One Silent Night: Part 2
A Christmas Miracle brings them together.
by horny pixy. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.
“Come home with me tonight,” he murmured. “Or let me stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor, or the chair. Just; Just don’t ask me to leave you for the wolves. Because I can’t do that.”
She pulled away. “I don’t expect you to take care of me,” she said. “I can’t ask it from you.”
His face blanched. “Is it because of my leg?” he asked. “I know I’m not; what I used to be, but I assure you, I’m still able to protect you from;”
[[MORE]]“It’s not your leg,” she said and put a hand over his heart. “I can’t risk getting you involved in the clusterfuck that is my life at this stage.”
“I’m offering you one evening’s respite, Mia,” he said. “That’s it. I’m not asking you to move in with me forever.”
“You don’t even know me,” she whispered, touched. “Why would you want to do this for me?”
He gave a small, crooked smile. “How can I not?” he asked simply. “Helping you; it feels like breathing. I can’t not do it.”
Carter waited in the living room with two cups of coffee while Mia helped Nikita settle in the spare room they would be sharing while they were there. He had turned the heat up and the whole apartment was slowly getting warmer. Mia sat down on the couch across from him and took the cup he offered her.
“Why don’t you tell me where it hurts?” he said, leaning back and crossing his ankles, the perfect model of relaxation. “And please don’t tell me it’s just that one place on your side. I’ve been watching you all evening, and you’re in pain.”
“All right, yes, but I’m fine. It’s just some bruises.”
“Show me,” he said. “I’m a medic, remember?”
Mia battled with her will for a moment before she stood up and started unbuttoning her coat with quick, business-like movements. Carter had something good and pure about him; something sweet and somehow innocent. It went deeper than just offering his home to two strangers. He wouldn’t hurt her or her sister in any way. The goodness of him; It went all the way to his soul.
Oh, did she even have a soul anymore?
The thought made something fog over in her mind and her hands started to shake when she took the coat off and laid it over the back of the couch. Carter didn’t move from his position as he watched her fingers curl over the bottom hem of her simple brown sweater. She did not, could not, look at his face while she pulled it up and over her head, wincing when the movement pulled at sore muscles and bruised flesh.
Carter’s mouth was so dry he almost expected a sandstorm to originate under his tongue. Watching Mia as she took off her clothes was an exercise in self-control, though there was nothing sexual about the way she undressed. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, her stare blank and empty, as she untucked the second sweater from her pants and pulled it up. He watched the way she held her arms close to her body, trying to minimalize the pain, and felt like the worst kind of man for wanting her so much when she was suffering.
She was wearing only a cream-colored, long-sleeved button-down blouse, but her fingers were trembling so badly she couldn’t get the buttons through the holes. He watched her struggle with the bottom button for a while before he couldn’t take another second of the slow torture.
“Let me help you,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. She nodded and let her arms fall to her sides. Carter put his cup down and stood up slowly, hoping that there was no visible evidence of the stirring in his lap. He gave a single step, and then he was in front of her. He searched her eyes, but there was no sign of fear or distrust in them. He looked down at his hands as he found the first button at the bottom. They felt unnaturally small under his big, suddenly-clumsy fingers. He tried to keep his breathing even as he managed to slip it through the little hole. His fingertips felt the coarse, starched material of her shirt as they stroked upwards to the next button. He undid it with an equal amount of fumbling, trying to remember that this was not a prelude to the horizontal tango.
He was halfway with the buttons when it happened. His finger slid under the material of her shirt and his knuckles skimmed over her skin. They both hissed in surprise and he looked up at her face for the first time since he’d begun the unbuttoning. Her eyes were wide and dark, her lashes almost impossible long, casting little half-moon shadows over her cheeks. Her face was flushed a delicious shade of desire, her mouth slightly open. He watched the shimmering trail when she extended the tip of her tongue and wetted her lips unconsciously.
She wanted him.
Carter swallowed and forced himself to look away from her face. He tried to focus on the buttons, but saw only the little nubs of her hardened nipples swelling under her clothes.
Oh, dear;
He opened another button and realized that he had reached the one right under her breast. He swallowed convulsively and undid it. He felt her breasts pressing against the back of his hands. The material of her shirt strained very lightly against the swell of her breasts, and he had to pull the edges of the material closer to the middle to undo the button. It popped open, and then there was just one left. His fingers were trembling almost as much as hers had done, but somehow he got it through the little hole.
He pushed the edges of the shirt away, to the side, and braced himself for the sight of her body.
And then all thoughts of desire fled from his mind in an instant.
Bruises bloomed over her skin like an obscene painting of a tortured flower. Her torso was covered with them, and he could see the darker spots where they overlapped. Down her side was a trail of blue and black stains where she had been hit, repeatedly, by the same blunt object. Her lower abdomen looked better, but he was willing to bet there were a few cracked ribs under the welts that covered her skin.
“Mia,” he breathed, horrified. He sank down, mindless of his knee, and pressed his fingertips against the black bump on her hip. He tried to stay objective, willed his training to kick in, and waited for his heartbeat to calm down. He switched into medic mode, pressing against every bruise and testing her ribcage with care. She stood as still as a mouse, watching his movements with those big, sad eyes of hers. He asked her questions, peeled the shirt over her shoulders and off her arms. Her back looked even worse, if that was possible. It was a portrait, done in shades of agony.
But there was no sign of any broken bones, or ruptured organs. Whoever had done this had known exactly how much pressure and force to use, and had been careful to inflict only pain. There would be no lasting damage once the bruises faded.
Or not to her body, in any case.
“Mia,” he said hoarsely. “This was a punishment beating, wasn't it?”
She nodded.
“What are you involved in?” he asked, touching an unmarked spot under her bellybutton with one finger, as if he wanted to reassure them both that her body would heal.
“I can’t tell you,” she whispered.
“Is it drugs?” he asked, brusquely. There were no needle marks on her arms, and though she was too thin, her skin wasn't the sallow color of a user.
“Nothing like that,” she said, and for a moment she rested her hand on his head, her fingers stroking his hair like a beloved pet. “It’s just; an issue from my past. But I’m handling it. I’ve been handling it for years. It’s under control.”
He looked up at her, at the tired defiance in her shoulders. “Who are you trying to convince?” he asked and stood up. “Come on, I’ll put some ice on the worst bruises and give you some pain medication. You should actually see a doctor.”
She lay down on the couch on her stomach, her arms forming a little nest for her face. “No doctor,” she said firmly, as he had known she would.
Mia swallowed the two tablets he gave her and winced when he put the frozen gel packs on her back. Her muscles seemed to tighten up in response. Carter murmured calming words and soft encouragements while he moved the ice packs around slowly. He was sitting on the couch next to her, and she shifted closer to the back to make a little more room for him. His hip pressed against hers and he delighted in the intimacy of it.
He admired the curve of her back, his gaze starting at the low-rise jeans she was wearing and ending at the nape of her neck, where little curls and wisps of baby-fine new hair covered her porcelain skin. His eyes were drawn again and again to the little dimple just above the hem of her jeans. One way or another, he was going to have his mouth on that little dip in her skin. When she was better. When she was better, and when she trusted him, he was going to make such sweet love to her that she’ll realize she can’t live without him.
“Turn around,” he said after a while, and moved so that she could do that.
“This will be even worse than your back,” he warned. “Ideally, you should take a cold bath.”
“Hell, no,” she said and jerked when the ice pack touched her skin. “Ouch,” she said in a small voice.
“Sorry, baby,” Carter soothed and put the second pack on the other side. “Just breath, it will settle down in a second.”
She put one arm over her eyes, and Carter couldn’t, for the very life of him, stop staring at her boobs. They were on the small side from being so underweight, but they were hers, and therefor they were perfect. The bra she had on had been designed for comfort and support, not seduction, but damn, if he wasn't feeling seduced anyway. Her skin broke out in goose flesh and like magnets, his eyes found her nipples. He watched them grow harder and wondered if she was aware of it, since she didn’t make a move to cover them. He wanted to feel them under his fingers, roll each between a thumb and middle finger, wanted to put his mouth on her and taste the unique flavor of her skin.
Mia took her arm away from her face and looked at him. “Carter, can I; Can I ask you another favor?” she asked, her voice hesitant. As if there was anything he wouldn’t do for her.
“Of course,” he said immediately.
“I’m afraid; I don’t know how easy I’ll sleep. I don’t want to bother Nikita. She needs the rest so much. Can I; Can I sleep with you tonight? In your bed?”
For a moment, all the wires in his brain seemed to fuse at the same time. He had never, not even once, allowed himself to hope for this. He imagined, for a second, how it would feel to go to sleep and wake up with her next to him. He would be a bastard and wait until she was asleep and then pull her into his arms, very careful not to wake her.
She seemed to misread his silence.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she said quickly. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch. This is fine. I just;”
“Mia,” he said, putting a finger on her lips to stop her. “I would love it if you sleep in my bed tonight. I’m not going to let you sleep on the couch. If you’re uncomfortable with me, I’ll sleep on the couch. But I would never let a guest do that. Especially not an injured one.”
She closed her eyes, as if in relief. “I just can’t stand the thought of sleeping on my own tonight,” she said in a small voice. “I’m always alone, always the one who needs to take responsibility. I’m so tired. I’m just so tired of being alone, Carter;”
He wasn't sure how it happened, or who made the first move. Either he had bent down, or she had reached up and pulled him down, but the next moment he was bending his upper body over hers, his one hand holding onto the back of the couch to avoid pressing against her injured body. Her one hand cupped itself around his neck, holding his face in place as they kissed.
The first touch of her lips were like a spring rain in the middle of the desert. Soft and honey-sweet, hesitant and unsure. He could taste her awkward inexperience in her fumbled movements, but it did not bother him in the slightest. He rubbed his lips against her, a back and forth movement to soothe and excite. Her breathing was loud, but he could still hear the frantic beating of his own heart over it.
He had been hoping for and dreaming about this for so long that he wanted to savor every moment in case he woke up and found it had been nothing more than a figment of his subconscious.
He pressed his lips against the corner of her lips and lingered there for a few seconds before trailing over her mouth to the other side. He touched the tip of his tongue to the little dimple there, and she turned her head towards him, anxious for more. He pulled away and comforted them both by rubbing his check against hers. His day-old beard rasped lightly against his skin and he loved the feeling of it. He held his face there, breathing in the fragrance of her skin and her hair, before touching his lips against hers in a chaste kiss. She murmured something and tilted her head to the side again. He took the hint and gave her a single soft, sipping kiss. He slipped his tongue over the seam of her lips once, twice, and then she opened them for him. He didn’t stick his tongue inside her mouth, instead teasing her further by taking her bottom lip between his and pulling it lightly. He sucked it into his mouth and slid his tongue over the smooth skin on the inside as he let it go.
She gave a soft moan and he awarded her with another lingering kiss. He tugged at her bottom lip again, this time using his teeth. Her fingers tightened around his neck, sliding up and into his hair. He changed the angle of his head and licked his way slowly into her mouth, swallowing her soft gasp when his tongue found hers. He stroked it once, and then used the tip of his tongue to explore her mouth. He slid his tongue out and tested her reaction. She moaned her dissent and he slipped it back in. She was ready for him this time, touching him back hesitantly. He advanced and retreated a few times, teasing her with an erotic display of what he wanted to do with her body. She whimpered and he could taste her urgency, so he deepened the kiss. He tried coaxing her tongue out of her mouth, but she was not experienced enough to know what he wanted.
“Give me your tongue,” he whispered against her lips. She didn’t respond immediately and he pressed his mouth against her ear.
“Your tongue,” he said again, feeling the shiver that shuddered through her body when his breath tickled her. “Put it in my mouth.”
He licked a little trail back to her mouth and kissed her again, waiting patiently. After a few moments, he felt her warm, soft tongue against his lips. He surprised and shocked her by sucking it into his mouth with unexpected urgency. He kept it there, suckling rhythmically for a while. Her moan was one of pure need, a sentiment that echoed in the blood coursing through his body, fueling his desire for her.
They made out like teenagers in the backseat of a car for a while, and as her confidence grew, so did her proficiency. He taught her what he liked, and showed her things he thought she might like. He forgot about everything, the screaming pain in his knee from the twisted position it was in, her sister in the spare room, the fact that it had finally started snowing.
This was magic, he thought as she did something with her tongue that made him moan. His eyes were closed, but he opened them because he wanted to see her face.
She looked spectacular. Her hair was disheveled and her face flushed. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and she had a slightly red mark of beard burn on the side of her neck where he’d nuzzled her.
“Look at me,” he said and she opened her eyes with obvious reluctance. Her lips were parted, hoping for more kisses. He almost obliged, but they had the whole night, or what was left of it in any case. She struggled to focus on him and he couldn’t prevent the pure male smile of satisfaction. Her pupils were dilated by desire, her gaze glassy and impatient and dazed. He kept his eyes on hers when he cupped her ribs, ready for her to groan or gasp.
She did gasp, but because he was staring into her eyes at that second, not even he could mistake it for a sound of passion. Her eyes filled with pain and for the first time since his lips touched hers, he remembered about her injuries.
“Shit!” he said, pushing himself away from her and staring at her with horror. “Mia, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I forgot about your bruises. I lost my head completely. I’m really sorry. Are you all right? How badly did I hurt you? Let me get new ice packs, I’ll be right back;”
“Carter,” Mia said. “Stop. You didn’t hurt me, and please don’t get me another ice pack. I’m begging you. It’s too cold.”
“I’m so sorry, Mia,” Carter said. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. Please forgive me, I; It won’t happen again. You’re just so lovely, and;”
“Its fine,” she said, slowly pushing herself upright, wincing slightly. “Look, it happened, and I can; I can understand if you don’t want to do it again, so let’s just; let’s just go to sleep, if you don’t mind.”
Half an hour later, Mia settled in under the thick warm duvet with an added blanket over her. Carter hadn’t come to his room yet, and she knew he was going to spend the night on his own couch. It felt strange, being in an empty bed that belonged to somebody else. She pummeled her pillow into a better shape and tried to lie down again. Her body was sore, despite the painkillers, and she wished Carter would come to her. She wanted to feel his heat, hear his breathing, maybe wait until he’s asleep and roll over to lie against him. She wanted to lean against him to ease the ache, wanted to feel his arms around her.
“Stop wishing for the moon,” she told herself and turned on her back.
It was going to be a long night.
A week later, they were still with him, and Carter couldn’t believe how happy he was. Mia’s wounds were healing slowly, but she refused to tell him what had happened. They haven’t kissed again after the first night, and she had moved back to the spare room with her sister. Every time she tried to mention the possibility of their moving back to their own apartment, he ruthlessly used Nikita as his winning argument on why they should stay.
Nikita was very sweet girl, but Carter could see her health failing with every passing day. He took her to another specialist who prescribed different medication that seemed to ease her pain. The doctor suggested a hospital, but Nikita cried at the idea, so they got all the necessary equipment to look after her at home.
He surprised both them by going out and buying Christmas decorations, something he had never owned in his life. For the first time in years, he felt at peace with himself. He loved Mia, and he had the patience to wait for her to fall in love with him as well.
“You can’t hang that ball there,” Nikita said, rolling her eyes at him. She was cuddled around a teddy bear hot water bottle that he had bought for her, a thick blanket around her as she sat on the couch. Her face was pale but her smile radiant as she laughed. “There’s another red one right next to it. It’ll look stupid. You need a golden ball. Right, Mia?”
“Definitely,” Mia agreed promptly and took the red ball from him. “Don’t you know anything about decorating a Christmas tree?”
“No,” he grumbled, secretly pleased with the way Mia’s finger lingered against him when she took the offending ball. “I’ve never done this before, just so you know.”
“Why not?” Nikita asked.
Carter was quiet for a few moments. “My parents weren’t big into Christmas,” he said. They did enjoy the sales on liquor that came with the season, but Nikita and Mia didn’t need to know the sorry tale of his abusive childhood.
“I can’t remember our mother,” Nikita said. “She died in an accident when I was a baby, right, Mia?”
“That’s right,” Mia said. Carter could hear the strain in her voice, but Nikita was oblivious.
“But I remember our father. He was cruel and mean and I didn’t like him. He also didn’t put up Christmas trees. But Mia and I have always decorated, since we left the farm six years ago.”
Six years ago, Carter realized, Mia had been about fifteen or sixteen. That was too early to leave home, and with a little sister in tow.
His gut clenched as more pieces of the puzzle fell into place before his eyes.
“Nikita,’ Mia said, clearly desperate to change the subject. “You’ll never guess what Carter bought this morning.”
“What?” Nikita asked, instantly diverted by the ideas of more goodies, as she referred to almost anything he brought home in a shopping bag.
“Sparklers,” Mia said. “To burn on Christmas Eve. We’re going to go out on the balcony and light them, what do you think about that?”
“It sounds like fun,” Nikita said and gave a big yawn. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll go take a nap. I’ll see you again a bit later.”
He kept hanging up random balls on the tree, waiting for Mia to come back from helping her sister.
When she did, he didn’t look at her, wanting to give her space. “Why do I get the feeling your father was behind your attack?” he asked calmly, still not looking at her. She was quite for a moment before sighing.
“He was. He wants me to come home and bring my sister with me. It’s a power thing for him.”
Carter stopped the pretense of decorating and stepped closer to her. “Mia, its time you tell me the whole story. I know you don’t owe me any explanations, and I won’t push you on this, but I can help you. I have connections and friends. I can make it all go away. But I need to know what’s going on.”
“I was born in Georgia,” Mia said after a few minutes of awkward silence. “My mom was married to a good man. The country was in the middle of a civil war, and my father was murdered one evening on his way home from work. I was about four. My mom got married a few months later to an American who was visiting the country on a tour through Europe. She needed money, desperately, and he made all sorts of promises. He brought us here, my mom and I didn’t have passports or visas, but he had friends who helped him get us here. He turned my mom in a sort of slave, I guess. She cooked and cleaned after him and his three brothers who lived with us. I guess he raped her, but I didn’t know that until later. When I was ten, my mom got pregnant with Nikita, but she died from an accident a few months later.”
Carter knew better than to interrupt, even though he already knew how the story would end. His heart was beating slow and painful in his chest.
Mia sat down on the couch and played with the packing material of the decorations. “I don’t want to tell you the rest,” she said quietly. “But I need to. It’s not pretty, okay? Its shit, and not pretty, and I’ll understand if you never want to see me again when you know. But you deserve to know. You see, after she died, he forced me to take her place. I had to do the cooking and cleaning and everything. It all sort of; escalated. He raped me the first time when I was thirteen, and after that at least once or twice a week. And when I turned fifteen, he started looking at Nikita, and I; I couldn’t let that happen. So, I waited till he and his brothers went out one evening, packed some things, grabbed my sister and ran away. We couldn’t go to the police, neither of us had any identification. I didn’t know what would happen. We went from one city to the next. I pretended to be eighteen and got jobs in restaurants, waitering and washing dishes.”
She twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I was scared that they would send her back to him if they got to us, because he is an American citizen, and she is his daughter. I thought I’d be deported back to Europe and never see her again. I just; I couldn’t.”
“When did she get sick?” Carter asked, letting the rest of the story go for the time being.
“About three years ago,” Mia said. “The doctor told me then she wasn’t going to live long, but she went into remission after the chemo. After a year she got sick again, and the chemo helped, but now;”
She shook her head, her voice a broken whisper. Carter didn’t know what to do. The specialist they took Nikita to had said the same thing as the previous doctor. There was no way her body could handle another round of chemo, and they should start preparing themselves.
It was hell on Mia.
He sat next to her and for the first time in a week, put his arm around her. She curled against him, hiding her face and her tears against the soft fleece of his sweatshirt.
“Your stepfather; Is he involved in anything illegal?”
She nodded. “He thinks I don’t know, but he is involved with a lot of smuggling.”
Carter smiled. “I’m going to need an address for that farm,” he said.
The morning before Christmas dawned bright with an almost cloudless sky for a change. Mia made pancakes and bacon while Carter entertained Nikita with a game of chess.
“I have an early Christmas present for you,” Carter told Mia once Nikita went to her room for a nap before the evening. He took the folded up newspaper article from his pocket and held it out to her. She looked mystified when she took it. He watched her expression while she read it. Her face grew whiter by degrees, and he watched her go back and re-read a few sentences over and over.
“How did you do this?” she whispered, her voice strangled. Her finger grew slack and he watched the cut-out article floating down to the ground, the photo of four men being arrested facing up.
“I told you I have friends,” he said. “I used to be a SEAL, remember? My team came through for me. They always do,” he added, feeling something in his chest lighten. His team would always be his team, no matter how crippled he was. Maybe it was time he moved back to the base and took up a teaching job.
Maybe it was time to start living again.
To be continued, by horny pixy.
