Broken Submission

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Alright people, deadlines have been tested, sleep forsaken, but goddammit I said I would give you a chapter a week and I will make it happen!

Anyway, enjoy lol

"Try and eat a little more for me."

Derek had eventually managed to move them up onto a cot, this time the one farthest from the door. The nurse who'd come in to bring Amelia her dinner had thrown them a dirty look for dirtying two sheets of sheets, but he ignored her. If this made Amelia more comfortable, then this is what they'd do.

She buried her face in his chest. "I don't want to," she whined.

"Mmm," he hummed. "I know, sweetheart, but you haven't eaten anything in over twenty-four hours." He stroked her hair. "I need you to finish this plate for me."

Fresh tears wet his shirt, but he just rubbed her back and tried to soothe her. The tears had come and gone over the past few hours. At this point, he thought it was more an expression of frustration and exhaustion than anything else.

Derek dipped the spoon into the small cup of applesauce. "Almost done," he murmured.

She sniffed and allowed him to slip the spoon between her lips. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Amelia, you have nothing to apologize for."

This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.

She scrunched her eyes shut, lashes wet and clumped. "I'm being ridiculous. I can feed myself. I'm stronger than this. If I just had a little more self-discipline—"

He slipped his hand through the hair on the side of her head to make her look at him. Staring deep into her eyes—trying to get through to her—he said, "You are strong and disciplined and capable. Amelia, it is my privilege to take care of you right now. You are strong—yes—but you don't always have to be. Let go, just for a little while."

He pinched his lips together, seeing the grief and self-recrimination swimming in her eyes. "I don't think I could handle it if you didn't need me right now," he admitted.

Her eyebrows knit together, and he tried to explain. "I just, I need to do something. And being here for you—helping you—it gives me that outlet. So know that, as much as I am helping you right now, you are helping me just as much."

A small smile tugged at her lips before she settled her head back on his chest.

"Okay," she whispered.

He pulled her closer. "Okay," he said, voice soft. He reached toward the tray of food. "Three more bites."

• • •

"I'm sorry." Matthew turned his palms up. "I held them off as long as possible, but we need a statement. I thought she'd do best if she was talking to me."

Derek raked a hand trough his hair. "I don't like it."

"No one likes this situation, Derek." Matt nodded to the door. "How is she?"

He shook his head. "It's too early to really know. She's holding up. Too damned independent for her own good."

Matthew's eyebrows jumped. "She's not letting you help?"

"No, she is," Derek sighed, "but she's beating herself up for it. It goes against her ideals of self-sufficiency or some shit." He huffed a frustrated breath. "She actually told be that it was a lack of self-discipline."

"Fuck that," Matthew said. "She just went through hell. I hope you told her that?"

He grimaced. "In a way. I told her that helping her helped me. Which is true. If she didn't let me do anything I would be losing my mind right now. Her insistence on taking care of things herself is something that, in the past, I would just pull rank on. But now..." he shook his head. "I don't want to do anything that could possibly trigger her."

Matt nodded. "You two need to have a conversation before any power dynamics come into play. You have no idea what went down. Speaking of—" he checked his watch, "I need to get a move on or else my supervisor is going to use it as an excuse to get someone else in here."

Derek led him into the room. Amelia huddled on the bunk, arms wrapped around her knees.

"Hey sweetheart," he said. "Matt came by—he needs you to give your statement." Derek watched her closely, trying to get a read on how this affected her, but her face remained blank.

She nodded. "Hey Matt," she murmured.

"Amelia," he smiled gently at her, clearly restraining his usual exuberance. "How are you doing?"

She shrugged, trying to conjure up a smile and failing. "I'm alright."

He nodded. "So, I need to you talk to me about what happened with your ex-husband. Would you prefer Derek stay or leave?"

Derek froze, staring at Matthew. He hadn't known he was going to ask her that.

His gaze shot to Amelia, who was frowning as if considering her response. He swallowed hard. If she needed him to leave, difficult as it would be, he would do it.

"I'd like it if he stayed," she said, gaze glued to the bed. "If you want to," she added. "You—" she swallowed hard, "you might not want to—to hear." Her voice caught at the end.

He crossed the room in a couple quick strides. "I'm right here for you," he said, pulling her against him. "Stop worrying about me."

Matthew nodded and sat on the opposite cot. "Okay Amelia. The day you were taken from Derek's parent's house. What happened?"

Amelia's eyes met Matthew's, and for the first time, they were dry. "I was woken by a needle in my neck. Then there was a hand over my mouth, and everything went black."

                                • • •

Derek's skin crawled. Besides a general sense of horror, he struggled to even believe that it could have been Amelia who went through what she did. Her voice was distant, detached as she outlined her abuses, and his mind strained trying to picture the woman in his arms in the scenes she painted.

He became aware that he was trembling, and he tried to hide it by pressing his hands into the mattress.

"I don't remember picking up the candlestick," she said, voice quiet. "I remember—rage. And desperation. And a sense of utter violation." Her brow furrowed. "But I don't—I don't remember what happened. Not really. I know what happened. But it's like...snapshots. In my brain. Just fragments with emotion attached."

Matthew closed his notebook. His face and body language still wore a mask of professionalism, but his eyes brimmed with emotion for what she'd gone through.

"It may come back," he said. "Especially in therapy, they may be able to piece it together." He sighed. "And that's it? You sat there until we found you?"

She nodded. "It doesn't really feel like there was any time between that moment and you guys coming through the door. I don't know how long it was."

"Coroner's report says he had been dead for almost four hours," Matthew said softly.

Her eyes glazed, gaze moving to a blank spot in the wall.

"Okay," Matthew murmured. "Thank you, Amelia."

She didn't move as he nodded to Derek and walked out the door.

"Amelia?" Derek touched her cheek. "How do you feel?"

Her shoulders lifted the barest amount. Her tongue poked out to brush her dry lips.

"Empty, Derek. I feel empty."