The Light Warrior Files
Chapter 2, Part 8: Aftermath
By Chris Ward
***EDITOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains mature content violent themes.***
Upon entering the bedroom, Marita’s first stop was the shower. Due to a combination of her
horror at the thought of being, even temporarily, alone and my unwillingness to let her out
of my sight, we showered together. There was nothing sexual about it this time; it was
merely a mutual cleansing and a renewal of our intimacy.
As we washed each others hair, which we had done many times before, the water and
shampoo mixed with the tears running down my face as I was treated to my first close look
at what the bastards had done to her. Gently guiding her under the warm spray, I put some
of her favorite body wash on her loofah sponge and washed the grime and blood from her
body. As I gently washed her face and neck, and her arms, torso and legs, I winced each
time I encountered a bruise or cut. As I allowed her to wash me as I had washed her, I felt
her delicate hands clean out the wounds I had willingly received in rescuing her, and knew
that my tears were not the only ones being shed. At one point she turned her back to me
and subjected herself to a rigorous cleansing of her genitals, mumbling about wanting to
remove all trace of her attacker. I was forced to simply rub her back and wish I could take
all of her pain, everything that had happened to her, and make it my own.
After the shower was over, we engaged in an extremely rare act of intimacy. Marita lathered
and shaved my face and neck, and I reciprocated by carefully shaving her legs. Afterward
we washed off each other’s more serious wounds and, applying antiseptic ointment as
needed, bandaged them as well. I concentrated on the rope burns on her ankles and
wrists, while she concentrated on the bullet wound I had been given while escaping
through the hall, as well as a single graze across my upper arm that I had not noticed until
we entered the shower.
After dressing for bed, she crawled into the bed as I shut off the lights. Almost immediately,
she began to panic. Flipping the lights back on, I saw her sitting ramrod straight in the bed,
nearly white and shaking. Going over and sitting beside her, I took her in my arms and held
her. After several minutes she began to relax into my arms. Finally she crumbled against my
chest and began to weep. For most of an hour we sat that way; me holding her tightly as
she wept, washing some of the poisons from her soul.
Ultimately the storm of her weeping subsided. As the tension slowly faded from her body,
and her breath deepened and evened, I look down into her face. Gone were the lines of
worry, of pain and fear. She had fallen asleep, and was once again the woman I knew her
still to be, somewhere inside the hurt. Gently shifting out of the way, I lay her down.
Drawing the blankets over her, I bent over her sleeping form and, in a gesture I rarely use,
kissed her sleeping eyelids.
Shutting off the lights, I set the alarm and slid into bed beside her, falling asleep almost
immediately. The night passed fitfully. Worry over Marita kept my sleep from being as deep
as it could have been, and her recent memories brought nightmares. She’d wake up nearly
screaming, panting, pale and shaking. On those occasions where I was not already awake,
her waking would wake me as well. Sitting up in bed, I would reach over and enfold her in a
gentle, yet tight, embrace, doing all that I could to let her know that I was there and that the
real nightmare was over.
When the alarm woke us up, I found that we had finally fallen asleep while in one of those
comforting embraces. Brushing her hair away from her face, where it lay on my chest, I
smiled as her brilliant amber eyes opened sleepily, for a few wonderful moments free of
any trace of fear or horror. As I sat up, she reached one hand behind my head and, tangling
her fingers in my sleep tousled hair, pulled me down again. Our lips met in a kiss full of
love, passion, desire and hope, flavored slightly by the tears we had both shed over the
course of the night.
As she released me from the kiss, she whispered in my ear, “I knew you would come for me.
Gracias mi amigo, mi amor.”
Reaching a decision, I kissed her again and slid from the bed. Throwing on my robe, I shut
off the alarm. Under cover of this, I slid my hand into my dresser drawer and slipped
something into my pocket. Climbing back into bed with her, I gathered her back in my arms
and smiled as we lay there together, doing nothing but enjoying each other’s embrace,
keeping the demons of the last three days at bay.
Finally I slipped the item out of my robe’s pocket and let it rest at my side, concealed from
her partially closed eyes. The speech I had so carefully planned for this moment had
treasonously fled from my mind. Drawing a breath, I began to speak from the heart. “You
know, I had this amazing plan in mind. We’d go out for an evening walk, maybe even a
romantic carriage ride, through Central Park. Maybe we’d spend some time dancing,
although not necessarily. I knew we’d have this amazing romantic dinner at a quiet
restaurant I know of in the old city. After we’d eaten, I’d give you this little speech that I’d
spent weeks.”
Glancing down, I saw her face tilt up to gaze at me, confusion mixed with a hint of suspicion
in her eyes. Bending down, I kissed those inviting lips for a couple minutes before
continuing. “The truth is, though, that none of that seems to be as important now.” With
tears that were as much from fear as from love, I slipped the tiny hinge box beneath her
hand that lay across my stomach. “The fact is, I was just given a picture of life without you,
Marita, and it almost killed me. I never want to go through that again.”
The confusion fled from her eyes as the suspicion hardened toward certainty. Sitting
upright, she held the box lightly in one hand, while the other, shaking with emotion, lifted
the hinged lid. Her face paled and her eyes welled with tears as she saw what lay within.
Nestled on a cushion the color of pearl was a ring. The band was a narrow fantasy of
braided silver and gold. On the face, designed so that it gently rode the contour of the
finger, was what resembled a stylized S, lying on its side, with three hash marks extending
from it. The design itself was of gold, set with better than twenty diamonds.
Holding the box in one hand, the other flew to her mouth as she slowly sank against the
headboard and turned to me, giving me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. Drawing another
deep breath, I plunged on. “I know, with everything that’s just happened, that now might
not be the most appropriate time for this, and I apologize for that; will you consent to marry
me?”
I watched in hope and a little fear as her eyes flickered from my face to the ring and back
again, tears beginning to fall from the corners. Just as I began to fear that she would reject
me, her hand flew out and grabbed a fistful of robe. Yanking me over to her, she engaged
me in the type of kiss that made me grateful I was not standing, since my legs had suddenly
been turned into a jelly-like substance. Sinking the rest of the way to the bed, she wrapped
her arms in a vice grip around my neck and drew me down with her, never relinquishing
the kiss.
After several minutes she rolled us over, still kissing, so that she was astride me. As she
sat up on her knees, she laid the ring box on her pillow. Sensing what was coming, I began
to undo the buttons on her night shirt, even as she slid my shorts and then my robe off.
Instinctively knowing what she needed as much as what she wanted, I gave her total
control of our love making, taking my cues as she gave them. Afterward, as she lay atop me,
she granted me with yet another fierce and deep kiss and murmured, “Gracias.”
With my eyes closed, I enjoyed the feeling and the warmth of her body lying with mine, skin
on skin. After she broke the kiss and began to graze on my throat, I was unable to stifle a
slightly irreverent comment. “So, was that a ‘Yes’?”
With a laugh, she grabbed the box and sat back up on her knees. Dropping the box on my
chest, she imperiously thrust out her hand. “Put it on!”
Laughing, I said, “Yes, ma’am.” Removing the ring from the box, I gently took her left hand
and slid the ring into place on her finger. Placing my hands on her hips, I watched in loving
amusement as she sat transfixed by the ring for several more minutes. After coming down
to kiss me yet again, she laid her head on my chest and glanced at the clock. “¡Ay Dios!”
Rolling off me, she slid to her feet beside the bed. “We need to get clean and dressed, mi
corazón.”
Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of the time. The alarm had done its job by waking us up
at 1, but it was now half past 4. Muttering a handful of curses under my breath, I followed
her into the shower. After a shower that was somewhat shorter, and considerably more
erotic, than last night’s mutual cleaning, we picked up the clothing that had been dropped
and scattered through the room. Putting what little was salvageable in the hamper, limited
mainly to what had been worn to bed and my black pullover, we threw the rest away.
After doing that, we dressed. Marita sat down on the bed to put on her undergarments,
temporarily distracting me from my search for proper attire. As she slipped on the hose and
stood up to smooth them out, attaching them to the garter belt, she caught me watching
her. Rolling her eyes, she sauntered to the closet, lightly dragging her nails across the
base of my throat as she passed in front of me. After searching through her clothing for
several minutes, she pulled out a flowing skirt of deep crimson and an accompanying
blouse, ivory in color. As she laid the outfit on the bed and proceeded to dress, I took my
turn at the closet, choosing a midnight blue suit and a dark, hunter green, full sleeved shirt.
After getting dressed, I slipped the suit coat back on the hanger and placed it in the closet.
Pulling out a black pair of loafers, I sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. As I did this,
Marita flipped through a rack of belts in the closet, finally choosing a medium width, black
belt with a maroon Navajo pattern on it and fastening it around her waist. Selecting a pair of
dark flats, she slipped them on and sat in front of her vanity, beginning to do her hair and
makeup.
After slipping into the bathroom, I ran through the standard morning routine. After brushing
my teeth, I splashed on a little cologne while rinsing. Finally, I ran a brush through my hair
and reentered the room. Marita had finished her hair and makeup, and was standing up
from the vanity as I came in.
Stepping over to my dresser briefly, I slipped the mate to Marita’s ring out of the drawer
and showed it to her. After explaining the meaning behind the rings, I laughed as she
insisted on slipping it into place on my finger. Her response was a mock glare and playful
slap on my arm. Running her fingers through my hair, she gave me a kiss and turned to go.
When I stayed behind in order to enjoy watching her walk, a view I’ve always enjoyed, she
stopped. Laughing, she took my hand and marched me out the door with her and to the
living room. Following slightly behind and to one side, I could see the slight tenseness in
the way she carried herself and in the set of her face; although I doubt anyone less familiar
with her than I would have noticed it. She had, undeniably, come a long way just since last
night, and was considerably better now than when we rescued her, but there was still a
long road ahead of her. I mentally resolved that, whatever might come, she would not be
carrying that burden alone.
Upon reaching the living room, she sat us down in our chair. Almost immediately, the Dark
Lady came over with a cup of coffee for each of us. When we took the cups, she sat on the
couch; legs tucked beneath her, and reclined into Ishmael’s side. Draping his arm across
her shoulders, he looked at me with a slightly knowing smile that caused inexplicable
warmth around my collar. “So, what took the two of you so long?”
In answer, ignoring the implications of the question, Marita held up her hand. ‘I was
accepting my fiancés marriage proposal.”
When everyone sat up for a better look at the ring, I noticed a knowing and slightly
approving smile on the Dark Lady’s face. Leaving the sofa, she came over for a closer look.
Raising one eyebrow, she gently turned Marita’s hand left and right to better see the
design.
“It’s beautiful.” Sitting back down, she tucked her bare feet under her full bodied, dark
violet skirt and smoothed down the scarlet blouse she was wearing. Pulling Ishmael’s arm
back over her shoulders, she reclined against him again. “It’s a unique design, though. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen its like. What is it?”
Leaning back against me, Marita unconsciously duplicated the Lady’s gesture and draped
my arm over her shoulders, lacing her fingers with mine over her breast. Closing her eyes,
she murmured, “I’ll let you explain it to them.”
With a small grin, I took a drink of coffee. “It’s not really that difficult, and it stems from
something my fiancée said a few weeks ago, right after I first met you three. She said
something about us being two separate people, but being one entity; basically that we were
one soul in two bodies. Thus, that was the idea I was looking for while looking for an
engagement ring.
“When I couldn’t find the ring I wanted, I commissioned a set.” Flashing my ring at them, I
continued. “It’s unusual to have a male and female engagement ring, but it seemed to work
with this idea. After sitting for several hours with the designer, this is what she came up
with. The bands are braided silver and gold, but my band is exactly opposite hers. Where
hers has silver, mine has gold and where mine has silver, hers has gold. The same is true
for the face. Her design is gold set with diamonds surrounding a core of rubies, mine is
silver set with rubies surrounding a core of diamonds.
“The design itself is simple, but exactly what I was looking for. Each design is
representative of half a DNA molecule. If you were to take the design from my ring and
match it with hers, they would make a single molecule. The engagement set becomes part
of the marriage set as well. When we marry, her ring will be a woman’s version of my
engagement ring, and mine will be a man’s version of her engagement ring.”
Ishmael looked at me with curiosity. “You commissioned this design?” When I nodded, he
asked, “When? I mean, you’ve been with us almost constantly over the past couple weeks.”
Taking a last drink of my coffee, I set my hand in my lap, where it was greedily snatched in
Marita’s unoccupied hand. Smiling, I explained. “It actually happened several weeks ago,
shortly after we met. Remember when Marita and I were supposed to go out with you guys
for a few hours before dinner, but an important meeting with a client stopped me from
coming, and I only just made it in time for dinner?” When they nodded, I continued. “Well,
although it was an important meeting, there was no client. I spent that time hunting for the
engagement ring. Since I couldn’t find one, I went to Wedding Ring Originals on Lexington;
actually, the same place I used for the wolf pendant I had made for her around the time we
moved in together. That’s where I sat with a designer and worked out the commission, and
paid the deposit.
“A couple weeks later, just before,” looking at Marita, where she lay half asleep against my
side, I cleared my throat, “Well, before everything happened, do you remember me being a
few minutes late to dinner again?” When they nodded, I finished. “I didn’t actually have
trouble finding a cab. I had picked up the rings and hidden them in the apartment before
meeting you for dinner.”
With a broad grin, Ishmael stood up. “I think this calls for a little celebration. We can hit the
Triomphe for dinner and drinks, my treat.” With that, he disappeared into the guest room.
Builder walked over to me, and asked, “Can I use you room to get dressed?”
Confused, I said, “Yeah, go ahead.”
Marita’s eyes had followed Ishmael out of the room, and contained a slightly puzzled look. “I
don’t get it. I thought you had to make reservations at least a day, preferably two, in
advance to be assured a table.”
The Dark Lady flashed a smile. “You do. This table, however, has been reserved since
Friday.”
Looking over at her in surprise, I said, “Excuse me?”
Laughing, she explained. “After you called us, Warrior, when the Maiden was taken, I took a
few minutes to try and find the future. What I saw told me that yesterday, Monday, was the
first day with a chance of success in the rescue. Since I knew you would be unwilling to
wait in the first place, and would refuse to wait longer than absolutely necessary, I we’d
either have succeeded or been dead today. Thus, I had Ishmael call the restaurant and
make reservations; hoping that we’d be alive to use them in celebration of the rescue of
the Shield Maiden. I had no idea that we’d be celebrating your engagement this soon.”
Marita sat up and turned a slightly accusing glare in my direction. Her voice had a
dangerous quality to it. “She knew?”
Shrugging, I looked back at the Lady. “I guess so, but I don’t know how. I didn’t tell anybody
what I was planning.”
Yet again, that laugh sounded. “Not in words, precisely, but you definitely told me. Your
mind was screaming it in a combination of joy and fear. I never said anything, even to
Ishmael, but I knew the night you made the commission and the night you picked them up.
The only surprise about it was the date. I didn’t look deep, since it was private, but your
surface thoughts clearly indicated that you had a general idea of how and where, but not
when, to ask.”
Grinning ruefully, I shifted as Marita lay back against me again, capturing my hands, and
admitted, “That’s because I really didn’t. I had a speech, and a general idea of the type of
evening, in mind, but no clue as to when the best time to ask would be. To be completely
honest about it, today was completely spontaneous. It didn’t fit any of the half-formed plans
I had in mind. But,” stealing a glance at Marita’s bruised but still beautiful face I smiled,
“After being so afraid that I had lost her permanently, everything just sort of fell in place.”
The Dark Lady smiled and fell silent for a minute. Standing up she began to collect the dirty
dishes. Stopping by us, she said, “Can you help out with cleaning, Warrior?” Her eyes
indicated that there was something more in her mind than simply cleaning the dishes.
“Sure, I guess.” Looking at Marita, I asked, “Will you be okay alone out here, or do you want
to sit in the kitchen and laugh at us working?” In answer, she stood up and held her hands
out to help me up.
Following them to the kitchen, The Lady had Marita begin running water for dishes. Walking
me over to the other side of the kitchen, presumably to wash the counter and collect a
handful of dishes there, she talked quickly but quietly. “I don’t even begin to understand it,
but what you did for the Shield Maiden this morning was the best thing you could have
done.”
“The engagement?”
With a smile she glanced over her shoulder. “Among other things.” Catching the blush on
my face, she gave a silent chuckle. “The rough details were emanating rather loudly from
the room, and neither of you were keeping control of your thoughts when you stepped out
either. I try not to ‘eavesdrop’ on people’s thoughts, but it’s hard not to overhear when
someone’s shouting.” Dropping off the pile she was building, she came back and picked up
where she left off. “You seem to have grasped, instinctively, what sometimes takes years
to drill into most people’s heads about rape victims. The proposal indicated that you not
only wanted her, but wanted her for more than her body. The special ring told her that the
proposal was not a sympathy gesture, because it was clearly special ordered, which meant
that you had been planning to do this for some time. The specific meaning of the design
also told her that you took what she said seriously. When you gave her control of the
lovemaking immediately thereafter, you returned to her the control over her body and
sexuality that her rapist stole from her. The next union, instigated by you in the shower,
told her that, despite the fact that she had been ‘used’ by another man, albeit against her
will, you didn’t hold that against her and still found her sexually attractive.” Grabbing up the
last few dishes, she prepared to go back to the sink. “Normally, I’d have counseled against
that, but it worked this time. She is without a doubt the single strongest woman I’ve ever
encountered.”
Under my breath, I mumbled, “Me too.” With Marita washing, the Dark Lady drying and me
putting the dishes away, the chore took only about ten minutes.
During that time, the Dark Lady chose to broach another subject. Looking at Marita, she
said, “I strongly recommend that you see a qualified OB/GYN for a full physical examination.”
Marita stopped what she was washing, and turned to look directly at the Lady. “Why?”
Coughing slightly, she said, “Let’s just call it preventative medicine.”
Marita’s gaze turned cold and hard as she replied, “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because it’s a good idea. It’s quite possible that he was carrying some form of VD which
he easily could have passed on. It’s less likely, but still quite possible, that he impregnated
you. Finally, there’s the real possibility, although considerably less likely, that he caused
some damage which needs dealt with.”
Turning back to the dishes, Marita washed in silence for several minutes. When she finally
spoke, the question was directed at me. “What do you think? Should I go?”
Walking over behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her for a minute.
“The decision is yours, hon. I can’t make it for you, and wouldn’t even if I could. The Dark
Lady can’t force you to go either. But, you’ve told me often enough how important family is
to you, and that you hope to bear children someday. I’m familiar with some of the injuries
that she’s concerned about, and the more severe ones can put that hope in danger.”
Leaning her head back against me, she closed her eyes for a minute. Finally she said, “I
guess I know that, but there’s still a problem. We can’t exactly walk into any old OB/GYN
office and say, ‘Hi. I was raped by some psycho who really wanted my lover, who ultimately
killed him. I need a checkup’.”
The Lady almost smiled. “Actually, that’s very close to what I’m suggesting.”
We both turned our heads and said, at almost the same time, “Excuse me?”
“I happen to know a couple OB/GYNs…”
“Women?”
Marita had succeeded in interrupting the Lady’s train of thought. She turned a slightly
blank look to her and said, “Excuse me?”
Marita pulled away from me, standing as straight as a pole. “I asked if the doctors you were
talking about were women. Because, after what happened to me, there’s only one man I’m
giving that kind of access to my body!”
The Dark Lady thought for a minute, and then started over. “All right. I know an OB/GYN, a
woman, you can go to. When I was a therapist I sent several girls to her.”
Marita scrubbed the last few dishes in silence, draining the sink and drying her hands
before looking over at the Lady again. “Even if I accepted that, it still doesn’t answer the
special problems in this case.”
The Lady smiled tightly. “This doctor works with the battered woman’s underground. If I tell
her the rapist has been dealt with, she won’t ask questions.”
Marita leaned back against me and closed her eyes for another minute. Finally she asked
me in a small voice, “I need an opinion here, darling. Do you really think I should go?”
Looking down into her hair, I murmured, “I think it would be a good idea. At least we’d
know.”
Opening her eyes again, she stood up. “Ándale.” Turning to look at me, her voice
strengthened, “But only if you come with me.”
Drawing her back to my arms, I said, “Never planned otherwise.”
With that decision made, the Lady went to the guest room to finish getting ready for dinner,
and Marita and I went to our room as well. After letting Builder know that he could head
back to the living room, she sat in front of her vanity to touch up her hair and makeup while
I ran a comb through my own hair. Grabbing the suit coat and tie from the closet, I put them
on and watched as Marita finished her preparations. Pulling out a pair of heels that
matched the skirt, she slipped them on in place of the flats she had been wearing. Standing
up, she turned to me and asked, “How do I look?”
Knowing that a quick answer would undoubtedly cause trouble, I ran a practiced eye over
her for a couple seconds. The outfit she had chosen concealed most of the bruising and
cuts. The hose and heels combined to hide the rope burns on her ankles. Her left wrist
sported a slim watch, while her right wrist had a thin, fashionable bracelet. Together they
distracted the eye from the marks left on the wrists by the ropes. Her hair was done is such
a way as to conceal he bruising on her neck. It gently fell down her head and lay along the
nape of her neck, falling to a stop just at the swell of her breast. Her makeup was applied
with such beauty as to border on artistry. She had managed to conceal the worst, and used
tricks I have never understood to draw attention to her eyes, cheekbones and lips, and
away from what little she had been unable to conceal. The earrings she had chosen were
tiny golden hoops, peeking tantalizingly through the curls of her hair where it fell along the
sides. The full affect was exciting, exotic, highly flattering and almost defiantly Latina.
Placing a hand on each shoulder, I pulled her to me and gently kissed her forehead. In what
was probably the single worst Billy Crystal impersonation in recorded history, I said, “You
look marvelous.”
I watched her eyes flash with humor as she breathed out a small laugh. Picking up the
handbag that went with the outfit, she draped her coat over her arm and led me out to meet
the others by the door. Ishmael was wearing a suit of the deepest violet I had ever seen,
with shirt and matching tie of a slightly lighter shade. Builder’s suit was brilliant silver, with
the shirt and tie being several shades darker. The only change made by the Dark Lady was
to slip into a pair of heels that blended the colors of her blouse and skirt. Helping Marita on
with her coat, we left for dinner.
Although dinner was delicious and quite enjoyable, it was also, thankfully, uneventful. After
we returned home, shortly past 11, we retired to our separate rooms. Before we entered
ours, the Dark Lady handed Marita a small scrap of paper and then followed Ishmael into
the guest room. Glancing at the paper, Marita handed it to me and went into the room.
Written in the Lady’s handwriting across the top was the name of the place, Women’s Crisis
Clinic, with its address right under it. Across the bottom she had written 11-1 @ 4:45, beside
which she had written the name Dr. Celina Mendoza. Apparently the Lady had taken the
time to set up the appointment while we were getting ready to go. Shrugging, I set our
alarm to wake us up at 11 and dropped the note beside it.
Stripping, Marita dumped her skirt and blouse in a pile beside the hamper before slipping
into her night shirt. I dumped my suit in the same pile and went over to shut out the light.
After crawling into bed beside her, it didn’t take long for either of us to fall asleep.
Although she did sleep better than she had last night, it was still restless for the both of us.
She awoke several times pale and shaking. Each time, I woke to comfort and calm her,
embracing her until she fell back asleep.
When the alarm went off, I found that we had once again fallen asleep in that comforting
embrace. Carefully sliding out of bed, I turned off the alarm. As I began to rifle through my
dresser and closet for something to wear, I heard Marita get out of bed.
Slipping between the closet and me, she pulled down a dark violet polo and a pair of navy
blue pants, pressing the hangars into my hand as she turned to kiss me. After breaking the
kiss, she gave me a little shove and told me to get in the shower.
After a quick shower, in which she joined me, we took care of the other morning
necessities and dressed. She had chosen a strapless dress, ending maybe two inches
above the knee, of a dark blue, nearly violet. It had barely visible striping of a dark maroon
as well. As I made the bed and generally straightened up the room, she pulled on a pair of
maroon, knee-high boots and began to do her hair and makeup.
By the time I had gathered the dry cleaning together, she was finished. Passing through the
living room we said our good mornings to Builder, on the computer, and the Dark Lady and
Ishmael, who were relaxing on the couch together while watching what appeared to be the
original Music Man. Sitting at the island together, we enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee.
Glancing at the clock, I let her know that it was a little past 2, and that we did have a stop to
make before the appointment. Back in the room, I slipped the dry cleaning and hangars into
the drop off bag while she transferred the contents of last night’s handbag to a slim
shoulder purse.
Draping the bag over one shoulder, I turned around in time to get hit in the face by a flying
leather jacket. Silvery peals of laughter from the other side of the room informed me of
what had happened. Dumping the bag on the floor, I tossed the jacket onto the bed and
leapt toward the closet in mock fury. I caught her just as she tried to duck into the closet to
hide. Flashing my hands across her body, knowing the most reactive spots, I tickled her
unmercifully, as she laughingly attempted to break free. After a couple minutes she called a
halt to the fun. Straightening her dress, she pulled on a maroon half-jacket, matching the
striping on her dress, as I pulled on the leather jacket she had thrown at me. After I picked
up the bag we left the apartment.
Walking to the cleaners, we stopped to pick up a couple dogs and coffees. After dropping
of the dry cleaning, we hailed a cab since we had less than an hour to the appointment.
After filling out the limited paperwork at the clinic, we waited for Marita to be called in back.
At about ten of 5 a nurse stepped into the back doorway and called her. When I started to
follow her back, the nurse stopped me. “Excuse me, sir? You can stay here in the waiting
room.”
Gently shaking her hand from my arm, I smiled. “I know I can, but I’m not going to.”
Attempting to pass her again, she grabbed my arm harder. “Men are not allowed back
there, sir. You are welcome to wait here for her.” The tone of her voice clearly indicated
that she was unafraid of me.
Seeing the panic mounting in Marita’s eyes, and feeling the sudden tension in her grip on
my other arm, it was all I could do to restrain my temper. After closing my eyes for a couple
seconds, I looked at Marita. “Will you be all right here for a couple minutes?” Looking to
the other side of the door, closest to the desk, I finished, “I’ll be right over there with the
nurse.” When she nodded, I gently removed the nurse’s hand from my arm and said, “If you’
d come with me?”
After taking her over, I turned so I could still keep an eye on Marita. “Ma’am? When you
were over there, trying to stop me from going back with the woman I love, did you happen
to notice the bruising on her face and neck?” When she nodded, I continued, “Well, those
are just the ones she’s unable to hide. There are more, and worse, under her clothes and
makeup. Since she got away from the bastard that did it to her, we’ve only been out of each
other’s sight long enough to use the john. She gets terrified if I even suggest that she stay
in the living room while I do dishes. To tell the truth, the idea of even a temporary
separation from her doesn’t thrill me either.”
The nurse drew herself up to her full height; an event that might have been more imposing
if she had been a little taller than her apparent five foot even. “This place is perfectly safe,
sir.”
“Understood. But, she was at the courthouse when she was grabbed, working for her law
firm. No place is safe, understand? More importantly, I am going back there at her express
request, okay?”
Dr. Mendoza came out just as I finished that comment. Slim and attractive, probably in her
early to mid fifties, she exuded an aura of trustworthiness and reliability, as well as a quiet
but absolute authority. “Is there a problem here, Nurse Blackwood?”
The young nurse turned around with a slightly exasperated sigh. “Not exactly, Doctor. This
gentleman refuses to remain in the waiting room during Ms. De Contego’s exam.”
The doctor turned to look at Marita, and then glanced at me. “Are you with the young lady
then?” When I indicated that I was, she turned back to the nurse. “You were, of course,
quite correct in stopping him, Ms. Blackwood. It so happens, in this case, that the young
lady was referred to me by a therapist whose opinion I hold of high value. She told me
something about the rather unique circumstances involved in this situation. More
importantly, she has personally guaranteed me that this young man not only had nothing to
do with the assault on that poor woman, but that he was nowhere near her when it
happened; a circumstance that he is still upset about, apparently, and rectified shortly
thereafter. Also, she heard the young lady make his presence during the exam her sole
demand in scheduling it. For that reason I will allow him to be present.”
Leading me back over to Marita, who clutched my arm in relief, the Dr. Mendoza led us back
to the exam room. During the brief trip, she looked through the paperwork and carried a
running commentary. “Don’t mind Nurse Blackwood, the young woman’s a saint. She’s even
more protective of our girls than I am, which probably stems from the fact that she was
once a victim herself. Ah, here we are.” Opening the door, she ushered us into a
comfortable room. Catching the look on our faces, she laughed. “I was involved in the
design of this clinic. I decided that the ladies who came through here would be
uncomfortable enough without us going out of our way to add to it.”
Pointing to a set of shelves, she continued, “Now, my dear, if you’ll be so good as to
change, we can begin. I’m afraid I couldn’t get away from those horrible hospital gowns, but
it couldn’t be helped.” After Marita changed and handed me her folded clothing, the doctor
helped her into the exam table. First on tap was a basic physical examination, with the
doctor looking closely at some of the bruises that seemed to be worsening. I was only
grateful that the majority of them seemed to be fading away. Next came the more invasive
examination. Asking a series of delicately phrased questions about the rape, Dr. Mendoza
conducted a quick but thorough and professional exam.
After the exam, but before releasing her from the bed, she took a series of blood draws.
Ushering Marita into the bathroom, she also obtained a urine sample. She called Nurse
Blackwood back to take the samples to the onsite lab for immediate testing. Finally letting
Marita dress, she said, “If the two of you will wait here, we should have the results within
an hour or so.”
As she prepared to leave, I asked, “An hour? I admit I’m not as educated about them as you
are, but I was under the impression that some of them, especially the HIV test, could take
several days, even months, for results.”
She smiled. “Normally, you’d be right. However, one of my techs is currently running a
series of studies for which she obtained a federal grant. She noticed that infected blood, in
most cases as soon as twenty-four hours after infection, has a series of reactions, unique
to the infecting disease or virus. HIV, genital herpes, gonorrhea, any of the known VDs, can
be spotted this way much earlier. Although she’s still testing and proving the results, I’ve
not caught her wrong in a single case.” With that, she left.
Marita had finished dressing in silence. Once done, she brought the chair Dr. Mendoza had
been using over and sat in it so she was facing me.
I knew from the look on her face that she was worried; probably more than she had yet
been, and almost certainly more than she needed to be. Lowering her eyes to the floor, she
asked, “What if the results are positive?”
I knew her well enough not to take her concern lightly. Leaning forward, I rested my
forehead against hers and gently squeezed her hands in mine. “We’ll deal with it, baby.
Whatever happens, assuming anything does, we’ll deal with it.”
Tears standing in her eyes, her voice began to edge toward hysteria. “What if he made me
so I can’t bear children?” Lifting her eyes, they caught mine as horror to fill them. “Oh God,
what if I’m carrying his?”
Reaching a hand out, I pressed a finger to her lips. “Marita? Honey, I need you to listen to
me for a minute.” When she quieted down, I began again. “If you are pregnant, and if it is
his, we’ll decide what to do about it, together. Understand? Now, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit
that I look forward to fathering your children; to having you give birth to one or more little
miracles that are a result of our love. However, if something did happen and that’s
impossible, as unlikely as that is, we’ll make decisions. In both cases, we do no good
worrying about the possibilities until the tests come back.” Lacing the fingers of my left
hand in hers, I lifted them between us so that both rings were visible to her. “When I gave
you that ring, and you slipped mine on, I already knew what the possibilities were. I had
already run each and every possibility through my mind. Do you know what I decided?”
Letting our hands fall back down, I used the thumb of my free hand to wipe tears from the
corners of her eyes. “I decided that it didn’t matter; that it still doesn’t. As long as we’re
together, as long as we remain united, we can handle whatever comes.” Releasing her
hand, I gently took both sides of her head, guiding her face to look into my eyes, so that
she could see the sincerity. “Whatever happens, whatever news the doctor brings through
that door, we face it together. I’m going nowhere.”
For a man who has always hated speaking a lot, and for whom talking about emotions was
such a foreign concept as to be virtually impossible, I was doing a remarkably good job of
saying and doing the right thing the past couple days. With a low cry, tears streaming down
her face, Marita threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into an embrace. Holding
the awkward position for several minutes, she finally broke it long enough to slip into my
lap.
Slipping one arm around my shoulders, she draped her legs over the arm of the chair and
rested her head on my shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I laced the fingers of
my other hand with her free hand and rested them on her thigh. We were still seated in the
position most of an hour later when Dr. Mendoza came back in. Hearing the door open, we
both looked up. I could feel the tension which had so reluctantly fled from Marita’s body
flood right back in.
Pulling her chair a little ways apart from us, the doctor sat down and thumbed through the
chart she had brought with her. After a minute she looked up, directly at Marita. “I don’t
know how you managed it, my dear, but you definitely dodged the bullet. Your blood tests
came back clean; across the board.”
Marita was almost disbelieving. “You mean…”
The doctor smiled. “Exactly. As far as VD is concerned, you didn’t get so much as a pimple.”
Flipping to the next page, she continued. “The pregnancy test also came back negative.”
Catching the look in Marita’s eye, she continued, “You are not carrying his child.” Flipping
to the last page on the chart she finished with a slight smile. “Some of the bruising, you
commented, seems to be getting worse. That’s fairly normal. It simply means that the bruise
was deeper in those spots. Given how fast you seem to be healing from the other bruises, I
would estimate another three days, at the outside, before they fade to where the others are
now. Also, you don’t have to worry about any interior scarring. There may be a little bit, but
it’s unlikely. The tearing I would have expected from a severe rape was there, but it was
not as bad as it could have been.” When she saw the look of relief the two of us
exchanged, she nodded. “Yes. That means that, when the two of you decide it is time, you
will be able to carry and birth children.”
Ignoring the spontaneous kiss of pure joy and relief between myself and Marita, she waited
by the door for us to get up. Leading us to the front, she shook our hands as we left.
The two of us spent the remainder of the day in an orgy of relief. Calling the apartment, I let
the Lady know the good news and that we wouldn’t be home until late. After hanging up the
phone, I treated Marita to a nice early dinner. Walking around town, we went on a small
shopping spree and ended up outside one of her favorite clubs. We hadn’t been there
since before everything started, so we popped in for a couple drinks and a lot of dancing.
All told, we didn’t get back to the apartment until well after 1 in the morning. Upon entering,
we made a beeline, as quietly as possible, to our bedroom. Setting the bags down near the
closet door, I headed to the bathroom to take care of business and wash up. After a couple
minutes, I headed out as Marita took it over. Getting ready for bed, I had just switched off
the light, when I heard her clear her throat. Turning around, I realized that she was
standing in the bathroom door, with that light still on. A second later I realized that she had
also gotten ready for bed, but neglected to put anything on. A second after that, I realized
what that meant. Going over to her, I reached around her to shut the light off. Picking her
up in my arms, I carried her over to the bed and gently lay down with her. After an extended
and serious kiss between us, the night vanished in passion.
Chapter 2, Part 8: Aftermath
By Chris Ward
***EDITOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains mature content violent themes.***
Upon entering the bedroom, Marita’s first stop was the shower. Due to a combination of her
horror at the thought of being, even temporarily, alone and my unwillingness to let her out
of my sight, we showered together. There was nothing sexual about it this time; it was
merely a mutual cleansing and a renewal of our intimacy.
As we washed each others hair, which we had done many times before, the water and
shampoo mixed with the tears running down my face as I was treated to my first close look
at what the bastards had done to her. Gently guiding her under the warm spray, I put some
of her favorite body wash on her loofah sponge and washed the grime and blood from her
body. As I gently washed her face and neck, and her arms, torso and legs, I winced each
time I encountered a bruise or cut. As I allowed her to wash me as I had washed her, I felt
her delicate hands clean out the wounds I had willingly received in rescuing her, and knew
that my tears were not the only ones being shed. At one point she turned her back to me
and subjected herself to a rigorous cleansing of her genitals, mumbling about wanting to
remove all trace of her attacker. I was forced to simply rub her back and wish I could take
all of her pain, everything that had happened to her, and make it my own.
After the shower was over, we engaged in an extremely rare act of intimacy. Marita lathered
and shaved my face and neck, and I reciprocated by carefully shaving her legs. Afterward
we washed off each other’s more serious wounds and, applying antiseptic ointment as
needed, bandaged them as well. I concentrated on the rope burns on her ankles and
wrists, while she concentrated on the bullet wound I had been given while escaping
through the hall, as well as a single graze across my upper arm that I had not noticed until
we entered the shower.
After dressing for bed, she crawled into the bed as I shut off the lights. Almost immediately,
she began to panic. Flipping the lights back on, I saw her sitting ramrod straight in the bed,
nearly white and shaking. Going over and sitting beside her, I took her in my arms and held
her. After several minutes she began to relax into my arms. Finally she crumbled against my
chest and began to weep. For most of an hour we sat that way; me holding her tightly as
she wept, washing some of the poisons from her soul.
Ultimately the storm of her weeping subsided. As the tension slowly faded from her body,
and her breath deepened and evened, I look down into her face. Gone were the lines of
worry, of pain and fear. She had fallen asleep, and was once again the woman I knew her
still to be, somewhere inside the hurt. Gently shifting out of the way, I lay her down.
Drawing the blankets over her, I bent over her sleeping form and, in a gesture I rarely use,
kissed her sleeping eyelids.
Shutting off the lights, I set the alarm and slid into bed beside her, falling asleep almost
immediately. The night passed fitfully. Worry over Marita kept my sleep from being as deep
as it could have been, and her recent memories brought nightmares. She’d wake up nearly
screaming, panting, pale and shaking. On those occasions where I was not already awake,
her waking would wake me as well. Sitting up in bed, I would reach over and enfold her in a
gentle, yet tight, embrace, doing all that I could to let her know that I was there and that the
real nightmare was over.
When the alarm woke us up, I found that we had finally fallen asleep while in one of those
comforting embraces. Brushing her hair away from her face, where it lay on my chest, I
smiled as her brilliant amber eyes opened sleepily, for a few wonderful moments free of
any trace of fear or horror. As I sat up, she reached one hand behind my head and, tangling
her fingers in my sleep tousled hair, pulled me down again. Our lips met in a kiss full of
love, passion, desire and hope, flavored slightly by the tears we had both shed over the
course of the night.
As she released me from the kiss, she whispered in my ear, “I knew you would come for me.
Gracias mi amigo, mi amor.”
Reaching a decision, I kissed her again and slid from the bed. Throwing on my robe, I shut
off the alarm. Under cover of this, I slid my hand into my dresser drawer and slipped
something into my pocket. Climbing back into bed with her, I gathered her back in my arms
and smiled as we lay there together, doing nothing but enjoying each other’s embrace,
keeping the demons of the last three days at bay.
Finally I slipped the item out of my robe’s pocket and let it rest at my side, concealed from
her partially closed eyes. The speech I had so carefully planned for this moment had
treasonously fled from my mind. Drawing a breath, I began to speak from the heart. “You
know, I had this amazing plan in mind. We’d go out for an evening walk, maybe even a
romantic carriage ride, through Central Park. Maybe we’d spend some time dancing,
although not necessarily. I knew we’d have this amazing romantic dinner at a quiet
restaurant I know of in the old city. After we’d eaten, I’d give you this little speech that I’d
spent weeks.”
Glancing down, I saw her face tilt up to gaze at me, confusion mixed with a hint of suspicion
in her eyes. Bending down, I kissed those inviting lips for a couple minutes before
continuing. “The truth is, though, that none of that seems to be as important now.” With
tears that were as much from fear as from love, I slipped the tiny hinge box beneath her
hand that lay across my stomach. “The fact is, I was just given a picture of life without you,
Marita, and it almost killed me. I never want to go through that again.”
The confusion fled from her eyes as the suspicion hardened toward certainty. Sitting
upright, she held the box lightly in one hand, while the other, shaking with emotion, lifted
the hinged lid. Her face paled and her eyes welled with tears as she saw what lay within.
Nestled on a cushion the color of pearl was a ring. The band was a narrow fantasy of
braided silver and gold. On the face, designed so that it gently rode the contour of the
finger, was what resembled a stylized S, lying on its side, with three hash marks extending
from it. The design itself was of gold, set with better than twenty diamonds.
Holding the box in one hand, the other flew to her mouth as she slowly sank against the
headboard and turned to me, giving me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. Drawing another
deep breath, I plunged on. “I know, with everything that’s just happened, that now might
not be the most appropriate time for this, and I apologize for that; will you consent to marry
me?”
I watched in hope and a little fear as her eyes flickered from my face to the ring and back
again, tears beginning to fall from the corners. Just as I began to fear that she would reject
me, her hand flew out and grabbed a fistful of robe. Yanking me over to her, she engaged
me in the type of kiss that made me grateful I was not standing, since my legs had suddenly
been turned into a jelly-like substance. Sinking the rest of the way to the bed, she wrapped
her arms in a vice grip around my neck and drew me down with her, never relinquishing
the kiss.
After several minutes she rolled us over, still kissing, so that she was astride me. As she
sat up on her knees, she laid the ring box on her pillow. Sensing what was coming, I began
to undo the buttons on her night shirt, even as she slid my shorts and then my robe off.
Instinctively knowing what she needed as much as what she wanted, I gave her total
control of our love making, taking my cues as she gave them. Afterward, as she lay atop me,
she granted me with yet another fierce and deep kiss and murmured, “Gracias.”
With my eyes closed, I enjoyed the feeling and the warmth of her body lying with mine, skin
on skin. After she broke the kiss and began to graze on my throat, I was unable to stifle a
slightly irreverent comment. “So, was that a ‘Yes’?”
With a laugh, she grabbed the box and sat back up on her knees. Dropping the box on my
chest, she imperiously thrust out her hand. “Put it on!”
Laughing, I said, “Yes, ma’am.” Removing the ring from the box, I gently took her left hand
and slid the ring into place on her finger. Placing my hands on her hips, I watched in loving
amusement as she sat transfixed by the ring for several more minutes. After coming down
to kiss me yet again, she laid her head on my chest and glanced at the clock. “¡Ay Dios!”
Rolling off me, she slid to her feet beside the bed. “We need to get clean and dressed, mi
corazón.”
Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of the time. The alarm had done its job by waking us up
at 1, but it was now half past 4. Muttering a handful of curses under my breath, I followed
her into the shower. After a shower that was somewhat shorter, and considerably more
erotic, than last night’s mutual cleaning, we picked up the clothing that had been dropped
and scattered through the room. Putting what little was salvageable in the hamper, limited
mainly to what had been worn to bed and my black pullover, we threw the rest away.
After doing that, we dressed. Marita sat down on the bed to put on her undergarments,
temporarily distracting me from my search for proper attire. As she slipped on the hose and
stood up to smooth them out, attaching them to the garter belt, she caught me watching
her. Rolling her eyes, she sauntered to the closet, lightly dragging her nails across the
base of my throat as she passed in front of me. After searching through her clothing for
several minutes, she pulled out a flowing skirt of deep crimson and an accompanying
blouse, ivory in color. As she laid the outfit on the bed and proceeded to dress, I took my
turn at the closet, choosing a midnight blue suit and a dark, hunter green, full sleeved shirt.
After getting dressed, I slipped the suit coat back on the hanger and placed it in the closet.
Pulling out a black pair of loafers, I sat on the edge of the bed to put them on. As I did this,
Marita flipped through a rack of belts in the closet, finally choosing a medium width, black
belt with a maroon Navajo pattern on it and fastening it around her waist. Selecting a pair of
dark flats, she slipped them on and sat in front of her vanity, beginning to do her hair and
makeup.
After slipping into the bathroom, I ran through the standard morning routine. After brushing
my teeth, I splashed on a little cologne while rinsing. Finally, I ran a brush through my hair
and reentered the room. Marita had finished her hair and makeup, and was standing up
from the vanity as I came in.
Stepping over to my dresser briefly, I slipped the mate to Marita’s ring out of the drawer
and showed it to her. After explaining the meaning behind the rings, I laughed as she
insisted on slipping it into place on my finger. Her response was a mock glare and playful
slap on my arm. Running her fingers through my hair, she gave me a kiss and turned to go.
When I stayed behind in order to enjoy watching her walk, a view I’ve always enjoyed, she
stopped. Laughing, she took my hand and marched me out the door with her and to the
living room. Following slightly behind and to one side, I could see the slight tenseness in
the way she carried herself and in the set of her face; although I doubt anyone less familiar
with her than I would have noticed it. She had, undeniably, come a long way just since last
night, and was considerably better now than when we rescued her, but there was still a
long road ahead of her. I mentally resolved that, whatever might come, she would not be
carrying that burden alone.
Upon reaching the living room, she sat us down in our chair. Almost immediately, the Dark
Lady came over with a cup of coffee for each of us. When we took the cups, she sat on the
couch; legs tucked beneath her, and reclined into Ishmael’s side. Draping his arm across
her shoulders, he looked at me with a slightly knowing smile that caused inexplicable
warmth around my collar. “So, what took the two of you so long?”
In answer, ignoring the implications of the question, Marita held up her hand. ‘I was
accepting my fiancés marriage proposal.”
When everyone sat up for a better look at the ring, I noticed a knowing and slightly
approving smile on the Dark Lady’s face. Leaving the sofa, she came over for a closer look.
Raising one eyebrow, she gently turned Marita’s hand left and right to better see the
design.
“It’s beautiful.” Sitting back down, she tucked her bare feet under her full bodied, dark
violet skirt and smoothed down the scarlet blouse she was wearing. Pulling Ishmael’s arm
back over her shoulders, she reclined against him again. “It’s a unique design, though. I
don’t think I’ve ever seen its like. What is it?”
Leaning back against me, Marita unconsciously duplicated the Lady’s gesture and draped
my arm over her shoulders, lacing her fingers with mine over her breast. Closing her eyes,
she murmured, “I’ll let you explain it to them.”
With a small grin, I took a drink of coffee. “It’s not really that difficult, and it stems from
something my fiancée said a few weeks ago, right after I first met you three. She said
something about us being two separate people, but being one entity; basically that we were
one soul in two bodies. Thus, that was the idea I was looking for while looking for an
engagement ring.
“When I couldn’t find the ring I wanted, I commissioned a set.” Flashing my ring at them, I
continued. “It’s unusual to have a male and female engagement ring, but it seemed to work
with this idea. After sitting for several hours with the designer, this is what she came up
with. The bands are braided silver and gold, but my band is exactly opposite hers. Where
hers has silver, mine has gold and where mine has silver, hers has gold. The same is true
for the face. Her design is gold set with diamonds surrounding a core of rubies, mine is
silver set with rubies surrounding a core of diamonds.
“The design itself is simple, but exactly what I was looking for. Each design is
representative of half a DNA molecule. If you were to take the design from my ring and
match it with hers, they would make a single molecule. The engagement set becomes part
of the marriage set as well. When we marry, her ring will be a woman’s version of my
engagement ring, and mine will be a man’s version of her engagement ring.”
Ishmael looked at me with curiosity. “You commissioned this design?” When I nodded, he
asked, “When? I mean, you’ve been with us almost constantly over the past couple weeks.”
Taking a last drink of my coffee, I set my hand in my lap, where it was greedily snatched in
Marita’s unoccupied hand. Smiling, I explained. “It actually happened several weeks ago,
shortly after we met. Remember when Marita and I were supposed to go out with you guys
for a few hours before dinner, but an important meeting with a client stopped me from
coming, and I only just made it in time for dinner?” When they nodded, I continued. “Well,
although it was an important meeting, there was no client. I spent that time hunting for the
engagement ring. Since I couldn’t find one, I went to Wedding Ring Originals on Lexington;
actually, the same place I used for the wolf pendant I had made for her around the time we
moved in together. That’s where I sat with a designer and worked out the commission, and
paid the deposit.
“A couple weeks later, just before,” looking at Marita, where she lay half asleep against my
side, I cleared my throat, “Well, before everything happened, do you remember me being a
few minutes late to dinner again?” When they nodded, I finished. “I didn’t actually have
trouble finding a cab. I had picked up the rings and hidden them in the apartment before
meeting you for dinner.”
With a broad grin, Ishmael stood up. “I think this calls for a little celebration. We can hit the
Triomphe for dinner and drinks, my treat.” With that, he disappeared into the guest room.
Builder walked over to me, and asked, “Can I use you room to get dressed?”
Confused, I said, “Yeah, go ahead.”
Marita’s eyes had followed Ishmael out of the room, and contained a slightly puzzled look. “I
don’t get it. I thought you had to make reservations at least a day, preferably two, in
advance to be assured a table.”
The Dark Lady flashed a smile. “You do. This table, however, has been reserved since
Friday.”
Looking over at her in surprise, I said, “Excuse me?”
Laughing, she explained. “After you called us, Warrior, when the Maiden was taken, I took a
few minutes to try and find the future. What I saw told me that yesterday, Monday, was the
first day with a chance of success in the rescue. Since I knew you would be unwilling to
wait in the first place, and would refuse to wait longer than absolutely necessary, I we’d
either have succeeded or been dead today. Thus, I had Ishmael call the restaurant and
make reservations; hoping that we’d be alive to use them in celebration of the rescue of
the Shield Maiden. I had no idea that we’d be celebrating your engagement this soon.”
Marita sat up and turned a slightly accusing glare in my direction. Her voice had a
dangerous quality to it. “She knew?”
Shrugging, I looked back at the Lady. “I guess so, but I don’t know how. I didn’t tell anybody
what I was planning.”
Yet again, that laugh sounded. “Not in words, precisely, but you definitely told me. Your
mind was screaming it in a combination of joy and fear. I never said anything, even to
Ishmael, but I knew the night you made the commission and the night you picked them up.
The only surprise about it was the date. I didn’t look deep, since it was private, but your
surface thoughts clearly indicated that you had a general idea of how and where, but not
when, to ask.”
Grinning ruefully, I shifted as Marita lay back against me again, capturing my hands, and
admitted, “That’s because I really didn’t. I had a speech, and a general idea of the type of
evening, in mind, but no clue as to when the best time to ask would be. To be completely
honest about it, today was completely spontaneous. It didn’t fit any of the half-formed plans
I had in mind. But,” stealing a glance at Marita’s bruised but still beautiful face I smiled,
“After being so afraid that I had lost her permanently, everything just sort of fell in place.”
The Dark Lady smiled and fell silent for a minute. Standing up she began to collect the dirty
dishes. Stopping by us, she said, “Can you help out with cleaning, Warrior?” Her eyes
indicated that there was something more in her mind than simply cleaning the dishes.
“Sure, I guess.” Looking at Marita, I asked, “Will you be okay alone out here, or do you want
to sit in the kitchen and laugh at us working?” In answer, she stood up and held her hands
out to help me up.
Following them to the kitchen, The Lady had Marita begin running water for dishes. Walking
me over to the other side of the kitchen, presumably to wash the counter and collect a
handful of dishes there, she talked quickly but quietly. “I don’t even begin to understand it,
but what you did for the Shield Maiden this morning was the best thing you could have
done.”
“The engagement?”
With a smile she glanced over her shoulder. “Among other things.” Catching the blush on
my face, she gave a silent chuckle. “The rough details were emanating rather loudly from
the room, and neither of you were keeping control of your thoughts when you stepped out
either. I try not to ‘eavesdrop’ on people’s thoughts, but it’s hard not to overhear when
someone’s shouting.” Dropping off the pile she was building, she came back and picked up
where she left off. “You seem to have grasped, instinctively, what sometimes takes years
to drill into most people’s heads about rape victims. The proposal indicated that you not
only wanted her, but wanted her for more than her body. The special ring told her that the
proposal was not a sympathy gesture, because it was clearly special ordered, which meant
that you had been planning to do this for some time. The specific meaning of the design
also told her that you took what she said seriously. When you gave her control of the
lovemaking immediately thereafter, you returned to her the control over her body and
sexuality that her rapist stole from her. The next union, instigated by you in the shower,
told her that, despite the fact that she had been ‘used’ by another man, albeit against her
will, you didn’t hold that against her and still found her sexually attractive.” Grabbing up the
last few dishes, she prepared to go back to the sink. “Normally, I’d have counseled against
that, but it worked this time. She is without a doubt the single strongest woman I’ve ever
encountered.”
Under my breath, I mumbled, “Me too.” With Marita washing, the Dark Lady drying and me
putting the dishes away, the chore took only about ten minutes.
During that time, the Dark Lady chose to broach another subject. Looking at Marita, she
said, “I strongly recommend that you see a qualified OB/GYN for a full physical examination.”
Marita stopped what she was washing, and turned to look directly at the Lady. “Why?”
Coughing slightly, she said, “Let’s just call it preventative medicine.”
Marita’s gaze turned cold and hard as she replied, “I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because it’s a good idea. It’s quite possible that he was carrying some form of VD which
he easily could have passed on. It’s less likely, but still quite possible, that he impregnated
you. Finally, there’s the real possibility, although considerably less likely, that he caused
some damage which needs dealt with.”
Turning back to the dishes, Marita washed in silence for several minutes. When she finally
spoke, the question was directed at me. “What do you think? Should I go?”
Walking over behind her, I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her for a minute.
“The decision is yours, hon. I can’t make it for you, and wouldn’t even if I could. The Dark
Lady can’t force you to go either. But, you’ve told me often enough how important family is
to you, and that you hope to bear children someday. I’m familiar with some of the injuries
that she’s concerned about, and the more severe ones can put that hope in danger.”
Leaning her head back against me, she closed her eyes for a minute. Finally she said, “I
guess I know that, but there’s still a problem. We can’t exactly walk into any old OB/GYN
office and say, ‘Hi. I was raped by some psycho who really wanted my lover, who ultimately
killed him. I need a checkup’.”
The Lady almost smiled. “Actually, that’s very close to what I’m suggesting.”
We both turned our heads and said, at almost the same time, “Excuse me?”
“I happen to know a couple OB/GYNs…”
“Women?”
Marita had succeeded in interrupting the Lady’s train of thought. She turned a slightly
blank look to her and said, “Excuse me?”
Marita pulled away from me, standing as straight as a pole. “I asked if the doctors you were
talking about were women. Because, after what happened to me, there’s only one man I’m
giving that kind of access to my body!”
The Dark Lady thought for a minute, and then started over. “All right. I know an OB/GYN, a
woman, you can go to. When I was a therapist I sent several girls to her.”
Marita scrubbed the last few dishes in silence, draining the sink and drying her hands
before looking over at the Lady again. “Even if I accepted that, it still doesn’t answer the
special problems in this case.”
The Lady smiled tightly. “This doctor works with the battered woman’s underground. If I tell
her the rapist has been dealt with, she won’t ask questions.”
Marita leaned back against me and closed her eyes for another minute. Finally she asked
me in a small voice, “I need an opinion here, darling. Do you really think I should go?”
Looking down into her hair, I murmured, “I think it would be a good idea. At least we’d
know.”
Opening her eyes again, she stood up. “Ándale.” Turning to look at me, her voice
strengthened, “But only if you come with me.”
Drawing her back to my arms, I said, “Never planned otherwise.”
With that decision made, the Lady went to the guest room to finish getting ready for dinner,
and Marita and I went to our room as well. After letting Builder know that he could head
back to the living room, she sat in front of her vanity to touch up her hair and makeup while
I ran a comb through my own hair. Grabbing the suit coat and tie from the closet, I put them
on and watched as Marita finished her preparations. Pulling out a pair of heels that
matched the skirt, she slipped them on in place of the flats she had been wearing. Standing
up, she turned to me and asked, “How do I look?”
Knowing that a quick answer would undoubtedly cause trouble, I ran a practiced eye over
her for a couple seconds. The outfit she had chosen concealed most of the bruising and
cuts. The hose and heels combined to hide the rope burns on her ankles. Her left wrist
sported a slim watch, while her right wrist had a thin, fashionable bracelet. Together they
distracted the eye from the marks left on the wrists by the ropes. Her hair was done is such
a way as to conceal he bruising on her neck. It gently fell down her head and lay along the
nape of her neck, falling to a stop just at the swell of her breast. Her makeup was applied
with such beauty as to border on artistry. She had managed to conceal the worst, and used
tricks I have never understood to draw attention to her eyes, cheekbones and lips, and
away from what little she had been unable to conceal. The earrings she had chosen were
tiny golden hoops, peeking tantalizingly through the curls of her hair where it fell along the
sides. The full affect was exciting, exotic, highly flattering and almost defiantly Latina.
Placing a hand on each shoulder, I pulled her to me and gently kissed her forehead. In what
was probably the single worst Billy Crystal impersonation in recorded history, I said, “You
look marvelous.”
I watched her eyes flash with humor as she breathed out a small laugh. Picking up the
handbag that went with the outfit, she draped her coat over her arm and led me out to meet
the others by the door. Ishmael was wearing a suit of the deepest violet I had ever seen,
with shirt and matching tie of a slightly lighter shade. Builder’s suit was brilliant silver, with
the shirt and tie being several shades darker. The only change made by the Dark Lady was
to slip into a pair of heels that blended the colors of her blouse and skirt. Helping Marita on
with her coat, we left for dinner.
Although dinner was delicious and quite enjoyable, it was also, thankfully, uneventful. After
we returned home, shortly past 11, we retired to our separate rooms. Before we entered
ours, the Dark Lady handed Marita a small scrap of paper and then followed Ishmael into
the guest room. Glancing at the paper, Marita handed it to me and went into the room.
Written in the Lady’s handwriting across the top was the name of the place, Women’s Crisis
Clinic, with its address right under it. Across the bottom she had written 11-1 @ 4:45, beside
which she had written the name Dr. Celina Mendoza. Apparently the Lady had taken the
time to set up the appointment while we were getting ready to go. Shrugging, I set our
alarm to wake us up at 11 and dropped the note beside it.
Stripping, Marita dumped her skirt and blouse in a pile beside the hamper before slipping
into her night shirt. I dumped my suit in the same pile and went over to shut out the light.
After crawling into bed beside her, it didn’t take long for either of us to fall asleep.
Although she did sleep better than she had last night, it was still restless for the both of us.
She awoke several times pale and shaking. Each time, I woke to comfort and calm her,
embracing her until she fell back asleep.
When the alarm went off, I found that we had once again fallen asleep in that comforting
embrace. Carefully sliding out of bed, I turned off the alarm. As I began to rifle through my
dresser and closet for something to wear, I heard Marita get out of bed.
Slipping between the closet and me, she pulled down a dark violet polo and a pair of navy
blue pants, pressing the hangars into my hand as she turned to kiss me. After breaking the
kiss, she gave me a little shove and told me to get in the shower.
After a quick shower, in which she joined me, we took care of the other morning
necessities and dressed. She had chosen a strapless dress, ending maybe two inches
above the knee, of a dark blue, nearly violet. It had barely visible striping of a dark maroon
as well. As I made the bed and generally straightened up the room, she pulled on a pair of
maroon, knee-high boots and began to do her hair and makeup.
By the time I had gathered the dry cleaning together, she was finished. Passing through the
living room we said our good mornings to Builder, on the computer, and the Dark Lady and
Ishmael, who were relaxing on the couch together while watching what appeared to be the
original Music Man. Sitting at the island together, we enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee.
Glancing at the clock, I let her know that it was a little past 2, and that we did have a stop to
make before the appointment. Back in the room, I slipped the dry cleaning and hangars into
the drop off bag while she transferred the contents of last night’s handbag to a slim
shoulder purse.
Draping the bag over one shoulder, I turned around in time to get hit in the face by a flying
leather jacket. Silvery peals of laughter from the other side of the room informed me of
what had happened. Dumping the bag on the floor, I tossed the jacket onto the bed and
leapt toward the closet in mock fury. I caught her just as she tried to duck into the closet to
hide. Flashing my hands across her body, knowing the most reactive spots, I tickled her
unmercifully, as she laughingly attempted to break free. After a couple minutes she called a
halt to the fun. Straightening her dress, she pulled on a maroon half-jacket, matching the
striping on her dress, as I pulled on the leather jacket she had thrown at me. After I picked
up the bag we left the apartment.
Walking to the cleaners, we stopped to pick up a couple dogs and coffees. After dropping
of the dry cleaning, we hailed a cab since we had less than an hour to the appointment.
After filling out the limited paperwork at the clinic, we waited for Marita to be called in back.
At about ten of 5 a nurse stepped into the back doorway and called her. When I started to
follow her back, the nurse stopped me. “Excuse me, sir? You can stay here in the waiting
room.”
Gently shaking her hand from my arm, I smiled. “I know I can, but I’m not going to.”
Attempting to pass her again, she grabbed my arm harder. “Men are not allowed back
there, sir. You are welcome to wait here for her.” The tone of her voice clearly indicated
that she was unafraid of me.
Seeing the panic mounting in Marita’s eyes, and feeling the sudden tension in her grip on
my other arm, it was all I could do to restrain my temper. After closing my eyes for a couple
seconds, I looked at Marita. “Will you be all right here for a couple minutes?” Looking to
the other side of the door, closest to the desk, I finished, “I’ll be right over there with the
nurse.” When she nodded, I gently removed the nurse’s hand from my arm and said, “If you’
d come with me?”
After taking her over, I turned so I could still keep an eye on Marita. “Ma’am? When you
were over there, trying to stop me from going back with the woman I love, did you happen
to notice the bruising on her face and neck?” When she nodded, I continued, “Well, those
are just the ones she’s unable to hide. There are more, and worse, under her clothes and
makeup. Since she got away from the bastard that did it to her, we’ve only been out of each
other’s sight long enough to use the john. She gets terrified if I even suggest that she stay
in the living room while I do dishes. To tell the truth, the idea of even a temporary
separation from her doesn’t thrill me either.”
The nurse drew herself up to her full height; an event that might have been more imposing
if she had been a little taller than her apparent five foot even. “This place is perfectly safe,
sir.”
“Understood. But, she was at the courthouse when she was grabbed, working for her law
firm. No place is safe, understand? More importantly, I am going back there at her express
request, okay?”
Dr. Mendoza came out just as I finished that comment. Slim and attractive, probably in her
early to mid fifties, she exuded an aura of trustworthiness and reliability, as well as a quiet
but absolute authority. “Is there a problem here, Nurse Blackwood?”
The young nurse turned around with a slightly exasperated sigh. “Not exactly, Doctor. This
gentleman refuses to remain in the waiting room during Ms. De Contego’s exam.”
The doctor turned to look at Marita, and then glanced at me. “Are you with the young lady
then?” When I indicated that I was, she turned back to the nurse. “You were, of course,
quite correct in stopping him, Ms. Blackwood. It so happens, in this case, that the young
lady was referred to me by a therapist whose opinion I hold of high value. She told me
something about the rather unique circumstances involved in this situation. More
importantly, she has personally guaranteed me that this young man not only had nothing to
do with the assault on that poor woman, but that he was nowhere near her when it
happened; a circumstance that he is still upset about, apparently, and rectified shortly
thereafter. Also, she heard the young lady make his presence during the exam her sole
demand in scheduling it. For that reason I will allow him to be present.”
Leading me back over to Marita, who clutched my arm in relief, the Dr. Mendoza led us back
to the exam room. During the brief trip, she looked through the paperwork and carried a
running commentary. “Don’t mind Nurse Blackwood, the young woman’s a saint. She’s even
more protective of our girls than I am, which probably stems from the fact that she was
once a victim herself. Ah, here we are.” Opening the door, she ushered us into a
comfortable room. Catching the look on our faces, she laughed. “I was involved in the
design of this clinic. I decided that the ladies who came through here would be
uncomfortable enough without us going out of our way to add to it.”
Pointing to a set of shelves, she continued, “Now, my dear, if you’ll be so good as to
change, we can begin. I’m afraid I couldn’t get away from those horrible hospital gowns, but
it couldn’t be helped.” After Marita changed and handed me her folded clothing, the doctor
helped her into the exam table. First on tap was a basic physical examination, with the
doctor looking closely at some of the bruises that seemed to be worsening. I was only
grateful that the majority of them seemed to be fading away. Next came the more invasive
examination. Asking a series of delicately phrased questions about the rape, Dr. Mendoza
conducted a quick but thorough and professional exam.
After the exam, but before releasing her from the bed, she took a series of blood draws.
Ushering Marita into the bathroom, she also obtained a urine sample. She called Nurse
Blackwood back to take the samples to the onsite lab for immediate testing. Finally letting
Marita dress, she said, “If the two of you will wait here, we should have the results within
an hour or so.”
As she prepared to leave, I asked, “An hour? I admit I’m not as educated about them as you
are, but I was under the impression that some of them, especially the HIV test, could take
several days, even months, for results.”
She smiled. “Normally, you’d be right. However, one of my techs is currently running a
series of studies for which she obtained a federal grant. She noticed that infected blood, in
most cases as soon as twenty-four hours after infection, has a series of reactions, unique
to the infecting disease or virus. HIV, genital herpes, gonorrhea, any of the known VDs, can
be spotted this way much earlier. Although she’s still testing and proving the results, I’ve
not caught her wrong in a single case.” With that, she left.
Marita had finished dressing in silence. Once done, she brought the chair Dr. Mendoza had
been using over and sat in it so she was facing me.
I knew from the look on her face that she was worried; probably more than she had yet
been, and almost certainly more than she needed to be. Lowering her eyes to the floor, she
asked, “What if the results are positive?”
I knew her well enough not to take her concern lightly. Leaning forward, I rested my
forehead against hers and gently squeezed her hands in mine. “We’ll deal with it, baby.
Whatever happens, assuming anything does, we’ll deal with it.”
Tears standing in her eyes, her voice began to edge toward hysteria. “What if he made me
so I can’t bear children?” Lifting her eyes, they caught mine as horror to fill them. “Oh God,
what if I’m carrying his?”
Reaching a hand out, I pressed a finger to her lips. “Marita? Honey, I need you to listen to
me for a minute.” When she quieted down, I began again. “If you are pregnant, and if it is
his, we’ll decide what to do about it, together. Understand? Now, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit
that I look forward to fathering your children; to having you give birth to one or more little
miracles that are a result of our love. However, if something did happen and that’s
impossible, as unlikely as that is, we’ll make decisions. In both cases, we do no good
worrying about the possibilities until the tests come back.” Lacing the fingers of my left
hand in hers, I lifted them between us so that both rings were visible to her. “When I gave
you that ring, and you slipped mine on, I already knew what the possibilities were. I had
already run each and every possibility through my mind. Do you know what I decided?”
Letting our hands fall back down, I used the thumb of my free hand to wipe tears from the
corners of her eyes. “I decided that it didn’t matter; that it still doesn’t. As long as we’re
together, as long as we remain united, we can handle whatever comes.” Releasing her
hand, I gently took both sides of her head, guiding her face to look into my eyes, so that
she could see the sincerity. “Whatever happens, whatever news the doctor brings through
that door, we face it together. I’m going nowhere.”
For a man who has always hated speaking a lot, and for whom talking about emotions was
such a foreign concept as to be virtually impossible, I was doing a remarkably good job of
saying and doing the right thing the past couple days. With a low cry, tears streaming down
her face, Marita threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into an embrace. Holding
the awkward position for several minutes, she finally broke it long enough to slip into my
lap.
Slipping one arm around my shoulders, she draped her legs over the arm of the chair and
rested her head on my shoulder. Wrapping one arm around her waist, I laced the fingers of
my other hand with her free hand and rested them on her thigh. We were still seated in the
position most of an hour later when Dr. Mendoza came back in. Hearing the door open, we
both looked up. I could feel the tension which had so reluctantly fled from Marita’s body
flood right back in.
Pulling her chair a little ways apart from us, the doctor sat down and thumbed through the
chart she had brought with her. After a minute she looked up, directly at Marita. “I don’t
know how you managed it, my dear, but you definitely dodged the bullet. Your blood tests
came back clean; across the board.”
Marita was almost disbelieving. “You mean…”
The doctor smiled. “Exactly. As far as VD is concerned, you didn’t get so much as a pimple.”
Flipping to the next page, she continued. “The pregnancy test also came back negative.”
Catching the look in Marita’s eye, she continued, “You are not carrying his child.” Flipping
to the last page on the chart she finished with a slight smile. “Some of the bruising, you
commented, seems to be getting worse. That’s fairly normal. It simply means that the bruise
was deeper in those spots. Given how fast you seem to be healing from the other bruises, I
would estimate another three days, at the outside, before they fade to where the others are
now. Also, you don’t have to worry about any interior scarring. There may be a little bit, but
it’s unlikely. The tearing I would have expected from a severe rape was there, but it was
not as bad as it could have been.” When she saw the look of relief the two of us
exchanged, she nodded. “Yes. That means that, when the two of you decide it is time, you
will be able to carry and birth children.”
Ignoring the spontaneous kiss of pure joy and relief between myself and Marita, she waited
by the door for us to get up. Leading us to the front, she shook our hands as we left.
The two of us spent the remainder of the day in an orgy of relief. Calling the apartment, I let
the Lady know the good news and that we wouldn’t be home until late. After hanging up the
phone, I treated Marita to a nice early dinner. Walking around town, we went on a small
shopping spree and ended up outside one of her favorite clubs. We hadn’t been there
since before everything started, so we popped in for a couple drinks and a lot of dancing.
All told, we didn’t get back to the apartment until well after 1 in the morning. Upon entering,
we made a beeline, as quietly as possible, to our bedroom. Setting the bags down near the
closet door, I headed to the bathroom to take care of business and wash up. After a couple
minutes, I headed out as Marita took it over. Getting ready for bed, I had just switched off
the light, when I heard her clear her throat. Turning around, I realized that she was
standing in the bathroom door, with that light still on. A second later I realized that she had
also gotten ready for bed, but neglected to put anything on. A second after that, I realized
what that meant. Going over to her, I reached around her to shut the light off. Picking her
up in my arms, I carried her over to the bed and gently lay down with her. After an extended
and serious kiss between us, the night vanished in passion.
