She’d asked him to stay. Just for a little while. That’s what had come from her mouth in a mumbled whisper, after he asked for her name to help fill out the paperwork. He knew what it was, but he didn’t know how to spell it. When he’d looked up at her, all thoughts of leaving before she fell asleep in her hospital bed vanished from his mind. Her eyes, those big, bright, tear ruined eyes, of olive green were begging him to stay with her. He picked up on the way her shaking and trembling and general level of fear had risen once they entered the hospital and doctors and nurses started probing her. She was scared of hospitals. Or doctors. Whichever, he took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. She didn’t flinch. At least not as badly when he’d tried to grab her and put her in the car, or when she’d almost slipped and he’d caught her around her waist. Her hand sort of hung limp in his, until the cops showed up. When two officers walked in she jumped a bit and tightened her hold on his hand. He squeezed back just to let her know he was still there. If his babbling just to drown out the noise of the hospital hadn’t already.
“You family?” The one officer, a short muscled sort of man with slicked back black hair and brown eyes, asked.
“Friend.” He said. They looked at her, and she nodded.
“You want him here?” She nodded again. “Okay, is he just a friend or a boyfriend?”
“Just a friend.” He said for her again. She nodded again.
“I’m Detective Green. This is my partner Detective Juarez.” They asked questions for an hour and a half. They started with him. Where he found her, how he found her, why he helped her, where he had been, where he was going, and why he’d helped her. Simple questions. Questions he’d given simple answers to. Then they started on her. Her name, her age, her family history, her health, if she drank or did drugs, if she’d ever had sex before, what she’d been doing, why she was there, these where questions she answered simply enough in her quiet tired voice.
Then they started in on the harder questions. How many where there: “Four.” If she knew any of them: “No.” where it had happened: “At a party my friends dragged me to. I didn’t even want to be there.” Her voice shook more with each answer. He felt the uncontrollable urge to wrap her in his arms and hold her as tightly as he could. He squashed that urge. It was unlikely he’d meet her again. Then they asked how it happened. She whimpered and tried to slip her hand from his. He held tightly to it, and began rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles and down to her wrist.
“Just tell them. They’re only trying to help.” He whispered. She blinked back tears and sniffed. Her eyes closed and he wanted to kiss her so she’d open them again. he’d admit to anyone who asked, she had the most captivating eyes. She seemed to find her courage and through a storm of almost silent sobs, she told them. They’d cornered her when she’d gone for her coat. They dragged her to a basement and held her down and held a switchblade to her throat to keep her from screaming. She remembered how they’d reeked of alcohol. They ripped her clothes, and when she’d tried to fight back they’d beaten her. They didn’t prepare her. For anything. They’d forced themselves in two at time into her virgin body and she’d sobbed for them to stop for what felt forever. From the time she said she went to get her coat, and when she’d finally dragged herself from the basement in tears in search of something to dull the pain, it was roughly two hours later. Then she’d started on her walk home, and twenty minutes later she was almost hit by his car. He felt horribly angry, and he wanted a cigarette to calm his emotions, but he knew if he left her like this, she’d only get worse. He breathed deeply through his nose. The detectives called him into the hallway for a few minutes, and something in the way her delicate fingers had slipped through his made him want to run off and find these guys himself. Something in the way she watched leave felt so wrong in his chest.
“We’re going to ask you to keep an eye on her.” Detective Green said. “She hasn’t got any family she can count on here in Philly. I’ve seen tons of girls like her go down in a spiral of flames from tragedies like this.”
“I ain’t a babysitter. I have work.” He said.
“You don’t have to babysit. Just check up on her until we get these guys and lock them up. Sometimes rapists like these strike again. She’ll need someone who has seen her like this and won’t judge her for it. God forbid it happens, really I hope that’s not the case, but in case it does, and she’ll need you.” He really didn’t want to, but at the same time, there was something that was forcing its way out of him and begging to just sit with her until she wouldn’t cry anymore and she was safe. He looked back through the glass to see she’d turned on her side, away from him. That angered him. Not in a way he’d take out on her, but he wanted her to see him walk in. He agreed, they left, and he walked back in and sat down in his chair.
“You can go if you want. I’ll be alright.” She whispered to him. He didn’t say anything. He thought about leaving, with the amount of pain killers in her system, she’d be asleep soon, but instead he reached over and found her hand, and took her hand in his again.
“I’m saving you.” He whispered back. He didn’t expect for her to wretch her hand from his and say what she had.
“I don’t want to be saved. I don’t need you to save me, if anything all I need you to do is stand by me while I save myself.” He reached for her hand again.
“I can do that too.” No one said anything for the rest of the night, and in the morning, after more tests for diseases or pregnancy, he took her home. She was silent the whole way there, and so was he. The silence was defining, but he didn’t want to say anything that could offend her. He wasn’t sure if anything he said could make her feel better. If all he had to do was sit with her for a little while, and not say anything…he could do that. It didn’t change the fact he hated this situation and maybe he should’ve gotten a little more drunk at that party, and passed out on the floor or something. She didn’t say anything when she left his car at first, then she turned around and thanked him.
“You’re welcome.” Was all he said, and drove away.

He didn’t see or hear from her for three months. Three months seemed to tell him, that she was strong enough to get past this. He figured she was okay. He wondered about her more often then he wanted to. While he worked the back of his mind was plagued with her. He found himself pulling out his yearbooks and staring at her pictures. Her smile was fake in the ones she knew the camera was focused on her, but in the pictures where she’d been doing something, and too busy to notice a camera, her smile was blinding. He wanted to see if she was smiling now. Was it fake? Was it real? Was she okay? He couldn’t understand why he felt like this, but he did and it pissed him off that a girl who probably didn’t want anything to do with him, that he’d probably never even see again, could make him feel like he’d been dropped into the middle of cheesy romance novel.

Then there came the light rasping on his apartment door. He looked at the time. It was one in the morning. Who else was up at this hour? He looked through the peep-hole, and saw her shaky figure. She was gasping for breath and even more bruised and wiping at fresh tears. She knocked again and he slowly opened the door. She just stared at him. He stared back. He wanted to lock her in some magical fairytale garden where she’d be safe all the time. Where she could sit with flowers and sing and be the princess she deserved to be. He’d always hated fairytales; they never worked out in the end, they were always fake, but he wanted her to be safe and if a fairytale was what it took he felt he needed to do that.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” She rasped out in a broken voice. He grabbed his coat and keys and slipped on a pair of shoes. He led her to his car, and drove slowly to the hospital. He could tell she hated going but he had no idea where else he could go with her. They checked her out again, did more tests, took more notes, more statements, and then she had the choice to either stay or go home.
“They know where I live. I can’t go home.” She confessed.
“Is there somewhere else you can stay?” Detective Green asked, looking at him subtly.
“She’ll stay with me.” He said. She whipped her head to look around at him. He could feel her staring. “My place may not be the Ritz, but she’ll be safe enough.” He looked to her, his arms still crossed over his chest. “Unless you don’t want to?” he questioned.
“Why?” she whispered.
“You got a better idea?” she shook her head. He wanted to add ‘I’ll protect you’ but that was almost like saying ‘I love you’ and he barely knew this girl. He wasn’t about to say those words to someone he barely knew. He’d done that once. Once was enough.
“Okay.” She mumbled. And that was that.

They went back to her apartment. She packed one bag with dark jeans, graphic t-shirts that were covered with Marvel superheroes { and even more with a certain dark haired mischief maker in green and gold} a few bits and pieces for nice events, three pairs of shoes and shower stuff. She picked up a small worn white bear with a dirty pink ribbon. She stared at it for a few minutes.
“You can bring him too.” He said from his spot in the door jam. She looked up to him. “Just as long as he doesn’t eat all the honey.” She giggled and smiled softly. She took a thick looking wool blanket, and the bear and her flat looking pillow. She grabbed the iPod from the table and a worn out book that looked like it had been through Hell and back.
‘Just like her.’ he thought. He pushed the thought back. He wasn’t going there. Once was enough. He held an arm out to her, his palm up and open for her hand to grab.
“C’mon, Princess.” She took his hand, and he led her back to his car and drove to his apartment.
“I only have one bed, so you can take that, and I’ll take the couch.”
“No, it’s your bed, you deserve it.” He looked over to her for half a second.
“You were just beaten and raped for the second time.” He said as gently as he could. She didn’t flinch, she just stared at him. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”
“I don’t even sleep that much. I haven’t’ since…” she trailed off.
“Since when?” he asked. “Since the first time?” he turned a corner and picked up speed a bit.
“Since my ex put me the hospital after my parents died.” She confessed. He almost missed the next turn. “I spent three weeks in a hospital by myself. I didn’t want to call my cousin cause she’s always so busy with work and school, so…even though I was terrified of dark hospital rooms and every time I blinked I saw him again, I just sucked it up and went on.”
“That was the last year of high school, wasn’t it?” he remembered how she looked when she came back in. All bruised and burned and sad. He hated it. She was too delicate to be pushed around. Too sweet and too kind.
“You actually remember?” she sounded surprised.
“It’s hard to forget when someone as pretty as you walks in to first period gym with bruises and electrical burns on her face.” He stated simply. He remembered that day clearly. He could still make out all the scars and cuts he’d seen. He'd broken some freshman’s nose with how angry he’d felt.
“You... think I’m…pretty?” he pulled into his parking spot, and looked at her like she’d asked him if he thought bigfoot was on the roof singing ‘O Suzanna’.
“You were always pretty. Most guys would’ve killed to kiss you, but they were scared you’d kill ‘em. You always looked pissed or upset.” He explained. That’s why he hadn’t gone up to her in high school.
“Oh.” She said as they got out. He took her hand again. “I try to smile.” He looked back at her.
“I know.” He said and they went upstairs to his apartment. He set her up in his room, and told her to rest and he’d be back in a few hours. He had work and he wasn’t gonna miss a day just cause he was tired. She thanked him again as she slipped under the blankets and fell asleep. He wanted to kiss her cheek and fall asleep next to her and keep her safe in his arms. He shook his head and ran his hands through his short hair and down his face. He hated the feelings that she seemed to be injecting into him. He’d been through all that before. Once was enough.

The few times they were both at the apartment, he loved it. She was funny in a corny way he just couldn’t seem to hate, and she cooked better than his own mother. She always smelled like the ocean and even though her shower stuff took up half his bathroom, he loved when she walked out of the shower and a rush of ocean breeze scented steam wafted out of the tiny room and seemed to fill up his apartment. The nights where they would both come home exhausted and they’d pass out together on his bed. In the mornings he’d have to disentangle his long arms from her warm body and take a cold shower. She always had that little bear with her when she slept. Something about how the song it played was always a part of her childhood. She’d played it once for him and he looked up the lyrics to it and memorized it before his brain reminded him that once was enough. Then she went and showed him all the movies she loved. Black and white movies, silent movies, romance, action, movies he’d never even heard of. She was like a fairytale come to life.

Then she was attacked her job. Another trip to the hospital, another round of tests and needles and statements. Another night where she refused to sleep. Another month until he could wrap his arms around her in their- his, HIS, bed, and not feel guilty. He went to detective Green every Saturday; he had to know they were on a lead of some kind. He couldn’t stand being with her for too long. He just couldn’t. He was falling in love and he knew what happened with love. Once was enough.
Besides, how could he even touch her without feeling like he was reminding her, what had happened. He asked her about her cousin. Her face fell a bit, and she said that she’d be done with school in a month. She’d move to Connecticut then.
He’d never see her again.

That month she seemed to seclude herself into a hollow shell. She stopped asking him what he wanted for dinner. She took longer hours for school and work. She started sleeping on the couch. She packed away her movies. That was only the first week. The next two he had to sit and watch as her belongings disappeared and watch as she retold what had happened. They’d finally caught the bastards. She retold the story in the same broken hollow way he’d seen on her when she slowly packed away her ocean scented bath stuff. When the case was closed, when the those creeps had been sent to jail{ hopefully to get a taste of their own medicine } he came home from work to find all her things gone, and a note thanking him for his help. He drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and broke half the glasses and plates in his kitchen cabinets. In the morning he needed stitches in his foot and he realized he’d smoked the two whole packs he hadn’t even thought of when was in his apartment.
Detective Green dragged him to the hospital.
“You’re an idiot.” Was all the cop had told him before leaving him to his apartment after having his wounds stitched and attended to. He looked around at the broken glass. He couldn’t smell her ocean scented products. All he could smell was cigarettes and puke.

He didn’t even know how bad it was till she was gone.

He spent three long years trying to forget her. One night stand, after one night stand, and all he thought about was HER.
Her smile, her hair, her voice, her eyes, what she’d been through, and even that stupid bear. He missed her. He missed the weird movies she showed him. The way she made everything in his life smell like the ocean, how she’d talk about Fiji like it was the Promised Land, how she’d sing to songs you wouldn’t think she even knew. He missed HER.
He saw her on TV every once in awhile.
She went to L.A. She was doing good with her life. She started writing again, her books were being made into movies, and she was making the best of friends with celebrities. She was doing good…except for her smile. It was missing something. He didn’t know what, and it seemed she didn’t either, but she seemed to be doing well.
He tried to make it seem like he didn’t care.
His boss told him every month to just man up and call her.
Each one night stand told him he should call her.
His mother handed him a phone and her number and all but demanded he call her.

He couldn’t call her though.

What did he have to offer her?
A crappy apartment? An income that relied on a bar, because he couldn’t afford college? Cause he wasn't smart enough for college? Cause he'd made some really bad and dumb choices during high-school and just barely scraped by on a C- average? A life of worrying about the bills? The rent? The piles insurance? Hell, he hadn't even held a baby before! What would've happened if he'd let her stay and they'd gotten that far? His stupid self probably would've told her to get rid of it. He could barely handle himself when she wasn't around, God only knew what would happen if she left a baby with him!
She was smart and beautiful, and after what she’d been through she deserved the life she was living now. She deserved a rich husband with a degree from Harvard in anything who could take her to Fiji and buy her whatever she wanted.
He started staring at her picture in his old yearbooks, and looking up how much it’d cost to go back to school, and how much it’d cost to up and move to Fiji. Something, he couldn't figure out what, something was kicking into high gear to get him to straighten himself out. If nothing else than for her. She had a way of compelling him to do things he didn't know he even wanted to do.

He started taking courses at the local community college. He really liked the idea of being a teacher. It sounded better then working on motorcycles and cars, or handing out drinks and letting drunken girls and a few guys hit on him.
He liked English.
He could teach that.
Maybe.
He found that old worn to Hell book she’d brought with her when he’d offered to house her for awhile. It was Shakespeare. His five greatest tragedies. He started reading that book constantly. Every free second he wasn’t working or studying, he was reading that book like it was a bible. He could recite it by the end of the third year. He was ignoring his responsibility to study for his finals, at one in the morning, and instead reading that book again, when there was a gentle knocking at his front door. He got up and answered it while still reading. When he finally looked up he almost dropped the book. She stood there in a black leather jacket and dark jeans and a low cut t-shirt. She was free of cuts or bruises or scars and she still smelled like the God forsaken ocean.
“I didn’t know I left that.” She said pointing to the book. He closed it and held it out to her. He couldn’t form words right now. What was she even doing here? She had a life, a good life, in L.A., it was waiting for her, and she was here? Of all the places she could've been? He wanted desperately to kiss her, to carry her-more like drag her- over the threshold of his rinky-dink apartment and LOVE her. He wanted it like he wanted to breathe. She had a way of making him feel like that without realizing it. God, would she ever realize just how amazing she was? She took the book gingerly, and then looked up at him with those bright eyes. So bright and green, and spell casting.
He couldn't hold back anymore.
He'd waited three freaking years.
She was going to say something, he couldn’t tell you what, but before she could...he surged forward and was kissing her. Her arms wrapped around his neck almost immediately without any hesitation and she kissed back. He lifted her off the ground and carried her into his apartment. He kicked the door closed and headed for his room. He dropped them both onto his bed. He stopped kissing her.
Just for a moment.
“I want to move to Fiji.” He breathed out. He gulped at his next words. They were going to be a commitment. “With you.” She smiled at him. A full on smile. No imitation, no forced pull of those soft lips, just a bright beaming smile.

“How about L.A.?” he smiled down at her.

Once more could be worth it.

“Whatever you want, Princess.” He kissed her again, and the rest of the night. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her.
It didn’t matter if she wanted to go to L.A. or Fiji, Hell he’d move to Antarctica for her, just as long she was there.
He felt better with her around.
He didn’t feel like smoking.
He didn’t feel like drinking.
He felt he could do anything with her around, and he would never get over the way she smelled like the ocean.

In the morning he woke up to find the bed empty except for him.
Was it all just some dream?
He got out of bed and pulled on his jeans that he’d been wearing the night before. Fore going his boxers for now if only because he needed to find her.
He ran out to the living room.
He checked the kitchen and the bathroom, Hell he even checked the closet
She wasn’t anywhere...
That stupid book was gone too.
He punched the wall.
He’d fallen in love, again, and it’d back fired on him.
Again!
He cursed and punched the wall again. He ran his hands through his hair that he’d let grow out, because she’d mentioned it once that he should.

And just when he thought that it really had been just a dream…She walked through the door in his shirt from that night...
with two tickets to L.A..