Chapter 4

Jenna closed the front door of her apartment in Justin's face, ignoring his suggestion that maybe he should come in and stick around for just a little while.

She wanted a hot bath, food, and a few hours in bed in whatever order they happened to come in.

It wasn't the first time that she had been hurt in the line of duty, or the first time she'd been taken to the hospital. But this was the first concussion she'd gotten. She didn't like the way the room tilted or the way her head hurt.

She dragged the borrowed surgical scrubs off of her sore body as she headed through the tiny crowded living room and down the hall past her spare room which she had made into a workout/study room to where her bedroom was. The bed wasn't made, clothes were scattered on the floor. She had more dirty clothes than clean ones at the moment. Her one plant was dying from neglect. There was a thin coating of dust over everything.

Damn, she had been living, breathing, eating this case since the first body was discovered all those months ago. And in the mean time, everything else suffered. She hadn't called her parents in a month, which had been brought to her guilty attention by a voice mail from her mother.

She made her way into the bathroom, standing shakily on one foot than the other while she pulled the hospital slippers off her feet. Then she bent over and turned on the water in the big claw foot tub. She threw in some of the bath salts her mother had sent her for Christmas and turned on the radio next to the sink for some background noise.

She almost groaned when she heard the radio announcer. She had dated him for a few months until she realized that his ego was much bigger than his IQ. And bigger than everything else, too. His show always irritated her but she didn't feel like changing it so she turned it down so it was a steady almost buzz in the background.

She climbed into the water with a slight hiss as the almost too hot water swirled around bruises and bumps and cuts making them sting, then laid back with a sigh and closed her eyes.

She could feel herself drifting, enjoying the heavenly gardenia scented steam rising from the water. Her pain sliding into numbness as she floated.

The big bore of the gun was pointed at her, black and ominous. She couldn't escape it, no matter which way she turned, it was there. She could see the finger tightening on the trigger and knew she had no hope. She saw fire spurting from the end of the gun, heard the thunderous roar of the projectile.

And woke up sputtering, the water growing cold around her. Her head was throbbing in counterpoint to her racing heart. She was shivering. She wiped wet hands across her face and then levered herself up from the tub. Her muscles rebelled, her side screamed and she almost fell back into the tub. Finally she was able to reach for the towel and wrap it around her. She just stood there, staring at her reflection in the big mirror over the sink behind a thin layer of mist.

She looked half dead. The weight she had lost during the case had hollowed out her cheeks which were now pale and drawn. Her eyes were huge and haunted and full of pain. Dark shadows had taken up semi permanent residence under her eyes.

The left side of her face was one huge bruise, her lip was split and slightly swollen. She had scratches and bruises running down her right arm from being tossed around in the car. She opened the towel and looked at the huge bruise that wrapped around her side. She was lucky she hadn't broken anything.

No wonder Justin thought she should have stayed in the hospital. She looked like the poster child for spousal abuse.

She let the water out of the tub, turned off the radio and went looking in her bedroom closet for clean clothes. An old pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt that should have been thrown out years ago were the best she could find that would be loose enough to not hurt. She scrounged up a pair of heavy socks for her cold feet.

She'd just ran a brush through her hair, swearing when it hit the bump on the side of her head, when someone knocked at her door.

"God, Justin. Take a fucking hint. I don't need a babysitter," she said as she headed towards the door. She turned the knob. "Would you please just go the fuck away. I don't need you he..." her words trailed off as the door opened and she saw who was standing outside it.

"Uh, Doctor... , " she searched her mental files, "Miller. What are you doing here?"

He held up the bag bearing the name of the pharmacy at the hospital. "You didn't take your prescription with you so I went ahead and had the hospital pharmacy fill it for you."

Jenna looked at the bag but didn't take it. "You didn't need to do that."

"I know, but you're going to need them." He looked her up and down. She was smaller than he had thought, at least eight inches shorter than he was. Which put her around five feet four inches. Her hair was wet, clinging in damp strands to her face. She was wearing sweat pants that she had rolled the waist band down and the legs up and an ancient tee shirt that was way too big. She had tied it at the small of her back to make up for the extra material. She looked... cute, he thought. Like someone's kid sister. She certainly didn't look like a seasoned homicide detective.

Jenna reluctantly took the bag from his hand. Manners dictated that she invite him in for coffee or something. Manners were something her mother had enforced with an iron hand and a wooden ruler. She looked at the disreputable state of her apartment and cringed. "Would you like to come in?" she asked unenthusiastically.

Ethan almost chuckled. He'd had more congenial offers from his worst enemies. He could have just left the prescription and gone, had been arguing with himself about it the entire cab ride here. But something had him pausing. "Sure, thanks." He ducked by her and studied the room he stepped into.

It was small, crowded with books and, he noted with amusement, teddy bears. There were dirty cups stained with old coffee littered about on the end tables, a pile of unopened mail graced the coffee table and spilled onto the floor, dirty clothes were thrown over the back of the couch and in one of the chairs.

"Uh, excuse the mess," Jenna slipped by him, embarrassed, and picked up some of the dirty clothes so he could sit down. "I've been kind of caught up on this case and," she stood in the middle of the living room floor, arms loaded. "Well, I guess I kind of let everything else go." She nodded toward the big cushy chair that sat in one corner. "Would you like some coffee?" Even as she asked, her scattered mind tried to remember if she had any left. She hadn't been to the store for weeks either. She hurried into her bedroom and dropped the load on the floor then back into the living room while she wondered what she was going to do with him.

He was still standing where she left him, looking at the few framed photos she had on her wall. He handed her a Styrofoam cup.

"Chamomile tea. You don't need the stimulants."

She accepted the cup, flustered. "Do you do this for all your patients?"

"Uh, actually, no." He ducked his head and then sat on the edge of one of the couch cushions. "It was an impulse. I saw the prescription form when I got off work and couldn't seem to stop myself." He grinned up at her and took another cup of tea out of his jacket pocket. "I kind of figured you wouldn't have anyone here."

Jenna sat down in the overstuffed chair and took the lid off the cup of tea. She sipped it, grimacing at the flavored hot water taste of it. "I hate hospitals," she shrugged and then hissed as muscles protested.

"I got that part. A lot of people do."

She looked him up and down. "Did you really punch him out?" she asked remembering the size of the man.

"With a little help from one of the nurses who picked just that time to scream hysterically and distract the guy." He fisted his hand again, bringing it to her attention.

"You should actually ice those knuckles." She sat her cup down and took his hand in hers, missing the startled look in his eyes. "Skins not broken."

He turned his hand over in hers and examined her knuckles. "Yours aren't even bruised."

She took her hand back, ignoring the flutter in her stomach. "I used the heel of my hand, Doc. Saves on the knuckles." She showed him, stopping the blow mere inches from his face. "Works just as good."

"Remind me never to piss you off." He picked up a fuzzy gray teddy bear that sat next to her in the chair. Then he looked at her, eyebrow cocked.

She grabbed it away from him, the skin that wasn't bruised on her face turning red. "Tell one person that you like teddy bears and look what happens." She hugged the bear to her stomach.

She looked all of ten years old in the too big clothes, cuddling the teddy bear. Unless you looked a little closer and noticed the taut curves of her breasts, her tiny waist line. Either way, she didn't look like a cop.

Jenna felt his eyes on her and wanted to squirm. She never felt like this. She was always in control. She was the one that made others squirm. That he could do this to her was unnerving enough to make her stutter.

"I... I uh... Need to ask a favor." Her voice shook a little, irritating her even more. She stuffed the bear back onto the overstuffed chair and crossed her arms in front of her.

He took a sip of his quickly cooling tea. "Okay?"

"Clear me so I can go to work." She said it quickly, all in one big breath and then sat back and waited.

"You must have hated that," he said, staring at her face. Her lips were drawn tight, a scowl of disgust in her eyes. There was a tiny line between her eyes and he had a sudden urge to reach out and trace it with his thumb, smooth it away.

She tipped her head to the side in confusion. "Hated? Hated what?"

"Having to ask to do your job."

She heaved a huge sigh and seemed to almost deflate into the chair. "Yeah, it was that noticeable?"

"Only if someone was looking." He handed her back the cup she had put on the coffee table. "Drink your tea."

She took a sip of tea, hardly realizing that she was doing as he asked. "So?"

"Will you take a pain pill?" "I don't need on..." The look in his eye shut her up. "Are they mild? I can't do my job if I'm running into walls."

"No, just huge hands." He tipped the cup she held with his finger, peering into it. Just enough left. He picked up the bag, fished out the bottle and opened it, handing her one horse sized tablet. "Very mild, just a little stronger than over the counter. You take this and then I'll only have one other condition."

Jenna glared at the pill but then stuffed in her mouth and swallowed it with some of the now cold tea. "What's the other condition?"

He couldn't believe he was going to say this. He was actually going to do it. "I go with you."