STORY: Adjustments, part 14 of 15 FANDOM: Remember WENN AUTHOR: Michele Savage (1998) RATING: NC-17, 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.), Sockii, this can be archived at Rest Is Silence too. :-) 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. Jeff laughed. "Ok, thank you Maple. We appreciate this." He said goodbye and hung up as Hilary left the bathroom. "How is she?" Hilary asked as she threw the towel she was carrying onto one of the chairs at the table. "She's fine. Maple said she just fed her and put her back to sleep." Jeff told her as he hopped back into the bed. "So come here." He patted the mattress next to him. She lay down next to him and he cuddled her against him in a warm embrace. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "The dream?" "Whatever." He answered, having sensed that she wanted to talk. "I should have gone back into O'Malley's that night and apologized. But as usual, I let my irrational side take over the rational." She started quietly after a few pensive moments. "When I was pulled into the alley I fell. I tried to get up, but he was there." Jeff held her tighter, understanding that she needed to excise the memory in order to heal from the wound. She'd done the same with him when he finally truly remembered what had happened in London. "He was so drunk I'm surprised that he was coherent enough to-- I fought him and insisted that he get off me." Hilary continued, "It was so dark I couldn't see my own hands in front of me. I think I was laying on a rock." She barely laughed, "it funny that I remember that." She wiped her eyes and continued, "He was pawing at my breasts and muttering a leering comment here and there. I insisted again that he get off me. He put his hand over my mouth and told me to shut up. When I felt his other hand moving beneath my skirt I bit him." She took a deep breath and moved up, making herself more comfortable in Jeff's arms. He held her closer and rubbed her arm. Hilary closed her eyes and felt a tear drop onto Jeff's chest. He made her feel so safe, so loved. Jeff closed his own eyes as an all too familiar streak of anger pass over him. He could feel her tears on his skin and wanted nothing more than to be able to take the hurt away. But he couldn't. The only thing he could do was patiently listen to Hilary and make her feel safe. She continued, "After I bit him, he moved his hand and I tried to scream. He punched me in the stomach." She softly began crying, "That's when he pulled out the knife. He put it against my neck. I begged that he not hurt me. He pricked the point into my neck and warned me that if I didn't be quiet, that he'd cut me." "He sat straddling my abdomen, literally sat. I remember he was heavy and that stupid rock was just digging in under my hip. It hurt." She recalled, "he poked the knife into my dress and ripped upward. I screamed. The pain was awful. I'd never felt such pain in my life. Until, in anger over my screaming he stabbed the knife into my shoulder." Tears were now rolling unchecked down Jeff's cheeks. He thought again that he should have followed her home. He would have been there to protect her. Or just his being there could have prevented her attack. She continued, now eager to just get the words out. Jeff wiped tears from her face and she took his hand. Hilary kissed the palm and held it tightly in her own hand as she spoke, "The pain was searing. Intense. I must have cried out because he put his hand over my mouth again and angrily told me that he'd warned me to shut up. He held his hand tighter against my mouth and yanked the knife out of my shoulder only to . . . stab me again. I cried out against his hand but he only made a sound like he was getting some sort of pleasure from my pain." "It was making me hazy and weak. I couldn't fight him." She said, "I just wanted him to go away. He pulled away my dress and started touching me everywhere. I could feel the wetness of my blood. He was almost playing in it, like he was painting me with my own--" She stopped abruptly. "I think I'm going to be sick," She rushed into the bathroom. A worried Jeff quickly followed her. She was huddled over the commode and coughing. He knelt behind her and held her hair out of the way. When she was finished he handed her a towel and a glass of water from the sink. Jeff reached, flushed the toilet and closed the lid. He sat against the cold metal of the lions claw tub and gently pulled Hilary into his lap, setting the half drunk water glass on the floor before it spilled. He cradled her head against his neck and let her cry. "God, I don't know how Anjeanette survived." Hilary sobbed. "I don't even know how I did." Jeff could no longer hold back his own tears. What kind of animal would do something like that to a pregnant woman. To any woman. He held his weeping spouse within the safety of his arms. He tenderly assured, "Sweetheart you and the baby survived because you both had something to live for. You survived for me, just like I survived that bombing for you." "Yes, maybe so." She cried, "The last thought I had before I finally passed out from the pain was that I loved you." "Darling, if I could take this hurt from you I would." Jeff told her through his own crying voice. After several moments of shared tears, Hilary finally calmed. She turned a still tearful gaze to Jeff and asked softly, "Please make it something beautiful again." He could tell by the tone of her voice, she well and truly was asking him. It wasn't her sadness speaking or a need to please him. He leaned and kissed her softly. Jeff moved her from his lap and stood, pulling her up into his arms. He walked into the bedroom and carefully lay her on the bed. "You're sure?" he asked, wanting to be one hundred percent certain he hadn't read her wrong. She sat, slipped the straps of the gown she wore off her shoulders and let it fall to her hips, "Make me whole again, my love." Jeff closed his eyes as desire wound it's way through his body. He pushed down the satin pajama bottoms he wore and stepped out of them and onto the bed. As usual he wore nothing under the smooth material, Hilary noticed. She let her eyes travel over his body and realized that this was the first time she'd seen her husband completely nude in nearly a year. She reached a tentative hand to touch his hip and let her fingers travel over the smooth skin. A tear fell silently as she traced a small scar that he'd gotten in London. One she'd forgotten about. "I don't know you anymore," she said in a sad voice. "I knew your body as well as I know my own. Now I can't remember where the scars from London are, or which scars are from London and which are from you're growing up." She caressed his face said in an emotional voice, "where do I touch you?" He moved to the other side of the bed so she wouldn't have to lean her weight on the right arm and lay down. "Come here." He gently urged. She lay next to him, her legs still covered with the gown she wore. Hilary propped her head on her left arm and lay the right against her side. A small part of her felt self conscious because her upper body was completely unclothed, but, she pushed that thought aside. She'd never felt that way in front of Jeff and she wasn't about to start now. He scooted closer to her, "So you'll just have to re-enroll into Jeffrey Singer 101." She laughed as he took her right hand and carefully guided her fingers to his body. He moved down slightly so she could reach his forehead. "All right, this very fine scar at my hairline is one you should remember." "Yes, that's where I beaned you with a half full pumpkin pie plate the first Thanksgiving we were together." She answered with a laugh remembering that day. He'd made her so angry she grabbed the closest thing to her. Which happened to be her mother's glass pie plate. She hadn't really meant to hurt him, but the plate shattered against his hard head, liberally coating him with the half eaten pie. They were lucky it was a small cut. "Right you are milady." He smiled, "and if I remember correctly I earned a nickname that day." She giggled, "You looked so forlorn, glaring at me through the pumpkin with that little streak of blood from the cut." She laughed harder, "You looked like a very angry jack-o-lantern." "Okay, okay, next stop on the humiliate Jeff tour." He said with a sarcastic tone. She stopped her laughter and turned as jokingly serious as he was. She let him move her hand over his neck and to his chest. He stopped at a nearly unnoticeable scar beneath the chest hair on his left breastbone. "Here--" "Anthony's dog." She recalled. He'd told her once how as a four year old he was pestering the little terrier so much it finally bit him. "Yeah, see you know," Jeff exclaimed. "You just wanted an excuse to get your hands on my body" As she laughed, he thought that it was good to see the light in her eyes again. He placed his hands on each side of her face and tenderly pulled her mouth to his. He felt her wrap her arms around him and pull her body against his. "You'll know by instinct, darling." he whispered against her lips. To be concluded in next post Biz Bizarra@infinet.com