Michael flexed his fingers over the keyboard, cracking each knuckle before settling his fingers over the keys.

A gentle stream of notes flowed from the battered piano, the soothing melody wafting like a butterfly to where Jamie was curled up on the couch. It was as if a curse had been broken, and suddenly the darkness outside didn't seem so scary anymore, and she felt a sense of peace drift over her again. Instantaneously, she was back in high school again, listening to Michael play in the band room during lunchtime, watching him play the songs he had invented just for fun.

Jamie's eyelids drooped, and she yawned, exhausted. Within seconds she had drifted into a gentle slumber, her pad and pen sliding from her limp fingers and falling on the floor. Michael played on, inventing the melody as he went, his fingers dancing, flying skillfully over the blacks and whites.

Glancing over at the couch, he saw her sleeping soundly, blankets tucked messily under her chin. She looked more like the Jamie he used to know, without the fear from the last two days stamped over her features. Ending the song, he gently tucked in the covers more tightly around her, and then picked up her pad, meaning to put it on the table next to her. Curiously he flipped through the pages, stopping at the notation,  my roommate Annie had gone to a party... and felt a chill run down his spine as he started to read Jamie's narrative. He sat down weakly, looking at the sleeping form on the couch, marveling how much she had been through. No wonder she has nightmares, he thought, and cursed himself for his impatience with her.

He put the pad gently down on the table and stood, heading toward his bedroom when Jamie let out a quiet whimper. Michael spun around in alarm. She was tossing around fitfully, striking out and her unseen attackers. And then, for the first time in days, she screamed. A long, drawn out scream of terror, grief, pain and anger all wrapped up in one. She sat up then, looking wildly around the room, trembling and searching for her tormentors. He was by her side in a second, and she clung tightly to him, sobbing with her newfound voice and he was cradling her in his arms with the smell of her hair wreathing him, promising her that he would make sure she was never hurt again and he would keep her safe forever.

Impulsively, he gathered her up in his arms, carrying her down the hall and depositing her gently on his bed. They lay there on top of the covers, clinging to each other, neither wanting to let go of the embrace. She was still sobbing, though she had calmed down somewhat and after a while she let out one, shuddering sigh and stopped crying all together.

Jamie burrowed next to him, laying her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, one hand gripping his shirt tightly and she was soon fast asleep again.

Michael lay with his head on the pillows looking down at her. A shaft of moonlight spilled through the window, lending her face a soft glow as he stroked her hair gently, feeling as if he was going to burst from the tenderness he felt for her.

He wanted to keep her by his side always, so she would never he hurt again, protect her gallantly with his last dying breath...

"I love you," he whispered, and gently kissed her on the forehead.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him.

"You do?" She asked shyly, letting go of his shirt and sliding her hand up, gently stroking his face, delighting in the feel of his whiskers under her fingers. "Since when?"

Gently taking her hand away from his face, he kissed each fingertip, sending warm shivers of pleasure down her arm.

"Always." He murmured into her palm.

He lifted her arm up and draped it around his neck, pulling her closer to him. Michael kissed the top of her head, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and then she lifted her chin up, brushing his lips with hers. They parted for a second, then all sense and reason took flight and they collided with each other at full force. Michael cradled her head and neck with one hand, forcibly crushing her mouth in his, moustache tickling her upper lip, his other hand pressed into the small of her back, as if trying to merge her body into his.

Jamie wrapped her leg around his waist, pressing herself into the hardening lump in his pants. Thrusting her hands into the back pockets of his jeans, she pushed in harder, drawing a grunt of pleasure from him. He gripped her tighter around her waist and she let her hands explore higher, feeling his back through the soft shirt. Her hands caressed his neck gently, and then she reached higher, tangling her fingers in his brown hair, relishing the silky feel. As she did her shirt hemline lifted, and Michael found his fingers exploring the smooth skin of her lower back.

"This...probably isn't a good idea..." he panted, trying to take a second to breathe.

"Shut up." She hissed, and thrust his hand up so it was cupping the gentle curve of her breast. Sparks exploded in Michael's brain and he rolled over, so he was straddling her, yanking the shirt higher as he did so.

Jamie's back arched in pleasure and she moaned under his touch, his fingers as skillful on her body as on the piano keys. With a groan she pulled her shirt of her head and pushed herself up, yanking his shirt off of him. Sighing with pleasure she ran her splayed hands for the first time over his bare, lean torso, lifting herself on her knees to press herself against him. In the moonlight she looked strangely ethereal, her hair tumbling in waves down her back. She kissed along his jaw line, his shoulders, stopping only when Michael pressed her back onto the covers, kissing her lips, down her neck, and then down the center of her chest, ending at the bellybutton line where her pants started.

Her slim hand reached down to untie the drawstring and he took the invitation from there, lifting her legs gently to slide the sweats off, tossing them on the floor. She lay there quietly, looking up at him, and then he was running his hands and mouth down her legs, causing her to moan when he found tender areas.

He paused and she took the moment to thrust her hand into his pants, temporarily robbing him of speech. Jamie pushed him over onto his back, savagely opening his pants and pulling them off him, admiring his body in the dim light. Leaning over, Jamie kissed him gently, pushing her tongue into his mouth as his arms encircled her, pulling her on top of him.

They lay cuddled under the covers, eyes drooping as they fought to stay awake, taking in each other's faces from the light of the moon.

"I love you Jamie," he whispered.

"I have always loved you Michael," she replied, and he kissed her slowly, buzzing with the feel of her skin on his. They drifted off into a contented sleep, and for the first time in two days, Jamie slept soundly without the fear of nightmares.

"What the fuck is this!?"

Jamie was jolted awake by the screaming of Emma, standing in the doorway with only a silk robe on and a pair of sky-high heels.

"Emma, I can explain-" Michael said.

"I knew it! I knew something was going on between you two!" She screeched, pointing at Jamie. "I bet you just made up that whole rape story, right? You just wanted to get me out of the way so you could fuck around the house without me walking in on you!" She eyed the bruises on Jamie's shoulders as she pulled the sheets instinctively up to her neck. "I guess you like it pretty rough, don't you, you whore?"

"Emma, that's enough!" Michael snapped. Emma rounded on him. "Oh, not even close. I thought you were some sort of gentleman, given how long it took me to get you in bed, but that's not the case, is it?" She gestured to Jamie who was surreptitiously trying to put on her clothes. "How many other girls have you been with since we got together? Ten? Twenty?"

"None!" Michael yelled angrily. "I was completely faithful to you."

Emma snorted.

"Yeah, I'll buy that. You're saying she's the only one you banged on the side? No one is that faithful." She said crossing her arms.

"I was!" Michael insisted, yanking on his pants and shirt. "Emma, I swear, I was never with another woman...until now." He admitted.

"So you're telling me that if I ask your little slut, she won't blab about any other times you've been with someone?" Temper flared in Michael's eyes.

"Her name is Jamie, have some respect. And she'll tell you-" he looked around the room, realizing it was empty, with the exception of Emma and himself.

"Where did she go?" He asked, bewildered.