If You'll Just, Stay, With Me Awhile (TW: Sexual Assault & It's After Effects, Jackson)

At another moment in time, Victoria Newbury would have hurriedly rushed to tell the doctor who had eyed Jackson warily that she had the completely wrong idea. In another time, Victoria Newbury would have noticed, and fully explained the accident to someone in order to protect her closest friend. But Victoria's mind was not in the hear and now, barely able to keep up with the string of instructions being given to her as she tried not to allow the fog to consume her small frame once more.

At some point in the future, she would probably come back in to the world enough to realise all of this, and she would apologise to Jackson for having to put up with the suspicion, but Victoria Newbury was not here, not right now.

When they'd been given the prescription, Victoria had shut off from what was happening from that point. Functioning only just enough to follow Jackson's lead, to be led without seeing where she was going as she kept her gaze downcast. How long it took them to get to the SUV, the witch could not have told anyone, and even though she knew Jackson was talking beside her, the witch had no idea what he was saying. The man had helped her in to the car, had strapped her in, and closed the door carefully after her, and when his form had gone from the window, Victoria had rested her head against the window, looking out and away from Jackson, as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

At some point sleep must have come, for when the witch woke up, she found herself in Jackson's arms as he carried her carefully up to her flat. Her skin felt much too warm against the cold night air, but Victoria didn't speak, still much too lost internally to speak or look at the man who was making sure she was okay. It had taken a few fumbled moments to get the door open, before Jackson finally got the lock to turn and brought her carefully in to the room. As he'd tried to put her down, Victoria had only clung to him harder, and without a word, the man had stopped in that movement and adjusted her small weight in his arms.

"Please... stay." Victoria requested softly of the man, still not looking up to Jackson even as she did so.

It was selfish, of course it was, but Victoria could not be alone right now. Jackson seemed to understand enough in that moment, and walked them both through to her bedroom where he gently deposited her on the bed. For a moment, Victoria knew he didn't know what to do, so with a mammoth effort she reached out to take the man's hand, and drew him to her, shuffling back with minor winces to make space for the man to lie down with her.

Only once Jackson had conformed with that did the witch move closer, her head hidden against his chest as she closed her eyes and allowed the world to disappear once more, her small hands gently holding on to Jackson's shirt for the soft reassurance that he was there, and she was safe...

Four times. Victoria woke screaming four times that evening, scrambling away from the body pressed to hers, only to realise it was only Jackson. Each time the politician had been careful not to move too quickly, he'd spoken gently to her to assure her she was safe, and as the tension began to give up from Victoria's shoulders he would do his best to comfort her once more with the open arms of a hug. Each time, Victoria would be hesitant to take the hug, knowing she was only building a greater debt to the man, but she was still being selfish, and as much as she knew she should not be doing this, the witch found herself nestled back in the man's arms, feeling safer than any other place in the world.

Sunday came in to being with little and less gusto.

Jackson had waited for her to wake again -- this time without the screams, but they hadn't been far off based on the warmth of the witch that felt almost sticky with perspiration. Victoria had felt like death, not really rested, but having slept fitfully throughout the night. She'd listened to Jackson explain that he was going to make them food, now. If she felt up to it, he suggested, she could go for a shower. He'd posed it as a question, of course, but Victoria had heard only an instruction.

As Jackson had risen from bed, Victoria had gently urged herself to rise. Her body ached everywhere, each muscle refusing to comply, Jackson had stopped to help her up, and aided her to the bathroom, and after reassuring him she could manage, Victoria had shut herself in the bathroom, only to crumple against the back of the door as her body gave in. She had cried last night, yes, but she had not wept. The sobs left her body shaking from the floor as she held herself, trying to keep quiet with the process and failing miserably at that task. The fear or what had happened last night sat heavily in place, the shame of finding herself in that place had only made it worse. Where had it stopped? Victoria did not know, her mind had tried to stop it all from being true as it shut off, but she knew enough to know that he had stolen every last part of her in that room. Taken things she had not been willing to give.

The time spent on the bathroom floor went uncounted. The witch did not move until she'd exhausted that avenue of release. Only when no more tears came, and only dry sobs came from her body did Victoria move again. Not to turn the shower on, though, but to the mirror on the bathroom wall.

The mess of her person was beyond anything the witch could have imagined as she dared to raise her gaze to her reflection. The shining bruise upon her cheek that encapsulated the cut made the witch flinch away from looking, his hands holding tighter to the sink as she took a moment to steady her breathing. Victoria's gaze moved back up again, taking in the violent marks on her neck and down her chest which were turning in to bruises the same as that on her cheek. The bite marks of Wyatt Jameson staking claim to her had the desired mark. Her dress was torn in places, and covered in blood in others.

The witch just about made it to the toilet in time for last night's food to make its reappearance. Choking on the bile as she sat shaking on the floor, Victoria couldn't help but wish for sleep to take her once more, but she knew it would not help. Not really...

More time passed by, the witch did not move from her perch by the toilet for fear of moving more. It took much too long to regulate her breathing back to normal, in truth, but Victoria pushed on. Jackson did not need to see her like this.

And so, without sense, without feeling, the lawyer moved to turn the shower on, and carefully turned her attention to disrobing. The dress, despite being torn in many places, would not budge from her body to begin with, the zip seemingly not wanting to come undone. Victoria wrestled with it, though, until it finally came undone, and she allowed the material to pool down around her feet. Only then did the witch find her underwear in its state of disrepair, hanging from one leg. Minor cuts and more bruises were in show at the top of her thighs at the haste of her attacker, and though a sob threatened to bubble from her chest, Victoria held it in, instead gently unclasping her bra and pushing the broken underwear from her body.

The shower was warm as she stood beneath it, but Victoria was shaking. Being naked made her want to run away from the world, even though no one could see. The water allowed the witch to gently push the pins from her hair, and remove all traces of the splendour of the night before. The shampoo burned with each touch to the cuts as it melted away down her body, and the soap did nothing to clean away the marks that had been made.

Victoria had endured it all for as long as she could stand, before switching off the shower, and towelling herself dry. The pyjamas hung on the back of the door were pulled on, followed by her dressing gown for an extra layer of comfort, ensuring all of the bruises, save the one upon her face were covered from Jackson's view.

The smell of breakfast was an assault on the witch's senses as she stepped out from the bathroom. The wish to simply just run back in to the bathroom and throw up again made itself known, but Victoria didn't wish to be rude. So she joined Jackson at the table, and helped herself to a slice of toast, despite all the other offerings. The lightest sheen of butter was spread across the top of the toast, and for an hour, perhaps more, Victoria battled with eating the single piece of toast, and stopping her body from dispelling it once more.

If Jackson had spoken, Victoria could not have told anyone. Her eyes remained downcast in that moment, her small frame trembling with the effort of keeping her upright. When the toast had been finished, some time later, Jackson had pushed forward the tablets she needed to take, and a glass of water. Victoria had done exactly what he'd said, and taken them.

From there, the witch had excused herself back to her room, passing out on the bed and remaining there until evening.

When the witch had woken up, Jackson had still been there. Sat in the lounge with the TV on almost as quietly as he could muster to not wake her, but still be loud enough for him to hear. He'd gotten up almost immediately and hurried on with a list of things she might want, and it was Victoria's overwhelmed expression that had denoted she was not capable of thinking for herself in that moment. Jackson had gently proposed that she might need the bathroom, and Victoria had followed the instruction, heading in to the room for half an hour before emerging again.

Food was the next instruction, and whether the man had noticed her inability to eat earlier, or else just didn't want to waste effort upon something more substantial, another slice of toast had been given to the witch. Victoria had laboured over the task of eating the toast whilst she sat beside Jackson on the sofa. Not speaking past a thank you for the toast. The pictures on the TV screen flashed before them, but Victoria didn't take any of that in, either.

Instead, the witch managed to keep the toast down, and after a polite time sat beside the man, Victoria excused herself back to bed. No sleep came, though, the witch simply laid awake out of Jackson's sight. Not wanting to burden him more than she already had. But, of course, Jackson Blake was much too good of a man, for as the hour grew later, he appeared to ask her if she needed anything. The same selfish request came that came last night as Victoria silently raised her hand out to him, and repeated the action of drawing him down on to the bed with her. Once more, Jackson had complied.

They had both settled without a word, Victoria tucked safely in his arms, her head hidden against Jackson's chest, before she closed her eyes.

The second night was a repeat of the first. Dreams with varying vividness plagued Victoria throughout the night, waking her with varying degrees of unrest. Jackson would soothe her gently, not touching her until she had calmed enough to allow him to once more. The process repeated until Monday morning came in to being.

Monday morning.

"I have to g-get ready for work." Victoria told Jackson as she struggled from bed, her voice hoarse from both the lack of use over the past two days, and the screams that split from her lips when she woke from the nightmares plaguing her. "L-lots to do." She continued on, but by this point, Jackson had already risen from bed, catching up with her before she'd started to peruse her wardrobe.

The next hour was spent trying to battle against Jackson's logic of her not needing to work this week. That she needed some time away. Victoria had tried to come up with excuses, trying to remember the information on what she'd been working on on Friday before they'd left for the weekend. But it was clear to both of them that the usually capable lawyer was not, in fact, capable of doing her job today. No matter how much she wanted to. So after trying, and stupendously failing, to argue against Jackson, Victoria had relented to his will.

Instead, she had denoted she was going to shower, and that solidified her freedom from his gaze for a short amount of time. Taking clothes -- some oversized jogging bottoms and matching sweatshirt -- with her, Victoria had fled in to the bathroom, making herself scarce for an hour. The bathroom mirror had been taken down carefully, turned away from the witch, and hidden behind the laundry basket. Each time the witch caught sight of herself, the urge to cry built, but she would not succumb. She insisted that much of herself as she brushed away an errant tear.

Breakfast had been served, and after managing through the slice of toast, Victoria had carefully cut up an apple to add to the small amount she had already eaten. Jackson had demolished his own breakfast a while ago, but he sat waiting patiently for her, producing the tablets for her to take again. Victoria did so without comment, and just as Jackson was about to get up to take the plates away, she spoke up.

"Wait," she asked gently, and the man complied. Victoria's eyes did not move past the man's shoulder in that moment, but she knew she had his attention. "I'm really sorry, Jackson." The witch explained, a lump forming in her throat. "For being such a burden on you. I've... I'm really sorry... and... th-thank you. For getting me o-"

The tears crept down her cheeks again, and Victoria brushed them away with frustration, catching the cut on her cheek in the process and letting out a small hiss of pain in the process. "You can go h-home if you want to, you've done enough. I'm sorry." She managed afterwards, though that was not what she wanted, he had a fiance to go home to. He shouldn't be here, she wasn't his problem.

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Taking Victoria home had perhaps been harder than anything else Jackson had had to do that night. Because after all was said and done, after they had left the clinic and were safely on their way back to Milwaukee, she had cried all the way through. She had done it quietly, with her head against the dark window while he drove silently beside her, a death grip on the steering wheel for fear of what he might do with his hands otherwise. But she had cried nonetheless, and every passing second only served to remind Jackson Blake that he was the one to blame for the princess's tears.

She had probably come into the bathroom looking for him, why else would the lawyer be where she was for that scum to touch her? This couldn't have been the first time... Of what title the conversation Jackson recalled before he'd burst through the door, the fucker had been coming after her for months and Jackson... had not noticed. The memory of every single time Jackson had asked the miniature witch take a call from Jameson, to make an appointment in his stead, to hand deliver documents because he didn't want to, tormented the man all the way back to his flat.

Thankfully, Victoria was in some kind of stupor, not asleep but not really awake to witness his personal breakdown. As he navigated the SUV into its old parking space, he saw the dim telltale torchlight that denoted George was still awake and watchful. Collecting the witch from the passenger seat, Jackson easily secured her with one arm, using the other to close the door before tangling with the front one of of his former flat - all the while consciously aware of George's invisible gaze and failing to give a single fuck right now.

It took some doing but they were finally in, and Jackson found himself facing yet another decision. Couch or bedroom? In the end, Victoria's comfort won out over everything else as he carried the witch to the lone bedroom of the flat, depositing her as gently as he possibly could on the dimly lit pastel sheets. He was under the impression she was already asleep from the way she hadn't made a single sound but he was proven wrong. For no sooner did he finish tucking her up over her party dress and move away did she raise her head slightly - very much not asleep.

"Please... stay."

It felt.. wrong, to hear her like this. To have her sound so broken and defeated and knowing it was all is fault. The wizard nodded quietly, not needing any convincing as he climbed into bed beside her, fully clothed, not even stopping to take of his shoes because in that moment, he could not have refused Victoria Newbury the world if she'd asked it.

He lay there for many hours, sleep not doing much to take him and even when it did, fleeing quickly as the woman in his arms woke up screaming, her fingernails instinctively reaching for his face in an act of self defense justified in her nightmares. Soothing her back into a sleepy stupor was all Jackson focused on that night, trying desperately to do anything that would lull the lawyer into a dreamless sleep. But of course, he failed at even that.

Jackson saw dawn creep over the little bedroom from the crack in the curtains no one had bothered to shut properly the previous night. The sky outside turned pink and purple, as did the bruise swelling rapidly on Victoria's face. The man wanted to touch it, heal it, make it disappear, turn back time so it never existed, but all he could do was hold the witch close and pray that she would get at least another hour of sleep. Just one more hour, then another.

In the end, he ended up dozing just ten minutes or so before she woke for good, another scream punching a hole through his head and startling him out of bed. By the time he had once again reassured her that she was home, that she was safe, that he was here, Victoria had become somewhat more aware of the world though still seemed clueless over what to do now. If Jackson had thought of her as a child before, she looked even more of one now, her lost and confused gaze on him as if he had all the answers in the world.

And for now, he would simply have to, for her sake.

The man suggested a shower to freshen up, not pointing out the fact that she was not only still in her ruined evening attire but also clutching desperately to his suit jacket wrapped around her form. Victoria nodded mutely, making her way to the single bathroom in a daze. Once he heard the door of the bathroom shut and lock securely, the man propelled himself out of bed.

First thing on the agenda was breakfast. Unsure what Victoria liked to eat on Sundays (funny the things you realized in moment such as these, the Goblin knew every favorite dish he preferred for every meal and he couldn't name even one of hers), the politician set about cracking some eggs and dividing them up to be fried both sunny side up and scrambled. Next he tackled the toast, plain, marmalade, french and sandwiched around slices of cheese. The pot of tea, coffee and hot chocolate brewed simultaneously while the extra frying pan was used to sizzle up some leftover sausages.

It still took less than an hour, and Victoria was still not out. He crept up to the bathroom door, wondering if he should knock but then he heard the witch move. Was she ready to come out, was she still in there doing... whatever it was women did? Just then, the sound of the shower turning on assured him everything was okay. Running back to the kitchen, the man cast a quick and probably rubbish warming charm on all the food before heading out the door to locate George.

To the doorman's credit, he didn't bat a single eye at the request of a few pairs of clothing and some other necessaries being delivered to the flat. He didn't even ask Jackson how long the man would be staying with Miss Newbury, reminding Jackson why he liked this particular serviceman so much. Making sure to leave George a hefty hundred dollar tip, Jackson made his way to the car next, dragging his gym bag out of the trunk for the spare T shirt and sweatpants that normally resided there in case of an emergency workout. By the time he was back in the flat, the shower had just turned off.

Breakfast was quiet, more quiet than any scene with the Goblin involved in it had a right to be. The young woman had glossed over all the food he had attempted to make, simply reaching for a piece of toast and then buttering it on autopilot. Great, he hadn't even gotten that right. Still, he attempted to make her eat, hoping she would give in if she saw him indulge in the food. Though after a few mouthfuls, he was glad she hadn't touched at least the eggs. No point in her finding out his culinary skills extended to the bare minimum definition of surviving.

After breakfast and some listless amount of time watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory on mute, the witch rose again, reaching to tighten the girdle of her dressing gown around her until she looked to be in very real danger of cutting off blood flow. The raven haired man didn't point that out though, just letting her go to get some rest. And only after she disappeared did he realize that... he too had things to take care off.

He had completely forgotten to text Tessa last night amidst all that had happened, and therefore had failed to check if she had gotten to her B&B safely, so the first task was to fish out his phone and leave her a brief message informing her where he was and letting her know he had no idea how long he'd be there. Next up was work. Jackson debated the merits of call verses text before drafting an email to Maggie, letting her know both he and Victoria would be out of the office for the whole of next week, no reasons given. The man did make sure however to stress that he could be reached by email in an absolute emergency but that under no circumstances whatsoever was Victoria to be disturbed via any means of communication.

Maggie's reply came instantly with a "not even a quick whatsapp to V?" to which Jackson growled before sending her a voice note.

"Not so much as liking anything she wrote on fucking facebook, capice?"

That sent the message across and his phone grew quiet. The slew of messages from Sasha went ignored as usual, someone would eventually tell her or whatever. She didn't matter, no one did right now except the midget sleeping in the next room.

Collecting the clothes from his gym bag, Jackson headed for the quickest shower imaginable, noticing the mirror tucked away and trying not to wince at the reason behind it. His white T shirt donned without having used a towel to dry off and his sweatpants exchanged for his suit trousers, the man ducked into Victoria's room to check on her.

To see that she had not fallen asleep at all.

"You okay kiddo?' he asked softly, enterring the room on quiet feet. "Anything I can get you." In lieu of a reply, the witch simply held out her hands to him again, telling him what she needed and he complied once again, sliding into the bed easily beside her and gathering the tiny witch in his arms. This time, they fell asleep together, his exhaustion from last night catching up to him. And he liked to think she squirmed less and less every time she woke up screaming.

They slept through not simply most of the day but most of the night too. Jackson remembered waking up somewhere near what could constitute as dinner time, gently waking her up and pointing her towards the bathroom once more. This time, the microwave was his best friend, reheating all the food leftover from earlier and making sure to include a fresh stack of toasts, pre buttered just the way Victoria had done it in the morning. His effort was nominally rewarded as she reached for that piece of toast, chewing it so slowly, it looked like the entity was slowly crumbling away into nothingness on its own.

More hours of muted sitcoms followed as the duo sat in silence, Jackson's arm comfortably wrapped around the witch on the sofa as she gazed unseeingly at the TV set. This time when she got up for bed, she didn't have to ask. Jackson followed obediently, getting into bed beside her and situating himself to be used as her human pillow. Perhaps it was a result of the exhausted accumulated over the last two days but on Sunday night, Victoria slept all the way through.

It wasn't a long sleep though, at most six hours before he felt her struggling in the grip she herself had engineered of him over her tiny frame. For a moment, Jackson was sure she'd had another nightmare and was all set to soothe her back to reality when he found out this emergency was of different nature. Of course Victoria Newbury would want to go to work right after something like this happened to her. It was the most Victoria thing he could think of, giving him hope that the witch was slowly but steadily on her way back.

It took the better part of an hour trying to convince her that she couldn't go to work, his argument greatly aided by the fact that she couldn't recall a single thing she was supposed to be doing at the office, before the witch finally gave in. Sadly, the sun had risen properly by then and there was no room to go back to sleep. So doing his duty, the man once again pointed her to the shower, hopping out of bed and running a hand through his sleep tousled hair to flatten them somewhat until he too could make use of the facilities.

Making his way out to the front door, the man noticed a small black gym bag not unlike the one he stored in his car left out on the front stoop. George had come through obviously. Taking in the bag, Jackson found it was deceptively heavy and upon a glance at its content, nodded satisfactorily. There was even a burner phone included with the stuff making him realize this was not the first time George's service had been needed in such a manner.

Breakfast was once again, leftovers of the leftovers of last night. Though he'd thought to add some fresh fruit to the mix to possibly appeal to the witch. His second day of improper eating made the man realize he was actually starving. The eggs had been thrown away but the leftover sausage and french toast Jackson gulped down with generous cups of coffee while Victoria fiddled with her toast. Maybe if she was up to it, they could order in pizza for lunch, he thought as she hesitantly reached for an apple, making him do a victory lap in his head.

No proper words came from the witch though, but that was alright, They would come soon enough. If Jackson knew one thing about women, it was that nothing impaired their ability to talk for long. And even if he would never admit it to anyone, he couldn't wait to hear Victoria's voice chirping away like an excited bird, just waiting for him to tune her out because keeping up was too exhausting and because she always summarized everything after.

"I'm really sorry, Jackson. For being such a burden on you. I've... I'm really sorry... and... th-thank you. For getting me o-"

The plates he'd been in the middle of collecting were returned to the table as he looked at her on the couch. This unsure, defeated thing, she was not his Victoria. And he would not leave until she was back to her old self. The man merely shook his head, picking up the plates again but Victoria wasn't done. As she insisted he could go home if he wanted to, the man had a sudden realization that... this was also technically his home. He'd been home all along, though he doubted she would appreciate him pointing that out. Instead, he put the plates down again and moved slowly to the sofa, all the while making sure his movements were obvious and exaggerated. She could move away any moment if that was what she wanted to do.

Once he was by the couch, he slid softly on the cushion beside her, noting the tears that never seem to be too far away from Victoria now. Reaching ever so gently for her chin, Jackson touched one finger to the soft skin. "May I?" asked before raising her face to look at him, taking in her tear washed eyes and knowing without any uncertainty that this was his doing. One finger moved from her chin to the bruise now fully purpling beneath her right cheekbone, covering the mark with the pad of his thumb as he directed the tiniest amount of raw magic to the wound.

It had been a long time since he'd done it, Jackson was certainly no healer. But he had learned field surgery - or the basics of it - while in rehab. The cut on her lip was too thin a layer of skin to meddle with unaided by a wand but the cheek... he could just about do it. Victoria would perhaps feel a flash of heat or cold (he'd honestly forgotten which) for a moment before the bruise disappeared.

"I hope... that's okay," he murmured, removing his thumb from her cheek to reveal that the bruise had indeed, disappeared. Of course, Jackson being Jackson, it was by no means a perfect job. From a distance, her face would look as smooth and flawless as it always did but up this close, sitting only a few centimeters away from her, one could see the faint white scar that would remain as an indication of a bruise not allowed to heal through its natural lifespan.

"It... didn't really go with your sweats,' he added, reaching to wipe her tears, hoping against hope that if the joke didn't make her smile, it would at the very least make her stop crying.

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If You'll Just, Stay, With Me Awhile (TW: Sexual Assault & It's After Effects, Jackson) Rsz_mi10

If You'll Just, Stay, With Me Awhile (TW: Sexual Assault & It's After Effects, Jackson) Rsz_ja12

If You'll Just, Stay, With Me Awhile (TW: Sexual Assault & It's After Effects, Jackson) Rsz_rs13

Jackson had deliberated over the plates for a few long moments, trying to decide what to do with his hands, and finally settling on leaving the plates where they'd been. Victoria's eyes had followed the hands, trying to focus upon the man she needed in that moment, no matter how abstractly that might be, so that she could stay in the moment. Stay away from the flashes of the night that had brought them to this moment.

His movements away from the table, towards her, were careful, slow and obvious, making the witch both appreciate Jackson's thoughtfulness and feel guilty for making him feel like he had to act in such a manner around her now. But, even with the mixed feelings, even though she wanted to tell him he didn't have to act like that, the witch was grateful. Grateful that her closest friend was capable enough of thinking coherently enough in that moment to put her needs first, because even though Jackson was moving carefully, he needn't have. His presence, as he drew closer to her, emanated the comfort she needed more than anything else in the world in this moment, until finally his tall frame sat beside her on the sofa.

Firming up the notion of safety only Jackson could bring her in the haze, and making her remember that she was not going to be hurt. Not whilst he was here.

But even thought Jackson made her feel safer than anything in the world could, as he raised his hand up towards her face, the witch couldn't help but shy away from the movement. Only subtly, only because the image of Wyatt Jameson's hand coming across her face had flashed before her eyes, but as Jackson's whispered question of permission came, and the smallest of nods from Victoria was given, the soft pads of his fingers touched her chin.

The gentle pressure of his hand would bring her chin upwards, but it could not lift her eyes to meet his.

His eyes were upon her, though, taking in her features, and Victoria knew his eyes had settled upon the bruise on her cheek. An unwanted shudder ran through her body as his hand moved across her face, until his fingers touched the bruised area, knowing that he could see the mess she'd seen in the mirror. Another fresh tear slid down her cheek, until it connected with his hand, stealing it from its course upon her cheek and fading to nothing in to his skin.

Another murmured apology left the witch's lips, not wishing to taint his skin with her tears, but Jackson either didn't hear, or didn't care as the bad of his finger moved to the centre of the bruise. The hotness from his finger made the witch wince for a moment, before recognising the feeling of the healing spell. Without thought her gaze lifted up to his face, fleetingly, as she sought to see what Jackson saw, only to find the quiet determination of the man before her. The determination to help her...

To fix her.

Her eyes moved away as a fresh sting of tears threatened once more. Seeing Jackson looking so worried, and yet trying to work out how to make it better all raptured in to one made her truly regret everything that had happened. Why couldn't they have just not gone? Why couldn't she have had more faith in him, and not believed he would have sunk to seeking comfort in a bottle? All of it was her fault, she should have known better than to allow herself to be in that position...

But it all came back to him, didn't it?

Jackson Blake.

She'd thrown every caution to the wind to ensure Jackson had everything he needed in his career. Supported him, aided him, and done everything in her power to bring him to this point. She would never begrudge him it, no. The man had saved her once before, he'd saved her again. Victoria would owe him everything she was until the day she died.

But it all came back to him.

Jackson had worked it out. How she hated the mark that had been left, but how she could not remove it. Her purse... Merlin only knew where that was now, but all of her personal belongings had been there, and she had not seen that since returning. Getting rid of the mark would only have been temporary with the makeup she had in the bathroom, but to apply the makeup she would have had to have looked in the mirror. Seen the angry purple mess upon her cheek bone, and relived it time and time again. But Jackson had worked it out, and Victoria couldn't help but feel relief flood through her system at the notion he'd at least fixed that much.

The comment about it not going with her sweats brought a very faint smile to Victoria's lips -- partially interrupted by a grimace as the cut on her lip grew taught from the movement -- before the witch relaxed slightly. "As if that matters," Victoria replied softly, reaching up to take Jackson's hand from her face and gently enveloping it with both of her own. The reassuring presence of the man, combined with the anchor of having his hand in hers were what she needed to keep her in the present, keep her from curling up in a ball and trying to fade away.

It would be slow, it would be painful, but with Jackson by her side...

"Thank you, for being here." Victoria finalised, still feeling a world away from herself as she rested her head upon Jackson's shoulder, but knowing that they were going to do this together.

One tiny step at a time.

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» You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night (Jackson -- TW: Sexual Assault))
» Looking for something dumb to do (TW: Sexual Assault, Violence -- Victoria, Tessa)
» Sit! Stay! (Open)
» Should I stay? Would it be a sin? (Josh)
» Should I stay or go? (Scott)