My little piece of heaven, turns to dark (Victoria)

"I'm afraid... you two aren't pregnant."

Jackson's palm on the gear stick shifted, putting the car already past the speed limit for the area they were in. He needed the open highway, he needed to go at two hundred fifty and upwards and not be stuck in the midday jam that would make him cut corners and put civilians at risk.

The thought of getting ticket would have made him laugh, if he ever felt like laughing in his life again.

"False pregnancies are often a result of extreme stress..."

Of course, and who more likely to suffer form extreme stress than Tessa Fucking Grey, the irrational thought thundered through his mind and body as the senator took another sharp turn. In the periphery, he may have heard a snap and the car may have dinged somewhere but right now, Jackson couldn't care less.

"I'm afraid there's no baby in there, Senator Blake, Miss Greene."

A film of sweat shone across his livid eyes as the man blindly drove, his hands unnecessarily rough on the steering wheel because after what he'd been through, he deserved to be rough on something. A steering wheel seemed the safest option, himself the most satisfying. The man only stopped manhandling the wheel when the SUV screeched to a stop - right in front of a bar Jackson had passed by a thousand times before.

Today however, the Senator was out of the driver's seat and tossing his keys to one of the waiters outside in less than a minute. Uncaring of his surroundings, teh shocked expression of the employ and other patrns and completely caught off guard by a young woman walking up to him addressing him as Senator Blake, the man moved tot eh bar, ordering the strongest whiskey they had.

"Senator, Lindsay Lar-"

"Miss, right this minute, I don't give two fucks who you are."

If the response left the journalist scandalized, Jackson didn't notice, his attention towards the bar keeper who was taking his sweet time mixing the drink. "I said neat, in fact screw the glass and give me the bottle, give me three."

"Hey, its the Senator everyone, Sir, mind if we take a picture for the wall."

"I MOST CERTAINLY DO MIND," Jackson hollered, picking up the three whiskey bottles the bartender had hurriedly brought over and walking out with them, a curt "Someone from my office will pay for these."

It took all his strength not to start drinking in the car. The bottles nestled in the passenger seat were more inviting than any woman had ever been. but he couldn't drive drunk. It was the one golden rule the wizard refused to break. So instead, the man did something almost as bed.

Creating a portal for long distance travel was a highly bureaucratic affair. the plans for its placement had to be cleared with magical transportation, the implementation and casting of it required several skilled wizards and the guarding of it was left to a round the clock no mag relations rookie. Under no circumstances were portals allowed to be created unsupervised, unauthorized or by a single person.

And Jackson Blake did all three, in broad daylight, sending his SUV flying through the air in the open street, seemingly disappearing into thin air as it leaped up to round a corner. The spectacle was enough to make several passerbys scream and stare in horror and confusion at what they had just witnessed.

But their plight was not the politician's worry in that moment, his only corner was the driveway to his large, empty, cold house, growing bigger and bigger as the car sped through the closed gates, taking them clear of their iron hinge sand sending them crashing through his windshield.

When the car finally stopped, shedding bits and paces of the iron gate off its battered frame, Jackson exited the vehicle, the unharmed bottles of whiskey clutched protectively in his arms. He felt something wet on his face but couldn't decide if it was blood or tears, only that it probably deserved to stay there.

Stumbling into his home, the man sidereal the must have hurt his ankle at some point during the driver. the pain barely registered though, causing him to put even more weight on the injured limb. A sharp breathe of pain tore through his body at the action, also serving to satisfy the urge to hurt. Walking intentionally on his mangled ankle to the living room, trailing blood and whiskey into the carpet, Jackson finally collapsed on the couch.

The two safe and one slightly crackled bottles of alcohol were placed on the coffee table in front of him, all lined up neatly in a row.

Like how he had only this morning magined a child's toy soldiers lined up.

A cold, bitter laugh ripped from his lips as he contemplated the poison waiting him. This was his only solace now.

"Well old friend, it looks like its just you and me now."

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My little piece of heaven, turns to dark (Victoria) Rsz_mi10

My little piece of heaven, turns to dark (Victoria) Rsz_ja12

My little piece of heaven, turns to dark (Victoria) Rsz_rs13

The day had come in to being. The day Jackson and Tessa would be having their first scan for their baby. Victoria had helped Jackson with the bookings, after checking that the clinic he was heading to was the best one they could send them to. The man had seemed excited for it all, despite their talks from January, Victoria was quite sure that Jackson was getting more used to the idea of having a baby.

Victoria kept up the positive attitude he needed, at all times, but also ensured Jackson knew he could talk to her any time about the issue if he wanted to. The witch was getting quite good at not feeling so hurt by the idea of Jackson becoming a dad, but it was still not easy.

Today, though, the man would be coming back equipped with a ultrasound picture of the child.

The baby would be more real than it had ever been before.

Jackson had left to collect Tessa from the airport and Victoria hadn't focused on her work for the HR420 for the rest of the afternoon. An hour after the appointment had been scheduled, Victoria had sent off a text to Jackson.

Hope the scan went well, can't wait to see the pictures! Enjoy the rest of your evening with Tessa and I'll see you tomorrow! V xx

The witch had not been surprised to not hear anything back from Jackson. He was probably driving Tessa back to his home by this point, or they were getting dinner. Or perhaps shopping. There were lots of possibilities, and it wasn't as if the witch had asked him anything that would need to be replied to in that moment. Putting her phone aside, Victoria had tried once more to get herself to concentrate on the task at hand, but once again, she had fallen short on that one.

At six o'clock that evening Victoria had given up, following out the last of the staff for the evening and heading back to her apartment. By the time Sloan had dropped her home that evening, Jackson had still not replied, which left a bad feeling in the witch's stomach. Reaching for her phone as she stirred the sauce for her stir-fry that evening, Victoria had composed a text asking if everything was okay, before promptly deleting the whole text and putting the phone down. Jackson was with Tessa, probably celebrating, she didn't need to interfere.

Seven o'clock came and went.

Eight o'clock.

The knock at Victoria's door had been puzzling, but the witch moved forth, putting the door on the latch, and opening the door slightly.

"Victoria Newbury?"

"Yes..." the witch replied.

"Richie Barnes, Ministry of Magic, Law Enforcement department." The man informed her, passing his ID through the hole. "And my associate, Pamela Jackson." Another ID came through and Victoria checked them both. Pushing the door slightly back to remove the latch, the witch opened it for the two officers who came in to full view. "Is Senator Blake at home?"

"This isn't his home any more..." Victoria replied, berating Jackson for the fact he had not updated his address with the relevant Magical authorities. "May I help you?"

The lawyer had not been prepared for what came next. Jackson's clear disregard for the laws set out for the portal system in this country was... out of character. The fact he'd caused the Ministry a headache with the amount of No-Maj memory alterations that had to be performed meant he was about to be hit with a hefty fine. Victoria had sat through the explanations, and taken the papers from the law enforcers with a feeling of numbness taking over her body after each sentence finished.

"Are you okay, Miss Newbury?" Pamela had asked.

"Y-yes, I'm fine." Victoria replied shakily, not feeling the slightest bit okay in that moment. "Please, accept my apologies on Senator Blake's behalf for the incident, I will ensure he doesn't do something like this again. And, the paperwork will be completed, signed and returned to your offices, together with his fine in due course."

All of it was said on auto-pilot in that moment.

The two officers had raised from their seat on the sofa and bid the witch good night. Victoria had been following them closely out the door, though.

"Need transport somewhere?" Pamela had asked, but Victoria shook her head, thanked the witch, before rounding on George in the lobby as she pulled on her coat.

"If Jackson arrives, you keep him here. Lock him in my apartment," the witch explained, placing her key on the desk of the security guard. "And tell him that I will not be happy if he so much as takes a step out of it."

George's taken back expression showed that Victoria's tone had been much too clipped, much too tight, but she didn't look back as she hurriedly stepped out of the apartment building, barely reaching the alleyway before the crack! of apparition sounded.

Victoria's body slammed down hard on Jackson's front porch much harder than she'd meant to, losing her balance in the process and falling sideways in to the building. From the vantage point on the floor, Victoria took in the driveway, littered with the rubbish of whatever it had been Jackson had hit. Pushing herself from the floor with a small hiss of pain, Victoria pushed on the front door of the man's home, finding it not even closed, nor locked. Wand still in hand, the witch moved in to the house, following the show of blood on the floor.

Something assaulted her nostrils only two steps in, and the witch froze.

"J-Jackson?" The witch called out, the tears pricking at the corner of her eyes in that moment. Something was wrong. "Jackson, it's me. It's Victoria."

Following the trail of blood only brought forth the smell in stronger qualities.

Alcohol had been in this house.

A lot of alcohol had been in this house.

And Jackson was hurt.

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Many would have fallen asleep when faced with a trance like the one Jackson Blake was experiencing at the moment. The remaining bottle of whiskey staring at him from across the two feet that felt like miles. At the beginning of the evening, Jackson had tried to retain some form of control. Staring at the three bottles lined up in front of him, he had contented himself with knowing that he could simply look.

And look he had, he had taken in the small crack in the glass, perhaps as fine and a hairline fracture yet somehow, the smell it exuded was slowly driving him insane. And in that longing was a deep sense of pain that far outdid whatever his ankle was trying to achieve earlier. No physical pain could ever hurt as bad as staring at three bottles of whiskey and not reaching for even one. And it was that masochistic streak alone that kept Jackson sober for the first hour, simply staring, breathing into the imagined or real aroma of the alcohol until he could no longer tell what was real and what had never been.

His baby hadn't been real. The first time he had acknowledged the child for what it was, it wasn't real.

Without thinking, the man had reached for the cracked bottle, and perhaps to highlight the blurry lines between reality and falsehood, the bottle had collapsed in his hand, drenching the hem of his short and a good portion of his trousers in first rate, top shelf liquor. The realization of what had happened only dawned when he looked at his hand holding the top half of the broken bottle, the liquid within now sloshing on the floor, getting the sofa and carpet drunk instead of him.

The wizard sank back into the sofa, eyes closed and breaths heavy, trying to capture the scent of the whiskey before it too fled. He was clearly not meant to have anything anymore, so he might as well enjoy the illusion.

Wen he sat up next, the sun had sunk in the sky, the living room doused in shadows. There was no point switching on the lights. Why bother, it was only him here, all alone.

Because that was what everyone had forced him into. Life, Sasha, Tessa, even Fucking Kit Harrington. Everyone had either lied to him or made promises they couldn't keep and Jackson was just about sick of it. Reaching blindly, Jackson picked up the first thing his fingers found and sent it hurtling across the room. Moments later, the sound of shattering glass followed from somewhere across the space.

And then there was one.

The politician couldn't believe he had actually worried about alcoholism being genetic. If his messed up genes would somehow pass on to a poor kid. Well, whoever it was, or wasn't, had dodged a real bullet there. Perhaps the kid had known Jackson was too much of a fucking mess to ever be a dad and had just upped and vanished. It wouldn't be the first time in Jackson's life someone had just upped and vanished, to have Merida tell it.

Was this cosmic comeuppance? Jackson's father had disappeared and now his kid too? Would Tessa leave him too?

Probably. She deserved a man who could actually get her pregnant.

This time, when he reached for the bottle, he didn't throw it. The raven haired wizard merely held it close to his body, not unlike how he would have held an actual child. Curling up on the sofa once more, Jackson found the pesky tears leaking again, dampening his already blood and alcohol soaked shirt. He didn't know when he creed himself into another fitful stupor but when he opened his bleary eyes again, it was surely to a dream.

"Jackson, it's me. It's Victoria."

"Gaw fyuigure," Jackson drawled, trying to get his mouth to work but failing a little in the process. Of all the people to show up and scold him, the princess was the last one he wanted. But that was a basically what life was giving him now. "Did Tesha calls you?" he continued sluggishly, still refusing to let go of the bottle held closed to his chest. "Or did your bwack... bwack mag-" and with that, the man convulsed violently before hurtling himself sideways and vomiting all over the armrest of the sofa. The pain was all finally catching up with his system and the bloodless was starting to make him lose his bearings.

Covered in sick on top of everything else, Jackson lay pathetically where he was, wondering, even hoping a little, that Victoria would be repulsed enough to leave.

And never come back.

Only princes deserved a princess, and he was far from one.

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"Gaw fyuigure,"

The sound of Jackson's voice -- no matter how slurred -- was welcome to Victoria as she automatically flicked the light on in the hallways, aiding her in following the trail of blood and... whatever else it was Jackson had brought with him. Feet moving on autopilot, the witch hurried through the rooms to try to locate Jackson.

"Did Tesha calls you?"

"No," Victoria replied, taking in the information that the older witch was not here. Why was Tessa not here? Too many questions were playing in the witch's mind as she hurried to the lounge. The light switch was flicked in the same moment Jackson vomited. Another woman might have paused in that moment, but Victoria moved forwards.

The stench of alcohol only grew stronger, as if confirmation had been needed, and the pungent smell of the man's self-inflicted sickness made the witch want to gag. But she didn't, instead moving to the man who lay meekly on the sofa before her.

"It's okay," the witch assured Jackson as she sunk to the floor before him, barely giving thought to the wetness that touched her knees through the tights she wore. "I'm here now, everything is going to be fine." Victoria continued to talk, her eyes surveying the situation as discretely as one could in the height of a crisis. One bottle lay cracked to the side of the sofa, a splatter mark on the wall denoted something had been thrown at it in a rage.

In Jackson's arms was another bottle, still sealed. "I need you to give me this bottle, Jackson." The witch cooed gently, her small fingers wrapping around Jackson's to try to very carefully pry it from his hands. "If you give it to me, I'll make everything better, okay?" She tried, not knowing in the slightest how you dealt with this kind of situation.

To start, the man didn't let go of his hold on the bottle, if anything he seemed to hold it more tightly that before. Victoria was not going to be deterred, though, instead letting up the manner in which she tried to prize his fingers open, and instead rubbing gentle circles in the back of his hand, waiting for the fingers to gently let go of the bottle. The small victory of the man's fingers letting go of the bottle was no consolation as Victoria moved the bottle out of the way to the floor. "Thank you," the witch whispered to the man, replacing where the bottle had been with her hand instead.

Her eyes moved to the man's face then, tear stained, sick present on his chin, and dried blood across his face from a minor cut on his forehead.

"Jackson..." Victoria spoke carefully, trying to keep the fear from her voice with the stench of alcohol all around them. "Do you think you can move from the sofa for me? We'll go and get you cleaned up... and then maybe some food?

"I promise, I'll stay with you."

No matter what, the witch finalised as she watched the groggy man before her, not realising that tears were rolling down her own cheeks in that moment.

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At the first gentle tug of the bottle from him, Jackson clammed up once more, holding on to his prize because it was the last thing he had left in this world. Everyone was gone, everyone had left him except this bottle. It had stayed by his side while everyone else...

But everyone wasn't gone. Someone was here. Someone was here and siting very close to him, promising to make things better. Jackson didn't know how you made something like this better. But he also knew that the princess always kept her word.

Slowly, reluctantly, he let go.

Only to latch on to the little witch instead, holding on to her hand because it was the only thing that felt real anymore. unaware of his own strength, the man used his arm to maneuver her up onto the couch, squeezing her close to him and burying his head in the crook of her tiny neck, fresh, guttered, sobs wracking his tall frame.

"I'm here now, everything is going to be fine."

Jackson wanted to tell her that nothing would ever be fine again but he had lost so much today. Losing faith in Victoria was simply not an option.

So instead he listened to her reassurances, eventually quieting enough to comprehend what came next. Her gentle insistence that they try to get up fell on deaf ears at first mostly because Jackson didn't know how to make his body work. How to make it obey her. But eventually, the Goblin slipped out from under him, using her own small frame to support his much larger one as she lead him from the room.

The wizard wasn't sure if it was real or imagined, but a soft click was audible in the background, gone before he could really focus on it and easily forgotten as they trudged through the house towards what Jackson later recognized as the guest bathroom on the ground floor. Once upon a time, before even Sasha had stepped foot into this huge house, Victoria had decorated the ground floor herself, making sure it met the standard for state dinners and special gatherings. The guest bathroom was easily the grandest in the entire building, and today it would be used to wipe his own sick and blood from his person.

No, the thought gripped him with panic as he clung to Victoria harder. She would leave him alone in the bathroom to clean up. No, no, no, no, no.

"Please don't go.." he whimpered, his body all but drawing her as leaned against the young witch for support. "Not you too..." His feet stopped at the doormat, refusing to move forwards until she entered the bathroom first, just so he could childishly make sure she wouldn't leave.

To her credit, the princess didn't leave. She entered the bathroom and then ushered him in, guiding the man to the edge of the bathtub and patting the marble to indicate he should sit down. unsure what she had planned, Jackson did as told, taking a seat and looking up at her through bloodshot eyes.

"There's no baby," he brokenly told the lawyer, his frame quivering cone more because saying the words had made it real again. "There never was. Tessa isn't pregnant."

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When Jackson had pulled her closer to him, Victoria's body had moved on instinct. Not caring that her own clothes would become dirty in the process, or that in moving closer to the man would only heighten the smell coming from his person. No, the witch was doing what she had always done for the politician, and allowed him to take exactly what he needed from her to feel okay. Her hold on his hand didn't loosen, and her head tucked gently against the man's chest whilst she waited for his heart rate to steady out, if only marginally in that moment.

The tears came, and Victoria waited patiently for them to subside, gently reassuring Jackson that it was all okay, that she was here, and that Jackson was safe.

It worked, slowly, very slowly, as Jackson's tears subsided. No explanation came from the man, and Victoria did not look to receive one, either. Instead, she shifted to trying to get Jackson to move. Away from the alcohol, to the bathroom, where the witch could try to get him cleaned up. The refusal came first, but patience won out anew as the witch continued to reassure him that she would be right there.

The move to the bathroom was slow, Jackson not very capable on his own feet, but they got to the door eventually. Only for Jackson to bulk. The broken plea from the man she'd always relied upon had Victoria's chest swell painfully.

"I'm not going anywhere." Victoria reassured the man, stepping in to the bathroom first, and pulling Jackson in behind her. Once more, the man complied, letting Victoria inwardly sigh in relief as she pressed the light switch and closed the door behind them. Navigating Jackson to the edge of the bathtub, Victoria had him sit down on the edge, deliberating putting the man in the tub, or sponging him off. Worrying that she wouldn't be able to get him out if something happened, Victoria opted for the latter.

"I'm going to take your shirt off, Jackson," Victoria explained, not wanting to push too hard too quickly, or frighten him back in to the quietness he'd plunged in to previously. When no form of complaint was raised on that process, the witch's fingers moved to do as she had said. The top button had only just come undone when the onyx eyes of the politicians met her own. Fingers pausing in their tracks, Victoria hadn't been ready for the words that would leave Jackson's lips.

"There's no baby,"

Tessa had had a miscarriage...

But where was Tessa-

"There never was. Tessa isn't pregnant."

Victoria's initial thought had been wrong.

There couldn't have been a miscarriage, because there had never been a baby. The witch didn't know how that worked, truthfully, but her mind screamed that her thought coming now couldn't be true. Would Tessa have lied about being pregnant? No, there had to be another explanation.

"I..." Victoria started, only to fail to think of something to say. "I... I'm really sorry, Jackson..." The witch managed, but those words didn't seem to be enough, they didn't harbour enough support in that moment, but what did you say when the man you loved dearly had just lost his baby? Even if the baby had never been real?

"Where's Tessa?" Victoria asked, fingers moving down to the next button of the man's shirt if only to distract herself from the fact she felt useless right now. "Did you bring her here?" The witch asked, wondering if she should be looking for another person in the house to ensure they were okay as well.

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"I'm not going anywhere."

Somehow, she knew what he needed to hear, and it was this premise that Jackson clung to as he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, letting her slowly unbutton his shirt. Why she wanted to do it was beyond him and he didn't really care to ask. Maybe she didn't like this shirt, whichever one it was. As long as she kept her word, Jackson would let the little witch do whatever she wanted.

Victoria's reaction to the news was as expected, though her sorry did nothing. Jackson doubted anyone's sorry would ever mean a thing again. The man felt... detached from his body for a second, as if he was floating high above, observing the two bodies in the bathroom, one working with trembling fingers to unbutton the shirt from the stone cold corpse that sat down to match her standing height.

But by bit, his skin revealed the burdens of the day, a scratch on his shoulders where he'd taken a piece of the front gates, a bruise on his bicep from when he'd hit the car door too hard in his efforts to get out, a smattering of red and blue on his abs from where the air bags had popped upon collision and of course the cut above his left eyebrow from the shattered glass of his windscreen.

"Where's Tessa?"

Yet non of it was enough to drive her away. As she slowly peeled off the garment from his body and let it fall out of sight, she didn't look disgusted. instead, the lawyer now knelt down in front of him, her voice calm in even as she told him she was removing his treasurers next. Obediently, the politician sat still as she worked her fingers through his leather belt and then gently tugged the article of clothing down his thighs, always careful so as not to cause additional pain.

The bruises and scratches were nothing compared to what was uncovered next. As Victoria gently worked to tug the trousers from his right ankle, something stuck, making him hiss in pain. Further investigation revealed there was a massive chunk of flesh musing from his right calf where the fabric has caved into the concave space. the bleeding had stopped a while ago but the exposed would was still very much on display.

And yet she still stayed, carefully cutting around the wound to relieve him of his trousers before going in to peel off the remainder of the fabric fused with his skin.

"At the hotel," he finally replied, numbness creeping over him both from the pain and the cold. It was a good thing he didn't have any dignity to lose right now or he would have lost it all, sitting there, shivering in his boxers as Victoria took in the mess he'd made.

He wanted to tell her that he'd just left her at the hotel, that he was a terrible excuse for a man because he hadn't stayed and comforted her. Because he had somehow failed in getting her pregnant in the first place. But those were too many words and the princess didn't need more reasons to feel sorry for him .

"Flying back to LA," he added, hoping it was true. If he couldn't help Tessa right now, she deserved to be with people who could.

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The shirt had taken a while, Victoria's fingers shaking too much with each button that it managed to untangle from the button hole, but eventually, the soaked shirt was opened. Splattered with alcohol, blood and sick, the witch had pushed it from the man's shoulders, allowing it too pool on to the floor beside Jackson without a word.

The marks from Jackson's personal destruction only became worse in that moment, showing bruises, cuts, and way too much damage upon his person. Should she had taken him to a hospital? The witch wondered in that moment, assessing the damage and weighing up her limited capabilities with healing spells. No, Jackson couldn't be seen in public, she couldn't drive him herself, and right now, from what she could see, Jackson was... not in too bad shape...

But even that thought didn't sit right, Jackson was in a terrible shape.

Victoria could fix it, though, she kept telling herself that, and then Jackson, as she moved to his belt.

Jackson's resistance didn't come, allowing her to ease the man from his trousers. Each movement was careful, trying not to cause the man any further pain than he'd already caused himself. Her earlier observations hadn't taken in the man's leg, and as the trousers tried to pull away, Jackson's hiss of pain stopped Victoria in her tracks, eyes coming face to face with the problem. The chunk missing from the man's leg made Victoria's stomach turn, her eyes averting from that damage back up to the man before her. "It's okay, you've hurt your leg, but I'm going to make it better, just hold still," the witch assured him anew, summoning scissors from the kitchen to carefully cut the trousers away from the wound.

Removing the fused trouser from the wound had not been quite so easy, but gently, ever so gently, Victoria did. Jackson's hisses of pain made her pause, starting anew when it seemed he could manage it, and the process repeated again and again. How long it took for the leg to be cleared of the trousers, Victoria wouldn't wish to guess, but after what seemed an eternity, she placed the blood soaked material in to the pile of clothing that would have to be destroyed.

"At the hotel,"

"Okay," Victoria replied to that piece of information, only for more to be added that the older witch would be flying home. The morals of this situation were forgotten in that moment, Jackson had damaged himself enough, he did not need Victoria to tell him that he should have been with Tessa. Instead, the lawyer looked back up at the man, from her kneeling position. Jackson was shivering now, cold perhaps, but Victoria assumed it more likely to be fear.

"I'm going to clean up the wound on your leg with my wand, Jackson." Victoria told the man, her left hand reaching up to cover his in that moment to reassure him. "This might hurt, I'm sorry, I will try to do it as quickly as I can, but I need you to keep still, okay?"

Waiting for the man to nod his head, or else give some kind of clarification, Victoria brought forth her hand, and touched it lightly to the skin beside the wound.

"Vulnera Sanentur." The witch spoke clearly, mind concentrating on exactly what she wanted to happen in that moment. Seemingly nothing happened to begin with, and the witch's eyes focused upon the wound anew. "Vulnera Sanentur." This time, the dried blood around the wound rescinded, revealing the wound in all its glory, though it didn't look like it was about to bleed again. "Vulnera Sanentur."

The incantation was spoken as if it was the last thing the witch was wishing for from the world. The wound moved in the most grotesque manner, as if the skin was moving back in to place, and the multitude of tissue beneath was growing back in to place. It covered completely in that moment, the only evidence of the wound that remained was the line in the man's calf where the skin had come back together. Something in the back of Victoria's mind niggled that there was a way to get rid of it, but right now, the witch could not remember what that might have been.

All that mattered was that the wound was healed, she could look up her shortcoming later.

Looking back up at Jackson, the witch offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry for hurting you, but you're doing great." She told him, getting back to her feet. The smell of sick still hung to the man.

Taking only a step to the sink, Victoria filled the glass on the side with water, and handed it to the man. "Drink this, please." Victoria told him, before busying herself with getting a wash cloth. Running the hot water tap, the witch soaked it in hot water, wrung it out, and turned back to Jackson once more, waiting for him to finish drinking before taking the glass away once more.

"Lets wash your face," was the next explanation she gave, gently dabbing at the man's chin, and around his mouth to remove the evidence of the sickness that had caught him. Jackson remained compliant as she did so, and after a few moments his face had been cleaned off except for the cut atop his forehead. Only minor, the witch believed.

Stepping back to the cabinet, Victoria filled the glass anew, but this time with mouthwash. Instructing him to swill his mouth out, Victoria waited patiently for Jackson to comply, helping him to spit it back out in to the sink.

Setting the man back down on the edge of the bath, the lawyer moved to fill the tub, careful to make it warm, but not scolding hot.

"Jackson, do you think... do you think you can climb in to the bath for me?" Victoria asked, leaving the man his dignity in not taking his boxers off. She could dry them when they were finished. Once again, she waited for the man's compliance, helping him in to the tub once the water was high enough. Once again, she didn't run away from the man, instead kneeling by the side of the tub.

Her wand had seen to it that Jackson's clothes were removed from the room, another quick spell had removed the grime and stench from her own clothes. The bathroom held no trace of the alcohol or sick in that moment, and one more spell had sent the rest of the house in to a cleaning frenzy to remove every trace of alcohol and blood that was left outside of this room.

"This isn't your fault," Victoria told the man, a fresh washcloth in hand. "It's nobody's fault." She added, because it was important Jackson knew that. Why? The witch didn't know as she put some of Jackson's body wash in to the material in her hands. Reaching up to his chest, the witch gently rubbed the material against the man's skin, working to get rid of the smell of alcohol.

"Why didn't you call me?" The witch asked softly, not in a manner that would be considered a reprimand, Merlin knew she did not mean it in that manner. But, she had to know why Jackson hadn't called her when he'd thought about... doing what he had.

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"It's okay, you've hurt your leg, but I'm going to make it better, just hold still,"

Jackson didn't need telling twice, he would do whatever the miniature witch asked of him, even if it caused pain. In the periphery, he was aware of movement. There were spells and washcloths and a stinging in his mouth as Listerine dribbled down his chin. But all of it was in the periphery, his mind solely occupied by the thought of what he had done.

And what would have happened if Victoria hand't shown up.

Her quiet, soothing pretense was starting to calm him. Nowhere near enough to be in his right mind but enough to realize that his thoughts slowed down if he didn't think inwards. Instead of focusing on the situation, if he only focused on the mechanical movements of her hands as she cleaned his face, handed him things to drink, ran the bathwater and reached for the body wash, if he focused on Victoria just being here... thing slowed down. And he didn't feel out of his body anymore.

"Jackson, do you think... do you think you can climb in to the bath for me?"

The wizard looked up at her blankly, wondering why she needed him to get into the tub. his lips quivered, the question almost formed before it gave up and his frame sagged in obedience once more. With her help, the man slowly turned himself over, trying not to slip on the cold marble. The waistband of his boxers slid downwards with the motion but Jackson wasn't aware of such things at this point.

The water was warm, but it lacked the other type of warmth he needed a lot more. And then, the world was cold for a few seconds as Victoria retreated.

And the bathwater looked all too tempting.

And then her touch was back, lathering his skin with body wash, rubbing gentle circles across his chest as she reassured him it wasn't his fault. Jackson wanted to ask her whose fault it was then. Because a crime of such heinousness couldn't possibly go blameless. Jackson needed someone to blame and in the absence of a suitable candidate, he himself was the best option.

This wouldn't have happened if he had just gotten Tessa pregnant.

Maybe he just couldn't? It would explain why, over the years of being sexually active, he had never landed a girl in that position. It would serve him right.

"Left it at the bar," he admitted, looking own into the depths of the soapy water. Victoria's hands had moved to his shoulder now, wiping away all dregs of the day from his person, and yet he was still cold. He still felt unclean.

"I'm not drunk," he added, the tone of defeat very clear in his voice. It was true, he remembered enough to know that the first bottle had simply fallen apart in his hand, the second he had flung at the wall and the third... The third was still out there somewhere, waiting for him to succumb.

"I swear," he added, a little more conviction in his tone but not much. He needed her to believe him, despite what she had seen. She may have found him reeking of blood and alcohol, clutching the last bottle of whiskey as if his life depended on it, but he hadn't drunk a single drop. He had desperately wanted to, but he hadn't.

Not that anyone would believe him.

Except Victoria.

The cold was annoyingly resistant, and there was only one thing Jackson could do about it.

Reaching up, he stopped the brunette's small motions with his hand, instead tugging her slightly inwards, into the bath and towards him. Victoria, always so adept at understanding things he never said, was on her feet and in the next moment, his princess had climbed into the bathtub with him, fully clothed.

Once the witch was in the after with him, Jackson pulled her closer, pressing her tiny body flush against his, his arms almost too tight around her waist as he settled her in his lap, drenching her in the sud-filled bathwater.

The warmth finally returned as he held Victoria against his skin, breathing in her scent and feeling her small frame curled against his.

This was the only real warmth he'd ever need.

________________________________________________

Come Plot With Me <3

The explanation of why he hadn't called was short, but said enough. He hadn't wanted to be reachable, or else, he'd just been in too much of a blind anger to think about the consequences of what he'd been doing. Jackson's phone had been immaterial at the time, and the witch silently berated herself for not checking in with the Senator sooner. Another time, though, right now, Jackson needed her in the here and now, and the witch would comply with that much.

"It's okay, I'll get it picked up from there for you." The witch promised softly, pushing the information to the back of the mind as she worked to gently wipe the man's chest clean of the stickiness of the spilled alcohol.

"I'm not drunk,"

Victoria's hand stilled for a moment, relief flooding through her system. Had she doubted the man? She had willed it to be anything but the truth, but she hadn't been sure. The house stunk of the amber liquid that she'd found Jackson cuddling, so it was...

"I swear,"

"I believe you." Victoria replied softly, but without wavering on that moment. There was no one in the world she would believe more in that moment than the man currently sat in the tub, allowing her to clean off the remains of the alcohol he had not consumed. "I believe you with all my heart, and I'm... I'm so very glad that you didn't drink, Jackson."

Jackson's hand came up in that moment, stopping her in her tracks. For a moment, the witch believed she'd said something wrong, made it so that Jackson would want her to leave.

"I-"

The witch was cut off, though, as Jackson's arms pulled her up and forward towards the bath. The witch barely had time to kick off her shoes before stepping over the side of the tub and then down in to the man's lap. The bath only just wide enough to allow her to straddle his lap as Jackson waited no time to pull her close to him in that moment, his hands almost possessively holding her to him. The water soaked in to her tights, slowly as Jackson's face buried against her.

The witch's small arms wrapped around his shoulders, one hand playing soothingly with his short hair as she allowed him the moment to breath.

"I'll get rid of the bottle." Victoria whispered to the man, not caring if he tried to stop her because she wouldn't let him succumb to the poison. "And I'll stay with you, until you feel better. You don't have to do any of this alone. You never will."

With that, Victoria placed a soft kiss on the side of Jackson's head, falling quiet because she had nothing more to say, no more reassurances that would be repeats of how it was all going to be okay, that they would fix it all.

All Jackson needed now was her comfort, and Victoria would stay here for an eternity if that was what the man needed.

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