Jamie watched as the sun set slowly and majestically behind the trees. A quiet breeze stirred ripples on the lake and she shivered, wishing she had thought to bring a warmer coat with her. Or any coat at all. All she had was her long-sleeved shirt and already goosebumps were beginning to break out all over her skin.

And yet, for the first time since her attack, she was at peace. The chirruping of the birds didn't send her into a panic; the buzz of mosquitoes didn't speed up her heart rate at all. She breathed deeply, smelling the cold in the evening air. Perhaps the reason she was drawn here was all the memories. This had always been their place. She and Michael had always come here when they were in high school, and when she had moved; this was always their rendezvous point when she visited.

It was Michael who had shown her the cave where she was now, coaching her to walk along the narrow ledge to the small cave tucked in the rock. She felt safe here, knowing that the cave was hard to see from the path, and that no one was in the park at this time of day so she was completely alone. She leaned against the cool rock wall. She didn't want to go back yet. Not after over hearing Michael talking to Emma. She looked down at the pad on her lap. Maybe...here she would be able to write out her story. Gripping her pen firmly, she began to write, hesitantly recalling the night onto the page.

' My roommate Annie had gone to a party at her sorority house and wouldn't be back until morning. I was practicing a dance for my class the next day when someone knocked on the door. He said he was a friend of "my roommate" and he had come to borrow a book for a class they had together. I opened the door and what seemed like a crowd of them pushed in. I realized someone thing was wrong when I saw they all had some sort of mask on to hide their faces. Three boys were carrying six-pack cans of beer, though they were already drunk. I tried to run out and get to the R.A. on our floor, but they grabbed me and forced me down on the bed, tying my wrists to the bedpost-.'

Jamie stopped writing as she heard someone on the trail nearby. Her hands were shaking, remembering what had happened, and she froze, hoping that she wouldn't be heard and that whoever it was would go away. The light was fading fast and she belatedly realized she hadn't brought a flashlight. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard someone moving on the ledge toward the cave. Frantically, she scrabbled around for a rock to use as a weapon, then relaxed slightly as she recognized the dark-haired figure climbing into the cave.

She flipped to a fresh sheet of paper and wrote what are you doing here?

"Thought I should find you before it got too dark," said Michael lightly, but he looked annoyed.

I told you I was going for a walk. I was going to come back.

"Which is a little confusing seeing that you jump out of your skin all day at the slightest sound but then...oh, you decide you're well enough to walk out the moment I turn my back?"

I figured you could use some time NOT looking after me.

Michael flushed slightly, embarrassed.

"You heard me talking to Emma."

No duh.

Here on the lake she wasn't scared anymore, and she just glared accusingly at him from where she was leaning against the wall. He glanced at her curiously.

"Is this why you wanted to stay with me? Because of this place?"

I was always reminded of you here, and that made me happy. She thought. But instead she wrote, Memories. How did you know I was here? He squinted in the failing light to read the pad, then shrugged.

"Only place we both know really well."

This was our place.  She wrote sadly. Michael stiffened slightly as he read it, and looked away.

"I guess it was." He said quietly.

Glancing at her again he noticed she wasn't fidgeting as much as she had been, nor was she staring blankly into nothing. The fading light caught her profile as she looked out over the darkening water, turning her hair to gold, accenting the slight bump on her nose that she always hated. For the first time since she'd arrived, her lips were curled back in a serene smile, the slight scar over her eyebrow crinkling with the movement. Michael caught his breath, he'd forgotten how beautiful she was.

The moment was broken when Jamie shivered. She must've left without wearing a coat, Michael realized.

"Are you cold?" He asked. Jamie shook her head. Her teeth chattered in disagreement. Michael rolled his eyes. Typical Jamie, she'd rather loose an arm to frostbite than admit to hypothermia. He pulled off his coat and held it out to her, but she shook her head and wrote, you'll be cold.

"I'm warmer then you are now." He argued, slipping the coat over her shoulders, noticing she didn't flinch, but merely pulled the coat on, hugging it closely to her. Michael held out an arm to her and Jamie hesitated, before snuggling close to him tentatively. Instinctively, Michael wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her thin shoulders to warm her up. She froze, and then relaxed, moving closer, laying her head on his shoulder, and feeling safe and secure in his arms. Her hair smelled like apples, he realized, resting his chin on her head, and he breathed the scent in and held her tightly.

They stayed that way as the light faded completely from the sky, listening to the sound of bats flapping around in the dark, hunting for insects and the wind rustling in the trees.

Jamie sat on the tile floor feeling the hot water run over her body. "Relax" she thought, "breathe in, out, 1...2...3..." she tensed up again, remembering Michael's arm around her, his chin on her head.

A tingle of warmth shot through her that had nothing to do with the hot water flowing over her back. "Michael," she thought wistfully, then slapped her hand on the ground, bringing herself back to the present moment. "No! He's my friend!" she thought angrily, "he's taken, I can't have him!"

She stood up swiftly and winced, her sore muscles protesting. " Jamison Roxanne Scott, you really are something else," she thought, looking over her body and its fading mottled bruises. "Two days after you get assaulted, and you're already falling for your high school flame again." Then, "who am I kidding? I never stopped falling for him."

She smacked her head gently against the wall then turned off the water. Stepping out of the shower she pulled a towel from the rack and whirled around as she heard the bathroom door open.

"I just thought you would like some-" Michael froze, a stack of clothing in his hand as he gaped, turning a bright pink. "Uh-extra c-clothing I got you some fresh clothing so you don't have to be in a towel-well obviously you wouldn't be wearing a towel you could-I mean...Never mind I just brought you these-here!" He tossed the clothes at her and dashed out, banging his shoulder painfully against the door as he went.

Jamie inspected the dropped offering, a dark Star Wars shirt and a pair of grey drawstring sweats. She put them on, feeling as if she was drowning in the clothes-they were much too big for her. Glancing in the mirror, she took a breath. The bruises were fading; her eyes seemed to be a little brighter. She opened her mouth but only a rusty croak came out. "I'm a little better," she thought hopefully.

In the bedroom Michael buried his face in a pillow. "Stupid idiot" he thought grimly. What had he been thinking? That she would be dressed instead of wearing a towel? "At least she was wearing a towel." He thought, and tried to shake away that thought as something that shouldn't have hardened. Emma would be furious if she found out.

He closed his eyes, but the image of Jamie seemed imprinted on the inside of his eyelids, her light brown hair dark and dripping wet, the droplets running down her skin. Her eyes, large and doe-like, startled at his entrance, seemed vulnerable, the dark bruising marking her fair skin. He hadn't realized she had so many on her. For a second he had a satisfying fantasy of single-handedly beating up the monsters who did this to her, pummeling boys without faces to the ground until they begged forgiveness for their crimes. That would teach them to mess with his-

The bathroom door creaked open and he caught a glimpse of her padding out and sitting on the couch. She was writing on her notepad, and he thought she wanted to ask him a question, or maybe she was finally talking about her experience? A surge of satisfaction filled his chest. "She's getting better" he thought, "she'll be back to normal soon."

In the dark two of them fumbled blindly, trying to pull my pants off. I could smell the beer on them, I was kicking out but they were stronger and held my legs still yanking my pants and underwear down to my ankles. Then I heard a fly being unzipped, and I struggled harder. One of them crawled on top of me; I felt as if my legs would pop out of their sockets I was fighting so much. Then it was as if I was being ripped from the inside, listening to him grunting in pleasure. Every time I tried to twist away or scream he slapped me, but I kept fighting him and everyone else. The rest watched, drinking beer, as if it was some sort of sport and not torture. As soon as one was satisfied another climbed on top of me, it seemed like there was no end...

Jamie stopped writing. Her hand was shaking again, and she hugged herself, feeling her sense of calm from the lake slipping away. In the night they could be anywhere, surrounding the apartment maybe, waiting for a chance to attack her again...A whimper built up in her throat as she tried to breathe.

She was safe now, Michael would make sure of that...She jumped as he came into the room, busying himself by rinsing the dishes, stowing them in the washer. Jamie watched him work, his slim figure moving around the kitchen, long fingers deftly putting bowls and plates on their racks. Michael had been all elbows and knees in high school, she remembered, it had taken time for his shoulders to broaden, for lean muscle tone to develop, for him to get enough confidence to raise his head high enough for people to see and be transfixed by his piercing blue eyes. She saw with amusement as he leaned down to turn on the washer that his bangs kept getting in his eyes. "He needs a haircut" she thought affectionately, and looked away as he glanced toward her, as if feeling her stare.

Jamie couldn't remember when she'd looked at Michael and saw someone she wanted more than a friend, but by the time she did, it was too late. He had a whole crowd of girls chasing him and Jamie had no idea how to make herself stand out in the mass of bewitching blondes, redheads and brunettes who all seemed to know more about make-up and flirting than she did. Then graduation had come around and they'd gone their separate ways, Jamie on a scholarship to a well-known arts school for dance, Michael to a just-as-prestigious university for computer science. They'd kept in touch when they could, but things never felt the same and she wasn't sure how to bring that back. Or did she?

She picked up her notepad and turned to a fresh page, writing quickly then walking over to Michael in the kitchen. He spun in surprise, feeling her light touch on his shoulder. She held up the pad for him to read.

Will you play for me?