Those Ocean Eyes

Chapter 28

I'm not going anywhere," Rachel tells her again, and Cassie sucks in a hitching breath when Rachel wraps her arms around her.

"Rachel, don't. Please," she begs, and her tone is desperate this time, "I need a shower and I..." Cassie covers her face with her hands when Rachel softly strokes her hair, placing a feather-light kiss against her shoulder.

"It's OK..." she reassures her, in a tone that's brimming with compassion, and Cassie shakes her head, still trying to struggle her way out of Rachel's oppressive embrace.

Rachel won't let her go, though, and Cassie can't hold back the tears anymore. She hugs her knees to her chest and sucks in a ragged breath, and when Rachel scoops her up, cradling her close, Cassie's intermittent sniffles turn into racking sobs. She hasn't let herself cry like this in years, and once she starts, she can't seem to stop. She cries because her career's in ruins again, she cries because her mother isn't around to tell her that everything's going to be OK, she cries because Carmen was the only person in the world who had any faith left in her, and now it's all gone. But most of all, she cries for Lydia, for the girl she destroyed without sparing her a second thought.

It feels like she's drowning, like she can't get enough air between her anguished gasps, but Schwimmer holds fast, like an anchor that won't budge. Cassie makes one last attempt to pull away from her, because this is humiliating, and she lost enough of her dignity in that restroom tonight, but Rachel gently tilts her chin upwards, compelling her attention.

"Cassandra, look at me," she implores, and Cassie's heart lurches when she realises that Rachel's crying, too, "You need to stop trying to push me away, OK? Because I want to be here. I want to be with you."

Cassie swipes at her eyes, regarding her incredulously.

"Why?" she chokes out, "I'm a f-fucking mess, Schwimmer, and you d-deserve s-so much better than this."

Rachel ducks her head, and then takes a deep breath, meeting Cassandra's gaze with watery-eyed resolve.

"Because I lov - "

"No," Cassie warns her, wagging a finger in Rachel's face. "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that, you stupid little girl."

"Well, it's true," Rachel informs her, and her admission provokes a fresh onslaught of tears from Cassandra. She finally unfurls from her foetal position, wrapping her arms around Rachel's waist, and she cries quietly into Rachel's shoulder while Schwimmer strokes her hair and kisses her cheeks and whispers words that Cassie's too distraught to hear. Rachel holds her until she's nothing but a wilted, empty shell, and then she tugs gently on Cassie's hand.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up. Where's the bathroom?"

Cassie gestures listlessly towards her bedroom. She's too exhausted to do much more than flop down onto the toilet seat while Schwimmer raids her bathroom cabinet. She watches Rachel retrieve some bubble-bath and start filling up her tub with steaming hot water, and it feels like she's in a dissociative state.

"Close your eyes," Rachel murmurs, and then she starts blotting at Cassie's face with some cleansing wipes. Cassie sputters out a half-hearted protest, but when Schwimmer just continues along her merry way, all she can do is concentrate on breathing through her nose, because it feels like something died a slow and painful death in her mouth.

"Ow," Cassie protests, when Rachel gingerly peels off her false eyelashes, "Try and leave some skin behind."

"Don't be such a baby," Rachel reprimands her, and Cassie almost manages a smile.

"Why are you wearing so much make-up?" Rachel continues to gripe as she adds to the ever-expanding collection of soiled wipes on the bathroom sink, "You're so pretty, you don't even need it."

Cassie doesn't know how to respond to that, so she just clutches the rim of the toilet seat and tries not to think about how close Schwimmer's standing to her right now. Rachel gently brushes her hair aside, and Cassie hears a sharp intake of breath.

"Cassie?" Rachel ventures, and something about the troubled tenor of her tone makes Cassie's eyes fly open. She sees the anxious expression on Rachel's face, and then feigns interest in the tiles on the bathroom floor, because she knows what's coming next.

"What happened to you tonight?" Rachel reaches out, tenderly running her thumb over Cassie's lower lip. "Your lip's bleeding and you have... you have a bruise on your neck."

Cassie stumbles to her feet, checking out her war wounds in the mirror. Sure enough, there's a lurid purple hickey – complete with bite marks - where that grubby leech attached himself to her.

"Just some douche-bag who wouldn't take no for an answer," she mutters, and Rachel hovers over her shoulder, looking alarmed.

"Did he - "

"No," Cassie reassures her, squeezing Rachel's hand. "Don't worry, I sent him scurrying off with his dick between his legs."

Schwimmer's shoulders slump with relief, and she lets out a hollow laugh, but then her expression clouds over again. Cassie closes her eyes when Rachel traces the outline of the bruise with her fingertips, pressing a kiss against her neck that's so far removed from the brutality she was subjected to earlier, it's nearly enough to make her break down all over again.

"Are you OK?" Rachel asks her worriedly, and Cassie nods, pulling her into a heartfelt hug.

"I am now," she whispers into Rachel's hair, but she's not prepared for the wave of nausea that washes over her. "Whoah," she says, stumbling backwards, and Rachel supports her flagging frame, depositing her back onto the toilet seat. She turns off the faucet, and then moves to help Cassie get undressed.

"Does this have a zip, or..."

Rachel gently hikes up Cassie's dress with the intention of lifting it over her head, and Cassie doesn't have time to warn her that she threw her decimated thong in a trash can on the way home. The look on Schwimmer's face when her hands make contact with bare skin and she realises that Cassie's not wearing any underwear is like a balm to Cassie's battered soul, and she finally remembers how to laugh.

"I, um... OK, wow. I didn't realise you were... "

Rachel's eyes are as wide as saucers, but she isn't averting her gaze, and Cassie can't help but find her adorable. She tries to struggle her way out of the tight material herself, and she's surprised when Rachel reaches out again, helping her to pull off the dress in its entirety. Schwimmer's eyes rake over her naked body; awed, appreciative, and a little bit bashful. She looks utterly transfixed, and the steam from the bath must be making Cassie a little hot under the collar, because she doesn't blush. Not like this.

"I can take it from here, Schwimmer," she assures her, because if Rachel keeps looking at her like that, she's going to forget how tired - and tanked - she really is. "You can go... crash on the couch or something."

"Are you sure?" Rachel ventures, and Cassie laughs, wincing at the stabbing pain that lances through her lip.

"Well, unless you want to give me a sponge bath?" she can't help but tease.

Schwimmer licks her lips, and looks like she's actually considering it. When her eyes wander back to Cassie's breasts, Cassie takes her gently by the shoulders.

"Out," she orders, pushing Rachel towards the door. Her smile rapidly fades, though, when she gets into the bath and sets about scouring away the remnants of that dickwad's vile touch. She doesn't stop until her skin is bright pink and stinging violently, and then she leans over the sink, brushing her teeth and scrubbing her tongue until she can't taste her impending hangover anymore.

She empties the sullied bath water, and then fills the tub up again, sinking back into the bubbles. She closes her eyes, and lets herself drift off, to a place where her future doesn't look depressingly bleak, to a place where she isn't on the brink of losing everything, to a place where alcohol isn't her only escapism and she can dance without feeling encumbered by all the shit that's going on in her life. Maybe there, she won't feel guilty about the feelings she's developing for Schwimmer; she won't keep waiting for Rachel to find a better option; and she won't be absolutely fucking terrified of giving in to the happiness she feels whenever Schwimmer's around. She knows she can't afford to get used to it, because it won't last. It never does.