Chapter 2

It finally took a part of a sleeping pill to drive her down, laying there on the couch, which Wade opened up into a bed so she'd have some more room as evening was falling. But soon, the sleeping pill and the gentle but unending whick-whick-whick of the whetsone on the K-Bar began to get to her, and uneasily, her mind blinked out into the gentle arms of sleep. It was a troubled sleep, to be sure; the memory of the pain, the helpless screaming as the whip bit at her backside again and again filled her dreams, and plenty of times she wasn't sure whether she was asleep or awake.

"Noooo!" the anguished scream broke the silence of the darkness of the room. "Oh, My Dear God, Noooo!"

Acacia came to wakefulness instantly at Wade's voice. There was a moment of confusion, this wasn't the dorm room -- and it wasn't Sir Phillip's dungeon, either. In a rush, the events came over here, and she realized she was sleeping on Wade's couch, still fully dressed. In the darkness of the room, lit only by a street light filtering through the window, she could see him across the room, in the armchair, screaming and crying. "No! Oh, Dear God in Heaven, Noooo!" she heard again, an anguish and terror at least as bad as hers had been, coming from Wade.

Instantly, she threw the unzipped sleeping bag back, scrambled from the couch, her body aching, her back hurting, but that didn't matter. "Wade!" she cried, rushing over to him. "Wade! What is it?"

"I killed her," he wailed in an agony unlike anything she could have imagined. "Oh Dear God, Our Father, who art in Heaven, Noooooooo!!" She could see that his body was wracked with sobs, drawn from the ultimate sadness of the world. A nightmare, obviously...

"Wade, Wade!" she cried, totally at a loss to what to do. "It's all right," she said. "You're having a nightmare!"

"Nooo! It was just a Goddamn fucking mop handle. Nooo!"

"Wade! Please!" she pleaded. "It's me, Acacia. Miss Rose. You're all right, Wade, it's just a dream. Wade, Wade, please, it's all right!" For lack of any better ideas, she sat down on the arm of the chair, and took him into her arms. "Please, Wade," she pleaded. "It's just a dream. I'm here, I'm real,"

She could feel his arms close around her, tightly, holding her to him, as he buried his face in his schoulder, his body wracked with sobs and cries. She'd never seen a man cry like that, never thought it could happen, especially with a man known as "Hardass". The grip of his arms around her made her back cry out with pain, but she knew instinctively that it was only her body in pain, and that was nothing compared to the torture his soul was going through.

How long she lay there, half bent over, with Wade's tears wetting his utility jacket that she still wore, she had no idea, but now she realized that "Hardass" was just a very hard shell that covered up a gentle and sensitive man with pain worse than hers had ever been, pain that wouldn't go away easily. After a while, the grip relaxed and the crying started to go away. Somehow, she urged him to get to his feet, and led him over to the studio couch, got him to lay down, then lay down beside him, his face buried in his chest, his arm around her as he continued crying softly. "It's all right, Wade," she pleaded softly. "It'll go away. Mommy will make it better..."

There was light coming in through the curtians when Wade began to be aware of his surroundings. They were strange. There was an arm cuddled around him, and his head was resting up against a the camouflage of his utility jacket. He could feel hair laying on him, and, as he opened his eyes, could see it was long, black hair. What in the name of... "Miss Rose?" he said softly.

"I'm right here, Wade," she whispered. "It's all right. You're all right."

"Miss Rose?" he frowned, wondering what was going on.

"You had a nightmare," she said. "I let you cry yourself to sleep on my shoulder."

"I'm sorry, Miss Rose," he said, lifting his head to look up at her. "I always take a sleeping pill, but they knock me down pretty bad. I thought I should try to stay a little more alert for your sake."

"So you didn't take one?" she asked.

"Perhaps I should have," he replied. "That was... I don't remember, but if it was the usual one, it's something you should not have seen."

Acacia took a deep breath, and said as softly and gently as she could, "Something about a woman and a mop handle?"

"Yessss," he said, breaking into tears again. "Miss Rose, I... I... I just can't tell you."

"Wade, you don't have to tell me," she said. "You don't ever have to. You told me enough in your dreams last night. I understand now, Wade. How long have you had to take pills so you can sleep without nightmares?"

"Over a year," he admitted, his face buried in her chest. "Ever since...

"That's why you left the Marines, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," he sighed, still not daring to look up. "Miss Rose, I wanted to be a Marine forever. I wanted to be the best Marine there ever was. I still want to, but I... I can't. Not after..."

"That's why you're studying to be a paramedic, right?" she asked.

"It was the only thing I could think of," he said. "Something to make up for what I did. I'm sorry, Miss Rose."

"Wade, you poor, poor bastard," she said, shaking her head, a little surprised to be the strong one right now -- well, she had been for hours now. "You don't ever have to apolgize to me for what you are." She let out a sigh. "Wade, I'm not exactly proud of what I am, and I'm sure my parents would be very ashamed, but I have had to learn to accept it. I can't change what I am, any more than you can change the past. You're just going to have to learn to live with what you are, just like I'm having to."

"I know," he said. "I've been wrestling with that for over a year, now. I... I don't know that it's any better."

"It takes time, Wade," she smiled. "It just takes time. Time heals all wounds, Wade."

"I suppose," he said, and flinched, drawing his hand away from her back, where it had wrested for hours. "I'm sorry, Miss Rose," he said, instantly a lot less anguished. "I forgot about your back. Does it still hurt?"

"Quite a bit," she said. "But rest your hand there if you feel like it. I don't mind."

"But, Miss Rose," he protested. "I don't want to cause you any more pain."

"There's pain and there's pain," she smiled. "Now, Mr. McCluskey, just who's the masochist here? If you cuddling me makes you feel better, I can stand the pain. It's well worth it."

Wade carefully rested his hand on her side, away from the damaged and bruised area. "Miss Rose," he sighed and shook his head. "Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?"

"I know it sounds crazy," she smiled and told him. "It is crazy, at least to you, probably. But that's how it works."

"I'll never figure it out," he sighed. "Miss Rose, we could lie here talking for some time. But, I had no dinner last night, and neither did you. I suggest I take a look at your back again, and then perhaps I can make us some breakfast."

"All right," she said. "But you're welcome to lay here and cuddle like this as long as you want to. You see, Mr. McCluskey, I feel safe in your arms."

"Miss Rose," he smiled, "I must admit that I feel comfortable in yours, but despite your desires, I have no wish to cause you any more pain than necessary. And, I really should have treated your back again last night."

"All right," she smiled. "Just one thing. Could you maybe just call me Acacia?"

"Miss," he smiled. "I find it difficult. I was always taught that a lady should be properly addressed."

"Mr. McCluskey," she said with a big sigh. "Did your parents teach you to be a Marine, too?"

"More than they ever could have dreamed," he smiled as he rolled upright and sat up in the bed. "All right, Acacia. I'll call you by your given name if that's what you wish. I will slip up. Please correct me when I do. Now, roll over on your belly so I can see what your back looks like today."

"Oh, I don't mind you calling me 'Miss Rose' once in a while," she replied as she rolled over, and he pulled up the the back of the clothes on her back. "In fact, it's rather nice of you."

"Thank you," he said. "I must admit, your back does look better today, what I can see of it. There will be some bruising for some time to come, but the abrasions and lacerations appear to not have as much lividity."

"It's nowhere near as senisitve," she said. "I usually heal pretty well."

"Let me go get some warm water and a wash cloth," he said. "I think it would be a good idea if we treated those first with some soap and water, especially considering the clothes you've been wearing for so long."

"Why don't I just take a shower?"

"I don't know," he frowned. "It strikes me that it might be a little painful."

"Wade, Wade," she shook her head. "Remember what I said. Who's the masochist here?"

"I know," he sighed. "Miss... Acacia, that's sometimes very hard to remember. If you're going to take a shower, it would be nice if I could get some clean clothes on you, too. I'm afraid there's not much here you could wear."

"Oh, I could wear anything, if we're just going to sit around," she replied.

"Well, there might be a sweat shirt and some sweat pants that would cinch up adequately," he said. "But they'd be huge on you."

"I'll make do," she said. "I really feel like I need a shower."

"Perhaps I could arrange to wash your clothes," he suggested. "The laundry room is right down the balcony. I could leave the door open while I'm in there, and no one could go past without my noticing."

"That'll be fine," she said. "Wade, I'm still scared that Sir... uh, just Phillip is going to come for me again."

"You need not be scared, Acacia," he said. He took a deep breath and continued. "I admit to developing a deep aversion to killing, but I do not have an aversion to treatment short of that if necessary."

"I know I don't have to be scared with you around," she smiled as she got up. "Clean clothes would be nice. Point me at the bathroom."

"Very well, Acacia," he said. "Give me a moment to get the sweats for you. You'll find washclothes and towels in the upper cabinet."

Wade watched her head for the bathroom, sweat clothes in hand. A nice woman, he thought, but crazy as a loon. Whatever could possess a woman to have the desires she had? It was still a mystery. But then, last night... he remembered the nightmare all too well. It was always the same, and sometimes even a huge dose of sleeping pills wouldn't keep them from him. Time and time again, he'd woken up in the middle of the night screaming, scared to go back to sleep, but this night... well, it had been different. There was something about being in her arms that had comforted him. It was all very confusing, but it was also the best night's sleep he'd had in over a year without the help of pills, even though there had been that one bad period that he only vaguely remembered. He shook his head again, went to the kitchen, and started the coffee pot going.

"Wade," he heard her call from the bathroom. "Could you come help me for a moment?"

"Just a moment," he said, wondering what this was about. He walked into the bathroom -- she hadn't locked the door, and said, "What do you need, Acacia?"

"I think maybe you'd better do my back," he heard her say from behind the shower curtian. "I'm having trouble reaching to to a good job."

"Perhaps I'd better not," he said. "After all, Miss Rose, you do have your modesty to protect."

"Oh, Wade," she sighed, and threw the shower curtian back. He could see her standing there in the nude looking at him. Instinctively, he turned his head away. "Wade," she snapped. "Look at me!"

Reluctantly, he turned his head. Yes, she stood there nude, wet and covered with soap, looking directly at him. While one part of him commented that it was a nice view, another part was shocked at the impropriety. "Yes, Miss Rose?" he said reluctantly.

"Wade," she said, shaking her head. "Haven't you ever seen a naked woman before?"

"Yes, Miss Rose," he replied. "I have. But this is different. I do not wish to compromise your modesty."

"Wade, Wade," she smiled, shaking her head again. "You don't get it, do you? Wade, after the last year, I have no modesty to compromise. Now come over here and do my back. I promise, I won't bite."

"All right," he sighed, picking up the wash cloth and compromising with the inevitable. "Miss Rose, this does make me uncomfortable."

"Not me," she said, turning her back. "So long as it's you. How does the whole thing look?"

"Overall, still pretty terrible," he said professionally. "The, uh, whole scene is shocking, but from what I saw of the parts yesterday, it does appear there has been some improvement." He took his time, trying to do a careful job, but not unaware of some unprofessional desires of his own... soon he was done. "All right," he said. "That's about what I can help you with. The rest, you're going to have to do for yourself."

"I can manage," she smirked. "Thanks, Wade."

The coffee was getting done when she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, carrying her dirty clothes, wearing some extremely baggy sweats, with a towel wrapped around her head, some wet and stringy hair sticking out from under. "I feel better already," she announced. "Is there any chance that I could borrow a hair brush, or a comb?"

Now, it was his chance to smirk. "Acacia," he smiled. "Look at me."

"Yes?" she frowned.

"I haven't owned a comb in over six years," he smiled, brushing his hand over his head, which didn't have a hair longer than an eighth of an inch anywhere on it.

"Oh, crap," she said, shaking her head. "I should have thought. You got any ideas?"

Wade frowned for a minute, then shook his head. "The only thing I can think of is a fork. There's a bottle brush by the sink that might help."

"I'll make do," she smiled. "That ought to do all right. And, Wade?"

"Yes?"

"I shouldn't have done that to you, but we're even now. You need to use the bathroom a bit?"

"Yes, Miss Rose," he smiled. "If you don't mind."

"Take your time," she smiled. "I'll just stay here and fork my hair."

"There should be some coffee ready, any minute," he smiled as he headed for the bathroom.

He took his time, and he was back out in a few minutes, to see her standing by the sink, working the fork through her hair. He'd been aware that it was long, but now he realized just how long and thick it was, jet black, glistening as she worked on it. "I'll get going on breakfast," he suggested. "I'm afraid it won't be anything much, unless you wouldn't mind something that would normally be dinner."

"I think I could stand for something more than cold cereal," she replied. "I'm famished."

"I'm afraid it still won't be anything special," he sighed. "I usually just open cans and warm things in the microwave. I'm actually a fair cook, but I just don't go to the bother for myself."

"Whatever you want, sir," she smiled. "If I can eat it, I'm ready."

It was ready in a very few minutes. He handed her a big bowl of canned stew, and she tied into it like she meant it, standing up at the breakfast bar. "I think that makes me feel even better than anything else," she reported. "Wade, thank you a lot. I owe you more than I can imagine."

"Just trying to help, Miss," he replied.

"Look, I've been thinking about it," she replied. "Can I ask a hell of a big favor of you?"

"What is is?" he said.

"I don't know that it's the answer to everything," she said. "But if I could stay with you for a few days, till the term ends and my back doesn't look like it's been whipped, maybe I can go home over the holidays and fake it long enough to work a transfer to somewhere else. I mean, somewhere where I'm not known as 'Supersub'. It'll be hard to stay away from that, but I don't know how I can manage it here."

"Not a bad idea," he said, just a little surprised at the slight pang it caused. "And, I'm amenable. But, you are correct. With your desires, if you're not careful, you run the risk of getting right back into the same position."

"I know," she agreed. "Maybe I can think of something. Maybe a real conservative Christian college, out in the country someplace, where they never heard the term 'BDSM'."

"I would strongly suggest professional counseling to go along with that," he observed. "Realistically, it sounds like it has potential. You're really going to have problems with your desire to serve a master, though."

"I know," she agreed again. "I really don't know how I'm going to deal with this desire to obey orders. I mean, you had to learn how to do that as a Marine, right? I'm obsessed with it."

"It's not quite the same thing," he frowned. "You know, I was thinking about this a lot last night, while you were sleeping and I was sharpening my K-Bar. I think we're using some of the same words, and saying two different things."

"I don't quite follow you," she frowned.

He shook his head. "After we talked about it yesterday, I think you have a tendancy to see dominance and submission as black and white. It can't be, there have to be shades of gray. Even as a Marine, in fact, especially as a Marine, there are times we all must be submissive, and we all have to be dominant. Once you become a noncommissioned officer, the range gets even broader. You have to obey your superiors, but at the same time you have to command your subordinates. And, it's not just blind command, at least, if you want your subordinates to work well for you. I mean, it's possible to just say, 'Do this, ' and stand over them. I mean, a commander has to respect his subordinates, just as much as they respect them, or things aren't going to work very well."

"You're right," she nodded. "At the Institute, especially, it was pretty black and white, but I can see it would be different in the Marines. I mean, there are parts about it that I think would be pretty neat, and would work well for me. And there are parts that I don't think would work as well. What do you think?"

It turned into an interesting morning. Wade had been a Marine for six years, and had been through Non-commissioned officer academies, so he had a pretty good understanding of command and obedience, but it wasn't the same as she understood it. As the morning went on, after he treated her back, he washed her clothes while she lay on the couch, keeping her weight off her back. Eventually, the subject branched out, talking about the way he had been brought up, compared to the way she had. Along in there, he made lunch, and they ate it, still talking, two very different but interesting people learning a lot about each other that they'd never dreamed. It was a pleasant day.