STORY: Adjustments, part 9 of ? (It's a long one LOL) 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. That night, after the cab dropped them off in their driveway, Hilary stood and stared down the street toward O'Malley's. She felt as though she was being pulled in that direction. "We should stop in on Joe and Rosie," she whispered. "No," Jeff took her arm and gently pulled toward the house. "Neither one of us is ready for that trip yet. Come on into the house." She let him lead her to the front door and waited while he unlocked and opened it. Hilary walked in and looked around. "Everything is just how I left it." "Why wouldn't it be?" Jeff asked, tossing her suitcase onto the couch. "I don't know. It just seems like a different person lived here." She stepped farther in, "One who wasn't afraid of anything." Jeff wrapped his arms around her, "You are not a different person, Hilary. You are the same controlling, conniving, bewitching and beautiful woman I've always been married to." "Maybe." She whispered and lay her head against his shoulder. The first two weeks home for Hilary were eventful. She couldn't sleep at all for the first few nights. She had to re-accustom herself to the usual sounds and ticks of the house at night. Her nightmares grew vicious again. The most recurring theme was the man trying to steal her baby. Some nights she was able to get away from him and other's . . . well, those were the worst. She'd learned the hard way that she would never look at a knife the same way again. A steak knife. That's all it was, a simple steak knife. But to her it was alive and wanted to kill her. The day after she'd been released from the hospital, they had sat down to dinner in the kitchen. Jeff handed her the plate and set the knife down on the table. It still had a little momentum left and had spun on the edge of the handle. It stopped, facing her. Really no harm was meant, that's just how it stopped. She leapt from the table as if it were a snake ready to strike. Panic stricken and screaming, she backed into the corner by the pantry door. Jeff was at her side in seconds. Trying to calm her down, he promised that he'd remove the knife, any knife he could find. She clawed desperately at him, lost in a flashback, begging that he not hurt her. He reminded her where she was and who he was, but she was lost in her panic. Wanting to settle her before she hurt herself or the baby, Jeff grabbed the glass of cold water that he'd poured for her to drink with dinner. He threw the water into her face, hoping it would snap her out of it. He shouted her name again until finally she stopped. She looked at him and said his name hesitantly, like she didn't quite recognize him. He carefully helped her to her feet, took her into the dining room and set her into the closest chair. Assuring her she was safe and that he wasn't going to hurt her, he knelt next to her and rubbed her arm. She finally snapped into coherence and collapsed into his arms. He held her tightly, letting her cry out the fear. Tenderly he offered soothing words until she cried herself to sleep. Jeff picked her up, careful not to wake her and carried her upstairs to bed. After making sure she was covered and asleep, he left the room leaving the bathroom light on and the door cracked in case she woke. As he walked into the kitchen and began to clear away the forgotten dinner, Jeff picked up the steak knife and in a fit of rage threw it with all his strength. The blade imbedded itself into the wood panel of the back door. He sank sobbing into her empty chair feeling as though everything had spun out of control. A week later, she realized that she couldn't do her job. She'd been cleared to return to work full time and was looking forward to getting back on the air. She walked into the studio, opened her mouth and found she couldn't speak. She felt a sudden crippling fear that her unknown attacker would hear her, realize that he hadn't killed her, and try again. Her ability to breath left her and she grabbed at Jeff who stood at her left. He saw her panic and rushed her out of the studio and into the hall. Away from the closed room, she took a large breath. She told Jeff she needed air and he rushed her to the fire escape out of the right green room window. Once she was able to breath normally again, she told Jeff what had happened. Then she got angry. She stormed over Jeff and back into the green room in a fury. She poured out all the anger and frustration that she'd been feeling since her attack. Jeff tried to calm her down, remind her where she was at, but she heard none of his pleas. "No! He has taken away my right to privacy, my peace of mind," she walked closer to Jeff. Touching his face, she said softer, "my ability to make love to you." Blinking away tears, she stepped back slightly, "He is -NOT- taking my career too!" "Hilary," Jeff said again, tenderness in his voice. "I want my life back." She said, "I want the life that we would have had. Not worrying over shadows, and noises, and little old ladies who think this was all my fault." She stepped into Jeff's embrace, "I just want my life back." As the months and her pregnancy progressed, Hilary had learned to ignore the accusatory stares and the whispered gossip and rumors surrounding her every movement. She had even on occasion heard Gertie on the phone whispering to friends. That had hurt. While she and the woman hadn't exactly been close, she thought she at least knew her well enough to understand. She was sleeping better; the nightmares had faded some, but not completely and they were no less vivid when she did have them. She had not had another panic attack since the steak knife incident. Part of that was due to the fact that Jeff had cleared both the house and the station of any knife she might happen to run across. As she thought back, she realized that she hadn't seen so much as a butter knife since that night. Her shoulder and arm were slowly getting better. The pain was nearly gone and she was able to lift the arm out to the side at almost shoulder height. To the front, she could lift past her ribs before the tightness made it impossible. Still that was with nothing in her hand. She doubted if she could hold a script for long, even if she could bring herself to acting again. That's what hurt her the most. No matter how much she tried, she just couldn't find her voice in front of a microphone or on a stage. The thought of a live audience was the worst. Just from standing on a stage in an empty theatre, her mind conjured up a multitude of images. The worst being an entire audience of leering men throwing knives at her. At the station, she couldn't even bring herself into either of the studios. She'd would stand at the door of studio A, watch and feel miserable. When watching got the best of her, she would walk dejected into Betty's office and ask if there was anything she could do. She felt like a damned intern. There were many days when the green room wall had been subjected to an angrily thrown cup or saucer. It was on one such frustrating day that Hilary sat on the green room couch. Her back had been aching constantly since morning and she just felt uncomfortable in general. The radio was off; she didn't have the heart to listen to Maple reading her roles. She leaned to pick up a discarded script from that afternoon's Hands Of Time and idylly flipped through it. Since not being able to play Elizabeth, she'd lost track of where the show was going. A scene between Brent and Elizabeth jumped out at her. They were discussing her recent mugging. Mugging? Today had been the wrong day for her to realize that Betty had again used some low point in her life for a plot idea. It was bad enough to go through the gauntlet of walking past Gertie's accusatory glance every morning. She really didn't need her life to be part of a radio drama. She pushed off the couch amid a kick of protest from the baby. She smiled and rubbed the area where she could feel the little foot against her stomach. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you." Purposefully, she walked down to the writer's room. Knocking on the open door, she let Betty know of her presence. "Betty, may I speak to you for a moment." Betty looked up from her typewriter, "Sure Hilary, come on in." She set the script on the writer's desk and pulled a chair up to sit. "I just glanced at this a bit ago and I have to ask, why must you keep bringing painful moments from my life into the show?" The young woman sat straight, "It's the sponsor's that detail the plots in advance, Hilary." Hilary challengingly met the woman's dark eyes. "Betty, that's the same story you gave me when you had Brent had marry another woman, again. I know for a fact that you send the sponsors the plot-line in advance and all they do is approve various parts of it." She leaned forward to rest an elbow on the desk, noting that Betty was blushing somewhat, "I can forgive the earlier two wives script." Giving Betty her undivided attention, Hilary told the woman, "I relive this thing every time I close my eyes, I will NOT be subjected to it at work. I want this written out of the script now. I don't care how you explain its sudden absence, but do it!" Betty leaned forward, "Hilary, I--" "The sponsors are not heartless Betty, they will understand." Hilary told her, "If not I will speak to them myself." She stood to leave, "Betty, think for yourself for once. You got this job because Victor liked what he saw in your potential. Stop taking plot ideas from events that happen here. Use your mind." With that final thought, she left the room. Betty looked down at her typewriter and pulled the paper from it. She thought for a couple seconds and started writing a story she'd had hidden in her conscious for quite some time. Hilary was right, she was using too many everyday references in her dramas. She'd call the Foxx's with a new synopsis of the Hands of Time as soon as she wrote it. As Hilary walked past Gertie's desk, she stopped to give the woman a message for Jeff who was still on the air. "Gertie, please tell Jeffrey that I ran downstairs to The Buttery for something to eat." She patted a hand against her rounded stomach, "She's been restless all day so I want to try to see if she settles down if I eat something." Hilary joked with a lift of her brow. "She's very insistent, like her father." "You know many people are unsure of who that father is." Gertie stated bluntly. Hilary stood straight, "And what do you think," she asked through tight lips. Gertie looked her into the eye, "I think you should be more respectful of Jeff's feelings." A burst of anger shot through Hilary. "No Gertie, I think you should!" With that remark she left the studio. Hilary sat at the counter and tried to ignore the whispered stares. Finally having had enough, she put her burger down and asked the counter waitress of she could please have the rest of her meal boxed up to go. After paying and thanking the woman she left the diner. On her way back upstairs she rubbed the small of her back. I should have stayed home today, she thought. Should have stayed home. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Why do I let this get to me? Because the bastard nearly killed me, and still I get blamed. The elevator doors opened, and she walked back into the station. It was days like this that made her want to just crawl into bed and forget the outside world existed. Hilary stepped into the lobby and caught the slight judgmental sniff from the receptionist. That had been the last straw. "For your information, Gertrude, I was wearing the green dress that I wore to work that Saturday. Not exactly seductive. I did not *ask* to be pulled into a dark alley by a man I never saw. I tend not to sleep with men who are trying to kill me at the same time!" Hilary explained loudly. "It's detrimental to my health." "And as for the baby--" Hilary jumped when a script came flying down the hall followed by a livid Jeffrey. "That is MY baby!" He shouted angrily at Gertie, "why can't people believe it? Do you not think me capable of being a father?" He stopped at her desk, "I am sick and tired of all your stares, your glances, your gossiping phone calls to friends!" Jeff turned, seeing the surprised crowd gathered behind him. "I am sick of ALL your "poor Jeff' whispers. I survived the London war zone twice, I don't NEED to be felt sorry for!" He turned to Hilary, "I wish you'd have told me about the first baby. I HAD a right to know that we lost a child. Even if I had married Pavla and was living happily ever after with her right now, I had a right to know. That was my child, Hilary. As much as this baby is." Jeff picked the thrown script from the floor and walked past his surprised co-workers to Scott, "I understand why you married her, Scott, but why didn't you divorce Hilary as SOON as I came back?" He looked at Victor, who stood in the office door behind Scott, "A 'thank you for ruining your life to save mine' would have been nice!" He turned to storm out of the station but hesitated, he shoved the script he held at Betty, "and I am tired of reading scripts that hit too close to home." With that statement he rushed past Hilary and out the door, leaving a stunned silent group of people. Only Maple spoke and it was barely audible, "good for you Jeff." Hilary was the first to move, "I--nevermind." She stopped her statement and left the station intent on finding Jeff. She didn't have far to look. He was standing at the end of the hallway looking out the window. She could tell he was crying. "Pumpkin," she said softly as she stopped behind him. "Could you leave me alone for a while, Hilary?" He asked, not turning from the window. "If you want." She hesitated, knowing him enough to know that he really didn't want to be alone. "I really blew it didn't I?" After a moment he turned to face her. "I shouldn't have said those things." "You said them because that's how you feel, darling." She hesitantly placed a hand on his arm, "You spilled a couple of secrets, but I should have told you before you went to London that I was pregnant. I just didn't want you to think I was using our baby as an excuse to keep you with me." "So you handcuffed me to a sideboard in the green room instead?! What was I supposed to think then, Hilary? That you wanted to play?" He remarked shortly. "Telling me you were pregnant might have actually worked." "I'm sorry. It wasn't a good decision on my part." She apologized, "You know I'm always good for a less than thought out action, when it comes to you." She smiled, "You make me lose my mind sometimes." He pulled her into his arms, "The feeling is mutual." She rubbed his back, "Scott can work out whatever he needs to with Betty. If he wants me to talk to her I will, but don't worry about that. She needed to know." "I should apologize anyway." He loosened his hold, "I do think I will go downstairs to cool off first." "Do you want to go alone," she asked, then rubbed her stomach, "or would you like for us to accompany you dad?" He smiled, put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the elevator, "company would be nice." to be continued... Biz Bizarra@infinet.com