Elastic Heart

“Was me saving you?” Law supplied.

“I didn’t need to be saved,” I ground out. “I had everything under control.”

“Sure you did.” Law picked me up without asking and carried me like I weighed nothing. I let my arm hang loosely, grasping feebly at the covers that had briefly cocooned me from the world.

“What are you doing?” I protested weakly as Law carried me from the bedroom to an adjoining bath.

“Giving you a bath,” he replied. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“You are not giving me a bath,” I growled, twisting in his hold—Ow… Should not have done that. Unfazed, Law carried me into the bathroom. It was steamy and smelled delicious, like him. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to give in at that moment. A warm bath sounded like heaven.

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.” Law grinned. I geared up for a fight, but deflated. What was the point? I’d been raped. I’d been mugged. Clearly the universe was trying to tell me something. “Nami DeGrace,” it said, “You were not meant to be here.”

“Whatever,” I replied. “Do whatever you want.” I felt his hand on my cheek and flinched involuntarily. He pulled it back. My stupid, useless heart revolted. Somewhere in the black mass it wanted his warmth.

“Hey,” Law said, his voice low. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

“Like I said, whatever.” I pressed my face deep into his chest, trying not to look at him. My next words were smothered through the cloth of his shirt. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Law said, voice firm. “You matter. You are important.” I didn’t respond, because what was there to say?

“You’re covered in bruises and cuts and—I think—vomit. I think you should get cleaned up, but can you stand? Can you do it on your own?” No, I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t do it on my own. I was so utterly exhausted, not just physically, but mentally. My willpower had miraculously stayed in tact after Morris, even after the multiple violations publicly and privately, I still wanted to live. Despite that, it just seemed like something out there didn’t want me around. Something in the universe really wanted Nami DeGrace to give the fuck up.

“I’m sorry I’m getting you and your bed dirty,” I said. “You can put me on the floor.” I was loathe to be on the floor. Not because the bed was more uncomfortable, but because the sheets had smelled like him, like campfire and cardamom. I’d awakened blissfully. For the few brief seconds before the pain hit, I’d smelled him. I felt badly for staining it with my filth.

“I don’t give a fuck about my bed. I care about you.” Law grabbed my chin and forced my face out of his chest. I had to look him in the eyes. I was acutely aware that I was bloody and covered in vomit, while he was clean and beautiful.

“This won’t be sexual, Nami.” Law’s whiskey eyes made me drunk. “It’s to get you better.” Of course it wouldn’t be sexual. I was basically a child in his arms, unable to care for myself. Shame colored me, but I said, “Okay.”

Law set me down on the cool marble tile but held me with one arm by the waist. He carefully removed my shirt first. It stuck to me by caked blood. I winced as he pulled it over my head.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Law said with a frown before tossing the bloody shirt on the ground.

“It’s fine,” I responded automatically. It wasn’t fine. It hurt terribly. I was sure I was bruised. I probably should have gone to the hospital, but that meant dealing with the police, and I never wanted to deal with them again.

Next Law undid the button of my pants. I cringed and looked for a spot on the wall to stare at, just like I had with Morris.

“You okay?” he asked. I wasn’t okay. I felt exposed and vulnerable, and I was in excruciating pain. “Nami, look at me.” Reluctantly, I looked at Law. His forehead was pressed in concern and his eyes were dark with some emotion I couldn’t place.

“No,” I replied, surprised by my own honesty. “I’m not okay.”

“I have EMT training, Nami. Just think of me like a doctor.” Law held my gaze for a good thirty seconds as we waited together for my response. I was equally in the dark as to what I would say. With Law I was unpredictable. The walls I built seemed to fail. The rules I constructed went out the window. At last I nodded, slowly and with careful determination.

I didn’t agree to let Law undress me because he had EMT training. It wasn’t because I viewed him as a doctor. If I was being honest, I agreed because he was Law. Utterly, irrevocably himself, and that held more sway with me than I cared to admit.

I lifted my legs to let Law slip me out of my pants. I was only in my underwear now. I waited, dread filling me up like a cement-filled balloon, for him to take those off too. Instead, Law led me over to the bath. It was filled to the brim with bubbles and smelled of him.

“What about my underwear?” I asked. I expected him to make some quip like he usually did.

“You don’t have to take those off. I imagine it will make you more comfortable.” His concern left me speechless. Still holding me, Law bent down to test the water. “It’s ready.” Law helped me into the bath, the hot water instantly alleviating my pain. I let out a long sigh.

Kneeling next to the porcelain tub, Law reached for a cloth. I watched, mesmerized, as he brought the cloth to my skin and gently started rubbing off the caked blood. It was such an intimate action. Bits and pieces of my psyche screamed at me to push him away. My body clenched with tension. Yet, it felt good. I couldn’t deny that.

Law had stayed true to his word: he wasn’t being sexual. He was merely trying to heal me. As he moved the washcloth down my arm, he continued to clean off the blood with the same gentle precision as a doctor would. I slowly relaxed, allowing him the freedom to touch me.

“It was lucky I found you,” Law murmured as he dipped the cloth back into the water.

“Was it luck?” I asked, turning to face him.