A Christmas Miracle brings them together.

by horny pixy. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.

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“Come home with me tonight,” he murmured. “Or let me stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor, or the chair. Just; Just don’t ask me to leave you for the wolves. Because I can’t do that.”

She pulled away. “I don’t expect you to take care of me,” she said. “I can’t ask it from you.”

His face blanched. “Is it because of my leg?” he asked. “I know I’m not; what I used to be, but I assure you, I’m still able to protect you from;”

“It’s not your leg,” she said and put a hand over his heart. “I can’t risk getting you involved in the clusterfuck that is my life at this stage.”

“I’m offering you one evening’s respite, Mia,” he said. “That’s it. I’m not asking you to move in with me forever.”

“You don’t even know me,” she whispered, touched. “Why would you want to do this for me?”

He gave a small, crooked smile. “How can I not?” he asked simply. “Helping you;  it feels like breathing. I can’t not do it.”

Carter waited in the living room with two cups of coffee while Mia helped Nikita settle in the spare room they would be sharing while they were there. He had turned the heat up and the whole apartment was slowly getting warmer. Mia sat down on the couch across from him and took the cup he offered her.

“Why don’t you tell me where it hurts?” he said, leaning back and crossing his ankles, the perfect model of relaxation. “And please don’t tell me it’s just that one place on your side. I’ve been watching you all evening, and you’re in pain.”

“All right, yes, but I’m fine. It’s just some bruises.”

“Show me,” he said. “I’m a medic, remember?”

Mia battled with her will for a moment before she stood up and started unbuttoning her coat with quick, business-like movements. Carter had something good and pure about him; something sweet and somehow innocent. It went deeper than just offering his home to two strangers. He wouldn’t hurt her or her sister in any way. The goodness of him; It went all the way to his soul.

Oh, did she even have a soul anymore?

The thought made something fog over in her mind and her hands started to shake when she took the coat off and laid it over the back of the couch. Carter didn’t move from his position as he watched her fingers curl over the bottom hem of her simple brown sweater. She did not, could not, look at his face while she pulled it up and over her head, wincing when the movement pulled at sore muscles and bruised flesh.

Carter’s mouth was so dry he almost expected a sandstorm to originate under his tongue. Watching Mia as she took off her clothes was an exercise in self-control, though there was nothing sexual about the way she undressed. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, her stare blank and empty, as she untucked the second sweater from her pants and pulled it up. He watched the way she held her arms close to her body, trying to minimalize the pain, and felt like the worst kind of man for wanting her so much when she was suffering.

She was wearing only a cream-colored, long-sleeved button-down blouse, but her fingers were trembling so badly she couldn’t get the buttons through the holes. He watched her struggle with the bottom button for a while before he couldn’t take another second of the slow torture.

“Let me help you,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. She nodded and let her arms fall to her sides. Carter put his cup down and stood up slowly, hoping that there was no visible evidence of the stirring in his lap. He gave a single step, and then he was in front of her. He searched her eyes, but there was no sign of fear or distrust in them. He looked down at his hands as he found the first button at the bottom. They felt unnaturally small under his big, suddenly-clumsy fingers. He tried to keep his breathing even as he managed to slip it through the little hole. His fingertips felt the coarse, starched material of her shirt as they stroked upwards to the next button. He undid it with an equal amount of fumbling, trying to remember that this was not a prelude to the horizontal tango.

He was halfway with the buttons when it happened. His finger slid under the material of her shirt and his knuckles skimmed over her skin. They both hissed in surprise and he looked up at her face for the first time since he’d begun the unbuttoning. Her eyes were wide and dark, her lashes almost impossible long, casting little half-moon shadows over her cheeks. Her face was flushed a delicious shade of desire, her mouth slightly open. He watched the shimmering trail when she extended the tip of her tongue and wetted her lips unconsciously.

She wanted him.

Carter swallowed and forced himself to look away from her face. He tried to focus on the buttons, but saw only the little nubs of her hardened nipples swelling under her clothes.

Oh, dear;

He opened another button and realized that he had reached the one right under her breast. He swallowed convulsively and undid it. He felt her breasts pressing against the back of his hands. The material of her shirt strained very lightly against the swell of her breasts, and he had to pull the edges of the material closer to the middle to undo the button. It popped open, and then there was just one left. His fingers were trembling almost as much as hers had done, but somehow he got it through the little hole.

He pushed the edges of the shirt away, to the side, and braced himself for the sight of her body.

And then all thoughts of desire fled from his mind in an instant.

Bruises bloomed over her skin like an obscene painting of a tortured flower. Her torso was covered with them, and he could see the darker spots where they overlapped. Down her side was a trail of blue and black stains where she had been hit, repeatedly, by the same blunt object. Her lower abdomen looked better, but he was willing to bet there were a few cracked ribs under the welts that covered her skin.

“Mia,” he breathed, horrified. He sank down, mindless of his knee, and pressed his fingertips against the black bump on her hip. He tried to stay objective, willed his training to kick in, and waited for his heartbeat to calm down. He switched into medic mode, pressing against every bruise and testing her ribcage with care. She stood as still as a mouse, watching his movements with those big, sad eyes of hers. He asked her questions, peeled the shirt over her shoulders and off her arms. Her back looked even worse, if that was possible. It was a portrait, done in shades of agony.

But there was no sign of any broken bones, or ruptured organs. Whoever had done this had known exactly how much pressure and force to use, and had been careful to inflict only pain. There would be no lasting damage once the bruises faded.

Or not to her body, in any case.

“Mia,” he said hoarsely. “This was a punishment beating, wasn't it?”

She nodded.

“What are you involved in?” he asked, touching an unmarked spot under her bellybutton with one finger, as if he wanted to reassure them both that her body would heal.

“I can’t tell you,” she whispered.

“Is it drugs?” he asked, brusquely. There were no needle marks on her arms, and though she was too thin, her skin wasn't the sallow color of a user.

“Nothing like that,” she said, and for a moment she rested her hand on his head, her fingers stroking his hair like a beloved pet. “It’s just; an issue from my past. But I’m handling it. I’ve been handling it for years. It’s under control.”

He looked up at her, at the tired defiance in her shoulders. “Who are you trying to convince?” he asked and stood up. “Come on, I’ll put some ice on the worst bruises and give you some pain medication. You should actually see a doctor.”

She lay down on the couch on her stomach, her arms forming a little nest for her face. “No doctor,” she said firmly, as he had known she would.

Mia swallowed the two tablets he gave her and winced when he put the frozen gel packs on her back. Her muscles seemed to tighten up in response. Carter murmured calming words and soft