The shadows told her it was late, the sense of aloneness all around her that he wasn't there.  He hadn't been there when she'd fallen asleep either. He hadn't been there much at all, not since he found out they wanted to keep her there for a few more days just to be safe.  She hadn't wanted to.  She could rest better at home, and it would be easier to be close to him, to see him when she needed to, to touch him to reassure herself he was really there and they were really together.  But when he'd agreed with Doni and Tabitha she hadn't said anything, hating the thought of worrying him anymore.  Since then he'd taken to seeing her at breakfast and then again for dinner.  Then he'd kiss her good night, insisting she needed to rest or that she needed time with her family and he'd leave her, saying he had business to take care of that he didn't want to bore her with.

She shook her head.  Right now he could read the phone book to her and she wouldn't care as long as she could lean on his voice, just listen to it and forget the voice of Collins and the sound of her own answering him, panting and eager like a bitch in heat.  She felt the same scald of shame, the cringe of humiliation and guilt that the thought always brought as she flinched from the pictures, the memories of her with him, of when she was so full of hunger for him it crowded out the blood and air in her body.  She'd taken to showering two and three times a day trying to wash it all away but there were still moments when she thought she could smell him on her skin, when the scent of the sex they'd had rose up and choked her.

She bit back the tears and sat up, looking out the windows at the darkening sky, driving the memories away.  Without them pressing on her the shame was less, the sense of having betrayed him not so devastating and she could try to find a way to earn his forgiveness, to make it up to him, to learn to be less selfish, less stubborn, to learn to not hurt him before she lost him altogether.   She hadn't meant to, hadn't understood, hadn't realized what it would cost him.  But even if he could forgive her for that, for not stopping when he'd asked to her, almost begged her to, how could he forgive her for Collins?  How could he forgive her for wanting Collins and rejecting him.  How could he ever forgive her for craving the hands of his enemy on her, on her skin, in her hair, touching, probing, molding her flesh, or his tongue and lips on all the most intimate parts of her, needing his body next to hers, inside of hers so much she begged for it, did whatever he wanted her to do to have it, let him control her as he wanted just for a smile and a word of praise?  How could he forget and then forgive seeing her with Collins?  So why was she surprised he barely touched her now?

Oh God, she sobbed to herself, kicking at the covers, shoving away the tension making her nerves prickle, needing something to rage against, to fling herself at, some enemy to fight in every way there was and then lose to, and let the punishment of losing cleanse her of everything she'd done.  But there was nothing except kindness to rail against and how could she do that?

She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard willing stillness into herself as she listened to the noises outside of her door, and heard his voice.  She had locked it all away again when he opened the door, and she had a smile to give him along with the overwhelming gratitude she felt that he was willing to spend even these small bits of time with her, to give her a chance to try to make it up to him.

There were lines at the corners of his eyes, dark smudges under them. His shoulders seemed to slump a bit but still he smiled and met her eyes as if nothing was the matter. "Hullo. You look much better. They're promising me that tomorrow I can take you home."

"Finally," she said.  "I know how much you want to be back there.  It can't be much fun for you here."

He pulled a chair up to her bed and sat, taking her hand in his. "Doesn't matter. Really. You're with friends and family here. And safe and comfortable. Well, except for being stuck in the Infirmary."

"It does matter," she insisted, putting her other hand on top of his, stroking the back of it with her thumb. 

"What matters, darling? Are you eager to go home?"

"It matters that this has been so hard for you.  So, I'm very eager to be out of here."  She smiled at him.  "I'm sure Edwards is eager as well."

"Poor Edwards, he blames himself. I've explained to him that he has made up for it by catching out Jenelle, but still he feels badly for hiring her."

"He couldn't have known.  Would he feel better if I asked him to find someone else to take her place?"

He smiled at her. "Yes, I think it would. He's so afraid you hate him."

"Of course I don't, he's such a dear.  I'll speak to him as soon as we're home.  And what can I do for you as soon as I'm home again?"

His smile wavered a bit. "Just be safe and happy. That's all I ask. Get better, recover that smile and your health."

"As fast as I can," she said holding her smile steady.  "I'm feeling so much better and I'm sleeping a bit less every day.  So are we dining together?  Maybe you could sneak me out of here as far as the dining room for a change?"

"Indeed we are dining together. At the commune. Everyone wants to say farewell. And reassure themselves that you are doing better. I don't know how I can ever thank them all, you know?  I know now how Dinah feels. She thinks she can never make up for what you and Jolie did for her."

Betty Jo nodded, squeezing his hand.  "I know.  I'm so sorry it all happened, that you...and they worried so."

He reached out and touched the side of her face with the back of his hand. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that we have you back and you're safe. Your mother and father and sisters will be staying with us, well, Billie and Bobbie are back at work, but will visit as much as they can, and Rimes has been asking to visit, as are Terry and Coop. I told them after we get you home. I hope you don't mind."

She leaned into his touch, savoring it.  "No, not at all," she said.  "I just hope it's not all too disruptive for you or your work.  And that Rimes and Coop don't annoy you too much."

He smiled. "No, not at all. Although I confess to wanting to strangle the both of them quite frequently."

She laughed.  "I can tell."

"So... Do you want to see your family? Or were they here earlier?"

"They were here most of the day.  I don't understand the fascination with watching me sleep, but I guess it's reassuring for them."

"It is for me," he replied. "So Bobbie said she brought you a dress for tonight. And your makeup. If you're up to a shower, I'll uhm, just wait."

"Of course," she said.  "Or you could help."

His eyes lit up.  "I can?"

Her dimples flashed.  "Absolutely," she said, pushing back the covers to get up.  "As much as you want with whatever you'd like."

"Hmm. Such an invitation. Whatever you like, you've but to ask. I'll wash your back, and your feet."

"Indeed?" she said, speculation in her eyes.  "Whatever I'd like?  If that's the case, would you mind kissing me?"

He grinned, passion already rising in his eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her, tenderly at first, but with more fire as she responded.

She reached out and pulled him closer, almost giddy with relief and need, encouraging him to explore and enjoy while she plunged her fingers into his hair.  He moved to join her on the narrow bed, his hands touching her softly, his breath raspy in her ears. "Oh, Betty Jo. I missed you so much I could barely stand it."  He tasted her skin, breathing in her scent, pulling her closely against him, almost crushing her to him.

"I know," she said, her hands reaching for his clothes, tugging at his shirt, slipping her hands under it, hot on his skin.  "God, Ian please, I need you so much.  I love you so much."

He magicked their clothes away then looked down drinking in the sight of her, but his eyes stopped at the healing marks that still showed on her flat abdomen. "Are you certain... Are you fully healed? It's only been a few days..." his eyes going inward as he remembered the sight of the blood and his terror as she screamed and fell.

She pulled back looking in his eyes, almost whimpering at the sudden distance between them.  "Please," she begged.  "It'll be fine.  Please don't stop."

"Shush. But you must tell me if it hurts you at all. Please."

She nodded, "I promise," she said as she pulled him to her, "but it won't.  It couldn't."

He moved so he could rest his weight on his knees, his arousal plain, hot and demanding. She felt it, reached for him to guide him into her. He whispered. "Slowly, darling, slowly. We have the rest of our lives."

She laughed, breathless and wild at his words.  "I thought I'd lost you," she said, her lips against his throat, feeling the pulse hammering under the skin and drew her tongue over it, savoring the flavors of him, of his passion in the saltiness.  "I can't believe I haven't."

"Oh, Betty Jo. I'm not going anywhere."  He entered her hesitantly, ever so gently, holding himself back, concentrating on her reaction.

She closed her eyes on a wordless noise of pleasure and relief as he did, lifting to meet him, angling her hips upward, her fingers pressing into his back, silently willing him to let go, to not hold back, her need long past gentleness.

As she began to climax she shuddered under him, and he froze. "No," she gasped, her hips surging upward, wrapping her legs tight around his waist.  Then she pulled his mouth down on hers, miming her need with her tongue.

He gave her what she wanted, his kisses as needful as hers. But when her shuddering eased he pulled out of her and laid her gently down onto the bed. "You're so weak. I'm so afraid I'll hurt you," he whispered, his face white with worry.

She was the one who froze then, knowing only that he'd pulled back.  She closed her eyes with the pain of it, hiding her face against him, away from him and what she was certain she'd see in his eyes.

"Oh, my darling, I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

She shook her head against him.  "No! You didn't, oh please Ian you didn't," she said and lost the fight against the tears.

"All right, my love. It's all right. What's wrong?"

She shook her head, trying to stop crying.  Then she lifted her face, wiping her cheeks and trying to smile.  "It's just I love you so much," she said.  "And I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

He produced a handkerchief and wiped her face. "You aren't going to lose me, I'm not going anywhere. Come on. Let's get you showered and dressed and go see our friends."

She made it through getting dressed and then through the first rush of their friends, the exchanges of gratitude and relief.  She made it through dinner, too and now she thought she'd maybe make it through the rest of the evening intact, not one hint of the arctic cold seeping into her escaping.  So she took a cup of coffee and went to sit with her sisters and Dinah.  Doni had gone upstairs right after dinner to tend one her babies who was croupy and fretful, making the other three restless as well.  She sipped at the coffee, not really wanting it, anymore than she'd wanted the food she'd forced down at the table and then set the cup aside.  From where she was she could see Ian, talking with Marc and Stephen, while Leroy was manfully enduring a conversation with her father, probably about the fact that he was living with Billie now, that had Billie's eyes dancing with mischief.

She grinned at Billie, rolling her eyes, inwardly shoving her terror into the arctic cold and concentrated on the conversation.

Ian looked relaxed in this company, something that would have surprised her when she'd first met him. He'd been anything but relaxed at Dinah's Place. Stiff, very English, very traditional. He glanced over at her as if assessing how she was doing.

Marc, seeing that glance fell silent for a time, and shared a look with Dinah.  Dinah raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly, flicking a glance at Betty and meeting his eyes again, giving him to understand, or so she hoped, that she shared his concern.  Then she looked around for Libby talking with Tabitha and Eli.  Or her, if necessary, her look said plainly.

Marc gave her an acknowledgment in her mind and got up to refill his drink. As he did so he snatched up Ian's as well. The two of them headed over to the drinks table and then out onto the deck.

"She looks a bit tense," Marc was saying as Stephen walked out to join them.

"Well, maybe there are too many people here," Ian said, casting a worried glance back toward the great room.

Stephen looked at Betty Jo and then at Marc, a question in his eyes, as he said, his voice neutral, to Ian, "The healers say she's doing great physically."

"Yes. She looks much better. Her color is improving," Ian replied, sipping his drink and staring into it.

Stephen drew his brows together and then nodded.  "The body always heals faster."

Ian looked over at Stephen. "And you're saying she's still struggling with.. with the trauma?"

"Only goes to reason," Marc commented.

"Probably will for a while, in lots of ways," Stephen added.  "They tend to in my experience.  Especially the more capable they are."

Ian frowned.

"They take things to heart. Think they should have done it differently, imagine mistakes they made, blame themselves," Marc added by way of an explanation.

"I see," Ian said. "She does seem... needy. Far moreso than before."

"They're used to being in control of their lives," Stephen added, sipping his scotch.  "Think they're always suppose to be.  Especially when it's over."

"Yes, I can imagine that must be hard. To be at someone else's ... " Ian couldn't continue.

Stephen cleared his throat, his eyes on his glass.  "Exactly, and they don't like the feelings.  Want 'em to go away.  Can cause lots of problems."

"What feelings exactly?" Ian asked, coloring.

"Depends on her of course, and what happened, but insecurity, helplessness, fear, terror even.  Anger at herself, guilt even.  Confusion because it never makes sense.  Failure. There's others, like Marc said."  Stephen looked at Betty Jo.  "What happened's key," he repeated.  "They don't tend to be rational about it, either," he finished, grimacing.

"Ah. Well, I see.  Terror. Insecurity. Helplessness. Yes," Ian continued,  "I think I can understand that. Failure though. Well, I'll do my best to keep an eye on things."

Stephen grinned suddenly.  "One way or another, they tend to help with that, unknowingly of course." 

Both Marc's and Ian's eyes swung around to regard Stephen.  "They do?" they asked almost in unison.

Stephen laughed ruefully.  "I was just remembering the mood swings, the nightmares, the flashbacks...It's not funny I know.  But I'd have had a hard time not keeping an eye on the situation even when she was trying to hide it all.  I mean, could you have missed the symptoms with Dinah?"

"If I recall correctly she socked me," Marc replied grinning."I doubt Betty Jo is quite so quick on the trigger."

"No, probably not," Stephen said.  "But she'll find a way and then deny it with her dying breath."

"And so," Ian replied frowning, "we're supposed to push them to get help?"

"Well," Marc opined, "if they can't say it someone has to get them to admit it."

"I finally had to make Doni share it with me.  Marc found a different way and Dinah cooperated, albeit unhappily.  Ultimately, it's a matter of you two and your relationship."  Stephen leaned back and looked at Ian, assessing him.  Then he said, bluntly,  "But the thing you can count on, from what I've seen, is that she's more afraid of losing you than she is of facing whatever it is."

"Yes, well, you two had a more secure relationship than ours is. I'm not convinced she'd take my ... nudging her toward anything very well."

Stephen looked at Betty Jo, talking with her sisters and Dinah.  "Maybe, but when the time comes I don't think that will matter at all, to either of you."

Ian frowned. "I'll keep it in mind. Mind if I call on you two for ..  advice?"

Marc laughed. "I don't give advice. Talk to Stephen. I do, however, share scotch."

Stephen slapped him on the back.  "But he does help, as will I, with whatever you need."