with the tears that hadn't fully stopped yet, along with the bruise on her cheekbone that was red and swollen, she appeared not to recognize herself. Even in the dim light, there was already a hint of purple in the bruise and when she noticed it, she muttered a cry, tilting her face to see it better, reaching to touch it, though she must have known it would hurt.
Watching her, Seth did not think she knew what to do, now frozen in place. Keeping his voice soothing, he asked, "Jess, would you like a warm washcloth?"
Meeting her eyes in the mirror, he saw all the pain and sorrow in the hidden depths and his heart broke. She didn't speak but she nodded, giving him her approval.
Finding a washcloth, he heated the water at the sink before wetting it and rinsing it out. Moving over to her, he asked, "May I?"
She allowed him to, leaning her head back, as he tentatively reached to wipe her beautiful tear-stained face free of the makeup and tears. But of course, the bruise remained. Upon close inspection, there was a hint of dried blood, and he very carefully wiped it off, seeing her flinch, as he noticed a tiny cut in the skin.
He murmured, "Where do you keep antibiotic ointment?"
"The medicine cabinet."
Rummaging through the normal first aid supplies, he found what he was looking for, carefully applying a smear of the ointment to her skin. Before she could stand, he motioned for her to stay in place. He found her face cream on the counter and putting a generous amount in his hand, he carefully applied it. Touching her face felt intimate, but he concentrated on soothing her, which kept his body in check.
Assisting her to the sink, she brushed her teeth and then held his arm to return to bed. She was wearing soft cotton pajamas in a navy blue. They were flattering but in no way were they revealing, which is why Seth had selected them, knowing she needed to feel safe and comfortable. Once she was in bed under the covers, he told her he would get her something to eat and drink, as well as an ice pack for her cheek, knowing that if he had asked, she would refuse. Still, she attempted to say she wasn't hungry, but he countered that she had to at least drink something.
Five minutes later, he returned with a hot cup of tea, a small cup of soup she had in the refrigerator from a takeout container that he had reheated, the base made of chicken broth, two ibuprofen and a mild sedative that he told her would help her sleep. She struggled to eat and drink, but she managed enough for Seth to not push any further.
Encouraging her to get comfortable and rest, with a small ice pack on the side of her face, he went back to the kitchen to put the dishes away. Now that she was in bed, he felt awkward returning to her bedroom, not knowing if she would want him close by as she slept, or if she would prefer privacy. Compromising with himself, he stood in the doorway of her bedroom, saying, "Jess, get some sleep. I'll leave the door open—"
Shifting in his direction, she called out, scared, "Seth, no, please don't go…I…need you."
Sliding her reading chair closer to the bed, she appeared confused by his action, before she realized his intent, "No, I'm—I'm afraid to sleep. Will you lie beside me, without touching—except I want to hold your hand again. Is—is that alright?"
He walked around to the other side of the bed, loosening his bow tie and the top button of his shirt, before moving onto the bed beside her. She tried to tell him that he could change, but he said he would rather stay beside her for now. Perhaps if he woke in the middle of the night and she was resting well, he would.
"Only if you return after."
Surprised with her request, yet understanding her fear of waking up alone, he promised.
She reached for his hand and he allowed her to grasp it, only echoing each movement and degree of pressure that she did. He had leaned against the headboard so he could gaze down on her. Worried that she wouldn't sleep despite the medication, he need not have, as the medicine worked quickly, and he watched as she fell asleep. The exhaustion that had taken over her body, combined with the sedative, had been potent. After he watched her sleep for a long time, he finally realized that while her body held tension, she was the calmest he had seen her since arriving a couple hours earlier. Satisfied that they were on the right track, he went to change into his pajamas, returning a few minutes later. She was still sleeping but her hand had stretched out, clasping her pillow, as though seeking him. Carefully shifting back onto the bed beside her, he was surprised when she seemed to sense his return, reaching once more for his hand to hold.
S/J
Sometime in the early morning hours, Seth woke to a surprise, finding Jessica in his arms where she had obviously climbed onto his lap, and had tucked her face into his neck, wrapping her arm around his waist and middle. He doubted she had been that way for long, believing his subconscious had woken him soon after she came into his arms, but as they were already wrapped around her body and she was relaxed against him, he remained calm, making no movement. His initial instinct had been to bring her in even closer to his body, savoring her presence and warmth. Knowing that was not a wise idea, he focused on breathing and appreciating what was, instead of what could be, understanding that above anything else, her safety and comfort was of the utmost importance.
Falling back asleep, he prayed for her peace to be restored and her body to heal.
S/J
Soon after dawn, Seth woke up again. His mind had clearly remembered the circumstances of his sleeping arrangements, as he had not moved a muscle. Jessica remained in his lap and his arms were wrapped around her body. She was as relaxed as he had seen her during this ordeal, and he breathed out gratitude that she was sleeping well. Relieved that he had woken up before her, it gave his body's natural responses time to calm down without her awareness, with the feel of her warm body against his own.
Noticing the shift in her breathing, he held his breath, wondering at her reaction when she realized her location. He did not have to wait long, as she scrambled away from him the moment she understood she wasn't alone. The early morning sunlight was filtering through the blinds, as she turned to look at him, her emotions shifting from fear of his touch to relief that it was him, whose arms she had been wrapped in.
He was tempted to feel defensive, wanting to explain how she ended up on top of him, but he didn't, aware that she probably understood what had happened, even if she would never speak of it.
But he could not have anticipated what happened next, when she tentatively crawled back over the bed to him, once more climbing onto his lap, adjusting her body to curl into his.
"Hold me, Seth. Please," she pleaded in a whisper, pulling his arms back around her, asking him to shield her from the world.
"Shh," he shushed her, not to keep her from talking, but to soothe and comfort. "I have you, sweetheart, you are safe, and you are so loved. I am here and I will hold you for eternity if you want."
She cried, as he shushed her and rocked her, like a small child. He would not let her go, for as long as she would allow it.
S/J
About two hours later, Jessica woke up again, this time remembering how she had ended up in Seth's arms. She had grown hot against his body, a light sheen of sweat causing her pajama top to stick to her back, but she did not want to move, even as she knew she had to get up for the bathroom.
"I'm sorry I trapped you, Seth. I'm sure you want some coffee."
Quietly, he said, "I told you last night not to apologize. You have done nothing wrong and I'm here of my own free will."
Nodding, she reached to hold his hand and stood up. He walked her to the bathroom door, before he went to the kitchen to start coffee for him and tea for her, certain she would need something calming for her stomach.
He was surprised when she joined him in the kitchen, wearing a matching navy robe.
Setting a cup of green tea in front of her, she warmed her hands against it. He began going through her refrigerator finding eggs, cheese and vegetables for omelets. He knew she would not eat much, but he thought if he cooked something on the blander side, it would give her needed protein without hurting her stomach.
After eating, he gave her more ibuprofen and asked how her head was feeling.
"A little sore, but alright, I suppose."
Seth wanted to ask what had happened. He wanted to beg her to go to the hospital. He wanted to plead with her to file a police report to hold whoever had done this accountable and to stop them from hurting others. But after decades of being a physician and seeing far too many women become the victims of assault, there was no way in hell he would try to control this situation that had to feel completely out of control for Jessica. No, her control had been taken away yesterday, and he would not make that any worse.
The only thing he would do is to continue to watch for signs of a head trauma gone wrong and check in with her periodically to see if she wanted medical care. And he would wait for the rest.
Coaxing her over to relax on the couch, he brought her fresh tea. It was after nine in the morning, and they were both still wearing their robes and pajamas.
Sitting next to her, she reached for his hand, as soon as he was in reach.
"Is there any new pain today?"
"Only my heart," she muttered, ruefully.
They sat in silence for some time, her hand resting in his.
She had been in shock since he had arrived the night before, but in the sitting room now, in the safety of her apartment next to Seth, she began to breathe, finally having enough oxygen to speak.
"It was the dance instructor." At his confused look, she motioned to her face, his face reacting immediately, displaying a myriad of emotions. "I went back for a private lesson yesterday afternoon. I thought there would be other students there with the other instructors. But…it was just Marco. Everything was fine when we started with the merengue. But then when we moved into the salsa, his hand started to wander…" her voice trailing off.
He stifled a grunt, wanting to track down this criminal right now, but he understood that he had no control when it came to protecting Jessica. He did not trust himself; his rage was too close to the surface. While he had no qualms protecting Jessica by whatever means necessary, he knew it would only hurt her if he sought revenge. So, he could never go looking for this man. Despite wanting to.
"He tried to kiss me, and I pushed him away, telling him no and that I wanted to leave. But then, he grabbed me—not letting me go…groping me. I tried to strike him and that's when he hit me and pushed me against the wall. Once he pinned me there, he ripped my blouse…I…knew he wouldn't stop. But he must have shifted or lost his balance when I was fighting back, because…I was able to knee him which allowed me to get away. Thankfully, he didn't pursue me."
Seth was glad she got in a hit on her assailant, even one that most men would have sympathy for. No, that had been too good for this monster as far as Seth was concerned. Instead, he felt fierce pride with how she had fought back…as well as an unsettling sense of failure that he had not been there to protect her. That she had been in a situation where she had to protect herself. She was such a lady, always graceful and kind. That anyone could treat her harshly and even worse, violently, was too much to process.
"I felt so foolish. It was a public dance studio. But to be alone with a man…"
"Don't—I will remind you every day if I need to, Jess. Do not take on any responsibility. It is this man who is responsible. You did nothing wrong. Do you hear me?"
"I do, Seth. But if I hadn't gone—"
"No. Stop it. Look at me—repeat after me. 'What happened to me was not my fault. It was not my fault.' Say it."
She whispered the words back to him.
Watching her eyes fill with tears, he asked her to repeat it two more times.
When she did, she climbed back into his lap, and he held her until she fell asleep.
S/J
Seth and Jessica spent the entire weekend locked away together in her apartment. Never leaving it, Seth encouraged her to stay in her robe and pajamas, with a fresh pair each day, although he dressed in a pair of trousers, while keeping his shirt collar undone, to be more comfortable. He held her when she cried, made her copious cups of hot tea, and read aloud to her from Jane Eyre, although he did question her on the merits of Mr. Rochester which earned him the first smile of their long weekend.
Never staying long enough in New York to have many groceries on hand, Seth ordered in, and they went through their pick of the many quality restaurants in the neighborhood.
Knowing Jessica needed a little extra time than the weekend had provided, Seth called Beverly on Monday morning while she was still sleeping, telling his nurse that he was unavoidably detained, and he would not be home until Wednesday.
They had rescheduled their flight to Portland for Tuesday night. That morning, they had spent their time sitting quietly together on the couch. Jessica's face was now purple and blue. As they had been hibernating together for days, she had not attempted to cover it, but knew she needed to get a move on to have time to apply makeup carefully to avoid unwelcome stares on the plane.
But…before they returned home, she wanted…she needed to talk to Seth. Despite the trauma she had gone through, she had been aware of his care for her, the terms of endearments he had used, along with the love he had expressed. She wanted him to know that she returned his love and desired a deeper relationship. It would be a while before she would feel comfortable with intimacy because of what had happened, but she would not let her assailant win. That man would not take any more from her. Especially since she knew she would not report him. She couldn't bear the scrutiny if her name was plastered all over the newspaper. It was still too painful and agonizing.
Seth was dressed, albeit casually for him, with one arm around her shoulder, reading the newspaper with the other, while she was leaning against him, still in her pajamas and robe.
"Seth?"
"Hmm?"
"I want to talk to you before I get ready."
Hearing her tone of voice, he lowered the newspaper and waited for her to speak, not staring at her, but shifting towards her, giving her his full attention.
"Thank you for taking care of me."
"Always, sweetheart. I will always be here for you as long as I live."
"I know—which is why…well, I have wanted for a while now to be with you…I want more with you. As a couple. I need some time before I am ready—but I want to be with you in that way, one day soon."
Swallowing, he tried to find the words to say that wouldn't scare her yet confirm that he wanted the same. "I love you, Jess. I want you to get better first, and then, whenever you feel ready for more, I will be here. Alright?"
She nodded, smiling tentatively, before she reached up to pull his face to hers, planting a firm, but gentle kiss on his lips. She did not deepen it, but she lingered, pausing to kiss the side of his mouth and jaw before pulling away.
She hoped it would not be long before she sought more from him. So much more.
She would continue to hold his hand as he held her close, until her heart and mind mended. She knew they would, with him by her side.
For now, his simple touches were healing her.