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When I woke up a few hours later, my entire body hurt. I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Orlando was sound asleep in the chair beside my bed, and I didn’t want to wake him. It wasn’t even six o’clock in the morning yet. I gently pushed back my blankets, and went to the bathroom. When I came back, Orlando was standing beside my bed.

“There you are,” he said, smiling as he came to take me gently in his arms. He scooped me up and placed me gently on the bed again. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re up.” He kissed my forehead and left the room.

Lisa came bouncing in while he was gone, still in the clothes she’d worn the night before. I adjusted the bed so I was sitting up, and smiled at her as best I could. My face felt swollen and bruised, but I hadn’t dared to look in the mirror yet.

“How are you feeling?” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed, near my feet.

“Not too bad,” I said softly, my voice still hoarse from the night before. “Thank you for calling the ambulance last night.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she said, patting my leg. I winced, as she’d hit a bruise. “Sean was arrested at the theatre shortly after we left. He’s not denying what he did, so there won’t be a trial, other than for sentencing.”

“At least he’s off the streets for awhile,” I said, taking a sip of the water that was sitting on my bedside table. It felt so good flowing down my parched throat. “I hope they let me go home today. I hate hospitals. Oh, you didn’t call my dad, did you?”

“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head. “But I think Orlando might have. I’m not too sure, though.”

“Damn,” I said, laying back against the pillows again. “If Orlando called him, he’ll be here any time, then.”

“It’s not so bad,” Lisa said, trying to smile. “He just worries about you. And from what I’ve seen, you seem to give him good reason.”

“I’ll never hear the end of this,” I said, rubbing my hand over my eyes, and cringing when I hit a bruise. “Oh well, I don’t want to deal with that now, especially since I don’t know whether he’s been called or not.”

We chatted for a few minutes, then Orlando came back, Dr. Cuthbert on his heels. I smiled at the kindly doctor, grateful for how nice he’d been to me.

“Your colour is coming back,” Dr. Cuthbert said, standing beside the bed.

“Somehow I don’t think black and blue is exactly my colour,” I teased, smiling up at him.

“The bruises aren’t that bad on your face,” he said, looking at me more closely. He turned to Orlando and Lisa. “Will you please wait outside while I check her over?”

They went into the hallway, and a nurse came in to help the doctor. My abdomen was all different shades of purple and blue, and my arms and legs looked like I’d lost a fight with a lawn mower.

“Take a deep breath,” Dr. Cuthbert said, placing the cold stethoscope to my ribcage. I inhaled slowly, and gasped when the pain ripped through me. He began poking around, but no matter how gentle he was, it still hurt almost unbearably.

“I think you may have some cracked ribs,” he said, pulling the blanket back up over me. “There’s nothing we can really do about that, other than bandage them tightly and keep you on bed rest for a few days. You’ll have to take very good care of yourself while they heal.”

“That means no performing, doesn’t it?” I said, my heart sinking.

“I’m afraid it does,” Dr. Cuthbert said, a sympathetic expression on his face. “Two weeks away from the show is what you need to heal properly.”

I sighed. “There’s nothing I can do about this, is there?” I said sadly.

“The more you stay off your feet and in bed, the faster you’ll heal,” he said, writing something on his clipboard. “I’ll speak with your director, if you’d like.”

“Please do,” I said, dreading what Nick would say. It was hardly my fault, but I felt bad for not being able to work anyway.

I was released from the hospital around noon that day, and Orlando and Lisa took me home. I suddenly hated the fact that we didn’t have an elevator in our apartment building, because by the time I got to the top, I was exhausted. I refused to let Orlando carry me, though, so I made my way into the bedroom myself, and let Lisa help me put on my pajamas. When I was finally settled into bed, I allowed myself to relax.

“I’m going to make you some tea,” Lisa said, smoothing my blankets over me.

“No, Lisa, you don’t have to do that,” I said. “You haven’t even changed yet. Go get some sleep, I’ll be fine.”

Orlando came into the room, carrying the television from the living room. “I figured we could set this up in here for a few days,” he said, setting it on my dresser. “I’ll go out and get you a new one for the living room tomorrow, when everything is open again.”

“I don’t need the TV,” I said, touched that they were both going to such trouble over me. “I can go out on the couch.”

“No, you can’t,” Lisa said, plugging the TV in. “The doctor said you’re to stay in bed, so that’s where you’ll be. Besides, now we can have slumber parties in here without feeling dumb.” She laughed.

I smiled. “Only if you’re sure,” I said, adjusting myself so I was more comfortable.

A short time later, tea in hand, the DVD player hooked up to the TV on my dresser, I was settled semi-comfortably in bed, with Orlando perched beside me. My body throbbed and I felt tears sting my eyes.

“Where are your pills?” Orlando said immediately, noticing my tears. “You’re due for one.”

I reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the bottle of Tylenol 3’s Dr. Cuthbert had given me. I took one out and swallowed it with a gulp of tea.

“You can curl up with me, you know,” I said, glancing over at Orlando’s precarious position on the edge of my bed. “You won’t break me.”

He smiled and stood up. He took off his shirt and pants, and climbed into the bed in just his boxers. He had barely slept, and he looked exhausted. I snuggled in beside him as he flipped channels on the television. Before long, my pills kicked in, and I slept.

* * *

I stayed in bed, as I’d been told to do, for the next few days. Being so immobile was driving me crazy, and I itched to get out and do something fun. Unfortunately, my ribs had other ideas. Dr. Cuthbert had warned me that the third and fourth days were the worst when it came to rib injuries, and he was so right. I woke up on the morning of the third day, in absolute agony. I tried not to wake Orlando, but I had to get up, and doing so felt like someone was ripping my abdomen apart. I couldn’t help it, I cried out.

“Charlie?” Orlando said sleepily from the bed as I wrenched myself up. “What are you doing, love?” He sat up. “Do you need something?”

I put my feet on the floor and went to stand, but I couldn’t. I fell back on the bed, and gasped at the horrible sensations that tore through me. I gritted my teeth and tried again, this time managing to stay up. I hated needing help to do even the simplest things, and I was determined I would be independent from then on.

“Good lord, Charlie,” Orlando said, exasperated, as he came around the bed to help me. “At least wait for me to help you.” He put out his arm for me to balance myself with, as we’d discovered days earlier that this way was easier than him trying to hold onto me and grabbing a bruise by accident. I pushed him away and started to walk. My legs were weak from so much time in bed, and I needed to walk on my own to strengthen them.

“I can do this myself,” I said, trying not be snippy with him. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m up now,” he said, shadowing me into the bathroom. I turned to him at the door.

“Okay, I know you want to help, but can I please have five minutes of privacy?” I said, putting my hand on his chest to keep him from following me.

He smiled. “Sorry, love,” he said, backing up a few steps. “I’ll be out here when you’re done.”

“Why don’t you go get us some tea or coffee or something?” I suggested. I really didn’t need him standing outside the door, listening to me pee. “I’ll be out in a bit.”

“Sure,” he said, and I closed the door.

I hobbled slowly into the kitchen a few minutes later. Each step hurt like hell in my mid-section, but I didn’t want to let on. I hated spending my last few days with Orlando complaining about my pain.

“Good morning,” Lisa said brightly as I gingerly sat at the table beside her. Orlando was on the phone, with his back turned to us. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” I lied, trying to smile. It came out as more of a grimace. “Are you hungry?” I stood up again, and went slowly to the fridge.

“Sit down, Charlie,” Orlando said, covering the phone with his hand. He went right back to his conversation.

“Bugger off,” I muttered, opening the fridge door. Lisa came over and guided me back to the table.

“I’ll get breakfast,” she said as I sat down.

“I can do it myself,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I know I sounded like a stubborn child, but enough was enough. I hated having everything done for me.

“I know, but you need to take it easy for a few more days,” Lisa said, rummaging around in the cupboard for the frying pan. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Who’s he talking to?” I asked, gesturing to Orlando. He was speaking in hushed tones, with his back still to us.

“Dunno,” she said, cracking eggs into the pan. “He was on the phone when I came out a few minutes ago.”

“I need a shower,” I said, standing up again.

“Charlie, sit down,” Orlando said again. “Hang on a mo,” he said into the phone, then covered the mouth piece and said to me, “When I’m done here, I’ll help you. Stay put until then, okay?” He went back to his conversation.

“When did I become an invalid?” I said, exasperated, as I sat back down.

“When Sean cracked your ribs,” Lisa said, putting the pan on the stove.

A short time later, breakfast was on the table, and Orlando was finally off the phone. I poked my fork into the scrambled eggs Lisa had made, and fought to not make a face. They were a little runny, but then, she’s never been known for her culinary talents.

“Who was on the phone?” I asked Orlando as he kissed my cheek and sat down beside me.

“Gore, then Jerry,” he said. Gore Verbinski was the director and Jerry Bruckheimer was the producer of the Pirates Of the Caribbean movies. He suddenly looked very tired. “I was trying to get a few more days off, but they need me back the day after tomorrow. I can’t get around it.”

“That’s fine,” I said, patting his arm. “You have to work, I understand.” The truth was, if I had to spend any more time being his charity case, I was going to lose my mind.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Lisa promised, smiling over at me.

“You two need to calm down,” I said angrily. “I can take care of myself.” I stood up, perhaps too quickly, as the pain ripped through my abdomen. I shrugged it off and went as quickly as I could to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I collapsed in a heap on the bed, tears streaming down my face.

“Charlie?” Orlando opened the door gently. “Can I come in?”

“No,” I sobbed from the bed. I felt like an idiot for crying the way I was, but I couldn’t make it stop. Everything was catching up with me, Sean’s attack, the pain, the helpless feeling I’d had for the past few days, everything.

Orlando came in anyway, and sat beside me on the bed. I felt his arms encircle me, and even though I didn’t want to, I leaned into him. “What’s the matter, darling?” he whispered into my hair. “Talk to me.”

“I hate this,” I said, pulling away. “I can’t even bathe myself, let alone anything else, and it’s all Sean’s fault. I’ve tried to not be angry about it, I’ve tried to forget it happened, but I can’t get past it. And having you acting like my own personal servant isn’t helping, either.”

He cradled me in his arms again, and I nuzzled against him. “Do you want to talk about it, love?” he whispered. “I’m here if you need me, you know that. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Stop being so damned controlled about this,” I snapped, pushing away from him again, and getting up to pace the room. “I know you’re angry about what happened, and yet you’re being so damned patient! For fuck sakes, I can’t be the only one here out of control.”

He stood and came over to me, but didn’t dare touch me. “You’re right, love,” he said, his eyes burning into mine. “I want to kill that piece of shit for what he did, but there are more important things to worry about right now. All I care about is getting you well again. We can deal with the rest of this crap later.”

“But I don’t want to deal with it later,” I raged, tears streaming down my face again. “I want to yell, and scream, and hit something. I want to rip his face off and laugh as he bleeds. I know how sick that is, but I don’t care.” I grabbed his t-shirt, and lunged into him. He grabbed my arms and held me as I struggled, wanting to lash out at something, anything, and he just happened to be there. I hardly even felt the pain in my ribs as I let loose and began pounding on him. He held me as best he could, trying to soothe me. To be honest, I’m amazed he didn’t shove me away. But he didn’t, he just went with it, and let me wear myself out, until I sagged in his arms and cried softly against his chest. Then he scooped me up and laid me on the bed.

“Hold still,” he whispered as he lifted my shirt. I was crying more from pain now than from anger. He gently unwrapped my bandages. “I’m going to get some ice,” he said, and left the room.

He came back a short time later with a towel filled with ice. “You need to rest now,” he said, his voice firm as he sat down beside me and began to gently ice my ribs. “Do you feel better?”

I turned my face away from him, shame coursing through me. I’d taken out my rage on him, and I felt horrible. What made it worse was the fact that he didn’t seem to care, he wasn’t upset with me. I put my hand on his and pushed it away from the ice. “Just leave me alone,” I said, refusing to look at him. “Please, just go.”

“No, I’m not leaving you alone,” he said, gently turning my face to him. “You can be as angry as you need, and hit me as much as you like, but I’m not going to just leave.”

“I’m so angry,” I whispered, looking up into his warm eyes. “I don’t know how to deal with this, and I don’t want you to bear the brunt of it.”

“You can scream at me and hit me all you like, love,” he said softly, stroking my face. “I can handle it.”

“But that’s not fair,” I said, turning my head away from him. “I can’t let myself do what I just did, it’s not right. I just don’t know how to deal with what I’m feeling, and it scares me. But what scares me even more is this deadly calm you’ve been in for the past few days. I can’t understand how you can just let this go, when I know damned well it’s eating you alive.” I paused and took a deep breath. “It makes me feel like what I’m feeling is wrong, like I should be able to just let it go.”

“Would it make you feel better if I screamed and yelled and beat Sean to a bloody pulp?” he said, forcing me to look at him again. “Would that really solve anything?”

“No,” I agreed, not looking away from him. “But it’s not normal to hold this in. And what’s worse, you haven’t even touched me in three days. It makes me wonder if you’re ashamed of me, of what happened to me.” I felt the blush burn in my face as I said it. I hadn’t even thought about it like that until the words were out of my mouth. The truth was, every time I’d tried to get physical with him since Sean’s attack, he’d pulled away, or insisted on just holding me. Making love probably wasn’t the best idea at the time, but I wanted to be close to him, to touch him, to feel loved and wanted by him. If I was honest with myself, Sean’s attach had shaken me to my very core, and I needed to feel normal again. Having Orlando flinch away from me was the last thing in the world that would make that happen.

“Darling, don’t think like that,” he whispered, laying down beside me, and propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at me. “You need to understand that nothing about what happened is your fault, and it will never make me turn away from you. Dr. Cuthbert said that making love is not a good idea right now, at least until you heal fully. I don’t want to hurt you, and I know that if we start something, it will be nearly impossible to stop.”

I looked up into his eyes, at the warmth and love I needed to see. “Don’t think about hurting me,” I said, reaching up to push a stray bit of hair off his face. “It hurts more to think you don’t want me.”

“But I do, love,” he said, taking my hand and kissing it gently. “Of course I do. It startles me sometimes how much. We need to think about letting you get back to normal now, though, then we can concentrate fully on each other and not on whether we’re doing more harm than good.”

I shifted on the bed, wincing as I did so. “But you’re only here a couple more days,” I protested, running my hand over his chest. “I won’t be back to normal before you leave.” Tears welled up in my eyes. “I hate this, and I hate Sean for doing this to me.”

“I do, too, love, believe me,” he said, touching his forehead to mine. “But if we dwell on it, he wins, right? If we let it get to us, it gives him the satisfaction of knowing he caused problems between us. I don’t know about you, but the last thing I want is to give him what he wanted.”

I sighed and sat up. “You’re right,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Can you at least help me shower, or do I need to get Lisa to help me?” I grinned wickedly at him as he got up and came around the bed to help me stand up.

“I think I can handle that,” he said as he gently pulled me up into his arms. “As long as you behave yourself,” he whispered as we walked slowly to the bathroom.

“I’ll make no such promise,” I said, smiling widely at him.

We went into the bathroom and he carefully took off my pajamas, throwing them into the laundry hamper as he did so. When I was undressed, he stripped off his boxers and t-shirt and started the water. I couldn’t help it, I had to touch him, to feel his skin under my fingertips. I ran my fingers along the scar on his back as he adjusted the water temperature.

“Don’t, love,” he said, his back still to me, his voice hoarse. “We can’t, you know that.”

“What if we’re really careful?” I purred, sliding my hands over his sides and around to his chest. I felt him shudder as I grazed his belly button, on my way down. His hand came over mine to stop its progress. “Orlando,” I said in a sing-song whisper, against his back. “Please?”

He turned to face me and grabbed a towel. “Maybe Lisa had better help you,” he said, his eyes dark, his voice almost shaking. “I’m not going to be able to control myself much longer.”

“Then don’t,” I said, deadly serious. I took the towel from him and threw it on the vanity. “Just be extra gentle, and we’ll be fine.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he said, giving in. “We’ll get through your shower, and if you behave, we’ll see how you feel afterwards, all right?”

I felt like a child being promised a treat if she was good during Mom’s shopping trip, but I knew if I complained, he’d get Lisa to shower me, and I wouldn’t have any chance at all. “All right,” I agreed, stepping gingerly over to the shower. Orlando helped me in, then climbed in after me.

When I was washed and rinsed, he helped me out of the shower, and wrapped me in a towel before wrapping one around his own waist. He took me back into the bedroom when I was dry, and sat me down on the bed. I looked up at him as he stood in front of me. To my surprise, he dropped his towel, leaving him wonderfully naked to my appreciative gaze. What surprised me even more was the fact that I was too exhausted from my shower to act on my earlier impulses.

“Well?” he said, stepping closer to me and cupping my face in his hands. He kissed my lips softly.

“You jerk,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You knew I’d be too wiped out after my shower to want to make love with you.” I pouted like a child.

He smiled, quite proud of himself. “I figured that might be the case,” he said, picking up his towel again and sitting beside me. “I mean, if you were up to it, I was game for whatever you wanted, but I really doubted you’d be able to go through with your wicked plans.” He leaned over and kissed my lips softly. “How about a nap instead?”

I sighed, knowing when I was defeated. “Dirty trick,” I said through a yawn. “Will you lay with me for a bit?”

“Of course.” He got up and went to my dresser, pulling out my long flannel nightgown, my favourite one, and bringing it over to me. He lifted it over my head and smoothed it down over me, then grabbed my hairbrush from my nightstand and began brushing through my wet hair, just as I had shown him. When my hair was brushed, he helped me get under the covers, then pulled on his own clothes and got in the bed beside me.

“Just hold me, okay?” I whispered, rolling onto my side and resting my head on his chest. I felt his arms come up to circle around me gently and I sighed, contented. It amazed me how worn out I felt, but Dr. Cuthbert had said that was normal with injuries and trauma like mine. He’d said it would get better over time, but the pain I was feeling took a lot out of me. I couldn’t wait to be normal again.

I felt Orlando reach over to his nightstand and grab the television remote. He flipped on the TV, and I vaguely remember the sounds of Friends as I drifted off to a contented sleep, securely in his arms.