Facing the Past

"So why did you come?" Now he was openly curious.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe just to see if it was true. Maybe to see if anything had changed. And maybe... maybe just to see if I could handle coming back."

She hated that she thought there might be something to the theory in those books of facing up to the past. It seemed like so much psychobabble. Something Dr. Phil or Oprah would tell you with an earnest face while they stared into the camera. Still, it nagged at her. She'd left after she'd turned eighteen and hadn't come back. Twelve years she'd been gone; her only contact with the town was Lorna, Chris's mother. Lorna and Chris had shown Annabeth more kindness than anyone else in her life, and she couldn't cut them out of her life as she had her family.

"You look like you're handling it fine," Chris said. She loved how he spoke to her. He kept his voice low, level and quiet, as though she was a scared kitten. I suppose I was, she thought. For a long time, I was. It chilled her to think she could be again.

"It's not so bad from a distance," she said, and he could hear the half-lie in her voice.

"Nabby." She turned to look at him. "It's all right if it is," he told her, and risked stroking a stray hair back. "It's all right if it's hard, even from a distance."

She couldn't say anything then, just nodded and let her gaze slide back to the house. So many awful things had happened in there, she thought. Sometimes she had thought she'd die. Other times she had wished she would. How she had managed to get out was occasionally something she still had trouble believing. But I did get out, she reminded herself.

Those three years in this town had been like a prison sentence. She had gritted her teeth, kept her grades up, avoided her brother, been beaten by her father and ignored by her mother and grandmother. Her grades had been good enough to get her a full scholarship at the state university, hours and a world away up the highway. She had gone and worked like crazy at both her studies and her jobs. Studying straight through the summers, she'd graduated early, found a job in the city and never come back.

Now she was back and the reason was unclear. Did she need "closure," she wondered with a cringe? God, she hoped not. It sounded so... needy. Besides, what closure could there possibly be? Her father was a raging drunk and her brother a nearly murderous one. Her mother was dead in spirit if not in body, and her grandmother had been a passive but malevolent presence the whole time.

"Why don't you come see my mom?" She blinked as Chris's voice cut through her thoughts.

"Sorry? What?"

Chris smiled. "I said why don't you come to our place. My mom would love to see you."

"Thanks, but not now," she said. Shaking herself, she stepped over to her car. "I need to get out of here for a while."

"You're not going to bail them out?"

Annabeth let out a genuine laugh at that, and Chris felt himself warm at the sound. "Oh, hell, no," she said. "They'll be out on their own soon enough. Karen or Miss Eve will go post the piddling little bail amount. They can have it."

"It was good to see you, Nabby," Chris said, touching her arm again.

"You, too, Chris," she said. Her hand was nearly steady as she placed it lightly over his.

x-x-x-x

Twelve years ago

"You came." Chris watched Annabeth approach as he sat by the pond. It was night, but the moon was bright enough to see by.

"I said I would," she answered. She sat when he patted the ground next to him, grateful the moonlight hid the worst of the latest round of bruises. Her face wasn't so bad this time, she mused with some bitterness.

"I wasn't sure you'd be able to," he said. Neither looked at the other; both stared out over the water. Waves of moonlight shimmered almost hypnotically.

"I'm eighteen now," she said defiantly. "They can't make me do anything. If they do, I'll file charges and by God I'll press them all the way." Ethan had caught her by surprise a couple of days ago and so she had bruises around her ribs. At least, she thought idly, my clothes hide them.

Chris turned to look at her. She kept her gaze fixed on the other side of the pond. To anyone else, she'd look strong, even stoic. She knew Chris would see through it, but she had to keep up the pretense if only for herself. Tears gathered and she bit her lip to keep them back. When he put an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her close, she couldn't stop them.

"It's all right, Nabby," he murmured, rubbing her shoulder.

"Why do you call me that?" she asked, grabbing at any distraction to stop the tears. She didn't want anyone to see her weak, not even Chris, although he had before.

"Because you're special to me," he said simply. She turned so that she could see his face and his wonderful blue eyes that looked silver in the moonlight. "So I wanted to call you something that was just between us. If you don't like it, I'll stop."

"I like it," she said. He squeezed her shoulder and they sat silently for a long time.

Leaving Chris and his mom would be hardest, Annabeth realized. Her own family could drop dead that instant and she wouldn't care. Chris and Lorna Kincaid were a different story; she wasn't sure she would have survived without them. She had taken Chris's offer more than once to stay at their place, despite the beatings that frequently occurred afterwards. Lorna had never said anything about anything; she just smiled and acted like Annabeth was supposed to be there.

"I'll miss you," she said as her head rested on his shoulder.

"I'll miss you, too," he said, "but you can always call or write or visit. You don't have to go away forever." Then, surprising her, he used his finger to tilt her head up and kissed her softly on the lips.

Annabeth didn't know what to think after he pulled away. No one had ever kissed her like that, not that she'd given anyone the chance. Chris and Lorna were the only people she allowed to touch her. It had taken time, but she had finally trusted that they wouldn't hurt her, physically or emotionally. The first time she had let Lorna pat her shoulder without flinching away, the older woman had had tears in her eyes. Annabeth had been touched and couldn't explain why.

"Could you..." she swallowed, "could you do that again?"

Chris smiled and lowered his lips to hers once more. She sighed and unconsciously gripped his shoulder; he moved his free hand to cover hers. Annabeth relaxed as she realized Chris would let her have control, that he wouldn't force her to do anything. He's waiting for me, she thought. Gathering her courage, she turned into him and parted her lips slightly.

She smiled to herself when she felt Chris jump, then almost squeaked as he ran the tip of his tongue gently over her lips. Reflexively, she opened her mouth and let him explore, shivering at the sensations. Cautiously, she ran her tongue over his and let the taste of him run through her. Caught up in him, she blinked when he broke the kiss.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly. She looked down, afraid of the answer. She was sure she'd done something wrong. She had no experience in this area.

"Nothing," Chris said, wrapping both arms around her to hold her close. "It's just... if we keep going like that, I won't want to stop."

"You would keep going?" She stared at him.

Chris laughed softly. "In a heart beat," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "But I don't know if we should. I don't know what you want." He rocked her for a moment, holding her close and stroking her hair. Hair, she recalled bitterly, that she had had to go to a salon to fix after Trent had cornered her and hacked at it with a pair of shears. The woman at the salon had said nothing, just nodded and gone to work. She'd done a good job, Annabeth had thought, layering things to hide the ragged edges.

Suddenly Annabeth knew what she wanted. "Chris," she said quietly. He looked down at her. "I want to keep going," she told him. His eyes widened slightly.

"Are you sure?" he asked, keeping her in his arms. "I don't want you to think... Oh, hell, I don't know. You don't owe me anything, Nabby."

"Do you want me?" she asked, her voice low but steady.

"God, yes," he sighed, resting his forehead against hers. "You're so pretty, and so strong." He gave a quiet chuckle. "And I really like it when you're close to me like this."

"I like it when you touch me," she said. Her heart was pounding -- she hated leaving herself vulnerable like this, but trusted Chris wouldn't hurt her. "You're always so gentle and soft. No one else touches me like that." She swallowed, unable to say any more, although her thoughts kept running. My father beats me, my brother grabs me, my mother doesn't touch me at all, and I don't want my grandmother to touch me. "Please, Chris. I want you to be the first." The only, popped into her head, but she didn't say it.

"Nabby, I do but... I'm not... prepared..." His voice was slightly ragged and she allowed herself to believe he really did want her.

"I'm on the pill," she said. "It's all right."

"Why did you do that?" he asked, curiously. She almost laughed. It seemed so odd for him to say, yet didn't break the mood at all.

"My cycle has been messed up lately," she said, sparing him the details of why. Her father had hit her once too often in the mid-section, it appeared. "So the doctor gave me the pills to make sure it got regular. And..." she took a deep breath.

"And what?" he asked, stroking her hair again.

She hid her face in his shoulder for a moment, then lifted it again. "Trent has been... worse lately. I've been able to avoid him, fend him off. But I was afraid there might come a time when I couldn't, and so--"

"No, Nabby, please," Chris said, his voice choked with a mix of anger and fear. He held her as closely as he could; she wrapped her arms around him as well, savoring the feel of him so close. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I just... I can't hear you say that... I can't bear to think of something like that."

"Shhhh, it's okay," she soothed, rubbing his back. "I'm leaving soon. He won't get a chance." After a few more moments of quiet, she spoke again. "If you don't want to, it's all right. I wouldn't blame you."

"What?" Chris pulled back to look at her, blinked a few times. Then he shook his head. "No, that's not..." He trailed off as he leaned down and captured her lips, kissing her more urgently this time. He slid a hand into her hair, soothing her while he kept her still, kissing her lips, her face, her neck.

She sighed happily as his lips traced along her neck, shivering when his tongue ran lightly over her collarbone. He lay back on the grass, bringing her with him, holding her body close to his. As she moved to meet his lips again, he slid a hand under her shirt and traced soft circles on her lower back. "Ohhh," she said, ducking her head down and shivering. "That feels so good," she whispered.

"Good," he said, nuzzling her cheek. "That was the plan."

They lay quietly for a few minutes, listening to heart beats. Chris continued his lazy stroking until she couldn't stand it. "Touch me more," she said softly.

"Gladly," he said in husky whisper that made her shiver again. Working together, and sometimes at cross purposes, they managed to shed their clothes. Annabeth giggled when Chris cursed her bra, finally reaching back to help him. "Damn things," she thought she heard him mumble before his lips took hers again. This time there was no mistaking the desire that coursed through them both.

She pushed him away slightly, tracing his muscles and studying him in the moonlight. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing as she ran her hands over his shoulders, his chest, and his stomach. When she reached lower and wrapped her hand around him, they both gasped. Curious and tentative, she stroked him, taking his moans for approval. Keeping her hand in place and never stopping, she turned her head and laid kisses on his chest. His skin tasted hot and slightly salty; she couldn't get enough of it.

She sped up, dropping kisses on his shoulders and his neck, then moving her hands to capture his face so she could kiss him with all the passion building up within her. Chris gave one slight murmur of disappointment as her hands moved, then quickly rolled so his body was slightly over hers. His hips moved almost involuntarily as he lay there trying to control himself.

As she had, he took a moment to fully absorb her body. He stared at her eyes and slid his gaze down to her shoulders, then her breasts... and stopped when he saw the bruises on her ribs. When she felt his body tense, Annabeth opened her eyes and followed his gaze, then bit her lip and tried to wiggle away.

"No, Nabby," he said, and kissed her. "Don't move. You're beautiful. I just... I hate to see that. You don't deserve it." Gently he stroked the bruised skin, showing her he didn't care. "It makes me angry, I can't deny it. I want to go and tear their throats out for hurting you."

"They aren't worth your anger," she said as tears dripped from the corners of her eyes. Chris moved to brush them away and her heart twisted at the tender gesture.

"They might not be," he said, "but you are."

"Keep touching me," she pleaded, pressing her lips to his. "Everywhere. Anywhere."

He did as she asked, keeping his hands gentle to avoid causing her any pain. She tried to memorize everything about this night. How Chris's body felt so warm, thawing the cold wall she often kept around her heart. How his touches made her gasp and sigh, and how hers did the same to him.

His hands smoothed over her hips and down her legs, then back up again. He stroked her face while he trailed his lips down her neck and then to her breasts. She thought she'd die when his hand touched her there, and then again when his tongue teased one nipple to a hard peak. Her own hands flexed on his shoulders, opening and closing as his teeth nibbled at her. She arched her back when he took her other nipple in his mouth and used his hand to tease and massage the first one. "Chris, oh, God, Chris..." she whispered as the sensations washed over and through her.

She was breathing heavily when he went back to her lips and tangled one hand in her hair, letting the other drift over her stomach and down further. Trembling slightly, she moved her legs apart and nearly cried out when his hand went between them. It seemed like all the heat in her body had rushed to that spot, and she couldn't help but shake as he stroked her. The world fell away and she called his name, clutching his shoulders to anchor herself.

"You're amazing," she heard him say as he waited for her to come back.

"Now, Chris," she said, her eyes locked on his. "I need you now."

"I wish we were in a bed," he told her as he moved his body over hers. "I wish I could take you away and do this right."

"It's perfect," she said, dragging a finger along his cheek. "You're perfect. Now, please..." she kissed him and moved her hips up instinctively.

Chris slid into her slowly, carefully, and she knew it had to be difficult for him. Surprisingly, there was little if any pain. Perhaps, she thought, that was some compensation for all the other hurts she'd suffered so far in her life.

"Annabeth," he breathed, and she closed her eyes. She loved to hear him say her name. Her family only spat it out, like a curse. Chris said it in a way that comforted, that softened all the rough edges.

He moved slowly, she managed to meet him and they discovered a rhythm. She lost track of time as he held her, as they touched. She shook again and again as his body rocked against hers. "Oh, Chris," she murmured when she had her voice back, "thank you." He kissed her hard, thrusting his tongue against hers and she felt him tense. Knowing he was close to coming, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders.

"Let go," she told him. "Let go." With a groan, he thrust against her once more, and his body stiffened for a moment. At last he relaxed and let her pull him down. When he tried to move, she refused, tightening her grip.

They stayed for hours, both reluctant to leave. He tried to convince her to come to his house, but she shook her head.

"I'll be all right," she assured him. "I know how to get in quietly. Ethan's dead drunk and Trent probably is, too. My mother's too scared to get up."

"Nabby," he said seriously, "please, see me again before you go. I have something for you."

"I'll try," she said. They slowly dressed and walked back. Annabeth stopped him a few houses away.

"I'll go from here," she said. She nodded at his house, where a light was visible in the living room. "I'll be fine."

"I don't want you to go in there," he said, his eyes fierce. "Please, Nabby."

"I'll be fine," she assured him again. "Just go on." She kissed him softly on the lips. He stared at her, then nodded -- obviously not happy about the situation -- and went to his own house.

Annabeth watched him go, then squared her shoulders and went into the old Fordham place for the last time.

x-x-x-x

Poking at her dinner in the restaurant next to the hotel, Annabeth let herself remember that first, wonderful time with Chris. She had never told him that her brother had caught her on her way in, and that only a well-placed knee had prevented him from doing more than hitting her. While Trent had lay groaning and cursing in the hallway, she had run to her room and bolted the door. Not trusting that against Trent's anger, she had pushed her dresser in front of the door for additional security.

Then she had huddled by her bed, giving in to one last demand for tears. The roller coaster ride from sheer bliss to ritual fear had shaken her to her core. Finally, the tears had dried up as she made herself focus on Chris and the way he'd made her feel. She had closed her eyes and dozed for a bit, waking in less than two hours. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she had checked the clock to see it was shy of four in the morning.

It's time, she had thought. Her original plan had been to pack and leave as she usually did for school. Looking around her room, she had decided to leave immediately. Her parents, she had been sure, were only vaguely aware that classes had ended the day before. She would miss graduation, but hadn't cared. She had packed quickly and efficiently, taking only her clothes, the money she had earned and hidden, and a picture of her and Chris that Lorna had taken on Chris' birthday.

She had opened the window, climbed carefully down the trellis, and begun walking. She had never looked back.

x-x-x-x

"You still can't skip a rock, can you?" Chris called as he walked to the pond. It was a bright day with a stiff breeze carrying the scent of pine trees and fresh earth. It was a smell he missed, he admitted to himself.

Pete turned around, saw him, and flipped him the finger. "Up yours, Kincaid," he said. "I don't need to skip rocks any more." He stood, took aim, and whipped the rock across the pond. It was nearly to the other side before it landed in the water with a faint plit.

"True enough," Chris agreed. He scanned the ground, found a flat rock and paused, waiting for the right moment to throw. When it came, the rock skipped over the water nearly as far as Pete's had flown.

"Not bad," Pete said, crossing his arms. "Not bad. You've still got it. When do you get time to skip rocks in the big, bad city?"

Chris laughed. "I don't. Guess you don't forget how." He gave Pete a once over and punched his shoulder lightly. "Good to see you, man."

"You, too," said Pete. "Oh, hell, Kincaid, it's been three years." He stepped over and wrapped Chris in a bear hug and heartily slapped his back.

"Jesus," said Chris, rolling his shoulders. "What did you do? Inject steroids? Your arms were never that strong."