Work Text:
Safe Hands
by Cathy Fisher
Amy sat huddled in the darkness of her apartment, shivering, her body still shaking from an occasional sob. It had been several minutes since he had left, yet she had still not mustered the courage or the will to move.
Finally, she pushed herself to her feet, cradling her right arm close to her body, and stumbled over to the desk. Her hand shook as she grasped the receiver and hesitated, partly because her tears blurred the number pad and partly because she could not decide whom to call.
Almost of their own volition, her fingers began to tap out a number. Trembling, she held the receiver up to her ear. When the voice answered, a wave of shame rushed over her and she almost hung up.
"Hello?" The voice was getting impatient and suspicious.
"Face..." Her voice was little more than a whisper.
"Amy? What's wrong?" An instant alertness entered the conman's tone and she almost burst into tears once more.
"I...I need you," she whispered.
There was a pause, then Face replied in a tight, concerned voice. "I'll be right over. Do you want me to call the Team?"
"No..." She didn't want anyone to see her like this. Why was she doing this? "I just...never mind. I shouldn't have called." She quickly hung up and sank to the floor once more, her body shaking with sobs.
******
She was not sure how much time had passed before she heard a knocking on her door. She realized that she had fallen asleep on the floor. She lay there, listening to the knocking. Someone called her name, but she didn't bother to get up.
That didn't stop the knocker, however. There was a scraping sound in the lock, and moments later, Face was kneeling beside her.
"Amy. Are you okay? What happened?" He helped her into a sitting position before reaching up onto the desk and switching on a lamp, the one light in the room that miraculously hadn't been smashed when...
She hid her head in her lap, the shaking returning once more. She heard Face kneel beside her, and a gentle hand reached out and lifted her tear stained cheek. He turned it, examining the cut on her cheekbone, before moving in front of her and gently probing her injured shoulder.
She gasped as his fingers found the swollen, painful area. He sighed, and spoke softly. "Your shoulder is dislocated. This is going to hurt, but it has to be done." He lifted her arm and placed two fingers near the swollen joint. She started to draw back, but Face gave the arm a quick jerk. She felt a burst of pain and cried out, but soon realized that her shoulder actually did feel a bit better.
"Hold still," he said gently. "I'll be right back." He moved off in the direction of the bathroom and soon returned with the first aide kit and some dish towels. He bound her arm tightly against her chest before going to work cleaning her other cuts and bruises.
"I don't know what I did," she whispered, her voice still dangerously close to tears. He glanced up, but continued to work. "Everything was going fine, and then Bret just flew into a rage..." She trailed off as she remembered the nightmare her dream date had suddenly become.
"Bret. Isn't he the guy you've been dating for the last two weeks?" She nodded numbly. She had believed he was the most wonderful man in the world until that evening. "Did he hurt you anywhere else?" There was a sharp note in Face's voice, and she realized with surprise that he was angry, angrier than she had ever seen him.
She shook her head slightly. "No. He hit me a few times and threw me over the couch, then bashed a few things up before leaving." She paused for a moment before continuing in a rush, her cheeks flaming as she looked down. "I'm sorry I called you. I guess I could have taken care of it myself." She gave a humorless laugh. "I know you have better things to do than pick up after my dates gone bad." She felt his eyes on her as she fingered the cloth on her makeshift sling. She hated the fact that he had seen her weakness and would think she could not take care of herself. Shame filled her once more.
"Amy." The tone in his voice made her look up in surprise. The gentle understanding in his features made tears sting the corners of her eyes once more. "This is not your fault." She swallowed and looked down once more, but he grabbed her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. "It is not your fault. No one has the right to hit you and throw you around, no matter who he is." He paused before adding, "And the fact that he did does not make you weak." She felt a flash of surprise that he had read her so easily, yet his words eased the anxiety and embarrassment she felt.
His eyes searched her face as he continued quietly. "I don't know why you called me, but I'm glad you did. You don't need to deal with this alone. We're a team, and that means we look out for each other." His eyes took on a faraway look as though he were listening to words from another time. He smiled a sad smile before focusing once more on her.
"C'mon," he said, helping her to her feet and putting one arm around her to support her weight. "Let's get you to a doctor to make sure you aren't hurt worse than I think you are. Then I'm going to call the Team, and we're going to go after this creep." There was a note of grim promise in his voice.
Nodding wordlessly, she leaned into him, certain for once that she was in safe hands.
The End