Very, Very Carefully
Part 9
Christmas was approaching. John had been waiting impatiently for the psychologist to give the all-clear so that he could return to duty, and had been increasing his work-outs. But he couldn’t train twenty four hours a day, and to help fill the gaps between, he had also begun to practise his cooking skills. At long last, when Steve had started praising his attempts, instead of bravely suffering through them, he knew it was time to invite Alex over for a special meal.
"Christmas dinner?" she asked when he phoned up. "You're not going to roast a turkey, are you, Dad? You know I'm vegetarian."
"It will be a pre-Christmas dinner," he clarified. "And I'll have some meat on the side for me, but everything else will be vegetarian. Would this coming Sunday be all right? Or Saturday? You might be travelling over the holidays."
Also, Steve had wanted to invite her father over one day, too, but they'd agreed not to lump their guests together, in the hope of minimizing any confrontations.
"No," Alex murmured, "Sunday is good. Just tell me what time."
"Six?" he suggested.
"Six is good," Alex agreed.
"You can bring Brandon if you like," John offered. Alex hesitated a tiny bit, then said, "He can't come that week, he's got other stuff to do. But it's a good time for me."
"All right," John said, just a little surprised. "We'll look forward to seeing you."
"Yeah," said Alex. "Thanks, Dad, I'm looking forward to it, too."
On the night itself, John had two reasons to be happy; he'd just been cleared for duty again, and his daughter was about to come over. When the phone rang, he was more worried that he might be sent on a new mission that very instant, but since he was stirring something on the stove that would burn without constant attention, he called out, "Steve, can you get that?"
Steve must have been quick, because he didn't hear a second ring, and a few moments later, she appeared in the doorway.
"Who was it?" he asked.
"It says it was Alex," she said, looking at the display, "but it only rang once."
A feeling came over John that he'd only ever experienced while operational, a kind of apprehension, a sense of something bad about to happen. He'd learned to trust that feeling while on duty, and saw no reason to distrust it now.
"Here, stir this," he said, handing over the spoon and taking the phone from her hand. He dialled back, but only got her voice mail. After trying a second time with the same result, he hung up.
"I don't like this. I'm going over," he announced. He reached around Steve to turn the stove off, but although he knew that he'd touched her from behind without warning, he noticed that she didn't flinch. Instead, she merely asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, that's all right," he said. "You stay here in case she shows up."
Alex's flat was barely within walking distance, but jogging through the snowy streets on foot was faster than waiting for the bus, or even a taxi. As soon as he came into view of the building, John glanced up to the windows and saw that the lights in both windows were on. Alex wouldn't have forgotten her date for pre-Christmas dinner, not if she'd tried to ring him up shortly before. He pulled out his phone for one last call.
There was a burst of music from the ground nearby, the ring tone of a cell phone, which stopped as soon as John heard the message inviting him to leave a voice mail. Frowning, he tried Alex's number again, then followed the music to where he found the phone in a pile of snow. Glancing up, John could see that it had landed exactly where it would be if someone had dropped it out of Alex's window. With his operational sense telling him that something was very wrong here, John stuffed both phones into his jacket pocket and went to the door.
He got one of the neighbours to let him in, and stopped briefly to indicate upstairs. "My daughter left her phone in my flat, but she doesn't answer her bell. I'll just leave it for her."
"Funny, I thought she was still in," the neighbour said, but shrugged and shut her door.
Although John was tempted to take the stairs two or three at a time, he went up as carefully and quietly as though he were approaching an enemy hideout. At Alex's door, he stopped and listened, then knelt down and peered through the letter box. The lights were on, and he thought he heard a creak from further inside. Reaching up while still keeping the slot open, he knocked loudly, then called out, "Alex?"
There was a distinct thump, and then silence. John waited and listened, but nobody came and nothing moved. If she and Brandon were in bed together, she wouldn't appreciate his interruption, but there was the matter of the dinner appointment, and the phone in the snow, and somehow, he didn't think she'd done all that just to hop between the sheets with a boyfriend she'd had for months now. Or even a new boyfriend. And even if she had, he felt he could depend on her to come out and shout at him for ruining her evening. Without further consideration, John stood up and kicked the door in.
"Alex!" he shouted.
There was another thump and a muffled cry, which John identified as coming from the bedroom. The door was shut, and he opened it carefully, his training taking over. For one brief instant, he saw his daughter lying on the bed, naked from the waist down, tape over her mouth and her arms tied above her head, and then something slammed into his skull. He staggered, not quite unconscious, but not far from it, and got another blow, this one to the ribs. But then his head cleared and he punched out at his assailant, hitting the man in the face. The man took an involutary step backwards, came up against the edge of the bed, and flailed his arms to keep his balance, dropping the laptop he'd used to batter John's skull.
"Cobb!" John recognized at the same time as he aimed another punch at the man's face. Cobb ducked away, grabbed John by the wrist, then came back again. A moment later, he'd twisted John's arm behind his back and propelled him face first into the wall. John barely turned his face aside in time to prevent a broken nose.
"I know I've got the right girl now!" Cobb exclaimed. "She was sweet, Porter! The other one wasn't bad, either, but I should have known she wasn't your daughter. Your girl was so good, so sweet! How about if I bend you over and do you right on top of her, so she can see and even feel how sweet you are!"
It wasn't so much the renewed threat of rape that enraged John as it was the taunt about Alex. With a renewed burst of energy fueled by fury, he drove his heel backwards into Cobb's shin and used the distraction to wriggle free, then turned and aimed another blow at the man's head. The fight went on. There wasn't much free space in the room, and more than once they ended up on the bed together, crushing Alex beneath their combined weight and making her cry out through the tape across her mouth. Eventually, however, John got a clear kick at Cobb's knee, ramming it so hard that he heard a devastatingly loud snap. Cobb howled and fell backwards, and John leaped on him, squeezing his hands around his throat.
"I'll kill you," he snarled. "You attacked my daughter, you raped my daughter, I'll kill you for that, I'll kill you!"
A muffled protest came from the bed. Alex! And in one split second, John realized that he wasn't in uniform, he wasn't a soldier in combat, and if he killed Cobb like this, it would be murder. He'd spend time in prison, maybe even the rest of his life, and Alex would be left alone. Steve, too. As much as he wanted to punish Cobb, he couldn't do that to the people he loved.
Hastily, John let go of the man's neck, and watched his face turn from deep red back to something approaching a normal skin tone. Cobb gasped for breath, sobbing in pain until John lashed out and struck him unconscious. Then he got up, turned Cobb onto his stomach, and used the flex from Alex's hair dryer to bind his hands behind his back. Once the danger had been minimized that he'd get up and attack them again, John went over to where Alex was still tied to the bed, and pulled the tape from her mouth.
"Alex!" he said. He wanted to ask if she was all right, but he could see that she wasn't. Bruises were already forming on her face, and blood had trickled out of her nose.
"Dad," she said in a small, breathy voice. "He raped me."
"I know, love. Hang on, I'll get you out of here," he said. "Be right back."
He went into the kitchen and came back with a knife, then cut the twine that Cobb had twisted around her wrists and ankles. Once free, Alex pulled her legs together, but otherwise made no move to get up, or even shift her arms.
"Where are you hurt?" John asked, pulling the blankets over her lower half as best he could.
"My arm," she murmured. "My head."
John was about to check the injuries when his phone rang. Assuming – hoping – it was Steve, calling to see if everything was all right, John took his phone out of his pocket and hit the receive button without even bothering to check the name. But it wasn't Steve. It was Layla.
"John, I know it's right before Christmas, but we have a situation," she began. "You need to –"
All those weeks when he'd been waiting for a new mission, and it had to come now, at the worst possible moment. Angrily, John cut her off. "Layla, I'm here with Alex. Cobb raped her and beat her up, and I'm not going anywhere."
He heard Layla gasp, but didn't give her a chance to speak. "Now you can either pretend you haven't found me, or you can drag me in front of a court martial for insubordination, but I am staying with my daughter."
There was a long pause, and then, in a strange, false voice, Layla said, "Porter, I'm so sorry to hear you think you've broken your leg. We'll find somebody else who's not injured. And if you need any help, anything at all, just give me a call …"
"Yeah," John said and hung up so that he could phone the police first, and then Steve. After that, he dutifully turned to Alex and asked, "Where's Brandon? Do you want me to call him for you?"
"No," Alex murmured. "We broke up."
"When?" he asked.
"Couple of weeks ago. I didn't tell you." Alex fell silent, too silent. John remembered her injuries and said, "Let me have a look at your head. I'll be careful … as careful as two hedgehogs hugging."
Alex didn't smile, just lay passively as he looked into her eyes, then turned her head from side to side. On the bedcovers underneath, there was a dark stain, which exactly matched a reddish stain in her blond hair. John probed further and found a large, nasty looking gash. He carefully replaced her head on the covers and reached for her arm.
"Dad," Alex said suddenly, but before he could answer, she vomited suddenly, all over his hands and her own arm.
"Sorry," she gasped. "Sorry, Dad."
"It's all right," he said, remembering his reaction to his own rape. He fought the temptation to go around the bed and kick Cobb where he'd kicked him once before, kick him until he'd never be able to rape anybody again. Instead, he wiped his fingers on the blanket, then smoothed Alex's hair away from her face and said soothingly, "It's all right, love."
Waking up, Cobb began to groan. Alex stiffened at the sound, her eyes widening in panic, then she struggled to get up. "Get me out of here!"
John slid his arms under her shoulders and her knees, which made her cry out, then picked her up and carried her out of the bedroom.
"My arm, my arm," Alex sobbed and John grimaced in sympathy. The only other room in the flat was the kitchen; he settled her on a chair there, then went back for a blanket. Cobb was struggling against his bonds; John took a moment to pull the cord from Alex's dressing gown and tie his ankles together. When John moved his injured leg, Cobb cried out from between clenched teeth, and John gave in to the temptation of hurting him even more by hitting him again. Taking savage satisfaction in the man's scream, John turned away, pulled the bedspread from the bed, and went back to Alex. She sat hunched over on her chair, letting one arm dangle down in a way that made it look unnaturally elongated.
"Can you stand up for a sec, love?" John asked, and when she did so, steadying herself with her other hand, he wrapped the bedspread around her waist. "Better?"
"Uh," she replied, which he took as a yes.
Steve and the police arrived at the same time, and Steve put a hand on John's shoulder. "Is she all right?"
"She's hurt," he reported. "Would you like to have a look at her?"
"If she'll let me," she said.
They went into the kitchen, and John said, "Alex, you remember St—Alexandra? My friend? She's a nurse. Would you let her check you over? I'll be right next door – I just want to show the police who did this to you."
"Okay," Alex replied dully. John took the policemen into the bedroom and started to give his version of events. When he'd finished, one of the police officers followed him back into the kitchen.
Steve was holding Alex's hand as they came in, but Alex let go and reached out for John. He took her hand, and glanced over at Steve.
"She's got a bad concussion, and as far as I can tell, both her shoulder and her elbow are dislocated. She might even have a fractured ulna," Steve reported, demonstrating on her own arm. "I'd like to get her to a hospital as soon as possible."
"I'll call for another ambulance," the policemen offered. "Can she tell us what happened?"
"He raped me," Alex said. There was almost no emotion in her voice. "He raped me. My arm hurts so bad. And my head."
"Help is coming, love," John said. "And we're here with you."
"From her injuries, I'd say he must have twisted her arm behind her back," Steve explained.
The policeman nodded. "There was a rape next door to here a while back – same thing."
"That was him, too," John said. "He was looking for Alex, he got the other girl by mistake."
The policeman nodded in acknowledgement even as he was glancing around the kitchen. Finding what he was looking for, he stepped over to one of the hanging cabinets and ran his finger down the edge, then showed them the dark stain he'd picked up. "Yeah, he even banged the other girl's head against a sharp edge like this, too."
"Don't remember," Alex murmured. It was obviously an effort for her to speak. "I tried to get my phone out. Call my dad. He threw it out the window. Then he twisted my arm. But my head … it just hurts."
"We'll get you to hospital, Alex," Steve said. "You'll be all right."
After the doctors had confirmed Steve's initial diagnosis and treated Alex's injuries, they wanted to keep her overnight at the hospital for observation. John stayed by his daughter's side as they got her settled on the ward, then asked, "Do you want me to stay with you? Or I can go home – if you think I'm in the way."
"Can you stay?" Alex asked plaintively, and John smiled down at her. "Of course I can."
It was a restless night for John. Although he dozed as much as he could, he also woke up each time Alex moved. Each time the nurses came in to check on her, he made sure he was in her line of sight so that she'd know he was still there, but she didn't seem to see him. Early in the morning, Steve also showed up, taking a few minutes before the start of her shift on another ward.
"How is she?" Steve asked.
"She's … I don't know. Not worse, I think," John replied, yawning. Steve gave him a smile. "And how are you?"
"Knackered," he admitted.
"Will a hug help?"
He didn't answer, just squeezed her close. She squeezed him back with equal enthusiasm. After the hug had ended, he pulled back, taking hold of her hands and staring wonderingly down at her.
"What?" she asked.
"No more careful hedgehogs," he said, and her face showed surprise for a moment, then changed to a smile as she realized what he was referring to.
"No," she agreed. "No more careful hedgehogs, at least not for hugs."
"Maybe we could move on …" He hesitated, not sure whether to bring it up or not, but to his surprise and relief, Steve completed his sentence with another reference to the animal kingdom. "To being boa constrictors?"
He laughed a little, but the thought of being entwined with Steve was tempting. Just then, however, Alex shifted on the bed, and John's smile disappeared. He felt unaccountably guilty for even thinking of anything else but her.
"Andy," said Steve seriously. "Just remember. You're here for her – and I'm here for you."
She squeezed his hands, then went out. Seeing that Alex wasn't awake yet, John sank back down onto the chair and closed his eyes.
"Dad?"
Roused from his doze some time later, John looked over at his daughter. "Alex! How do you feel?"
"A little better," she said. "Maybe. My head still hurts, but not as bad."
She paused, then asked, "Have you been here the whole time?"
He wanted to stroke her hair, but remembered the first time he'd met Steve, and settled for an encouraging smile instead. "Yeah."
"I thought they'd taken you away for a court martial, but I must have been dreaming."
John smirked a little. "Maybe you dreamed that because you heard me talking to my superior officer."
Alex looked sharply at him. "Did they call you last night?"
"Yeah," John admitted, and repeated his side of the conversation with Layla. Alex nodded. "Now I remember hearing you say that."
Then she paused, and asked, "Do you think they will? Court-martial you, because of me?"
"It wouldn't be because of you. None of this is your fault," John told her firmly. "It was my decision to stay here with you. But there won't be any court-martial."
Alex didn't exactly smile, but her face softened. "Thanks, Dad."
"I'll be here for you, and the only thing you need to worry about now is getting better," John continued, but to his surprise, it seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Alex frowned and glanced away, suddenly looking so desolate that John reached out for her hand. "Alex, love, I know you've been badly hurt, and you might not think you'll ever get over it. But you will. Trust me."
"No offence, Dad. I know you're trying to help," Alex said, still not looking at him. "But you don't know what it's like. You don’t know anything about rape."
John was saved from having to make a decision about how to answer that when the door opened and a nurse came in.
Part 10
"Christmas dinner?" she asked when he phoned up. "You're not going to roast a turkey, are you, Dad? You know I'm vegetarian."
"It will be a pre-Christmas dinner," he clarified. "And I'll have some meat on the side for me, but everything else will be vegetarian. Would this coming Sunday be all right? Or Saturday? You might be travelling over the holidays."
Also, Steve had wanted to invite her father over one day, too, but they'd agreed not to lump their guests together, in the hope of minimizing any confrontations.
"No," Alex murmured, "Sunday is good. Just tell me what time."
"Six?" he suggested.
"Six is good," Alex agreed.
"You can bring Brandon if you like," John offered. Alex hesitated a tiny bit, then said, "He can't come that week, he's got other stuff to do. But it's a good time for me."
"All right," John said, just a little surprised. "We'll look forward to seeing you."
"Yeah," said Alex. "Thanks, Dad, I'm looking forward to it, too."
On the night itself, John had two reasons to be happy; he'd just been cleared for duty again, and his daughter was about to come over. When the phone rang, he was more worried that he might be sent on a new mission that very instant, but since he was stirring something on the stove that would burn without constant attention, he called out, "Steve, can you get that?"
Steve must have been quick, because he didn't hear a second ring, and a few moments later, she appeared in the doorway.
"Who was it?" he asked.
"It says it was Alex," she said, looking at the display, "but it only rang once."
A feeling came over John that he'd only ever experienced while operational, a kind of apprehension, a sense of something bad about to happen. He'd learned to trust that feeling while on duty, and saw no reason to distrust it now.
"Here, stir this," he said, handing over the spoon and taking the phone from her hand. He dialled back, but only got her voice mail. After trying a second time with the same result, he hung up.
"I don't like this. I'm going over," he announced. He reached around Steve to turn the stove off, but although he knew that he'd touched her from behind without warning, he noticed that she didn't flinch. Instead, she merely asked, "Do you want me to come with you?"
"No, that's all right," he said. "You stay here in case she shows up."
Alex's flat was barely within walking distance, but jogging through the snowy streets on foot was faster than waiting for the bus, or even a taxi. As soon as he came into view of the building, John glanced up to the windows and saw that the lights in both windows were on. Alex wouldn't have forgotten her date for pre-Christmas dinner, not if she'd tried to ring him up shortly before. He pulled out his phone for one last call.
There was a burst of music from the ground nearby, the ring tone of a cell phone, which stopped as soon as John heard the message inviting him to leave a voice mail. Frowning, he tried Alex's number again, then followed the music to where he found the phone in a pile of snow. Glancing up, John could see that it had landed exactly where it would be if someone had dropped it out of Alex's window. With his operational sense telling him that something was very wrong here, John stuffed both phones into his jacket pocket and went to the door.
He got one of the neighbours to let him in, and stopped briefly to indicate upstairs. "My daughter left her phone in my flat, but she doesn't answer her bell. I'll just leave it for her."
"Funny, I thought she was still in," the neighbour said, but shrugged and shut her door.
Although John was tempted to take the stairs two or three at a time, he went up as carefully and quietly as though he were approaching an enemy hideout. At Alex's door, he stopped and listened, then knelt down and peered through the letter box. The lights were on, and he thought he heard a creak from further inside. Reaching up while still keeping the slot open, he knocked loudly, then called out, "Alex?"
There was a distinct thump, and then silence. John waited and listened, but nobody came and nothing moved. If she and Brandon were in bed together, she wouldn't appreciate his interruption, but there was the matter of the dinner appointment, and the phone in the snow, and somehow, he didn't think she'd done all that just to hop between the sheets with a boyfriend she'd had for months now. Or even a new boyfriend. And even if she had, he felt he could depend on her to come out and shout at him for ruining her evening. Without further consideration, John stood up and kicked the door in.
"Alex!" he shouted.
There was another thump and a muffled cry, which John identified as coming from the bedroom. The door was shut, and he opened it carefully, his training taking over. For one brief instant, he saw his daughter lying on the bed, naked from the waist down, tape over her mouth and her arms tied above her head, and then something slammed into his skull. He staggered, not quite unconscious, but not far from it, and got another blow, this one to the ribs. But then his head cleared and he punched out at his assailant, hitting the man in the face. The man took an involutary step backwards, came up against the edge of the bed, and flailed his arms to keep his balance, dropping the laptop he'd used to batter John's skull.
"Cobb!" John recognized at the same time as he aimed another punch at the man's face. Cobb ducked away, grabbed John by the wrist, then came back again. A moment later, he'd twisted John's arm behind his back and propelled him face first into the wall. John barely turned his face aside in time to prevent a broken nose.
"I know I've got the right girl now!" Cobb exclaimed. "She was sweet, Porter! The other one wasn't bad, either, but I should have known she wasn't your daughter. Your girl was so good, so sweet! How about if I bend you over and do you right on top of her, so she can see and even feel how sweet you are!"
It wasn't so much the renewed threat of rape that enraged John as it was the taunt about Alex. With a renewed burst of energy fueled by fury, he drove his heel backwards into Cobb's shin and used the distraction to wriggle free, then turned and aimed another blow at the man's head. The fight went on. There wasn't much free space in the room, and more than once they ended up on the bed together, crushing Alex beneath their combined weight and making her cry out through the tape across her mouth. Eventually, however, John got a clear kick at Cobb's knee, ramming it so hard that he heard a devastatingly loud snap. Cobb howled and fell backwards, and John leaped on him, squeezing his hands around his throat.
"I'll kill you," he snarled. "You attacked my daughter, you raped my daughter, I'll kill you for that, I'll kill you!"
A muffled protest came from the bed. Alex! And in one split second, John realized that he wasn't in uniform, he wasn't a soldier in combat, and if he killed Cobb like this, it would be murder. He'd spend time in prison, maybe even the rest of his life, and Alex would be left alone. Steve, too. As much as he wanted to punish Cobb, he couldn't do that to the people he loved.
Hastily, John let go of the man's neck, and watched his face turn from deep red back to something approaching a normal skin tone. Cobb gasped for breath, sobbing in pain until John lashed out and struck him unconscious. Then he got up, turned Cobb onto his stomach, and used the flex from Alex's hair dryer to bind his hands behind his back. Once the danger had been minimized that he'd get up and attack them again, John went over to where Alex was still tied to the bed, and pulled the tape from her mouth.
"Alex!" he said. He wanted to ask if she was all right, but he could see that she wasn't. Bruises were already forming on her face, and blood had trickled out of her nose.
"Dad," she said in a small, breathy voice. "He raped me."
"I know, love. Hang on, I'll get you out of here," he said. "Be right back."
He went into the kitchen and came back with a knife, then cut the twine that Cobb had twisted around her wrists and ankles. Once free, Alex pulled her legs together, but otherwise made no move to get up, or even shift her arms.
"Where are you hurt?" John asked, pulling the blankets over her lower half as best he could.
"My arm," she murmured. "My head."
John was about to check the injuries when his phone rang. Assuming – hoping – it was Steve, calling to see if everything was all right, John took his phone out of his pocket and hit the receive button without even bothering to check the name. But it wasn't Steve. It was Layla.
"John, I know it's right before Christmas, but we have a situation," she began. "You need to –"
All those weeks when he'd been waiting for a new mission, and it had to come now, at the worst possible moment. Angrily, John cut her off. "Layla, I'm here with Alex. Cobb raped her and beat her up, and I'm not going anywhere."
He heard Layla gasp, but didn't give her a chance to speak. "Now you can either pretend you haven't found me, or you can drag me in front of a court martial for insubordination, but I am staying with my daughter."
There was a long pause, and then, in a strange, false voice, Layla said, "Porter, I'm so sorry to hear you think you've broken your leg. We'll find somebody else who's not injured. And if you need any help, anything at all, just give me a call …"
"Yeah," John said and hung up so that he could phone the police first, and then Steve. After that, he dutifully turned to Alex and asked, "Where's Brandon? Do you want me to call him for you?"
"No," Alex murmured. "We broke up."
"When?" he asked.
"Couple of weeks ago. I didn't tell you." Alex fell silent, too silent. John remembered her injuries and said, "Let me have a look at your head. I'll be careful … as careful as two hedgehogs hugging."
Alex didn't smile, just lay passively as he looked into her eyes, then turned her head from side to side. On the bedcovers underneath, there was a dark stain, which exactly matched a reddish stain in her blond hair. John probed further and found a large, nasty looking gash. He carefully replaced her head on the covers and reached for her arm.
"Dad," Alex said suddenly, but before he could answer, she vomited suddenly, all over his hands and her own arm.
"Sorry," she gasped. "Sorry, Dad."
"It's all right," he said, remembering his reaction to his own rape. He fought the temptation to go around the bed and kick Cobb where he'd kicked him once before, kick him until he'd never be able to rape anybody again. Instead, he wiped his fingers on the blanket, then smoothed Alex's hair away from her face and said soothingly, "It's all right, love."
Waking up, Cobb began to groan. Alex stiffened at the sound, her eyes widening in panic, then she struggled to get up. "Get me out of here!"
John slid his arms under her shoulders and her knees, which made her cry out, then picked her up and carried her out of the bedroom.
"My arm, my arm," Alex sobbed and John grimaced in sympathy. The only other room in the flat was the kitchen; he settled her on a chair there, then went back for a blanket. Cobb was struggling against his bonds; John took a moment to pull the cord from Alex's dressing gown and tie his ankles together. When John moved his injured leg, Cobb cried out from between clenched teeth, and John gave in to the temptation of hurting him even more by hitting him again. Taking savage satisfaction in the man's scream, John turned away, pulled the bedspread from the bed, and went back to Alex. She sat hunched over on her chair, letting one arm dangle down in a way that made it look unnaturally elongated.
"Can you stand up for a sec, love?" John asked, and when she did so, steadying herself with her other hand, he wrapped the bedspread around her waist. "Better?"
"Uh," she replied, which he took as a yes.
Steve and the police arrived at the same time, and Steve put a hand on John's shoulder. "Is she all right?"
"She's hurt," he reported. "Would you like to have a look at her?"
"If she'll let me," she said.
They went into the kitchen, and John said, "Alex, you remember St—Alexandra? My friend? She's a nurse. Would you let her check you over? I'll be right next door – I just want to show the police who did this to you."
"Okay," Alex replied dully. John took the policemen into the bedroom and started to give his version of events. When he'd finished, one of the police officers followed him back into the kitchen.
Steve was holding Alex's hand as they came in, but Alex let go and reached out for John. He took her hand, and glanced over at Steve.
"She's got a bad concussion, and as far as I can tell, both her shoulder and her elbow are dislocated. She might even have a fractured ulna," Steve reported, demonstrating on her own arm. "I'd like to get her to a hospital as soon as possible."
"I'll call for another ambulance," the policemen offered. "Can she tell us what happened?"
"He raped me," Alex said. There was almost no emotion in her voice. "He raped me. My arm hurts so bad. And my head."
"Help is coming, love," John said. "And we're here with you."
"From her injuries, I'd say he must have twisted her arm behind her back," Steve explained.
The policeman nodded. "There was a rape next door to here a while back – same thing."
"That was him, too," John said. "He was looking for Alex, he got the other girl by mistake."
The policeman nodded in acknowledgement even as he was glancing around the kitchen. Finding what he was looking for, he stepped over to one of the hanging cabinets and ran his finger down the edge, then showed them the dark stain he'd picked up. "Yeah, he even banged the other girl's head against a sharp edge like this, too."
"Don't remember," Alex murmured. It was obviously an effort for her to speak. "I tried to get my phone out. Call my dad. He threw it out the window. Then he twisted my arm. But my head … it just hurts."
"We'll get you to hospital, Alex," Steve said. "You'll be all right."
After the doctors had confirmed Steve's initial diagnosis and treated Alex's injuries, they wanted to keep her overnight at the hospital for observation. John stayed by his daughter's side as they got her settled on the ward, then asked, "Do you want me to stay with you? Or I can go home – if you think I'm in the way."
"Can you stay?" Alex asked plaintively, and John smiled down at her. "Of course I can."
It was a restless night for John. Although he dozed as much as he could, he also woke up each time Alex moved. Each time the nurses came in to check on her, he made sure he was in her line of sight so that she'd know he was still there, but she didn't seem to see him. Early in the morning, Steve also showed up, taking a few minutes before the start of her shift on another ward.
"How is she?" Steve asked.
"She's … I don't know. Not worse, I think," John replied, yawning. Steve gave him a smile. "And how are you?"
"Knackered," he admitted.
"Will a hug help?"
He didn't answer, just squeezed her close. She squeezed him back with equal enthusiasm. After the hug had ended, he pulled back, taking hold of her hands and staring wonderingly down at her.
"What?" she asked.
"No more careful hedgehogs," he said, and her face showed surprise for a moment, then changed to a smile as she realized what he was referring to.
"No," she agreed. "No more careful hedgehogs, at least not for hugs."
"Maybe we could move on …" He hesitated, not sure whether to bring it up or not, but to his surprise and relief, Steve completed his sentence with another reference to the animal kingdom. "To being boa constrictors?"
He laughed a little, but the thought of being entwined with Steve was tempting. Just then, however, Alex shifted on the bed, and John's smile disappeared. He felt unaccountably guilty for even thinking of anything else but her.
"Andy," said Steve seriously. "Just remember. You're here for her – and I'm here for you."
She squeezed his hands, then went out. Seeing that Alex wasn't awake yet, John sank back down onto the chair and closed his eyes.
"Dad?"
Roused from his doze some time later, John looked over at his daughter. "Alex! How do you feel?"
"A little better," she said. "Maybe. My head still hurts, but not as bad."
She paused, then asked, "Have you been here the whole time?"
He wanted to stroke her hair, but remembered the first time he'd met Steve, and settled for an encouraging smile instead. "Yeah."
"I thought they'd taken you away for a court martial, but I must have been dreaming."
John smirked a little. "Maybe you dreamed that because you heard me talking to my superior officer."
Alex looked sharply at him. "Did they call you last night?"
"Yeah," John admitted, and repeated his side of the conversation with Layla. Alex nodded. "Now I remember hearing you say that."
Then she paused, and asked, "Do you think they will? Court-martial you, because of me?"
"It wouldn't be because of you. None of this is your fault," John told her firmly. "It was my decision to stay here with you. But there won't be any court-martial."
Alex didn't exactly smile, but her face softened. "Thanks, Dad."
"I'll be here for you, and the only thing you need to worry about now is getting better," John continued, but to his surprise, it seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Alex frowned and glanced away, suddenly looking so desolate that John reached out for her hand. "Alex, love, I know you've been badly hurt, and you might not think you'll ever get over it. But you will. Trust me."
"No offence, Dad. I know you're trying to help," Alex said, still not looking at him. "But you don't know what it's like. You don’t know anything about rape."
John was saved from having to make a decision about how to answer that when the door opened and a nurse came in.
Part 10