Stockholm Syndrome Ch. 11-13

"I'll leave the bedroom door open, so if you need me just holler. I'll hear you."

"Okay. And thanks for everything."

He smiled affectionately. "You're very welcome." He stood up again, walked to the other side of the bed and grabbed a pillow. At first I was thinking he was going to sleep beside me, but he grabbed a second blanket, put it and the pillow on the end of the bed and rummaged through a dresser drawer.

When he pulled out bed sheets, I teased, "Doing the Swedish single man's Changing-of-the-Bed-Sheets thing?"

He frowned, grabbed the items and stood by me. "What the hell is that?"

"You know." I put out a long, hard yawn. "Like the British changing of the guards."

He laughed. "No, silly. Looks like I'll be sleeping on the couch while you're here."

"Huh? Wha'? Alex!" I exclaimed, trying to sit up but failed.

"Carrie, I've spent many a night on that couch. It's no big deal."

"But I just assumed you had two beds." At that moment I really wished I had taken a painkiller. I knew I'd never sleep with the thought of being on Alex's bed, his real bed, the one he sleeps on bed.

"Shh. Just get some rest, now."

As if on cue, I melted into the mattress, got comfortable and closed my eyes. "I am not even going to argue with you."

"Good. You're learning. Am I permitted to give you a good night kiss, or are you still too mad at me?"

"I'd be mad at you if you didn't," I answered sleepily.

Only a second passed until I felt his warm, soft lips on mine. I moaned then moaned again when he broke the kiss.

"Sleep well, my angel."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I woke up to the smell of bacon, noise in the kitchen and a soft whistling. I tried to open my eyes but only managed to pop my right one open; the left one stayed stapled. I moaned softly, just for the sake of moaning my predicament then rubbed the left eye open. At first I thought I was in the hotel room after we'd just made love – okay, so I prefer that word as well – and Alex was making breakfast, although the room didn't have a kitchen.

Then I looked around the room and remembered exactly where I was: Alexander Skarsgard's bedroom. There was a bookshelf with two shelves of books, photos and little trinkets, and on the top were some awards, but I didn't recognize any of them. There were a lot of framed nature scenes on the walls, mainly of mountain ranges and gorgeous rivers.

After being in so much pain the night before, I dreaded getting out of bed. So I just lay there biding my time until my bladder squawked and threatened to explode. Sitting up slowly, I gingerly threw my legs over the bed. Again, my thigh hurt, but it wasn't as bad, not yet, anyway.

Looking around for the crutch, I saw it propped up against the wall by the door. How in the world did he expect me to get the crutch from over there?

But then I remembered what I'd told him the night he came after he'd disappeared. I didn't mean what I said at all. I made a mental note to apologize to him.

"Alex," I rasped, but it was only a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again.

"Carrie?" he called out. "Is that you?"

"No. It's the other woman you have in your bedroom." I snickered. I hadn't lost my sense of humor.

He rushed into the room, alarmed. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I shook my head, grinning at his reaction. "Nothing, but I have to use the bathroom."

His shoulders sunk in relief. "Damn. You had me worried." Without looking, he reached for the crutch and handed it to me. "You got it? Need any help?"

"Yes, I think. Well, no," I said, putting the arm rest under my left arm, tested it out and tried to remember how I was supposed to use it properly. I put my right foot down without any weight and leaned onto the crutch. It was more difficult than I thought it would be. "Now yes. Can you stand real close behind me, or beside me, just in case?"

I made it to the bathroom in the hallway all right, groaning with every step I took. I looked at the toilet seat, which was jammed tight between two narrow walls with no hand rests – of course he wouldn't need any there.

Alex was still behind me as I tried to figure out how exactly I was going to drop my lounge pants and sit without exposing myself to him. That wasn't the real issue, though. Hell, he'd already seen me naked. I wanted to drop my pants with minimal effort so as not to scrape the wound and cause more pain, but it was beginning to throb anyway.

After several seconds, he said, "The trick is to grab the waist of the pant and while you squat to sit pull it all the way down on your way down."

I shot my head around and snapped, "How would you know?!" Oh, it's going to be a long day already.

Alex narrowed only one eye. "Because when Valter broke his leg he had to improvise. It worked for him."

"Yeah? Well, my leg isn't bro—Okay." I'd felt a little trickle escape and knew I'd have to at least try it. Mark that snippet on my list of apologies.

And that's what I did, without even caring he hadn't budged; the top I was wearing was down past my hips, so I wouldn't be showing anything.

Getting down was one thing, but getting up and pulling up the pants at the same time was another. I took a deep breath, plastered my hands against the wall, leaned on my left leg and pushed myself up, instantly regretting it as my right arm protested, cramped up and kissed the wall.

"Hey, hey," I heard Alex say as he grabbed my left arm, putting it around his waist. "Hold onto me. I got your pants."

"For godssake, Alex! I can—"

"Apparently you can't, can you?" he asked, his voice angry and his expression stern. "Do you want me to help or not? I can leave you here—"

"Alex," I whined. He was throwing it right back at me as much as I was dishing it, which I deserved. "I just ..."

"Carrie, that's why I'm here. I want to help you." The sincerity in his voice touched me.

"I'm just—" Then I broke down in tears.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered. Without any sarcastic or mean remarks, he pulled up my pants then handed me the crutch. "Let's get you back in bed. I only have the eggs to do then you can take a painkiller. You'll feel better once you eat."

I nodded. He brushed the hair from my forehead before he stepped back, leaned against the vanity and watched me, keeping a hand out.

Stopping in the hallway, I asked, sniffing, "Think I can sit on the couch for a bit?"

"Girl! You're taking all my beds!" he teased, but I didn't take it that way.

"Hey! You were the one—" Again, I turned into the patient from hell and broke down.

The crutch disappeared, and my body glided against an even bigger crutch, its long, strong arms holding me up as he led me to the living room. I grabbed the arm rest, Alex holding me up until I sat down, not being able to control my crying. I wasn't hurting, I just felt so damned helpless.

Alex put his arms over my shoulders and pulled me into him. "Carrie, it's okay. Shh."

My body started rocking while he ran his hand over my back, and I buried my face against his chest. He kept whispering softly, but through my sobs I couldn't hear him.

Several minutes later I took a long, deep breath, wiped my face and forced myself to calm down.

"Is my little angel back?" He asked. I laughed, though it was one of those laugh-cries. He pushed me back gently. "What's so funny?"

I pulled away and sat back, but took his arm and wrapped it around mine. "I'm acting like a two-year old and you call me an angel? Why, anyway?"

"You're acting like a two-year old because—"

"No, Alex. Why angel?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "The nurse. You hungry yet?" I nodded. "Good. How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled, no salt, but just one. I don't know how much I can keep down. I'm hurting much more now than in the hospital. Oh, and no bacon. I don't think I should have anything too greasy. No butter on the toast, either. Just dry. Orange juice, too, if you have it."

He looked over my face, slowly grinning. "I don't do special orders."

"Ha, ha." I grew serious. "Alex, I'm truly sorry for being such an ungrateful bitch. I thought I could handle it."

"Don't worry about that, Carrie. I understand. I've got thick skin."

"Doesn't matter. You've gone out of your way to help me out. I really don't know what I would have done without you."

"Honestly, it was for purely selfish reasons." I must have looked at him oddly, not really sure how to take that, because he seemed to tense up. "When I'm home it's the only time I really get any peace. That's why I went to Iceland; I had a lot of thinking to do, and it helped. But then I met you." He hesitated a moment.

I was afraid to ask, but I just had to. "How do you mean?" His words made me feel like I ruined his quiet time.

He turned his head away, looking down. "Because I didn't realize how lonely I was, am, until I'd spent time with you. I like doting on a woman, helping her, if she'll let me. It's nice." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

I put my hand on his back. "Can I say something, might be a little too personal, though." He sat back again, but that time I didn't take his arm. He didn't reply so I went for it. "Alex, I understand where you're coming from, really. Hell, I'd love to be married and dote on my man, have someone to come home to, make dinner for. But you can't let our situation make you crazy just because you haven't found the woman you need."

He sighed. "There's a reason why I've had so many girlfriends. They've all been strong, independent women. It seemed like they shunned me from ... doting on them."

"And because you're helping me out you think, what?" My voice was angry; it was soft and calm. I was trying to get a feel for where he was coming from so I could figure out where I was coming from.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, finally looking at me with his eyes wide. "I didn't mean you aren't."

I smiled reassuringly, though I couldn't help but hear, 'I didn't mean you aren't my strong, independent girlfriend.'

I said, "I know that." I sighed, frustrated. He hadn't said anything about continuing our relationship when I went home, nor had he said anything about getting married. It was not the right time to have such a deep conversation, as my leg was starting to scream at me.

"How are those eggs doing?" I piped in quickly.

"I get what you're saying."

"Good. Could you explain it to me?"

He finally smiled, which was a great relief. "I need to stop looking for a woman I think I want and find a woman I need."

Again, I heard, 'I need to stop looking for a woman I think I want because I found the woman I need.' Coma. I need to be in a coma. "Yeah, that's sounds about right."

"But how in the hell do I know what I need if I don't know what I need?"

I leaned forward, ignoring my thigh and put my chin on his forearm. "You'll know when you meet her, at least that's what I've told myself for years. I'd rather wait for the one I need than the one I want. Out there is some girl who will absolutely adore you for your thoughtfulness, sense of adventure, tenderness. You'll know, Alex. You'll know. You can't always get what you want," I concluded.

He looked at me in amazement, his eyes filled with moisture but not quite tears. "You're quoting Mick Jagger?"

"Ah," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "You quote Abba, so why can't I quote Mick?"

He smiled and kissed my forehead. "Thank you, Carrie."

"Anytime. Now feed me, please."

"Right." He stood and walked toward the kitchen, hiding his hand wiping his eye.

---------------

We had finished eating, and I was surprised I was hungrier than I thought. Alex teased me that since it was almost noon it was actually brunch. I was also surprised that I'd slept fourteen hours straight, considering I never slept more than two in the hospital.

I made it back to the bed, and even though I'd taken a painkiller I was really, really hurting, though I held my tears back. I finally got settled on my side, a pillow under my right knee so not to stretch the wound.

Alex was sitting on the other side, peering down at me. "Are you comfortable?" He yawned, curiously.

"I am. It feels great to sleep on my side for a change. Are you sleepy?"

"Yes, sort of. I didn't sleep well. I kept thinking I heard you call for me. I read over a script, but I couldn't remember the name of my character."

"Oh. Well, I think I'll be sleeping a lot the next day or so, so you won't have to worry about me." Then it was my turn to yawn. "Alex, I wanted to apologize for all I've said to you. It was mean and so not me. You sure don't deserve being treated so shitty after all you've done for me."

"What have you said? I don't remember anything mean you've said." I knew he was playing with me, but I was dead serious.

"What I feel worse about is what I said to you Wednesday night."

"You don't owe me an apology. I totally deserved that."

"Yes, yes, I do, and you didn't deserve it. I had no right to get all pissed at you. I still can't justify why I was in the first place. Alex, it wasn't a mistake that we were together. I'll never believe that. That night was the best I think I've ever had ... I mean the whole evening, the date, not, um, you and me ... even though that was ... great." I sighed, growing drowsier by the minute. "And I am not sorry I met you. I really do appreciate everything you've done for me. I don't think I can ever say that enough." I ended my speech with another yawn, finding it hard to keep my eyes open.

"Carrie, I don't know what to say to that." He seemed incredibly bashful. "But I have to live with being the one that put you in the hospital."

I stretched my arm out and put my hand on his knee. "Alex, honey, don't. I'm not sorry it happened. It just gave us more time together. Besides, I got to steal some of your kisses." What the hell? I berated myself. "God, that was corny. I'm delirious with pain." I smiled.

"You didn't steal them. I gave them to you."

"Good point. Well, now that we've had our heart-to-heart, and since you didn't get much sleep, think you'd wanna nap with me?"

He smiled so warmly it was touching. Lying down beside me, he took my hand and held it tight. "You, my dear Carrie, are one special woman."

"I know. What can I say?" For some reason, I noticed something about his facial features that I hadn't really noticed before. "Hey, you have a pointy chin, too."

"Wow," he said, smiling. "I give you an awesome compliment and you insult me? Damn!" We both laughed. "So, you didn't mean I was a good actor?"

"Huh? Oh, that. You are. You are! I just meant your tears. You have to remember I know more of the 'outside world' Alex than the 'real' Alex. But now I know you were genuine."

"Get some rest. I want to check your wound later."

"Why?" I asked, closing my eyes.

"Remember? The doctor is worried about infection; the nurse, too, wanted me to keep an eye on it."

"Yes, Dr. Skarsgard."

I went to sleep with his arm protectively over my shoulder.