Fic: Memories of Dark Days, R, Don/OFC
Dec. 11th, 2005 10:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
umbralilliumTitle: Memories of Dark Days
Author: DaniKitten
Pairing: Don/OFC, implied Charlie/Don if you squint (I know, I said I’d never do it, but I read some of spikedluv’s fics, and then Plaintext, Ciphertext by missmollyetc. It just happened! I swear!), mentions of Charlie/Colby
Rating/Category: R
Word Count: 2,530
Spoilers: None
Prequel: Plans
Summary: Cassandra reveals her memories of dark days
Notes: This was originally going to be part of it’s prequel, Plans, but it didn’t fit with the fluffy, light-heartedness of Plans, so I made it a separate story. This is my first time writing a fic like this, Jes says it sounds believable, but I'd really like other people's opinions on that.
Warnings: Mentions of child molestation, rape, and attempted suicide. It’s not pretty.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jestana, thanks, sis! MWAH!
Memories of Dark Days
Cassandra was not as oblivious to the outside world as many people thought she was. Sure, there were things she missed because of her hearing, but she did not ignore the light alerting her to a visitor. She had been expecting Don and only Don and Colby had keys to her studio, so when the light notified her that the door had been opened, she was not terribly alarmed. Besides, it would have been difficult to tear herself away from her work. She smiled slightly as that thought registered, and she took in her present project.
She had tried several times since meeting Charlie to capture one of his moments of insight, but she never seemed to have her camera with her, and, she felt, that it would seem more personal if she put in the extra work that a portrait would require. She was unsure if she would ever show this to anyone but Don, it really depended on how well it turned out, but, so far, she was satisfied with how it was turning out.
Cassandra tilted her head slightly to see a particular detail better and released a silent huff of frustration as a lock of hair fell into her eyes. Normally, she would pull her hair back before starting a painting, but the inspiration had struck so suddenly that she hadn’t dared to pause long enough to fix her hair, for fear of losing her inspiration. She reached up and carefully tucked the strand behind her ear then focused on the painting once more.
She added a few more finishing touches and stood back to give it the critical once over. Her lips quirked up at the corners as she felt Don move a little closer, his curiosity outweighing his reluctance to disturb her. She imagined that Don gave a soft, nearly inaudible gasp of surprise upon seeing his brother captured on canvas.
When she and Don had first started seeing each other, she was a little jealous of how much Don cared for Charlie. She knew that they weren’t lovers, nor were they likely to become so. Charlie was so in love with Colby, in spite of the fact that they’d been together for only nine months, one would have to be deaf and blind to miss it. A few people who knew Charlie and Cassandra had commented on the fact that they were alike in their devotion to their passion and their desire to help those they loved, but where Charlie’s mind followed straight, logical pathways, Cassandra’s was more inclined to twisted, abstract paths. Sometimes, what Charlie’s logical mind missed, Cassandra’s creative mind found with ease, and vice versa. But, it was probably for the best that Charlie was the consultant and not Cassandra. Charlie followed the facts, while Cassandra followed her instincts.
Cassandra and Don had been dating for about three months, but, at times, it seemed longer than that. Don understood her devotion to her art and Cassandra, in turn, understood Don’s devotion to his job. It was such and intrinsic part of who Don was, that Cassandra couldn’t imagine him being in any other line of work. She knew that, if Don had gone on to be a baseball player, he wouldn’t have been as content with it as he was with his work to the FBI. While the thought of traveling and playing a game for a living appealed to most ball players, it wouldn’t have been enough for Don. Don needed better reasons to play than that to be truly content with what he did for a living. So, the FBI was perfect for Don; he still got to travel, it was exciting and got his adrenaline going, but it also let him help people and protect the city, state, and country he loved.
Cassandra felt the air currents shift as Don reached up and touched her shoulder. She smiled and murmured, “I knew you were there,” not looking away from her painting. Her smile widened as Don stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. After a few moments of standing together in silence, Cassandra reached out dropped her brush into the jar of cleaning solution she kept near at hand when she was painting. She turned her head and looked up at Don with a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey. Looks great, Cass.” Don responded softly.
Cassandra kissed Don softly. “Thank you.”
Don smiled. “You’re welcome. What is it for?”
Cassandra shrugged. “Not sure yet. I just felt like painting and that,” she gestured vaguely at the painting. “Appeared on the canvas.”
“I know Colby would love to have it.” Don answered gently.
Cassandra pulled away and started cleaning up. “Maybe.”
She could feel Don watching her as she moved around the room. She didn’t know why, but suddenly felt as if she was on display. But that was silly; it was just the two of them there. She shook her head mentally, telling herself she was being silly. Cassandra gathered up the brushes and palette and took them over to the utility sink. She set them on the counter and took off her watch and the leather cuff she wore almost constantly. After turning on the water, she picked up the palette and held it under the stream of water, letting the warm water wash away the easier remnants of paint then she took a soft cloth and started scrubbing.
She didn’t look up when Don came over to lean against the counter. She set the palette aside to drain and started on the brushes.
There was one thing that Don didn’t quite understand about her work: most of it was for herself. Sure, a hefty percent of her works were commissions, but more often than not, she painted, did graphic work, or sketched because she wanted to. That was the way she liked it; if she did something for herself, no one else could dictate how something looked, nor could they demand she start over again if they weren’t completely satisfied.
Cassandra didn’t realize that the brush was clean until Don reached out and turned off the water then took her hands in one of his. With the other, he tilted her head up until her eyes met his. “Something wrong, Cass?” Don asked.
“No.” Cassandra said a little too quickly. She sighed at Don’s skeptical look. “It’s just…I wasn’t planning on anyone else seeing it. I did it for me.” She pulled away and started pacing the area between her easel and the sink. “Sometimes, I get so restless that I have to do something. Usually I paint or I work on the computer and that takes care of it.”
Don intercepted her and made her look at him again. “It didn’t work this time?”
“Kind of. I don’t feel like I’m going to vibrate out of the skin if I don’t do something, but I still feel like I should be doing something.” Cassandra confessed.
Don stared into Cassandra’s eyes silently for a few moments before venturing, “There was a reason why you asked me to come out here today.”
Cassandra nodded slowly. “I…” She started, but trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.
Don took Cassandra’s hand and led her over to the care-worn green loveseat under the window along the west wall of the room and pulled her down to sit next to him. “Talk to me, Cass.”
Cassandra bit her lower lip nervously. “I don’t know if I can tell you so much as show you.” She admitted. She looked down at her hands, resting palm down on her lap. She took a deep breath and turned them over, revealing one-and-a-half in long scars on her wrists.
She felt Don stiffen and her head bowed a little more as tears of shame fell from her eyes. One of Don’s hands entered her field of vision and tilted her head up. She closed her eyes to avoid seeing the look in those brown eyes that she had come to love so much over so short a period of time. When the hand shifted and cupped her cheek, her eyelid fluttered, and when the other hand joined the first, she finally opened her eyes completely to see worry and compassion in Don’s eyes.
“What happened?” Don asked, reaching down to pick up one of Cassandra’s hands and squeezing it gently.
“You were right that there was a reason I asked you to come today.” Cassandra licked her lips nervously before continuing. “When I was young, a close family friend would baby-sit Colby and I whenever my parents went out for the evening.” Her eyes squeezed shut as memories cascaded through her mind. “My parents trusted him implicitly, Colby and I loved him almost as much as we loved our parents. He always had presents for us when he visited, it didn’t matter to us whether it was just a piece of candy or a toy. If it was from him, we cherished it. When we were about twelve or so, my parents were celebrating their fifteenth anniversary, so they decided to stay in a hotel room for the night.” Cassandra’s breathing quickened as bits and pieces of that night filtered through her brain. “I don’t remember all of what happened. I remember we’d stayed up late playing a card game, blackjack I think. Colby got tired first, so he went to bed before us. We played a few more hands before I was ready to go to bed. I gave him a hug like I usually do, but--.” Cassandra faltered, but continued when Don squeezed her hand lightly. “Usually it’s just a quick hug, this time, he picked me up then he walked over to the couch and sat down, still holding onto me. Then h-his hands moved from around my waist.” A tear trickled from each of Cassandra’s closed eyes. She opened her eyes and stared at Don. “You know what hurt the most? It wasn’t that he molested me. It was that he betrayed my parents’ trust in him.” She whispered, the tears falling faster.
Don just reached out and pulled Cassandra into his arms, rocking them both gently from side to side as Cassandra cried against his shoulder.
After a few moments, Cassandra had composed herself enough to continue, but she didn’t move from Don’s embrace. “I didn’t tell them about it. I was afraid they would think I was lying. I don’t know why I thought that. They had never doubted me before, but something was holding me back. After that, I made sure I was never in a room alone with him again. If he was babysitting us, and Colby decided to go to bed before I was tired, I would go to bed anyway, just so I wouldn’t be alone with him. When I was thirteen, he cornered me in a restroom while the five of us were at a Christmas party.” She shivered and curled closer to Don.
“Why have you been avoiding me, Cassie?” He asked.
Cassandra cringed back against the sink as he prowled closer. “You know why, Jack.”
Jack grinned, stopping a scant few inches from Cassandra. “Possibly. Why don’t you tell me?”
Cassandra fought to control her trembling. “Leave me alone, Jack.”
“No.” He said, reaching up and tugging cruelly on her long hair. “I like your hair long, Cassie. Easier to grip.” He wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled, causing Cassandra to cry out in pain, tears springing to her eyes.
“Please, stop this.” She begged.
Jack released her hair and backed away long enough to backhand her. “Shut up.” He ordered harshly.
The tears finally spilled down Cassandra’s cheeks as Jack moved towards her again.
Cassandra thoughts were interrupted by a gentle touch to her shoulder. She blinked and focused on the face in front of her. “Colby?”
“Hey, Cass.” Colby said softly. “You didn’t think I’d forget what today was, did you?” He asked.
Cassandra shook her head and burrowed closer to Don, despite the fact that she was pressed tightly against him already.
“Do you want me to finish telling Don?” Colby asked gently.
Cassandra shook her head again. “No, I need to tell him.”
“Okay.” Colby answered, not moving away.
Don smoothed Cassandra’s hair back from her face and she looked up. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.” He told her soothingly.
She smiled a little. “Thanks.” She whispered. She took a few moments to compose herself before continuing. “He ra-raped me that night. I don’t know how he managed it with so many people nearby, but he did. When he left, I was too tired to move. I think I passed out for a little while.” Her eyes met Colby’s and he squeezed her shoulder gently. “Next thing I knew, Colby had found me. He knew who it was right off. He’d commented on my not wanting to be alone with J-Jack. I didn’t tell him about Jack molesting me, but I couldn’t avoid him finding out about the rape. I begged him not to tell Mom and Dad, I knew they would tear themselves apart for trusting Jack.” Cassandra chuckle wryly. “After that, Colby got even more protective of me.” The twins shared a slight smile.
Don reached down and brushed a gentle finger over one of the scars. “What about…?” He trailed off leadingly and Colby translated for Cassandra since she wasn’t looking at Don.
“I was fourteen. It was the night before school started again after winter break. The first semester had been a nightmare; I felt like everyone knew what he’d done to me. It was irrational, I knew that, but I couldn’t help feeling it. I couldn’t face that again after a month free from worrying. Mom, Dad, and Colby were already asleep, but I couldn’t get my mind to shut off long enough so I could fall asleep. That had been happening a lot, it had gotten to the point where I only had a few hours of sleep a night. That night, I couldn’t take the paranoia and the constant exhaustion anymore.” Cassandra’s voice started trembling as she continued. “I went out to the kitchen and got our sharpest kitchen knife. I went into the bathroom, locked the door, and climbed into the tub. That’s the last thing I remember clearly, everything else is just flashes: red against steel, a loud crash, a bright light, flashing lights. After that: nothing.” Cassandra blinked as she felt something wet land on her head. She looked up at Don and saw the tears on his cheeks. Gently, she reached up and brushed away his tears. “It was a long time ago, I’m proud to state that I haven’t done that since that night.”
Don smiled tremulously. “I know.” He whispered and held Cassandra even tighter. He looked down at Colby and the two men shared a look. Don knew that Colby had come to his sister’s aid again, and he would continue to do so for as long as he was able, but he wouldn’t be alone anymore. No, Don would be there to help Cassandra if she fell.
End.
Author: DaniKitten
Pairing: Don/OFC, implied Charlie/Don if you squint (I know, I said I’d never do it, but I read some of spikedluv’s fics, and then Plaintext, Ciphertext by missmollyetc. It just happened! I swear!), mentions of Charlie/Colby
Rating/Category: R
Word Count: 2,530
Spoilers: None
Prequel: Plans
Summary: Cassandra reveals her memories of dark days
Notes: This was originally going to be part of it’s prequel, Plans, but it didn’t fit with the fluffy, light-heartedness of Plans, so I made it a separate story. This is my first time writing a fic like this, Jes says it sounds believable, but I'd really like other people's opinions on that.
Warnings: Mentions of child molestation, rape, and attempted suicide. It’s not pretty.
Beta:
jestana, thanks, sis! MWAH!Cassandra was not as oblivious to the outside world as many people thought she was. Sure, there were things she missed because of her hearing, but she did not ignore the light alerting her to a visitor. She had been expecting Don and only Don and Colby had keys to her studio, so when the light notified her that the door had been opened, she was not terribly alarmed. Besides, it would have been difficult to tear herself away from her work. She smiled slightly as that thought registered, and she took in her present project.
She had tried several times since meeting Charlie to capture one of his moments of insight, but she never seemed to have her camera with her, and, she felt, that it would seem more personal if she put in the extra work that a portrait would require. She was unsure if she would ever show this to anyone but Don, it really depended on how well it turned out, but, so far, she was satisfied with how it was turning out.
Cassandra tilted her head slightly to see a particular detail better and released a silent huff of frustration as a lock of hair fell into her eyes. Normally, she would pull her hair back before starting a painting, but the inspiration had struck so suddenly that she hadn’t dared to pause long enough to fix her hair, for fear of losing her inspiration. She reached up and carefully tucked the strand behind her ear then focused on the painting once more.
She added a few more finishing touches and stood back to give it the critical once over. Her lips quirked up at the corners as she felt Don move a little closer, his curiosity outweighing his reluctance to disturb her. She imagined that Don gave a soft, nearly inaudible gasp of surprise upon seeing his brother captured on canvas.
When she and Don had first started seeing each other, she was a little jealous of how much Don cared for Charlie. She knew that they weren’t lovers, nor were they likely to become so. Charlie was so in love with Colby, in spite of the fact that they’d been together for only nine months, one would have to be deaf and blind to miss it. A few people who knew Charlie and Cassandra had commented on the fact that they were alike in their devotion to their passion and their desire to help those they loved, but where Charlie’s mind followed straight, logical pathways, Cassandra’s was more inclined to twisted, abstract paths. Sometimes, what Charlie’s logical mind missed, Cassandra’s creative mind found with ease, and vice versa. But, it was probably for the best that Charlie was the consultant and not Cassandra. Charlie followed the facts, while Cassandra followed her instincts.
Cassandra and Don had been dating for about three months, but, at times, it seemed longer than that. Don understood her devotion to her art and Cassandra, in turn, understood Don’s devotion to his job. It was such and intrinsic part of who Don was, that Cassandra couldn’t imagine him being in any other line of work. She knew that, if Don had gone on to be a baseball player, he wouldn’t have been as content with it as he was with his work to the FBI. While the thought of traveling and playing a game for a living appealed to most ball players, it wouldn’t have been enough for Don. Don needed better reasons to play than that to be truly content with what he did for a living. So, the FBI was perfect for Don; he still got to travel, it was exciting and got his adrenaline going, but it also let him help people and protect the city, state, and country he loved.
Cassandra felt the air currents shift as Don reached up and touched her shoulder. She smiled and murmured, “I knew you were there,” not looking away from her painting. Her smile widened as Don stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. After a few moments of standing together in silence, Cassandra reached out dropped her brush into the jar of cleaning solution she kept near at hand when she was painting. She turned her head and looked up at Don with a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey. Looks great, Cass.” Don responded softly.
Cassandra kissed Don softly. “Thank you.”
Don smiled. “You’re welcome. What is it for?”
Cassandra shrugged. “Not sure yet. I just felt like painting and that,” she gestured vaguely at the painting. “Appeared on the canvas.”
“I know Colby would love to have it.” Don answered gently.
Cassandra pulled away and started cleaning up. “Maybe.”
She could feel Don watching her as she moved around the room. She didn’t know why, but suddenly felt as if she was on display. But that was silly; it was just the two of them there. She shook her head mentally, telling herself she was being silly. Cassandra gathered up the brushes and palette and took them over to the utility sink. She set them on the counter and took off her watch and the leather cuff she wore almost constantly. After turning on the water, she picked up the palette and held it under the stream of water, letting the warm water wash away the easier remnants of paint then she took a soft cloth and started scrubbing.
She didn’t look up when Don came over to lean against the counter. She set the palette aside to drain and started on the brushes.
There was one thing that Don didn’t quite understand about her work: most of it was for herself. Sure, a hefty percent of her works were commissions, but more often than not, she painted, did graphic work, or sketched because she wanted to. That was the way she liked it; if she did something for herself, no one else could dictate how something looked, nor could they demand she start over again if they weren’t completely satisfied.
Cassandra didn’t realize that the brush was clean until Don reached out and turned off the water then took her hands in one of his. With the other, he tilted her head up until her eyes met his. “Something wrong, Cass?” Don asked.
“No.” Cassandra said a little too quickly. She sighed at Don’s skeptical look. “It’s just…I wasn’t planning on anyone else seeing it. I did it for me.” She pulled away and started pacing the area between her easel and the sink. “Sometimes, I get so restless that I have to do something. Usually I paint or I work on the computer and that takes care of it.”
Don intercepted her and made her look at him again. “It didn’t work this time?”
“Kind of. I don’t feel like I’m going to vibrate out of the skin if I don’t do something, but I still feel like I should be doing something.” Cassandra confessed.
Don stared into Cassandra’s eyes silently for a few moments before venturing, “There was a reason why you asked me to come out here today.”
Cassandra nodded slowly. “I…” She started, but trailed off, uncertain how to proceed.
Don took Cassandra’s hand and led her over to the care-worn green loveseat under the window along the west wall of the room and pulled her down to sit next to him. “Talk to me, Cass.”
Cassandra bit her lower lip nervously. “I don’t know if I can tell you so much as show you.” She admitted. She looked down at her hands, resting palm down on her lap. She took a deep breath and turned them over, revealing one-and-a-half in long scars on her wrists.
She felt Don stiffen and her head bowed a little more as tears of shame fell from her eyes. One of Don’s hands entered her field of vision and tilted her head up. She closed her eyes to avoid seeing the look in those brown eyes that she had come to love so much over so short a period of time. When the hand shifted and cupped her cheek, her eyelid fluttered, and when the other hand joined the first, she finally opened her eyes completely to see worry and compassion in Don’s eyes.
“What happened?” Don asked, reaching down to pick up one of Cassandra’s hands and squeezing it gently.
“You were right that there was a reason I asked you to come today.” Cassandra licked her lips nervously before continuing. “When I was young, a close family friend would baby-sit Colby and I whenever my parents went out for the evening.” Her eyes squeezed shut as memories cascaded through her mind. “My parents trusted him implicitly, Colby and I loved him almost as much as we loved our parents. He always had presents for us when he visited, it didn’t matter to us whether it was just a piece of candy or a toy. If it was from him, we cherished it. When we were about twelve or so, my parents were celebrating their fifteenth anniversary, so they decided to stay in a hotel room for the night.” Cassandra’s breathing quickened as bits and pieces of that night filtered through her brain. “I don’t remember all of what happened. I remember we’d stayed up late playing a card game, blackjack I think. Colby got tired first, so he went to bed before us. We played a few more hands before I was ready to go to bed. I gave him a hug like I usually do, but--.” Cassandra faltered, but continued when Don squeezed her hand lightly. “Usually it’s just a quick hug, this time, he picked me up then he walked over to the couch and sat down, still holding onto me. Then h-his hands moved from around my waist.” A tear trickled from each of Cassandra’s closed eyes. She opened her eyes and stared at Don. “You know what hurt the most? It wasn’t that he molested me. It was that he betrayed my parents’ trust in him.” She whispered, the tears falling faster.
Don just reached out and pulled Cassandra into his arms, rocking them both gently from side to side as Cassandra cried against his shoulder.
After a few moments, Cassandra had composed herself enough to continue, but she didn’t move from Don’s embrace. “I didn’t tell them about it. I was afraid they would think I was lying. I don’t know why I thought that. They had never doubted me before, but something was holding me back. After that, I made sure I was never in a room alone with him again. If he was babysitting us, and Colby decided to go to bed before I was tired, I would go to bed anyway, just so I wouldn’t be alone with him. When I was thirteen, he cornered me in a restroom while the five of us were at a Christmas party.” She shivered and curled closer to Don.
“Why have you been avoiding me, Cassie?” He asked.
Cassandra cringed back against the sink as he prowled closer. “You know why, Jack.”
Jack grinned, stopping a scant few inches from Cassandra. “Possibly. Why don’t you tell me?”
Cassandra fought to control her trembling. “Leave me alone, Jack.”
“No.” He said, reaching up and tugging cruelly on her long hair. “I like your hair long, Cassie. Easier to grip.” He wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled, causing Cassandra to cry out in pain, tears springing to her eyes.
“Please, stop this.” She begged.
Jack released her hair and backed away long enough to backhand her. “Shut up.” He ordered harshly.
The tears finally spilled down Cassandra’s cheeks as Jack moved towards her again.
Cassandra thoughts were interrupted by a gentle touch to her shoulder. She blinked and focused on the face in front of her. “Colby?”
“Hey, Cass.” Colby said softly. “You didn’t think I’d forget what today was, did you?” He asked.
Cassandra shook her head and burrowed closer to Don, despite the fact that she was pressed tightly against him already.
“Do you want me to finish telling Don?” Colby asked gently.
Cassandra shook her head again. “No, I need to tell him.”
“Okay.” Colby answered, not moving away.
Don smoothed Cassandra’s hair back from her face and she looked up. “Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.” He told her soothingly.
She smiled a little. “Thanks.” She whispered. She took a few moments to compose herself before continuing. “He ra-raped me that night. I don’t know how he managed it with so many people nearby, but he did. When he left, I was too tired to move. I think I passed out for a little while.” Her eyes met Colby’s and he squeezed her shoulder gently. “Next thing I knew, Colby had found me. He knew who it was right off. He’d commented on my not wanting to be alone with J-Jack. I didn’t tell him about Jack molesting me, but I couldn’t avoid him finding out about the rape. I begged him not to tell Mom and Dad, I knew they would tear themselves apart for trusting Jack.” Cassandra chuckle wryly. “After that, Colby got even more protective of me.” The twins shared a slight smile.
Don reached down and brushed a gentle finger over one of the scars. “What about…?” He trailed off leadingly and Colby translated for Cassandra since she wasn’t looking at Don.
“I was fourteen. It was the night before school started again after winter break. The first semester had been a nightmare; I felt like everyone knew what he’d done to me. It was irrational, I knew that, but I couldn’t help feeling it. I couldn’t face that again after a month free from worrying. Mom, Dad, and Colby were already asleep, but I couldn’t get my mind to shut off long enough so I could fall asleep. That had been happening a lot, it had gotten to the point where I only had a few hours of sleep a night. That night, I couldn’t take the paranoia and the constant exhaustion anymore.” Cassandra’s voice started trembling as she continued. “I went out to the kitchen and got our sharpest kitchen knife. I went into the bathroom, locked the door, and climbed into the tub. That’s the last thing I remember clearly, everything else is just flashes: red against steel, a loud crash, a bright light, flashing lights. After that: nothing.” Cassandra blinked as she felt something wet land on her head. She looked up at Don and saw the tears on his cheeks. Gently, she reached up and brushed away his tears. “It was a long time ago, I’m proud to state that I haven’t done that since that night.”
Don smiled tremulously. “I know.” He whispered and held Cassandra even tighter. He looked down at Colby and the two men shared a look. Don knew that Colby had come to his sister’s aid again, and he would continue to do so for as long as he was able, but he wouldn’t be alone anymore. No, Don would be there to help Cassandra if she fell.
