You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night (Jackson -- TW: Sexual Assault))

He hadn't meant to.

Victoria knew with all of her heart that Jackson had not meant to bring back the moment Wyatt Jameson had forced himself upon her in the bathroom at the older politician's wedding. Victoria knew more than anything in the world that Jackson would never, ever cause her harm via intentional means. But what she knew consciously, and what her brain did in the subconscious upon hearing the words Jackson had uttered had been wildly different.

She'd watched, a spectator, as Jackson had lifted her from the counter, and moved her to the sofa, covering her in the soft blanket they usually curled in to together to watch movies. She had heard him trying to reassure her softly throughout the night, and Victoria had wanted to tell him that he hadn't done anything wrong, that it wasn't his fault she was broken. Her body had not complied to her wishes, though, simply freezing up and becoming incapable of anything like she had in the aftermath of the attack.

Her only solace?

Jackson remained by her side through it all, not asking for anything more of her. It had been hours later before Victoria had managed to move from the sofa, and even then the witch felt like she was in a daze. The happiness she'd found less than twelve hours ago had been replaced by a numbness she could not ignore. Jackson had followed her from the lounge to the kitchen. The witch had moved on auto-pilot to make the food she had started early that morning. The tea cups had been emptied and filled with fresh drinks, and the witch resolutely kept her eyes lowered from Jackson, and away from the cabinets that they had been utilising.

They had eaten in silence, Victoria not knowing what to say to the man opposite her as she picked at the plate of food she'd prepared. Neither of them ate very much, and Victoria's cup remained full of the golden brown liquid that had been her tea.

The duo had returned to the sofa, Jackson had said something about a movie, and Victoria had simply nodded in confirmation. What they had watched, the witch would not be able to tell anyone who asked, she'd instead curled in to Jackson's frame, and sat trying to keep her mind at bay.

Dinner came, dinner went.

"I... I think I'm going to shower." Had been the first words that left Victoria's lips all day. Jackson had agreed, denoting he would use the other bathroom to do the same. The witch hadn't wanted him to leave her, but the request for him to stay with her, to not leave her on her own never formed. Instead she watched as Jackson grabbed a change of clothes and a towel, and hesitantly moved towards the bathroom.

Victoria had soaked herself thoroughly in the shower, but the feeling of not being clean remained even after she'd shut the faucet off.

It was Jackson, she told herself, growing frustrated as the numbness wouldn't subside. It was Jackson, he would never, ever, hurt you. But her body still felt as fragile as before.

When the two had met back up after their respective showers, Victoria sporting one of Jackson's shirts, and a pair of his shorts, the witch had tried. "I'm sorry..." the witch had managed, ever so softly, but Jackson had gently reminded her it wasn't her fault. With the underlying notion that it had been his. The witch had been brought back to the point of not knowing what to say to him anew, and instead sought safety in her phone.

Emails from the office, messages from staff, Victoria had started to respond to a text from Sloan when Jackson had insisted she didn't need to worry about that now. She'd complied, not able to argue with him, and they had returned to the sofa, to the notion of watching a film. When it had finished, Jackson had carried her upstairs to his room, laid her carefully in his bed, before climbing in the other side. Victoria had moved closer to the man who seemed to want to keep his distance, tucked her head against his chest, and taken his hand in both of hers.

Sleep was not easy, and the witch woke on multiple occasions with the fear Wyatt Jameson was there. The only person in the room was Jackson, though, who gently reassured her that she was safe, that he was there, until she settled back down.

The second day was much the same.

Victoria cooked for them. They fell in to a quiet that neither one of them knew how to broach. Victoria would try to apologise again, and Jackson would tell her once more that it was not her fault. The argument didn't materialise, the movies continued, until the afternoon came, and Victoria managed to convince Jackson that they do some work. From his home, not the office. He had agreed, reluctantly, and Victoria had all but ran for the man's laptop, logging in to the device without question and pulling up both their emails.

It was easy to get lost in work.

Easier still to pretend nothing was wrong.

Sloan had been informed that the two of them had been called out on emergency business with Tessa, and apologised for the delay in replying. Emails had been sent to Maggie to ensure a runner was sent to the bar Jackson had left his phone at -- a reply had come not two hours later that a payment had been made to the bar for three bottles of whiskey, and the accounts department needed to understand the nature of the expense. Victoria had returned with the answer, client entertaining. Nobody needed to know the truth about those bottles. Kendra had rescheduled meetings for the following week for them both without another word, and Victoria had felt a little bit of normality enter her system.

The team email had gone around next, pushing forward the bill, asking for updates, and denoting that everything must keep on track despite hers and Jackson's lack of presence in the office.

Jackson and she had done all they could from home for the rest of the day, until Jackson had denoted that enough was enough. Victoria had complied once again, instead busying herself with preparing another meal she would barely touch, trying to get Jackson to eat something again.

It had been the third day that Victoria felt... 'better'. Her head was keeping track of everything, filing it away and dealing with things in a more capable manner than the previous ones. She managed to eat a single slice of toast for breakfast, before they'd settled down to do some more work.

It was mid morning before Victoria turned to Jackson.

"Jackson?" She asked softly, waiting for the man's attention to come away from the paperwork he was currently reading through. His eyes upon her made her feel cautious anew, but the witch didn't want to be deterred, not this time. "I'm sorry, please don't interrupt me," she started, seeing Jackson getting ready to go for his usual reply but not wanting to hear it, not this time. "I didn't mean to scare you... You didn't do anything wrong... I..."

Sorry for being broken...

"I..."

Please, go back to Tessa, she's a much better woman than I will ever be...

"The night, at the wedding," the witch started, swallowing the lump in her throat as her eyes lowered to the paperwork before her. "He... he was demanding I tell him what I wanted." Victoria explained, her voice cracking slightly as she brought up the memory again. Jackson deserved to know, he deserved to understand. "He thought I wanted him to... His lips were rough against my skin, and then he was at my ear, hissing in my ear to tell him what I wanted. I didn't want..."

The witch cut off, wrapping her arms around herself protectively even though she knew she was safe.

"His... his erection was pressing against me, ready to... but he wanted me to tell him." The tears swam in the witch's eyes, but she was trying not to let them fall. Jackson didn't need her to cry, she would try to be brave.

"I know you didn't mean it, I know you would never hurt me like that, Jackson. I wanted... you. I did," the witch let out a choked sob, biting down on her lip to try to control herself from letting the tears fall. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as the lip wobbled under the pressure of holding it in. "But I froze... and I'm sorry Jackson, I really am sorry."

The tears came, then, for the first time since her body had gone taught with fear, the witch finally let the emotion run free, because she couldn't pretend any longer that she was not broken goods, and Jackson would have his reason to be free from her.

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The past three days shown Jackson just how bad things could be. Worse still, the politician felt they were justified. He couldn't have had that one blissful night with Victoria without having some kind of payment exacted from him by fate. Nothing that good came for free. And in this case, the price was too much to pay.

Because this time around, the price was her pain. And that could never be allowed.

In all the quiet moments they had sat through after the incidents, Jackson's mind had done nothing but wonder. With nothing to distract him and the thought of leaving her to go running or exercising his fears away inconceivable, the man had played the scenario in his mind on a loop.

Victoria on the counter, writhing in ecstasy one moment and then...

It was all his fault. As many times as she said sorry, he knew it to be true. Every time she tried to explain, it just drove in more how badly he had failed to protect her. He had only one job, for as long as he could remember. Even casting his memory back to his school days, to the ridiculous boy who had grudgingly built a snow wall around the stupid snow family, thinking he could protect the pink snow princess from the elements. He had no idea what he was doing then and he most certainly didn't know now. There was very little difference between his fourteen year old self and the man he was today.

They had both failed in the most basic task they were meant to uphold.

And every shiver of her body, every faraway glance, every moment she made way from him, just reminded Jackson more and more of that. The princess kept implying he wasn't in the wrong but then who was? Certainly not her. He was wrong for having let something like that happen to her in the first place. And he was wrong for letting the perpetrator live.

Their days consisted of a pain filled haze that brought to mind the aftermath of Judith's wedding. This time, there were no tell tale marks on her. And the ones she unknowingly revealed when cooking, sleeping or making innocuous gestures only served to mermaid him that they were his doing this time around. This time around, he was the monster who had made her feel that way.

It was in those moments he felt the itch to get off his feet and run, because if he didn't run he would try to obtain that last bottle of alcohol wherever Victoria had hidden it. And they didn't need two problems on their hands.

Correction, they didn't need him causing yet another problem for her.

Leaving her alone was out of the question, not unless she specifically asked to be left alone. Sp the first chance Jackson got of exerting his feelings was when she declared she would go for a shower. Nodding in agreement, he had collected his own clothes but instead of heading to the upstairs bathroom, the politician had made for the gym upstairs, located right by the master bedroom.

The treadmill, wights and bench presses were all kept in immaculate condition because they saw regular use but today, Jackson found he needed something he hadn't utilized in a long time. Lugging the giant sandbag over to the hook in the corner, the man was unnecessarily aggressive as he hung it in place, receiving several angry red marks on his palms and fingers for his troubles. Once the punching bag was in place however, the workout really began.

By the time he was done, there were several dents in the bag, places where the sand and air had just given up from strike after strike. A panting Jackson stood over the battered instrument, bruised knuckles ready to go for another round but sharply focused mind afraid that if he took too long, Victoria might worry. Healing his hands with the generic spells available with most exercise equipment, Jackson retreated tot eh shower and returned almost as good as new. Not that the kid would have noticed. She ahd much more to process than he did.

Jackson didn't remember ordering groceries but he must had had because the princess found something to cook. Whatever it was, it tasted like sawdust to Jackson as he forced it down his throat and nothing to Victoria as she couldn't eat.

That night, as the witch fell into a fitful sleep, Jackson's mind wondered to Tessa for the first time in the last thirty hours. He didn't have his phone and the Goblin had been using his laptop to contact work. He had no idea if Tessa had left him any messages and wasn't sure he even deserved them. Was she still in town? Had she flown back to LA to be with people more understanding and compassionate than himself? He hoped so, she deserved better than someone like him.

Victoria deserved someone better than him.

The wizard would have laughed out loud if waking up Victoria hadn't been a worry. He had failed both women in very fundamental ways. Failed to protect one and failed to impregnate the other. He was no more a man than Wyatt Jameson lying in a fucking coma and having other people clean up his piss and shit.

And a few minutes later, waking Victoria up was not an issue as she jolted out of bed, terrified that she was once again trapped in the bathroom Jackson had failed to protect her in.

The next day repeated the same pattern, but this time he took ehr cooking as an excuse to hit the gym. This time, the punchbag ruptured, covering him with sand and pooling sadly to the ground. If only real monsters were so easy to defeat. Another shower and more healing spells later, Jackson settled down to another meal neither one of them tasted and the pattern continued. Victoria had given some excuse about them flying to LA which made arranging runners to have fled delivered to the home impossible. So the man was forced to seek refuge in the material that was already available to them. luckily, Victoria kept diligent copies all everything related to HR420, which was what the man was perusing on the third night when the brunette began. Initiating proper conversation for the first time in three days.

"Jackson?"

"Don't Vic-,' he began, only to be countered with a rare request to not be interrupted. She thought he didn't know what she was going to say, but he knew all too well.

He knew Victoria, the person who lived for others and took too much on herself. He knew the little witch who thought of herself last and whose only worry right now was absolving him of any guilt when her only priority should have been getting better.

However that worked.

Yet she spoke, and he let her. And as she spoke, Jackson sidereal that the image of that night had dulled in his memory somewhat. It had become blurry around the edges and filtered by the red he saw for the culprit. Jackson had held on to his anger for Jameson because that was the only way to get through it for the raven haired man. Without that filter, Jackson had no one else but himself to blame.

And now, as she spoke, the image became less blurry. The taint of red remained but this time, it wasn't focused solely on the bastard who had dared lay a hand on Jackson's princess. This time, the focus was also on the man who had failed to protect her.

"I know you didn't mean it, I know you would never hurt me like that, Jackson. I wanted... you. I did,"

He would have interrupted her then, he should have, but to say what? That shew as the most important person in his life and he was the cause of her pain? that he deserved to hrut as bad as her because he had been responsible for what had happened? In fact, logic suggested he was more responsible than anyone else.

But all those feelings took a back seat as she finally began to cry, ehr tears littered with apologies that felt like daggers piercing into his skin. Because every apology only meant one thing.

That he had failed.

that he had failed to protect this woman he claimed to love more than anyone else in the world.

And they would both pay for his mistake.

Helplessly, he gathered he tiny witch in his arms one more, letting her cry it all out, nit letting her see how much it broke him inside to see ehr like this. She could never know how much he hated his own existence in that moment.

And how much he too wanted to apologies for it.

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Come Plot With Me <3

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night (Jackson -- TW: Sexual Assault)) Rsz_mi10

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night (Jackson -- TW: Sexual Assault)) Rsz_ja12

You're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter's night (Jackson -- TW: Sexual Assault)) Rsz_rs13

The tears had betrayed her from trying to explain it to Jackson, to show him that she could be strong, and that what had happened did not control her. The truth of it was, though, that it did. The terrifying experience, the experience that haunted her in all the quiet moments of the day when the isolation of the world caught up to her, or someone came a little bit too close, or someone said the wrong thing, it transported Victoria back to the most helpless of moments of her life.

As much as she wanted to be a strong woman who was not deterred by anything, that ideology had been taken from her the night of Wyatt Jameson's wedding.

Tears sliding down her cheeks, and the familiar notion of making herself smaller, wrapping her arms around herself to try to stop the tears from running freely down her cheeks, Victoria had not seen Jackson move to her. His arms gently wrapping around her small frame with only the slightest hesitation before the drew her from her seat, and in to the man's lap instead. The witch's head found it's place nestled against Jackson's chest as she let the tears come, her small hand bunching in his shirt, holding on to it as if it would keep her from free falling away from reality again.

Victoria's small frame shook from the effort of trying to keep herself from sobbing, even though it was clear Jackson would have just held her whilst she did so. Only gentle hiccups left her lips, though, where she'd tried hard to keep it down, even as the tears fell from her cheeks in to the man's clothes that she wore.

Jackson hadn't said anything.

The knot pulled in her chest as the witch sucked in a lungful of the mint shower gel Jackson always used, trying to keep a steady hold on herself, trying to focus on the fact Jackson was still here. With her. Despite everything.

"I'm sorry..." Victoria mumbled against Jackson's shirt, once again trying to tell him that it wasn't his fault. The man was probably not going to listen to her, though, not listen and hear what she was saying. He'd kept telling her that she didn't need to apologise, but this had all been her fault, she'd ruined it all. "I'll understand if you want me to l-leave." The witch managed, though even as she said those words she tried to curl in tighter to Jackson's frame, the unconscious way of saying she didn't want him to tell her that, that she would sooner stop drawing breath in to her lungs than hear him say that.

"I'm not e-enough for you." Victoria choked as more tears ran down her cheeks. "I wanted to be, but I c-can't... Tessa..."

It hit the witch in that moment.

What they'd done.

That Jackson was here, and not with the girlfriend who'd lost his baby.

Lifting her head from the man's chest, Victoria looked up at Jackson with the realisation that she'd done the unthinkable. Sleeping with a man who was with another woman was not something she had ever wished to do. But worse, she was keeping him here when he should have been with Tessa, making sure she was okay.

Not...

"You should be with Tessa..." Victoria whispered, the realisation clearer now than it ever had been. She'd been a rebound. Convenient. And her mind had tricked her in to believing that Jackson had felt for her exactly as she felt for him. The tender looks, the loving caresses... the way her name had sounded like a breath of fresh air as he moaned out in ecstasy... she'd imagined it all.

"If you tell her what we've done, and explain... I'm sure... I'm sure she'll understand. And... I can... I can resign, if you want me to?" She offered, realising how foolish she'd been for thinking Jackson could possibly love her.

You're broken, how could he love you? The voice in her head hissed as she started to try to get off of Jackson's lap. To find something to busy herself with. To give Jackson the room to breath, and an excuse to be free from her.

How could Jackson love someone like you?

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"I'm sorry..."

Once again, he wanted to tell her to stop, to reassure the witch it wasn't her fault. But her words stabbed him like needles, they reminded him again and again of how he had failed and did he really deserve to stop hurting from that? No, he most certainly did not.

So he let her say all she wanted. She probably needed to talk about it all, probably to someone much more qualified than him. What had the doctor said when he'd been there with Tessa? That false pregnancies could be a result of untold psychological stress? Victoria may not have gone through the same thing but she needed just as much help, and here he was unable to do anything except imagine Wyatt Jameson's bloody face where his punching bag now was.

It was almost as if she had picked up on his thoughts, something that hadn't changed amidst everything else they had been through these last few days. At least some of their thoughts were still in sync.

"You should be with Tessa..."

The politician nodded silently, holding on to her just as much as she was curled into him. If she waned to leave, he couldn't stop her. He wouldn't, in good conscious, stop her. But until she went through the actual motions. Until Victoria got up, walked away from him and walked out the door, he would hold on to his princess.

"I'll fly out next week," he assured her as they remained huddled on the sofa, Jackson doing the best he could to absorb her tears, her words and her actions. Tessa Gray deserved a lot from him, least of all honesty.

"If you tell her what we've done, and explain... I'm sure... I'm sure she'll understand. And... I can... I can resign, if you want me to?"

"Please don't think about any of that now," Jackson pleaded quietly, his voice barely above a whisper at the idea of Victoria leaving ehr job, at her leaving him. "If that is what you ultimately want to do..." his voice broke at the sentence. He would let her go, of course he would. He just may not be able to say it out loud for a while.

If ever.

Because the truth was, their night had changed him fundamentally. It had made him realize something that was there since before he was even old enough to understand it. And that something was not a vice they could simply back track on. The princess could leave her job, leave him, forget he ever existed.

But it would not undo the fact that every breath he now took belonged to Victoria Newbury.

For Jackson, there was no going back. Only forwards.

With the knowledge that he had to do better. For the woman crying in his arms, he absolutely had to do better.

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Come Plot With Me <3

» If You'll Just, Stay, With Me Awhile (TW: Sexual Assault & It's After Effects, Jackson)
» Benjamin Winters (WIP)
» Remembering the Boy in the Window (Jax)
» Window Shopping (Elenore)
» Through the Window Glass (Nirek & Cara)