InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Yvain, I know what you are."

Niccy Marino (little_niccy) wrote in lineof_fire_rpg,
@ 2008-01-15 19:33:00

Niccy takes Roxy home
Who: Niccy and Roxy
What: Niccy takes Roxy home after the rescue
Where: Niccy's house
When: Same night as this
Rating: PG-13 for angsty angsty angst angst
Open? Negatory, log

	Niccy: Niccy pulled up in front of his house, shutting off the car and sitting for a second. His leg was throbbing with so much pain that he knew he needed to get to a doctor and have the bullet removed from his thigh muscle, but it was far from the first thing on his mind. He looked over at Roxy, who'd been silent the entire ride home. She looked weak, like she'd been awake for days and was sick with something terminal. Niccy reached over and touched her shoulder, managing a half smile. "You ready to go inside?" He patted her shoulder gently, then opened his car door, heading around the truck to open her door. Niccy waited as she unbuckled herself, then offered his hand for her to take to get down out of the car. He guided her to the front door of his house, pausing for a second to lock his truck with the keyless entry, then shoved the key into the lock and opened the front door. He led her inside, gingerly placing a gentle hand on her lower back as he closed the door behind them. Taking her down the hall, he led her into his bedroom, going to his dresser and pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of sweats for her to change into, then grabbed a towel out of the linen cabinet in the hall. He came back into the room holding the pile and set it on the bed, stopping awkwardly and looking at her. He had no idea what to say, how to act. All he wanted to do was pull her to him constantly, hold her, comfort her, let her know that he was there to keep her safe. With a sharp exhale, he nodded toward the towel and make-shift pajamas. "I thought you'd want to take a shower... And since you don't have anything here, you can wear that." Roxy was still wearing the items that sick fuck had forced her to wear, and he was sure she'd want to take them off. "I'll go to your place tomorrow and get you some stuff, if you want me to. Or I'll just take you back there... Whatever you want to do." He was babbling, unable to talk to her for the first time ever in their entire history together. "I... " He trailed off, eyes locking on hers. He'd just let her be for now. "I'll be here." He meant it in more ways than the words simply said. He'd be there, always, until she was ready. Niccy moved into her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving her in his bedroom. He headed to the kitchen, stripping off the clothes soaked with more than his own blood and shoving them into the garbage. He'd do the same with Roxy's when she'd changed.
	Roxy: How exactly one was expected to survive something like what Roxy had been through, she wasn't sure. The ride back to Niccy's house was filled with silence, the obligation she felt to speak stilled by her exhaustion and fear that she might say something he wasn't ready to hear. Everything was okay, so he'd told her, because Michael was dead. But in her mind, she knew that nothing was okay, and she wasn't sure when or if she would be again. His hand on her shoulder garnered a little shrug from her, not that she didn't want to be touched, but rather she'd been making similar movements for so long, that it was instinct to pull away and fight when she was touched. "Sure." She said simply before she slowly reached to unbuckle her seatbelt. It seemed like every move she made was methodical and calculated, as if she was afraid to make a wrong move and shatter her entire existence just from moving too quickly. She walked to the house in a daze, the ground feeling as if it wasn't even there as she walked with him. Zeke had told them to leave, and what exactly he was going to do, she wasn't sure. She had always prided herself on being independent, on being someone who didn't need anyone to survive. But then, she couldn't remember being so afraid to be alone, and needing distance all at the same time. She felt like she wanted to cling to Niccy at the same time that she wanted to push him away. She couldn't give him anything of herself, as really, there was nothing left worth wanting, as far as she was concerned. That fact alone made her want to latch onto her brother and never let go, as familial obligations forced him to stay with her. Hugging her arms around herself when he led her into the house, she glanced around, the light in the room harsh to her eyes as she had grown so accustomed to dim lighting in the dark and dank basement. She waited in his room as he walked into the house, unsure if she should follow him or...really what to do at all. He probably wanted to talk, and she probably should, but she couldn't bring herself to do or say much of anything right now. It was needless to say that she'd never been so traumatized in her life. Glancing over when he set the things on the bed, she gave a slow nod, her eyes lingering on the clothes and plush towel that were almost foreign objects at this point. "Thanks." She said simply as she bent to pick them up. Looking at him, she opened her mouth to say something but stopped, her eyes falling a little. "You um, you should really take care of that, Niccy." She said, pointing toward the bullet wound in his leg. She'd never forgive herself if he bled out because of a gun shot procured when he came to get her. Nodding after he'd kissed her forehead, she stood there a moment before she moved toward the bathroom. The cool tile felt colder on her feet, the reality of everything seeming to hit her squarely between the eyes and heightening her senses. Setting her things down on the counter, she went through the motions of turning on the shower, letting her fingers run underneath the stream of water until it got to the right temperature. She slowly peeled the shirt off of her body, shivering as she did so, though she wasn't even cold. Her arms felt sore, and her back ached as everything seemed to be hitting her a little more and a little more every minute. She stepped into the shower and inhaled sharply as the heat of the water cut through to her bones, warming her up in seconds. She leaned one hand against the tile of the shower and sighed heavily, letting the water beat down on her and wash away the grime and blood that stuck to her skin. She just wished that a shower was all she needed in order to make herself be okay again.
	Niccy: When he heard the shower running, Niccy returned to his bedroom, changing the sheets to the softest, most comfortable sheets he owned. He retrieved a down comforter from the hall closet, spreading it over the bed. He had no idea what else he could do besides let Roxy know he was there for her, and make her as comfortable as possible. He went back into the hall closet again and pulled out the first aid kit, heading into the kitchen again and sitting at the kitchen table. The wound in his leg was pretty bad, but the bleeding at stopped a bit. He'd go to the hospital in the morning, mental noting to give Leo a call before he went so he could get the name of a doctor who wouldn't report the bullet wound to the police. He'd take Roxy too, and get her checked over. He had no idea what that fuck had done to her, beyond the innuendo of what he'd said. But that was more than enough. Niccy started to clean the wound on his leg, wincing and slamming his fist down on the kitchen table as the alcohol he was using ran into the wound. "Fuck." He kept his voice to a mutter so as not to scare Roxy, biting his lip hard and taking in a deep breath. "Fuck this." He stood, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a beer. He knocked the cap off on the edge of the counter, then took a long sip, the sip not ending until the beer was empty. He set it down on the counter, then stopped, his mind suddenly racing with everything. Sure, it'd been there before, but now it was overwhelming. Roxy had been hurt. Roxy had been violated. Had he not been acting like a pompous asshole, she wouldn't have left the party, and she wouldn't have been taken. She wouldn't have had to kill someone. It all built, and Niccy felt suddenly out of control. He picked up the beer bottle, heading out the back door. He limped to the middle of the yard, stopping in the dead center. He took in a deep breath, letting his head drop back until his eyes were to the sky. A long, near wolf-like howl came from him, and wouldn't stop. It sounded like an animal mourning it's own death, the last cry before it found someplace to die. It only stopped when he ran out of breath. He lurched forward as the scream ended, then hurled the bottle at the house, somewhat satisfied with the shattering when it hit the concrete foundation. He limped back into the house, not really feeling any better, but at least his brain seemed to have calmed a bit. As he stepped onto the tile, his foot slipped, and he looked down. The bullet wound had started bleeding again, a bit more profusely than before. Add in the beer, and Niccy suddenly felt dizzy. Could he get Roxy back in the car and to the hospital? Did he really want to call 911? Something clicked in his brain, and he remembered Dr. Housecall. He made a beeline for his cell phone, grabbing the kitchen towel off the counter and pressing it to the wound, searching his phone book as he limped to the bedroom. He only had to say his name, and the doctor stopped him in his tracks, asking for his address and telling him to stay put, that he'd be there as soon as he could. Niccy sat down on the bed, his head a little fuzzy. He immediately regretted the beer, and didn't want Roxy to have to deal with any of it. He groaned, sitting on the bed with the towel pressed hard to stem the flow of blood down his leg.
	Roxy: The hot water washing over her body was a welcome distraction from the voices screaming in her head. The sound of the water drowned out everything else, and for the moment she was totally alone. It was a mixture of trepidation and need for that alone time which caught her now. She stood under the stream of the water, constantly turning it just a little hotter once her body had grown accustomed to the heat. She started mumbling to herself, things that others might not understand, but what she needed to hear. "You're not going to drown...you're fine. He's gone, you're fine." Little reassurances to herself is what she needed, as however good her shower felt on her body, memories of what Michael had done to her seeped into her mind and refused to let go. Ducking her head under the shower head, her heart started pounding a little before she forced herself to take a deep breath. Water ran over the opening of her mouth, but she could breathe. It was what she needed to make sure she wasn't going to freak out. She had to re-train herself to withstand the simple things that wouldn't scare anyone else. After a while, she ran shampoo through her hair, tugging it out to the ends and half expecting her hair to be falling out. She hadn't had more than scraps of food and water over the last month, and that did numbers on a body. Grabbing the soap, she began to scrub away at herself, not bothering to go tender over the bruises and cuts that riddled her body. Everything hurt, but she wanted every last bit of the memory of him gone from her body. Her skin began to flush red from her scrubbing, and bits of her went a little numb from the furor in which she tried to wash him off of her. Everything that had happened to her seemed to bottle up all in one moment, and she began to cry, her hands shaking as she dropped the loofa she'd been using. Bowing her head, she buried her face in her hands and sunk down to sit on the shower floor, the water still pouring down on her back. Her body shook with sobs as she sat there, pouring out everything that had been suppressed over her time held captive. She was alive, that should be enough to make her joyful and grateful. But after spending so many days anticipating death, coming back to life was going to be the hardest thing she'd have to face.
	Niccy: Niccy let himself lay out on the bed, closing his eyes as the room spun a little much, like he'd been drinking tequila all night. It was more weakness than intoxicated, and he didn't feel like passing out. A figure approached the house, letting himself in through the still unlocked front door. He made a beeline for Niccy's room, setting a large black bag on the floor. Niccy was immediately at attention, his face one of slight terror, but calming as he recognized the face staring back at him. Niccy flopped back on the bed, the pain in his leg a bit too much for him to take at the moment. The doctor went to work, and Niccy urged him to hurry while the shower was still running. Roxy had been in there awhile, but he wasn't about to interrupt her. She needed the shower, and maybe needed to be alone. Niccy wasn't sure of anything. He had no idea how to act. Seeing Roxy willing to turn to her brother, to actually hug him, to go to him for comfort... It hadn't sat well with Niccy; it still wasn't sitting. He was upset about it, but was trying hard to understand it. The last thing he needed to do was push Roxy away because of his own pride. It was what had gotten her taken in the first place, and making her leave by acting like an ass wasn't something Niccy remotely wanted to do. Niccy yelped loudly as the doctor injected the wound with lidocaine, lifting his head long enough to look down and glare at the doctor. "Sorry, Niccy. It won't hurt after I'm done with this. But it's going to hurt until I finish." Niccy nodded, not having much to say. He laid back on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling. The doctor worked, emptying about 3 syringes of lidocaine into and around the wound before beginning to probe for the bullet. It felt odd to Niccy, a strange pressure that only hurt sometimes, but hurting like a mother fucker when it did. A click of metal on metal signaled the finding of the bullet and the doctor pulled it out, causing Niccy to wince and curl his abdomen in pain. "Fuck." Niccy bit down on his lip, making a very clear mental note to never get shot again. He flopped on the bed again, his leg twitching with pain. The doctor sewed him up as best he could, then stood, pressing a large bandaid over the wound. "Come see me in a few days. I'll take the stitches out and you should be good as new. Take these." The doctor hucked a bottle of pills at Niccy, then nodded, leaving the house and locking the doorknob behind him. Niccy took a couple of pills from the bottle and swallowed them dry, then tossed the bottle into his nightstand drawer. He'd explain the bandage if she asked, but for now, he was worried about her. She was still in the shower, and while he may have had a large water heater, it had have emptied by now. His brows knit, and he stood from the bed, able to walk better now that the pain in his leg had been numbed by the anesthetic. He walked to the door, knocking lightly. "Roxy?" When he didn't get a response, he cracked the door open, greeted with a plume of steam. "Rox, you okay?" He walked in a few paces, his foot landing on the filthy shirt Roxy had been wearing when he brought her home. He picked it up, his hand immediately turning to a fist around it. It made him sick to see it, so he knew he had to get it far away from Roxy. He stared at the shower curtain, the water still running. He could've sworn he heard a sniffle, but didn't press. "You okay in here?"
	Roxy: Exactly how long she'd been sitting there on the bathroom floor, she wasn't sure. The water had gone luke warm, even turned all the way to the furthest it would go toward heat. Her heart lurched a little in her chest when she heard the door open, but calmed a little when she heard Niccy. She was so skittish that it had begun to annoy her. She really wished she could stop it. She swallowed hard at her sore throat and nodded more than she needed to, even though he couldn't see her. "I'll be out in a minute." She said quietly over the stream of water. She couldn't say that she was okay, as she was so far from it. Waiting until she heard him leave, she pulled herself up on slightly wobbly legs before she reached over and turned off the faucet. Stepping out of the shower, she winced a little at the cold tile beneath her feet and quickly moved to stand on the bath mat. Picking up her towel, she wrapped it around herself, but instead of staying in the towel, she dried herself off quickly. She didn't want to feel a cold that cut into her again, even though logic told her that she would not freeze in Niccy's house. Pulling on the sweats and t-shirt that Niccy had given her, she closed her eyes a moment and let them wrap around her like a welcome hug. Towel drying her hair some, she ran a comb through it, and for the first time in a long time, she felt clean, at least on the outside. Hanging up her towel on the hook, she carefully opened the door and peered out into the bedroom where she assumed Niccy was. She was hungry but she didn't feel like eating, she was thirsty but she didn't feel like drinking. All she wanted right now was to sleep and wake up with an entirely new day, with the knowledge that it was over. That, unfortunately, was a lot easier said than done.
	Niccy: Niccy paused, listening for Roxy's voice. When he heard it, it sounded far away, like she wasn't anywhere near the house at that moment in her mind. He pursed his lips, then nodded. "Okay. I'm going to make you something to eat." He didn't wait for a response from her as to whether or not she wanted it; he knew she was probably hungry. He held the shirt in his fist, disgusted by it's existence in his home. He wanted to build a fire, burn it. Instead, he stuffed it in the trash along with the clothes he'd been wearing. He cinched the bag and pulled it out of the garbage can, moving to the back door to set it outside. Niccy moved back into the kitchen, pulling out bread and a jar of peanut butter. He quickly made a sandwich, then poured a glass of milk. He placed the sandwich on a plate and carried it back to the bedroom. Heading back toward the bedroom, he saw Roxy had come out of the bathroom. He smiled weakly, bringing the sandwich and glass of milk up to eye level. "Peanut butter." He headed into the bedroom, setting them on the nightstand and sitting on the bed. The movement drew a groan from him, his leg yelling at him a little bit in pain. He patted the bed next to him, motioning for Roxy to come in. She looked scared to simply move. "Come on, come sit down."
	Roxy: Looking up when Niccy entered the room, her nature would have been to give him a brave smile and tell him that she felt a lot better after a shower. While she did feel less dirty - at least on the outside, she was far from okay, and couldn't express that. After everything that had happened to her, she couldn't bring herself to be that person who she was. The one who always worried about how everyone else was before herself. She just ... didn't care anymore. She looked down at his leg where there was a fresh dressing over his wound, evidence that one of the off-hours doctors had been over. Her fingers twisted at the hem of the t-shirt she wore, and she glanced toward the bed and the food. Her stomach ached almost as if on queue, but even though she was here with Niccy, she was half convinced that they'd be pulled away the second she reached for it. She'd gone so long without the simple comfort of a peanut butter sandwich that she wasn't even sure she wanted it. Her brow furrowed a little as if she were concentrating on making a decision before she hesitatingly moved toward the bed. As much as she wanted to be like she was, even if just for his sake, she couldn't let herself get too close. Even if he wasn't pressuring her for anything, and really, he was being wonderful, she felt herself trying all too hard with energy that she didn't have to be like she was. Sinking down to the edge of the bed, she kept her distance, afraid that he'd see so plainly that she wasn't the girl he once loved, and that he wouldn't want what she was now.
	Niccy: Niccy watched Roxy as she sat on bed, very aware of the space that she left between the two of them. He frowned without meaning to, then forced his face to brighten again. Even if he wasn't feeling it, he needed to show that he was okay with everything going on right now to Roxy. He didn't want her worrying about him. She had enough on her plate. He motioned to his leg, pointing out the bandage. "The doctor came by. I'm all sewed up." He smiled at her, hoping that at least the knowledge that he wouldn't bleed to death in his sleep would comfort her in some way. He noticed she wasn't touching the food, and reached across her, his arm brushing her leg without meaning to. He didn't think anything of it until he saw her flinch, and he sighed quietly, pausing for a second before reaching and grabbing the sandwich. Niccy held it to her, motioning for her to take it. "I know you're hungry. Eat something." His smartassed side was itching to say something along the lines of you 'you look like shit, eat something', but now wasn't the time. She was too sensitive, too broken. Even if everything in her knew he was kidding, he was afraid she'd take him seriously. Niccy watched her, refusing to move the sandwich until she took it from him.
	Roxy: Sitting there, she chewed on her lower lip, unsure if she should try and say something or if she should even acknowledge what had happened. It was all too fresh, and too much to deal with all at once. "That's good." She said with a little nod, her voice hoarse even more so than her usual speaking tone was. Her eyes looked down at his leg, mainly to avoid looking directly at him. He couldn't still see her the same way. She couldn't even look at herself in the mirror without seeing a stranger. Her eyes were gaunt from lack of sleep, her features sharp from lack of nourishment, and all that was before you got to the 'battle scars' left on her body. Her eyes traveled to the plate he held out for her, and for a moment she hesitated before she reached out and picked up the sandwich. It almost felt foreign to actually eat something, and something that she had so often before she'd been taken. "Thanks." She said meekly, her voice catching a little bit before she took the first bite of the sandwich. She sighed softly as she chewed, the simple task of that seeming incredibly taxing, but having something in her was comforting. She hadn't really allowed herself to realize how hungry she was until she was actually allowed to be eating something.
	Niccy: He smiled weakly when she finally started to eat. Niccy was a bit less worried now, but not much. She was still off, something in her beyond any small repair. He could see it in her eyes, and it was tough for him. He wasn't used to this Roxy. He didn't expect anything out of her, far from it. He wanted to give her her space. But he also wanted to go back in time and have his old Roxy back, the one who'd be all over him, the one who could speak more than one sentence, the one who could make eye contact. His leg was starting to sing with pain again, so he pushed back onto the bed more, wriggling across the covers until he was laying down with his head resting on the pillow. He wasn't going to push Roxy into sleeping in the bed with him unless she wanted to, but he desperately needed to lie down. Niccy was exhausted, the drama of the day finally catching up to him. "I'll go sleep in the living room, if you want. I've discovered my couch is actually pretty comfortable." He'd leave the sleeping arrangements up to her. All he wanted to was hold her, but if she didn't want him there, he wouldn't be there.
	Roxy: Draining the last of the milk, she stood to put the plate and milk on the dresser, the simple task of being able to do something without having to get permission freeing in itself. Her hands seemed unable to stop shaking since she'd gotten away from the place that she'd been held captive for so long, but she tried her best to ignore it. Rubbing her hands together, it was almost like she was still trying to get the grime off her skin, even though it was practically nonexistent at this point. Turning back toward the bed, she felt her heart lurch just a little in her chest at seeing Niccy there. She closed her eyes for a moment, but the intense memories of Michael and everything he'd done to her just intensified with the closing of her eyes. Maybe she'd ask the doctor for sleeping pills when she went in the morning. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes before she moved toward the bed, careful to stay on the other side. She wanted nothing more to slide her arms tightly around him and just let him wrap her up and never let go, but she was far too fragile to let that go much further than just a wish. "No, you don't need to." She half croaked out, her voice more rough than it normally was. She pulled back the quilt and sheets of the bed before she gingerly climbed in, careful and methodical with her movements, almost as if she were afraid if she moved to quickly all of this would shatter and she'd wake up to find herself back on the cold floor of Michael's basement. Her entire body seemed to tense as she lay back into the sheets, his close proximity making her emotions war over relief and fear. She rolled onto her side, her back to him...not to shut him out, but simply because she couldn't bring herself to look at him and let him see how broken she'd become. She closed her eyes, trying to mentally fight off the memories that flooded the darkness. "Niccy?" She asked, opening her eyes again and glancing back over her shoulder. "Could you leave the light on?" She asked, hating herself for how weak she sounded. She felt a fresh wave of tears flood her eyes, but she just squeezed them shut, refusing to let them fall. Keeping her eyes closed, she heaved a heavy sigh, trying to will herself to let her exhaustion drown out her fear.
	Niccy: Niccy lay on the bed, feeling it shift beneath him as Roxy laid down. He managed a sort of smile when she said that he could stay, then rolled onto his side, watching her as she lay down awkwardly. His heart hurt for her; he could tell she was having a hard time doing anything, even things as simple as eating, moving, accepting that she was no longer locked up by that monster. His eyes closed as he started to doze, opening a little when she asked him to leave the light on. "Sure." He rolled over and turned the light on on his nightstand, leaving the room with a soft glow. He rolled back, folding his arms and resting his chin on his hands, watching her again. His eyelids grew heavy, and he sighed, dozing again. When he met the border of sleep, he subconsciously moved toward Roxy, sliding his arm over her side. Niccy was snapped back to reality when Roxy stiffened and pulled away from him, feeling her tremble beneath his hands. Niccy pushed up onto his elbow, looking over her as he pulled his arm back. "Roxy, I'm sorry. I know you don't want me to touch you. I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable. I won't touch you, if that's what you want. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Niccy watched her face, his brows knit together. "I'm here for you. When you're ready, I'll still be here."
	Roxy: Only when the light turned on did she allow herself to close her eyes, and only for a moment. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, a small part of her logic creeping in and telling her it was okay to relax, but everything else drowning out the logic. Her eyes looked around the room warily, trying to memorize shapes and objects. She knew if the light was off all she'd be able to see was the shadows, people who weren't there and monsters that as much as her mind knew weren't real, she wouldn't be able to keep her terror down. It was hard to think that a mere few hours ago she had been facing her own death, bracing for it even. She had accepted it, and at the point she was at...she even wanted it. Anything was better than the constant terror of waiting. But now she was safe, and she had no idea what to do with that. Feeling his body warmth rolling toward her, she steeled herself for a moment, trying to let him in, let him comfort her in a way she wasn't entirely sure she could be. She countered his movement, rolling a little closer to the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the edge of the quilt tightly. Roxy needed him, needed him more than she ever had in her life, but she couldn't let him in, and that conflict was agonizing. She closed her eyes when she heard him speak to her, the sound of his voice comforting, even if his touch couldn't be. After a moment, she nodded slightly, a lump nearly choking her as she tried to hold back another wave of sobs. "Okay." She whispered, biting down on her lower lip harder than necessary. "Okay." She repeated, closing her eyes as she tried her best to let go of some of the terror that seemed to grip her entire body.
	Niccy: He could see it in her face, the torment going on inside of her head that he had only caught a glimpse of before. It was the first time she'd let her guard down in the least since he'd found her, and it demolished him inside. His face fell, but Niccy held himself together. He watched her for a moment, listening to her repeat a mantra of 'okay' in a broken whisper. Niccy took in a deep breath, then reached across her, careful not to jar her or touch her, really. He pulled open the nightstand drawer on her side of the bed, rummaging quickly until his fingers closed on the small pouch that he'd been reminded was there when he'd torn his room apart looking for his gun. He retracted his arm, holding the pouch gingerly until he was settled in bed again. "Hey. Remember when you were on stakeout at Thaniel Hall and we met up? I never told you why I was there. I forgot, actually. You have that effect on me a lot." He smiled softly, looking at the back of her shoulder. He wanted to roll her to face him, but he wasn't going to push. His fingers worked the small knot around the top of the pouch, releasing it and opening the drawstring. "I was there that day because I wanted to get you something. I was driving by, and saw those little stands, y'know the ones? With all the tourist bullshit? So I wandered in, looked around, and found this." He slid the necklace into the palm of his hand, then hooked his finger through it, reaching his arm across her to hold it in front of her face so she could see it. "Made me think of you. The stone is the same color as your eyes, I think." Niccy sighed, letting the necklace lay gently on the mattress in front of Roxy, then retracted his arm, still watching her. "I missed you, so much more than you know. I'm so fucking glad you're safe." His voice dropped to a whisper, and he leaned into her, pressing his lips gently to her wet hair, then pulling away again. Niccy just watched her, the knowledge that she was there still sinking in.
	Roxy: Roxy tensed a little when he reached over her, but focused on keeping her breathing steady. She just had to breathe, remember to take this all one minute at a time. She remained quiet while he rummaged around, while just months ago she'd be playfully poking at him and trying to get him to reveal what it was he was after. She missed that, and she suddenly felt a huge wave of loss clutch her chest. She paused at his question, the memory hitting her and seeming like it was years ago. "I remember." She said softly, her eyes closing again. She tried not to remember their romp in the storage closet. What used to be a fun memory now just reminded her of an act that made her insides clamp up and shudder in the more recent, painful memories. She kept her back turned to him, but relaxed a little, his voice still comforting her immensely. She had always loved his voice, she'd commented on it being a sexy voice, but now it was like being wrapped around and held safe. Her eyes opened again when she felt him closer to her, adjusting until she saw the gem dangling in front of her face. Taking in a slightly shaky breath, she reached her fingers over to where he lay it on the pillow. She picked it up, rolling it between her fingers a couple of times before she let it rest in her open palm. "Thank you." She said softly, unable to say much of anything, as conflicting emotions seemed to war inside of her. She closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek and falling onto pillow. Hearing him say he missed her seemed to break her heart a little. She had missed him...but she hadn't even recognized that's what it was. She was too scared, to angry, to left alone to be able to miss anyone or anything. Michael had turned her into a shell of what she used to be, and she hated him all the more for it. But how exactly could you hate someone who no longer existed? "Niccy..." She said softly, the way his lips pressed into the back of her head. Tears freely streamed from her eyes again as she lay there quietly crying. She had never said this to him, and though it might not mean anything from someone he might not recognize as well, it needed to be said. It was the only thing she could tell him right now. "I love you." She finally managed to get out, the words sounding almost like a prayer, a promise that one day he'd have her back.
	Niccy: Niccy listened to her breathing as it hitched in her chest, a sound familiar to him at other times but seeming totally foreign at that moment. His heart lurched when he heard her say it, and he stopped, stopped breathing, his heart stopped beating. It all rushed back in a milisecond, his heart racing in his chest. Niccy'd thought of saying it to her, the moment seemingly ruined after Halloween. He scooted across the bed to her, pulling her into him as he looped an arm around her waist. He rolled her into him, burying his face into her hair as he hugged her to him. His lips pressed gently to her ear, and he nodded. "I love you too," he whispered, squeezing her against his chest as he held her. It was the truest, purest statement he'd ever made, and he meant it more than even he realized. He loved Roxy with all his heart. He could feel the wetness of her tears against his cheek, and he held her ever tighter, feeling her heart racing against him. "It's okay. Shhhh." His hand smoothed over her hair. "I'm here. I love you. You're safe." It all poured from him, Niccy feeling a protective urge he'd never experienced in his life. It was something beyond the protective nature he had toward his family. He needed to make Roxy feel safe. He needed her to know it, through and through, that he'd never hurt her. "I love you, Roxy." His voice was lower than a whisper, only loud enough for her to share the secret. She was the only one who needed to know.