Dallas, Texas
October 1979
He'd tried to put them off, but Patricia and Kristin hadn't been interested in any of his excuses. What they found upon arriving at Southfork was a surprise, however. They doted on little John and remarked on how odd it was that Pamela was taking care of him. They had tea with Miss Ellie, and Kristin even tried to get herself hired at Ewing Oil, all before they truly wondered where Sue Ellen was, somehow misunderstanding that "Sue Ellen isn't taking visitors at present" applied to them too.
JR would have loved to tell them that Sue Ellen was actually missing, presumed kidnapped, just to set Patricia Shepard on his daddy. But then he'd have to explain why his daddy would have reason to kidnap Sue Ellen, and he couldn't face her mother with the news that he'd failed in his husbandly duties to protect her.
For that reason, he stuck with the excuse that Sue Ellen was at Brooktree and had been for months, on account of exhaustion. He had a personal rule: never tell the truth when a good lie would do, and in this case, it wasn't even really a lie. Sue Ellen had been sent to Brooktree to rest and recover, not from exhaustion, but that was only code anyway.
Luckily, once Patricia and Kristin realised there wasn't much for them in Dallas at this time, they left as quickly as they'd arrived, and he was free to return to his search for the very lady they were all so interested in.
There was no doubt in his mind that his daddy was holding her somewhere, but where, and how he was avoiding detection, remained a mystery. They had him under surveillance, but he had plenty of experience with sneaking around. For now, Sue Ellen remained captive, and JR could only hope she remained healthy.
She hated him. She always had. The searing loathing she felt for Jock had dulled over time, numbed by the monotony of her days, until he reappeared and reminded her exactly who he was.
Jock had a peculiar fixation on her changing body. The things he 'loved' about her were things she despised, and his critiques were hurtful and highly inappropriate. He had eyes for her changing state, proud of the part he'd played in it, fascinated by what he referred to as 'wonders of nature', that is, until he was present for some of the harsher realities of what he'd forced her into. In the dim light of evening, motivated by his selfish desire, he didn't notice the marks on her skin or the swelling in her hands. But when morning came and his head was clearer, nothing stopped him from making his distaste known.
He refused to bear any responsibility for how she looked or felt. No, that burden was hers alone. Even the tasks she once left to the salon, those small indulgences that helped her feel human, were now impossible. Without access to a nail kit, scissors, or a razor, all of which he refused to provide due to his concern she'd try to harm the baby, she couldn't even attempt an at-home spa day. He'd first told her he liked his women natural, but once it became clear that a certain level of maintenance was required for his preferred 'natural' state, he turned on her. He wouldn't give her the tools she needed to keep herself looking nice and then blamed her for appearing untidy.
The small things she clung to in order to make captivity a little more bearable were soon a problem too. According to Jock, the swelling was due to too many treats, so her diet was changed. In his expert opinion, the marks on her skin were from too much sun, so she was ordered to stay indoors.
She'd never had a good quality of life under his control, but slowly, her situation became worse.
The newest generation of Ewing wives were odd. Pamela was to give him a grandchild, but she appeared to be still deciding whether that was a good thing. If he didn't know better, he'd think she'd been talking to Sue Ellen. Sue Ellen, heavy with his next son, still refused to find any joy in her condition. He'd struggled to share her the first time around, but now that she was wholly his, she still wouldn't fully cooperate with his wishes, making life harder and far less pleasant than he'd expected.
From a distance, Jock studied Pamela, searching for any sign of the newest Ewing developing within her. He saw none. It reminded him of her first experience with impending motherhood, a fleeting ordeal that had passed so quickly he'd never noticed much change then, either. For Bobby and Pamela's sake, and his own, he hoped things were different this time. Another addition to the family tree would be a welcome distraction from the constant questions about Sue Ellen's whereabouts that everyone at Southfork seemed so insistent on asking.
He wanted her to decorate a nursery. He said it'd give her something to do, something to focus on. He thought it was something she'd be excited about. It was a sick joke.
The toys, the furniture, the neatly boxed clothes he'd unpacked, they were all reminders of the world outside this house, reminders of what he was pushing her into. His fantasy of them bonding in the nursery with their son was just that: a fantasy.
She had no interest in decorating a nursery. No interest in playing happy families with him. In truth, she had no interest in, or worse, an active dislike for, the baby itself. She hated even thinking the word baby. It wasn't a baby to her. It was an it. A thing. Jock's mark on her.
She wasn't excited. She was scared. She was trapped.