STORY: Adjustments, part 1 of ? (It's a long one LOL)
FANDOM: Remember WENN
AUTHOR: Michele Savage (1998)
RATING: NC-17, Part 1 has violence/rape scene, M/F, hurt/comfort
SUMMARY: After Hilary is brutally attacked and left for dead, she and Jeff 
have some healing to do.
SETTING: 1942, Pittsburgh
FEEDBACK: Would be muchly appreciated. :-)
ARCHIVE: Hetsketeers. (anywhere else, let me know before archiving please.)
DISCLAIMER: Remember WENN and its characters are copyright Rupert Holmes, 
Howard Meltzer and AMC. No infringement is intended. The story is mine as 
are any original characters.

         I don't know where this story came from. I was having a chat one 
night about "what ifs" and the following day, I sat down and began this 
story. It was originally intended to be a story that we only shared between 
the two of us, given the subject matter. But 48 pages later, after many 
comments from my Beta readers, I have decided to send it down.

         This story quite literally took over and wrote itself. There are 
several things in it that had not at all been planned. In fact, after the 
first paragraph I gave up planning anything for this.

         It is somewhat violent and is much darker than any WENN story that 
has been written. I would love to hear any comments you have regarding this 
story.

         Thanks Dani for the encouragement to publicly post this. :-)


Adjustments
         by Michele Savage

         Joseph O'Malley gave a chuckle when he saw Hilary Booth stomp away 
from the table she'd been occupying with her husband. He noticed that Jeff 
walked to the bar instead of following her out like he normally did.
         "Not going after her?" he asked as Jeff walked up to him and 
ordered another beer.
         "I'm just putting off the inevitability of her meeting me at the 
front door with a flying plate." Jeff replied with a smile.
         Joe laughed and handed him his beer. The friendly owner of 
O'Malley's Pub wiped the bar in front of him and turned away to his next 
customer.
         He took the bill from the man he'd turned to and the man walked 
out of the bar.

         Hilary mumbled curses under her breath as she paced in front of 
the door trying to talk herself out of going back in to apologize.  Several 
patrons left the bar and walked past her as if she were in their 
way.  Finally annoyed by that more than anything, Hilary decided to head on 
home.
         As she walked past the alley between O'Malley's and the general 
store next door to it, she was grabbed from behind and pushed into the 
darkness.  The abrupt movement tripped her and she fell to the ground.  She 
started to complain loudly when someone pounced on her and forced her back 
to the cool rough concrete.
         "What the hell--!" Her protest was cut short when a hand was 
clamped over her mouth.
         "Shuddup lady!" the man whispered. She could smell the heavy 
alcohol on his breath and knew he was drunk.  She thrashed wildly trying to 
get him off of her. Using his other hand, he pawed roughly at her breasts, 
mumbling insulting words of appreciation.
         When he began to push beneath her skirt, Hilary bit down hard on 
his hand. As he yelled and pulled the aching extremity away, she tried to 
scream. He hit her hard across the jaw in response.
         "I told you, bitch, to shut up." He growled.
         "Let me go." She ordered.
         He only laughed, a harsh sniveling laugh, bent over her and 
whispered against her face, "not until I've had my fun."
         She knew then with certainty what he meant to do to her. She began 
to fight him again with earnest, only to earn a punch in the stomach. While 
she was gasping for breath, he pulled something from his pocket. She 
stilled when she felt a sharp point at her throat. "Don't hurt me, please."
          "Keep fightin' me and I'll cut you." He warned, pricking her skin 
to punctuate his warning.
         Hilary inhaled sharply against the sudden pain, "Don't do this. 
Just let me go."
         She felt him move the knife and lifted her hand to her neck to 
feel how badly cut she was. Before she could react, he'd poked the knife 
into her dress, near the waist and ripped upward, tearing the fabric of her 
dress and her undergarments. She felt the blade cut into her skin as it 
moved through the material and screamed with pain.
         Without warning he stabbed the knife into the fleshy part of her 
shoulder, near her neck. "I said, shut up!"
         When she cried out, he clamped his hand over her mouth and ripped 
the knife away from her. He plunged the knife into her shoulder again as if 
to prove his point, and almost moaned in pleasure as he felt the wetness of 
her tears against his hand.
         She felt him lay the knife on her stomach as he freed her breasts 
from the torn fabric. He removed his hand from her mouth, seeing that she 
was weakening enough to no longer protest. The man moved away from her long 
enough to push up her skirt and cut away her panties with the knife, again 
she felt the pain of her skin also being cut. "Please stop." She heard 
herself mumbling.
         The pain was beginning to overwhelm her. She could feel him pawing 
her body, felt him finger painting her with her own blood. She tried to 
lift her arm to push him away, but she found she barely had enough strength 
to move.
*Please don't let me die like this,* she silently prayed. She felt her hips 
being lifted as he moved himself into position. The last thing she felt 
before totally losing consciousness was the head of his penis driving 
forcefully into her. *I love you, Jeffrey,* was the last thought she had.


         When she came to, he was gone. She tried to move but was 
immediately assaulted with the sharpest pain she'd ever felt. "I have to 
get out of this alley." She said to herself. Before moving again, she 
lifted the arm that hurt the least and with a soft touch tried to assess 
her injuries.  She'd been stabbed twice in her right shoulder. She was 
losing quite a bit of blood from those wounds.
         She tried to pull as much of her dress as she could over herself, 
but he'd cut away so much, there was barely enough to cover her chest. 
Gingerly she rolled to the unhurt side and tried to scoot herself to the 
mouth of the alley. She knew as dark as it was, if she stayed there she'd 
bleed to death before anyone found her.
         Once near the sidewalk, she could see people walking away from 
O'Malley's. She had no idea what time it was or how long she'd been 
unconscious. "Help" She cried. The call was too soft and no one heard her. 
She turned down the street toward her house and saw Jeff waiting for 
traffic to clear at the next street.
         "Jeffrey!" She called as loud as she could. It was still too soft 
to be heard. She took a deep pain-filled breath and tried again.  "Jeff!" 
this time he heard her, but apparently didn't recognize the sound.
         Someone did hear her and rushed to her side. Ron Gantry, another 
regular at the pub and a friend of Jeff's, who'd recognized her. "Oh, my 
god," He rolled her carefully. When she mildly protested out of fear and 
pain, he softly reminded her, "It's okay, Hilary. It's Ronny." He took his 
jacket off and covered her with it. He glanced up and saw the man he'd just 
left the pub with readying to cross the street.
         "Singer!" he yelled loudly.
         Jeff turned at the sound of his buddy Ron calling his name. He 
couldn't see from his distance, but it looked like the man was kneeling 
over someone. He started to walk back to Ron when he called again. "It's 
Hilary!"
         His heart stopped when he heard her name. He blindly ran to where 
she lay, barely aware of her surroundings.
         "I'll call an ambulance. Bring her into O'Malley's and get her off 
this street." Ron said as he rushed back into the pub.
         "Hilary sweetheart, I'm here."  Jeff said softly. He sat beside 
her and leaned over her. In the streetlight, he could see she was covered 
with blood and her clothes were nearly torn completely away. He was glad 
that Ron had covered her knowing that if she'd been aware of her 
appearance, she'd have been mortified. Jeff closed his eyes to tears that 
formed, a tear dripping onto her face, "I should have followed you, 
Mittens." He gently gathered her into his arms, mindful of any painful 
moan. "I'm never going to forgive myself for this, darling. This shouldn't 
have happened."
         He stood carefully and rushed into the bar. Ron had explained 
things to the owners and Rosie O'Malley met them at the door and ushered 
them immediately into the back sleeping room.
         "Lay her on the bed," she said in a soft Irish accent. She stood 
ready with a sheet to cover the again unconscious woman when her husband 
tenderly lay her down. Rosie shooed everyone but Jeff out of the room. 
She'd known these two long enough to know it would be pointless to even try 
to get Jeff to leave.

         In the light, her injuries looked brutal. Jeff sat on the bed next 
to her, and helped as Mrs. O'Malley removed what was left of the dress and 
inspected her wounds.
         "You realize that she was likely--"
         "I know." Jeff said quietly interrupting the woman before she 
could put into words what he'd been trying to deny.
         "Looks like she's been stabbed a couple times in her shoulder 
here," the woman explained, changing the subject. "This seems to be where 
most of the bleeding is coming from." She pressed a heavy towel against the 
stab wounds trying to stem the flow of the blood.
         "I see a cut here on her chest where the bast-" he stopped in 
deference to the woman present, "where he ripped her dress."
         Rosie put her hand on Jeff's arm, "You say whatever you feel, 
darling. Get the anger out now."
         "She can't die, Rosie. She's my life."  Jeff said with a heavy 
voice, while washing away some of the blood on Hilary's face.
         "Did someone call the police?" Jeff asked, his eyes never leaving 
Hilary.
         "Yes, Joseph did. They should be here soon." She answered.
         "Good, because I want the son of a bitch to pay for what he did." 
Jeff seethed angrily.
         The ambulance arrived at the same time the police did. Jeff spoke 
to the officers only until the ambulance drivers were ready to leave. The 
police assured him that they would be at the hospital later to talk to him.

         The ride to the hospital was the longest trip Jeff had ever taken. 
He sat in the front seat with the ambulance driver and Mrs. O'Malley, who 
had insisted on going along, rode in the back with the other man and Hilary.
         He stared out the window as the city sped by, trying to keep his 
mind away from the image of his wife lying in a pool of her own blood in 
the alley. Finally they turned into the hospital driveway and the long ride 
was over.

To be continued ...

Biz

Bizarra@infinet.com