"You're going to have to sleep in your clothes," Sumire said as they entered her apartment.

"It won't be the first time, and it definitely won't be the last," Nick assured her. "Don't worry about me, let's just take care of you, okay?"

"Like I said, I just need a shower and sleep," she said. "Please, just grab a pillow from my bed, and an extra blanket from that closet right there and go to sleep. I'll be as quiet as I can. You need the bathroom before I head in there?"

Nick nodded and went in to do his thing, nodding his thanks when she opened the drawer and showed him where she kept extra toothbrushes. He quickly brushed his teeth and used the toilet, being careful to lower the seat after.

He'd just settled down on the couch in the darkened room, lit only by the lamp next to her bed, when the door to the bathroom opened, letting a sliver of light slice across his body.

"Nick?"

He sat up, kicking the blanket off.

"Yeah?"

Silence.

He rose and walked to where she stood in the doorway.

"What's wrong?"

"I--don't know what to do."

"Oh god, what is it? Do you need to go to the emergency room?" Nick was suddenly wide awake. He knew, though, even as he asked, that her answer would be no. She wasn't worried or upset, he could tell.

She was embarrassed.

She was holding the pink sweatshirt she'd borrowed from Carol closed at the throat in a posture he knew well, even though it didn't really need holding shut, and her head and eyes were facing the floor. Her hair, which had come a bit loose, fell in a curtain around her face.

Sure enough, she was shaking her head.

"No, nothing like that," she assured him. She finally looked up, biting her lips together, then letting out a deep breath.

"I'm left handed," she said, as if that explained everything.

Nick was confused, but nodded. "I know. I've noticed when we've been working together that you write with your left hand." He waited for more. Perhaps she'd hit her head and had a bit of a concussion?

"Well," she finally continued, "I think, when I kicked over my head, you know, when that guy was holding my arms? I pulled something, my side muscle or whatever it's called." And she gestured with her right arm down her left side, where the pain was.

"Your latissimus dorsi," Nick supplied with a gentle smile.

"Okay," she accepted. "Anyway, I guess because I'm a leftie, I pulled harder with my left arm, so now it's really sore." Another deep breath. "I can't lift my left arm at all," she explained quickly. "So I can't take the shirt off," she finished, her voice soft. "And probably I won't be able to take my bra off, either, because my right hand isn't coordinated enough to move like that."

And Nick knew he wasn't imagining the quaver he heard in her voice.

"I would just skip the shower, but I can't sleep in these clothes, I have blood all over myself, and I just feel--gross and dirty, you know?" She looked up at Nick, and the vulnerability he saw in her eyes was heartbreaking. "Even though they didn't really do anything to me? I won't be able to wash, but just to stand under the water will be enough, I think, and put on clean PJs?"

He nodded matter of factly, as if this were the most normal conversation he'd ever had in his life. "Okie doke," he said cheerfully. "So, we'll just get these dirty clothes off you, you'll hop in a hot shower, and we'll get you in some clean PJs, right? Then off to bed with you, how's that sound?" He gave her his famous smile, the smile that had helped him transition from Calvin Klein and Gucci to Miramax and MGM with hardly a blink.

She smiled back, a small smile of gratitude, and nodded.

He reached for the bottom of the sweatshirt when her heard her words, spoken nearly in a whisper.

"Could you try not to look? Please?"

Oh god.

Nick closed his eyes for a moment before leaning forward to press a kiss on top of her head. Then he reached and turned off the light, leaving the living room lamp as the only source of illumination. He heard her sigh of relief.

He gently grasped her by the shoulders and turned them so his back was to the mirror, and there was no chance of him seeing their reflection.

"Look at me, mmkay?" he said, his voice low. "Look right into my eyes. Don't look away now." He carefully pulled her injured left arm through the sleeve before lifting the shirt over her head. Next, he unbuttoned the remaining buttons on her ruined shirt before removing it from her body.

He maintained scrupulous eye contact with her in the near darkness throughout, so she would know his gaze wasn't wandering anywhere it shouldn't. Next, he turned her around and popped the hooks on her bra, making sure he didn't touch her anywhere else. He quickly turned her back around, fixing his eyes on hers once more as he lowered the straps and placed her bra on top of the other clothes.

"All done, Mimi-chan, no problem, right?" he said. "You got the rest, right?"

She nodded.

"Okay, I'll see you after to help you with your pajama top, all right?"

She nodded again, and he turned to go.

"Nick? Thank you." She leaned her head on his chest briefly before releasing him.

"No problem."

He left the bathroom, flicking the light on as he pulled the door shut.

How, how could she not be a virgin?

Nick killed time while the shower was running by wandering around the room again, looking at her books and numerous keepsakes of her childhood. He was once again stuck by how many photographs and mementos she had of her time in Japan, and how little of her time in Boston. It was as if her life had just stopped when her father died. She didn't even have graduation pictures, either from high school or college undergrad, and everyone had those, didn't they?

She had an entire bookshelf devoted to Japanese linguistics books, and over half of them were actually in Japanese.

Wow.

His agency had really lucked out in hiring her, and new car notwithstanding, she was being seriously underpaid, in his opinion. He looked through some of the books in English, and found stuff actually written by her in them, which amazed him. How could someone so young be published already?

He heard the shower shutting off and put the book back, ready to go and assist her once more. He tried not to imagine her in the shower or getting out and drying off. After all, she'd specifically told him not to look hadn't she? That definitely covered not imagining her naked, didn't it?

Yes, for sure.

That was not something a friend would do, Nick, old man, old chum.

The door opened, and he crossed the room to find she'd already put her bottoms on, and her top half way. She had a towel wrapped around herself, and Nick quickly and gently pulled her left arm through the sleeve and buttoned up the front, again while maintaining eye contact with her.

She let out a long breath when he was finished, pulling out the towel and hanging it up. "I feel so much better," she confessed. "Thank you so much."

"My pleasure," he responded. "Now, what about your hair? You don't sleep with it in a bun, do you?"

She shook her head. "I usually braid it, but that's okay, you've helped me enough, honest."

"Don't be stupid," he declared. "I used to braid my sister Darcie's hair all the time. I can even do the fancy braids in a pinch. Brush your teeth and then come out and sit on your bed and we'll get you all fixed up, okay?"

"Okay," she responded, her voice soft.

Nick waited, and she came out in a minute, holding a brush and a hair tie. He noticed for the first time that her PJs had Hello Kitty on them. For some reason he found this very touching, and for the first time that night, he had to hold back tears.

He patted the bed and she climbed on, sitting cross-legged as he stood. He quickly and efficiently undid her bun and brushed out her long hair.

"Wow, I've never seen your hair down," he commented. "I didn't know it was this long."

"I never wear it down," she responded. "I ride my bike so much, and it gets so hot here, you know? It's such a pain."

"But you keep it long?"

"Yeah, my dad liked it long," she said. "I know it'd kinda dumb, but--"

"No, not at all," Nick answered as he began braiding. "It's really beautiful, though, you should wear it down sometimes, you know? I mean, if you keep it long for his memory, you should wear it long sometimes for his memory too, right?"

"I guess so," she said. She gave a huge yawn at the end of her sentence, covering it with the back of her hand. "Oh god, so sorry, I'm just so tired."

She shifted on the bed as Nick tied the braid, forgetting about her arm, and she let out a gasp as she felt the pain.

"Are you going to be able to sleep?" Nick asked, concerned.

"I think so."

"Do you have anything you can take? For the pain?"

"I might have some aspirin around here," she said doubtfully. "I don't really take stuff much."

"I have stuff at my house, should I run back and get it?" Nick offered.

"Absolutely not, are you crazy? It's the middle of the night! Please go to sleep," Sumire begged. "I hope you can sleep on the couch."

"Believe me, it won't be a problem," he replied with a smile. "Okay, all done, let's get you tucked in."

"I don't need 'tucking in,'" Sumire objected as she lay down.

"Oh, really? Let's see you pull these blankets up, then," Nick teased.

Sumire gave an attempt but stopped at the pain in her side.

"Oh god, my right side is starting to hurt too," she said in a gassy, agonized voice.

"You probably had so much adrenalin pumping through your system you didn't know how much you were pushing your muscles," Nick said as he pulled her summer quilt up to cover her. "Like when the mother lifts the car off her child or whatever? She feels nothing until the crisis is over, you know?" He looked at her face in the lamplight. "And it looks like you're going to have a mouse under your left eye from where that asshole hit you."

Nick took her in, lying in bed with her braid, her damaged face, her Hello Kitty pajamas, and suddenly all of it hit him, everything that had happened to her, everything that could have happened to her, the pictures of her all around him as a child, and he covered his face with his hands as he drew a gasping breath and burst into tears.

Could you try not to look? Please?

These words, uttered in her soft, blameless voice, echoed in his brain.

"Nick! Oh god, Nick!"

He felt the bed shift as Sumire sat up in alarm, as gentle arms came around him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said into her shoulder.

"Why? Why are you sorry?"

"I took you to that place! You didn't want to go, you begged me to take you home, but I made you go anyway, and I knew those animals were circling you and I did nothing, I stood there shooting pool and drinking beer and left you to fend for yourself--"

"And I did, right? Nick, I did, right?"

Nick nodded his head. "You're a badass, Mimi-chan, you're a warrior, you really are. You don't need anyone, do you?" He continued to cry, his head on her shoulder. "And here I am, bawling like a fucking baby, Jesus--"

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay--"

He heard the sound of the lamp clicking off, and he felt himself being pulled down on the bed.

"No, you don't have to--I mean, I know you won't be comfortable with me here," he said, feeling awkward. "And your arm and everything--"

"Shh--" she shushed him. "It's a big bed, we can each have our own side and everything. You're so upset, you shouldn't be alone right now, I think. Now go to sleep, Nick, I'm here if you need me, okay?"

Eventually his tears tapered off, though it took him quite a while to calm down enough to fall asleep. And she was right, it was a comfort to feel her hand in his, and to hear her quiet breathing next to him.