Chapter 42

"Morning." Hope muttered, quietly, shuffling out of the kitchen with her hands clasped around a large cup of tea.

"You're up early." Marcus observed, slowing his exercise to a halt when he realised he was being watched.

"You don't look like you got much sleep, either." She observed, swiping a pile of hair out of her face as she curled up onto the sofa.

"It wasn't a good night." He admitted, turning to put his equipment away.

"You don't have to stop just because I'm here, you know."

"It feels strange with people watching."

"You compete at this stuff, though." She pointed out, sipping at her drink. "You invited people to watch that?"

"That's different — people are supposed to be watching that. This is practice."

"Well... fair enough." Silence fell for a few minutes as she savoured the tea, and Marcus poured himself a cup. "So what happened last night?" she looked up, seeing Marcus tense up in the kitchen doorway. "I heard Shawna crying..."

"Nightmares."

"Does it happen often?"

"First time this week." He relaxed, thought it took Hope a few seconds to recognise it more as a sagging than a loss of tension. "Three last week. Only two the week before... they're getting worse."

"Does she talk about them."

"I... she doesn't like to. I don't..."

"Marcus?" she leant forward a little, and he turned away towards the kitchen again, but she caught up to him by the sink. "Hey... you are, you're crying."

"I can't help her." He turned around, facing her, sliding down the wall to rest in the corner between the sink and the wall.

"She's going through... God knows what she's going through, and I can't help her. I don't understand what she's feeling." She hunkered down in front of him, mindful that she wasn't dressed for crouching on the floor in the short night-gown, and studied him for a moment. It wasn't the wailing crying of the distraught that she might have expected, but a quiet, resigned tearing that he just kept speaking through.

"Marcus," she reached out, lifting his chin a little, "Marcus, none of us understand what she's going through. This isn't you, it's... this isn't something anyone's equipped to deal with. I don't understand it... I know you're doing what you can. She does, too. I don't think you can do any more."

"I have to."

"What?"

"I have to do something more, I looked it up. Rape victims are prone to suicides, divorce, drug u..."

"Marcus, stop it." He looked up, sharply, and she moderated her tone. "If you keep looking on the bad side of things you're going to make things worse. What Shawna needs is to know that she's safe, and that we care, and that no-one blames her. That's all. That's all anyone can do, and so long as we can do that, she will get better. It'll be slow."

"I'm not the only one suffering from this, am I?" they both looked up to see Shawna stood in the doorway. No-one moved for a second, and then she took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped over to join them, hunkering down on the floor in the corner as well. "I'm sorry, Marcus, I didn't realise this was getting to you this much."

"It was... I'm just tired."

"No, you're not." Hope cut in, when Shawna nodded her acceptance. "I mean, you are, but it's not just that... You're both in this together, it's affecting you both. Different ways, different reasons, but both of you."

They both stared back at her and she slowly stood up, backing away a little. "Look, talk about it. Really talk about it, talk about what's changed and what hasn't, find out what's changed because of this and what's changed because of everything else, and... just talk about it. This is as much as I bet anyone's said about this since it happened."

"Pretty much." Shawna admitted, as Marcus pushed himself to his feet beside her, and helped her up. "Some talk over Christmas... I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget that it happened."

"Has that worked so far?" Hope asked, pouring another cup of tea, her hands shaking as she waited for the volley of abuse she expected to hear for interfering.

"Not really, no."

"Then..."

"NO!" Shawna screamed at her, and Marcus had to react quickly to step between them as Shawna gouged at her face with her nails, catching him across the face. "Oh, God... Marcus!" She paled, drew back against the wall, and Hope stepped around Marcus to face her.

"This is what you're bottling up, Shawna." She whispered. "This is why you need to talk to someone."

"Marcus?" Hope trudged up the steps, flushed and warm in her winter coat with the surprisingly warm sun beating down on her.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." he shook his head and returned to peering through the window as Hope drew up beside him, staring at the door.

"Are we locked out?"

"No." She paused a moment, then tapped him gently on the arm until he looked down at her.

"They why are we waiting out here?"

"Shawna's dancing." He offered, with a vague gesture towards the house, as though it explained everything.

"And the significance of this is... What?"

"She's not been going out much — not since the night before you moved in — she's been quiet and... this is a bit more like her, so I didn't want to disturb it."

"Go in and watch, she might appreciate the audience."

"I'll tell her later, but if we go in she'll turn it into a performance."

"Shawna, over-dramatize something? Surely not." She paused as his eyes narrowed a little.

"Sarcasm, right."

"First time. Well done." She managed not to laugh, but leant in a little, trying to peer through the window as well. Suddenly he grasped her round the waist and lifted her gently up to the door to see Shawna dancing vigourously, the cord of her I-pod waving to and fro as she swayed and spun, tangling in her hair as it swung loose and free.

"Put me down!" she managed, a moment later, the giggle bursting out of her full force. Settling on the steps, she opened her backpack and drew out a book, resting against the stone balustrade to begin reading.

"Does she do that often?" she suddenly asked, folding the book shut again.

"Dance?" Marcus queried, and she nodded a confirmation. "She used to. She's been quiet lately, kind of subdued."

"She doesn't seem it around the rest of us." Hope pointed out, wary of trying to second-guess what he knew.

"She's talking, she's joking and laughing, but... she's dressing down a lot, compared to what she used to. She hides when she's out, doesn't say much, doesn't go places."

"I guess... I guess that's sort of understandable." Hope ventured, rising to her feet again.

"I know. She's drawn attention once and been hurt for it. I just... it's like he's killed off something in her, something that's a part of her. It's like he's won."

"The game isn't finished yet." Hope packed the book away, quickly. "In fact, it's a long way from finished. I'll be back later, I have something that might... I don't know, not help, exactly, but... I'll explain later. Bye."

She dashed away, scurrying along the road until she was quickly out of sight around the corner, and Marcus turned back to the door to find it open and Shawna looking at him.

"Been waiting long?" she asked, wiping a sweat-slicked lock of hair out of her face to reveal a broad smile.

"I didn't mind." He shrugged. "I wanted to watch, but didn't want to disturb you." She tensed, a little, the smile tightening at the edges, but she relaxed into it a few moments later and turned away from the door, letting him in.

"That's called stalking, isn't it?" she called back over her shoulder.

"Only if you take it to court, I think." He smiled, lifting bag over the threshold and hanging up his jacket. "Otherwise, it's called 'courting'."

"Oh, very droll." She waved the coffee jar in the kitchen doorway by way of invitation, and he grabbed her hand and tugged her out into sight again, wrapping his arms around her gently. "Marcus, I'm all sweaty."

"I don't mind."

"I do!"

"So let's go take a shower." This time the smile disappeared when she tensed, and he eased his grip. Seeing him back off, Shawna grasped at his hand.

"I'm sorry..."

"You don't have to explain." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles gently. "You go take a shower, I'll have the tea ready for when you get out."

"I am really sorry, Marcus, I..."

"Princess. You never, ever have to justify saying no. You never would have, but especially... you don't." This time, she stepped into his arms, resting her cheek against his chest, and it was a long time before she left for the bathroom.

"I thought I heard Hope outside," Shawna settled into the chair, and Marcus deftly snatched her hairbrush out of her hands and began teasing the knots from her wet locks.

"How long has it been since you did this for me?" she rested her head back against the top of the chair, staring up at him stood behind her.

"Two years, two..." he began, and stopped with a rueful grin. "Not since college." The hairbrush never slowed, and Shawna closed her eyes and relaxed as he slowly brushed out with slow strokes.

"So... was I hearing things?"

"No, Hope was there for a while, but then she ran off somewhere. She didn't say where."