Eye of the Beholder

Author's notes: Real life can really, really suck. Sorry this is so long in coming, but life's been a bit stressful lately and my muse was being stubborn. A big thank you to all of my reviewers: Anon (2), Aymiah, blue_lioness (2), Toast, Michael, Kris_A, Cass (2), Capt_Davy_Jones_Lover, Alex (2), Cougar, FanFicFantast, Jackie, Captdavyjonesgal and WeepingAngelofDeath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh my goodness, Amanda, where did I hurt you?” he asks, his voice full of worry and self recrimination.

“It's ok,” she tries to assure him, but the pain that tinges her voice belies her words. “I'm all right.”

“It is not all right and neither are you,” he insists as he gently pushes her off of his lap. “I've hurt you and that should never be ok.”

“You just grabbed one of my bruises,” she tells him, the pain in her voice now gone while she tries to reach for him, almost desperately needing his touch. “You didn't do it on purpose and need I remind you about some suspicious teeth marks on my shoulder. I can't even begin to tell you how much fun it was to explain that to the doctor this morning.”

“After your fall yesterday, I imagine that you are covered in bruises,” he points out miserably as he continues to pull away, capturing her questing hands to keep them at bay. “I feel bad enough about your shoulder, but your fall has compounded the problem. We should wait until you're feeling better.”

“That'll take, what, one...two weeks?” she asks a bit heatedly while she slides off the bed in search of her pad and pencil that he had tossed away. “You'll probably be in Australia by then.”

“You could always come with me to Australia,” he suggests hopefully.

“I can't,” she replies as she picks up her things. “I don't have any more vacation time accrued, though I think I can take a sick day if I was deathly ill. That's of course if I provide a doctor's note that says I was on my death bed. The only way I'm going to Australia is if I quit my job and that's not going to happen. Having a place to sleep and food on the table doesn't come cheap in New York.”

Wisely, he decides that pointing out that she could quit her job and he could take care of her might not be the best way to continue on good terms with his lady.

“Perhaps we should just go to bed and get some sleep,” he suggests, patting the spot next to him on the mattress.

“I'm not sleepy,” she snaps as she heads for the bathroom.

“Amanda,” he worriedly calls while he hastily heads for her, just managing to keep the door from being slammed in his face. “Please don't be upset.”

“Why shouldn't I be?” she demands and he can see her trembling as she breathes heavily, almost as if she has been running. “In the past twenty-four hours, I've been attacked by my own sister, end up breaking my arm and had to spend the night with a God damn needle stuck in me that you helped put there. Let's top that off with finding out that my darling sister may have been screwing around with God only knows who, my parents still treat her like a blasted princess. My brother-in-law, nieces and nephew, who are quite possibly the last people I want to hurt in the world, are more than likely never going to speak to me again. Then I find out my dad is a manic depressive and has been on medication for God knows how long. The absolute best part to this entire mess is now my own boyfriend doesn't want to touch me! So please explain to me, Hank, why the Hell shouldn't I be upset!?”

Her monologue gets progressively louder and louder and by the end there are tears streaming down her face and she's gasping for air. Without a word spoken, he gently and carefully pulls her trembling form into his arms and he sighs with relief when her arms wrap around his waist. He buries his nose into her hair as he starts to rub a hand up and down her back and she drops her pad and paper off to the side as she sobs into his side of his neck.

“My love, I want to touch you so badly my entire being aches for it,” he whispers near her ear as soon as she's calmed down a bit. “But if I was to hurt you any further, I'm not sure I could forgive myself for causing you more pain.”

“There's more than just physical pain,” she points out with a sniff.

“I know, my love, but I can't imagine me hurting you would be good for either of us, physically, mentally or emotionally,” he replies. “I just can't, in good conscious, take the chance. Can you understand my point of view?”

“I guess,” she answers while she rests her head against his shoulder. “But please don't push me away like that again. I just need to know that there's someone in this world who doesn't hate me right now.”

“Have you taken your anti-depressants lately?” he asks out of the blue and he can feel her tense up in his arms.

“How did you know about those?” she demands as he nuzzles her hair in a vain attempt to get her to relax.

“Mike showed me the bottle,” he replies. “He said the girls found them in your closet in a new hiding spot.”

“Damn,” she mutters before she presses her face further into his fur.

“Amanda?” he queries after several moments of silence.

“I hate taking those damn things,” she quietly admits several seconds later. “They make me feel weak. I'm supposed to be the strong one.”

“Why are you supposed to be the strong one?” he asks, remembering her words from when she woke from her faint.

“When I was growing up I was always told I had to be,” she softly tells him and he can feel and hear her draw a ragged breath. “I was always told that I had to be strong for Annie, protect Annie, defend Annie.”

The bitterness in her voice makes him want to hold her tighter, but he doesn't dare.

“Annie can fight her own battles now,” he says into her hair. “All I care about is making sure that you are well in every way.”

“I still feel weak,” she grumbles.

“You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for,” he replies as he carefully steps away. “Where are the pills?”

“In one of my bags,” she mutters unhappily.

“You're going to have to be a bit more specific than that,” he responds as he gazes over at the rather sizable mound of luggage. “Most of that is yours.”

“It's the black one,” she retorts and he casts her a sardonic look.

“They're all black,” he growls playfully, but quickly sobers when he sees that she's still upset. “Amanda...”

“I hate taking them,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears try to escape.

“I know, my love,” he murmurs near her ear as he gently holds her close. “But they'll make you feel better.”

“I know something else that makes me feel better,” she says suggestively while her left hand slides down to grab hold of one of his butt cheeks.

“As much as we both may want to, my love,” he chuckles as he gently but firmly peels her hand off of his backside, “it is only a temporary fix and I still refuse to take the chance of causing you harm. The pills will help you stay balanced for the times I'm not there. Please, Amanda, for me...”

With a sigh of defeat, she steps out of his embrace and goes over to her bags. She picks up the first bag in her pile and tries to give it a good shake.

“What are you doing?” he asks, head tilted to the side in curiosity.

“I'm not sure which bag I put it in, so instead of searching through all of them, I'm shaking them,” she answers as she puts the bag she's holding down and reaches for the next one.

“Allow me,” he offers.

He takes the piece of luggage from her and gives it a good shake. When there's no tattle tell rattle, he reaches for the last one. That one also is vigorously shaken and it also is as silent as the first two.

“Did you pack it?” he inquires worriedly.

“I thought I had,” she replies while she frowns at the bags. “I was in such a rush to get out of there, I don't remember.”

“Go check your computer and art bags and I'll double check these,” he instructs as he gives the bag he's holding another good shake next to his ear.

“I'm pretty sure I didn't stick them in my computer or art bags,” she tells him as she carefully starts to go through them. “I don't normally pack anything else in them.”

“Do you remember packing them?” he asks while he picks up the next bag for a good shaking.

“I think so, but like I said, I was in a hurry to get out of there, so I might have missed them,” she answers, upending her art supply bag onto the floor. “That's odd, I thought I took this out.”

“What is it?” he questions while picking up the last bag.

“One of my books of drawings,” she replies as she picks up said item. “It's full, so I thought I had stored it with the others.”

“The others?” he queries, giving the bag in his hand a good, hard shaking. “I believe I've found your pills.”

“The other drawing pads,” she responds as she puts the pad down and then heads over to him. “I've got a hope chest that I keep them in.”

“I was under the impression that one kept linen and bedding in a hope chest,” he muses while he opens the bag and the contents nearly burst out causing him to blink repeatedly in surprise. “Oh...my...”

“I was going for speed, not neatness,” she grumbles as she takes the bag from him, upending it and spilling the contents onto the floor.

“Like now,” he softly mutters and she glares at him, indicating she heard him quite clearly.

“I broke my arm, Hank, not my hearing,” she growls as she starts to dig through the pile of clothes at her feet.

“My apologies,” he hurriedly states while she pulls out the white bottle. “It's just that normally you're so neat and organized that I'm finding it a bit disconcerting to see your clothes in such disarray.”

“Normally my emotions aren't all out there for the world to see either,” she mumbles as she starts to try and open the bottle, not an easy task when one can use only one thumb. “But right now, I feel like I'm going to fall apart if someone so much as looks at me funny.”

He reaches out, gently taking the bottle from her trembling fingers and then carefully pulls her into his arms again. She immediately buries her face into the fur on his neck and he starts rubbing her back with his free hand while his nose gets lost in her tresses. Even when the shaking subsides, he continues to hold her until she pulls away slightly and then he only loosens his grip on her.

They stand there unmoving for several seconds and he can hear her heart starting to beat faster and faster. Before he can voice his concern over this, she leans into him again and starts to nibble on his ear. For a brief moment he envisions taking her back to bed with him and making slow, sweet love to her. But the feeling of her cast against his side as she tries to pull him closer breaks through to his logical brain and with great reluctance, he pushes her back a couple steps.

“Amanda, please don't,” he quietly requests. “I don't want to risk hurting you again.”

“What does Beast have to say about you not wanting me?” she asks, a slightly defiant tone in her voice.

No hurt mate, Beast whimpers from dark corner of his mind and Hank is a bit surprised that Beast has willingly pulled back so far.

“It doesn't want to hurt you either,” he tells her, putting a finger under her chin to make her look up at him. “As I stated before, I do want you, but I just couldn't live with myself if I caused you any more pain. Please, let us go to bed and get some sleep. I am quite tuckered out.”

“This from the man who managed to go for nearly twenty-four hours without sleep,” she states bitterly while she turns her back on him and tries to fold her arms across her front.

“I'm paying for that now,” he tells her as he goes into the bathroom to get her a glass of water. “What little sleep I got Christmas morning has had to sustain me until now.”

“What about last night?” she questions snappishly while she reluctantly takes the glass from him. “I know you rented a hotel room, so it's not like my family was there to give you any grief.”

“You are correct that I didn't go home with your family,” he replies as he easily opens the bottle of pills. “However, I imagine I was the one giving grief to the people in the room beneath mine since I spent the night pacing.”

“Why were you pacing?” she inquires, confusion evident on her face while she takes the pill he shakes out into her hand.

“Because every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was you lying at the bottom of that ravine and not moving, your blood staining the snow beneath your head,” he answers as he replaces the lid and then carefully sets the bottle down on the nearby desk, the fear evident in his voice. “It's an image I will never forget for as long as I live. I thought I had lost you.”

When he turns to look at her again, she stands there listlessly, her head down and her shoulders slumped like a marionette with it's strings cut. He quickly steps up to her and pulls the glass out of her hand since it's on the verge of slipping out of her fingers. He notices that the pill remains in the loosely curled fingers of her right hand and he holds the glass up to her lips.

“Take your medication, please,” he pleads, silently begging her to take the pill without a fight.

She pulls away from him and he worries for a moment that she's going to start arguing with him. Before he can voice his concerns, she takes the drink away from him and quickly takes her medicine. She hands the glass back and then turns to the clothing dumped on the floor. He makes a quick trip to the bathroom to return the glass from whence it came and comes out to find her messily stuffing her clothes back into her bag.

“That can wait until morning,” he states softly as he reaches out and stills her hands. “Please, come to bed with me.”

“Why?” she questions listlessly. “I might try seducing you again and then you'll just have to push me away. Again.”

“Because I will sleep much better knowing that you are safely tucked beside me and not strapped down in a hospital bed,” he sadly tells her, leaning in close to her, but not touching more than her hands. “I blame myself for not going after you right away and while I won't blame you for not wanting to, I am begging you, please sleep beside me tonight, so that I know that you are safe. I'm not sure I can sleep without you near me.”

“I'm sorry, Hank,” she whispers and his heart nearly stops in his chest until she leans her head against his. “I've been so engrossed with my own problems, I never stopped to think what you must be going through. I'm so sorry.”

“It is alright,” he softly assures her as he gently nuzzles her hair. “Bed?”

“Yeah, alright,” she sighs and he helps her to stand up. “Let me put my pad and pencil away so we don't step on them in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom.”

He patiently waits as she puts her art supplies back in their satchel, only getting a passing glance of what she had been working on. It's nothing more than a faint outline, but it looks like a man standing at a chest high counter or table. Once everything is put away to her satisfaction, he leads her over to the bed. He climbs in first, taking up the middle of the bed and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“Pick a side that you want to cuddle up to and I'll move over to make room for you on that side,” he instructs as he spreads his arms wide.

“Scoot that way,” she instructs as she moves around to his right side.

He immediately obliges and she climbs in beside him, carefully cuddling up next to him as soon as she's able. He gently wraps his right arm around her as she lays her head down on his shoulder and rests her broken arm across his chest. He reaches over to turn off the light as her fingers start to try and burrow down into his soft fur and his left hand quickly stills them.

“Sleep now, my love,” he whispers just before softly kissing her forehead.

She doesn't argue with him, so he closes his eyes and starts to relax. A moment later she starts squirming around, rubbing herself against him and her right leg slides over his. His eyes pop open in surprise at first, but then his right arm tightens slightly, partially immobilizing her.

“Sleep, you,” he quietly growls.

“Just getting comfortable,” she tells him, but he can hear the teasing in her voice.

“Minx,” he mutters as he starts to relax again.

“At least I'm your minx,” she softly replies a bit wistfully.

“Yes,” he sighs as sleep starts to claim him. “Mine.”

It takes only a couple of minutes of laying there before his soft snores start to fill the room and she lies there beside him with her eyes wide open, unable to sleep. When he wakes a few hours later, the first thing he notices is that he's alone in the bed.