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The water turns on with a squeak from the handle, and it pours out of the faucet and hits the bottom of the tub in a rush of noise. May tests the temperature, adjusts it so it’s not as hot, and plugs the bottom of the tub.
Jemma and Fitz got out of the hospital three days ago, and though Fitz can still bathe himself despite the broken arm, Jemma is going to need a little more help, with four damaged ribs and a sprained wrist. Not to mention the two broken toes, which make standing without the boot on painful.
But Jemma had begun to complain that she ‘smelled gross’, and the other children had agreed, so they figured they’d just have to work together.
May squeezes in some bubble bath that she’d bought especially for the occasion (it’s childish, yes, but Jemma could do with some childish), lets the water continue to fill, and she stands and goes into the girls’ room. Jemma is sitting on her bed, reading one of her textbooks (she’s been given the next week off of school, not that that would stop her). Lancelot is curled up as tight as he can by her feet, though he’s still taking up most of the bed.
“Bath time,” May announces, and Lancelot is up and out of the room before she can even blink. “I didn’t mean for you,” she calls after him.
Jemma chuckles, marks her page, and then very carefully gets out of the bed, a seemingly permanent wince plastered on her face.
“Well,” she says, aiming for chipper, “here goes nothing.”
May rolls her eyes. “I’ll try to make the process as painless as possible for you.”
“I haven’t had a bath in …” She trails off, looking towards the ceiling. “Surely, when I was a baby, I had baths. Right? Not that I remember them.”
“I doubt anyone stuck you in the shower as a toddler,” May agrees.
Jemma screws up her nose. “That would be silly, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. Ready?”
Jemma nods, shuffling carefully forward, hands in the pockets of her robe. She has on the boot and a slipper, so her gait is a little lopsided, and any large movements send shocking pains through her torso. May is patient with her, waiting for her to make it out of the room before closing the door behind them, though she does scoot in front of her and into the bathroom, to check on the level of the water.
May kneels down in front of the tub, submerging two of her fingers. “Come feel this and tell me if you want it hotter or colder.”
She doesn’t receive a response, though she knows Jemma is in the room. She waits for a moment, to give the girl time to shuffle over to test the water, but she doesn’t, so May turns around.
She isn’t expecting what she’s met with: a frozen Jemma, eyes wide and glassy, her whole body shaking.
“Jemma,” May breathes, shocked, and quickly moves to crouch down in front of her. She raises her hands to Jemma’s arms, then pulls back, unsure if she should touch her. “Jemma,” she calls, the girl not even looking at her, “honey, tell me what’s wrong.”
Jemma pulls in a shaky gasp, but doesn’t even seem to notice that May’s in the room. She’s staring hard at the water coming out of the faucet.
May turns around and shuts it off, but Jemma still stares, lips quivering.
Eventually, not sure what else to do, May gently takes Jemma by the arms and sits her down on the closed toilet seat, rubbing her hands up and down Jemma’s arms, trying to pull her back, ground her in the moment. She starts talking, and ends up just repeating the same sentence over and over: “You’re safe here, Jemma, and you’re going to get through this”, hoping the contact paired with the sound is enough to bring her back.
And, after a while, it is, all the while May is trying not to panic, never having been faced with this kind of reaction from the girl before. Jemma’s eyes flicker around the room, looking around cautiously, and then she lets out a sob. One hand flies to grab at her ribs, and the other latches on to May’s wrist.
“Hey,” May says gently, squeezing her arm. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m sorry,” Jemma whispers, tears trickling down her face.
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” May carefully reaches up to wipe a tear off Jemma’s cheek. “What happened?”
Jemma leans into her hand, still clutching desperately to May’s other wrist. “I saw the bath, and I …”
May waits for her to continue, but Jemma just squeezes her eyes shut. “What?” May prompts.
“Then I was back there. Like a nightmare, but I was still awake.”
“Back where?”
A few small sobs spill out of Jemma, though they’ve obviously been carefully contained, working hard not to jostle her ribs any more than necessary. “With Mr. Sellers. The tub …”
The reality of the situation crashes down on May, and she grinds her teeth against the sense of guilt, of how stupid she’d been. “Fitz,” she confirms.
“He almost drown him, mum,” Jemma grits out, another sob caught in her throat.
Of course the bath would bring back memories. May should’ve thought of that, should’ve given it more attention. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I didn’t even think-“
“Neither did I,” Jemma cuts her off. “I had no idea that- It just hit me, when I saw it, and then I wasn’t even here anymore.”
“It’s my job to see these things coming before they happen,” May tells her. “It’s my job to protect you from stuff like this. I should’ve known better. We don’t have to do this.”
“No,” Jemma says, looking at the full bath warily. “I still need a bath. I … think I’ll be okay. I think it’s done now.”
“We can figure something else out,” May assures her.
“And then what?” Jemma asks, sniffling. “I avoid baths for the rest of my life? I’d rather do this now, while you’re here.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
Jemma pushes out a shaky breath, rubbing her face. “You won’t leave?”
“No, I’ll be right here.”
Jemma nods, and May undoes the velcro on Jemma’s boot and slips it off, and then her slipper, sitting both of them on the other side of the bathroom. She helps Jemma stand, and takes her robe and hangs it on the hook on the back of the door. Jemma takes her hand before carefully stepping into the tub, holding on tightly as she slowly sinks beneath the bubbles, until it’s just below her shoulders. She’s still staring at the faucet, but then she blinks, shakes her head, and looks away.
May sits against the tub as Jemma carefully rubs the washcloth over her front, trying not to move too much, only using her good wrist. They don’t talk at first, but May watches Jemma carefully.
“You know, we’ve never really talked about it,” May starts softly, keeping a careful eye on Jemma’s face. “I’ve talked about it with Fitz, but I haven’t with you.”
Jemma’s lips twist. “Not much to talk about.”
Now this was something they’d talked about before. Jemma downplaying her own emotions so she didn’t bother others with them.
“That was a traumatic night for both of you,” May says, instead of calling her out on it.
“More so for Fitz.”
“Doesn’t mean you didn’t also suffer.”
Jemma sighs, staring at the bubbles, then hands May the washcloth. “I can’t reach my back.”
May shifts to the other side of the tub so she can gently rub it over Jemma’s skin. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“You already know what happened.”
“Some, but I want to hear it from you.”
Jemma’s tenses under May’s hand, then she purposefully relaxes, as it was probably hurting her ribs. “He was just trying to protect me,” she says, and her voice sounds choked again.
“Fitz?”
Jemma nods. “Mr. Sellers was … picking on me, at dinner. Telling me that I wouldn’t amount to anything, that no one wanted me, that I was lucky he took me in in the first place. He was a bully, and he liked to take it out on me. I don’t know why, I don’t think I did anything.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” May says. “Some people are just like that. They take out all of their emotions on people who can’t fight back.” She doesn’t need to tell Jemma that what the man had told her wasn’t true, Jemma already knows.
“Well, Fitz did.” Jemma sniffles, raises a hand to wipe at her nose. “Fight back. He and Mr. Sellers used to get into fights, but I don’t know what it was about that night. Fitz snapped, and threw his dinner plate at Mr. Sellers’ head.”
May feels a stirring of pride in her chest, as awful as the situation was.
“And he started yelling at him, called him an idiot, and a bunch of other things. And I-“ Jemma lets out a whine, her voice high pitched. “I was so scared, I didn’t do anything. I just watched.”
“It wasn’t your place to do anything. You’re a child, and you were only six back then, you shouldn’t be having to handle that.” May sets the washcloth down. They need to wash Jemma’s hair, but she doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation.
“Mr. Sellers got up from the table and left, and we thought that … I don’t know. That he’d given up. Then we heard the water turn on.”
Jemma is quiet for a long time.
“What happened then?” May asks.
“He was gone for a few minutes, and Fitz and I were going to sneak out. We figured it’d be better to spend the night outside than in his house. But right before we were about to leave, Mr. Sellers came back in and grabbed Fitz, and dragged him to the bathroom.”
May sinks back against the wall so she can see Jemma’s face, though the broken expression she finds there, the tears streaming silently down Jemma’s cheeks, leaves her heartbroken.
“And I was just-“ Jemma’s voice breaks, and she wraps herself in a hug. “I was frozen. Fitz was yelling and I didn’t even do anything, I was just standing there, at the front door, not moving. And then-“ She lets out a sob, and raises a hand to cover her mouth. “Then I didn’t hear anything except- except struggling.”
“Jemma …” May can’t help but murmur.
“I ran to the bathroom, and I saw him. Mr. Sellers was holding Fitz against the bottom of the tub, had his hand on the back of Fitz’s head and was holding him under the water. Fitz was thrashing, but Mr. Sellers was too big, he couldn’t do anything.”
May reaches out, and Jemma catches her hand, holding on tightly.
“Finally I- I told him that if he didn’t stop, I was going to call the police. That made him stop. He dumped Fitz on the bed and locked us both in our bedroom. But …”
Jemma has to stop, her face pinched tight, body shaking. May rubs her thumb over Jemma’s hand, but knows she can’t interrupt now.
“Fitz wasn’t moving. I tried to wake him up, but I couldn’t. So I … I climbed out the window, and went to the neighbor’s house to call the police. I was so scared, waiting for them to come. I thought Fitz might’ve already died in the meantime.” Jemma chokes on a sob, turns wild eyes toward May. “What if he had? What if he’d died?”
May squeezes her hand. “He didn’t, Jemma. You saved him, he’s okay.”
“What if they were too late?” Her eyes are completely glassy, pure panic on her face. “What would I do without him? I couldn’t live if he didn’t.”
“Hey,” May says, leaning past the edge of the tub and pulling Jemma against her, careful of her ribs, but knowing both of them needed the comfort of the other’s presence. “You won’t have to find out. I promise.”
Jemma collapses against her, her head in the crook of May’s neck, and she begins to sob, loud and unconstrained, reaching up to ball her fists in May’s shirt. May rubs her hand up and down Jemma’s back, the other stroking her hair.
“I was so scared,” Jemma manages.
“I know.” May leans her cheek against Jemma’s head. “I know you were, baby girl.”
“I thought he was going to die.”
“He didn’t. He’s okay. You saved his life, he’s okay.”
Jemma clings tighter, her whole body shaking, and May knows she must be in pain. But she just holds her, lets her ride it out because there’s nothing else to be done.
Eventually, Jemma settles. She takes in a big gulp of air and pulls away from May, wiping her face, still trying to calm her breathing.
May smooths her hair back. “You never should’ve had to go through that. That never should have happened to you.”
“But it did,” Jemma says.
“Yes, it did. And that’s something you’re going to have to live with. You alone can carry that, but …”
Jemma looks at her, eyes clearing. “But?”
“But you let other people help carry you. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.”
“I know.” Jemma tries to quirk a smile. “You taught me that.”
Something settles in May’s chest. “Thank you for telling me, I know it was hard.”
“I think I needed to tell,” Jemma says.
“Are you feeling any better?”
Jemma nods, then looks away.
“What is it?”
“Do you think …”
“What?”
“Could we have fish and chips for dinner?” Jemma asks hesitantly. “It’s Fitz’s favorite.”
May can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, or the love that floods her for the amazing daughter she ended up with. She doesn’t know how she got so lucky. “I think that’s a great idea. Let’s wash your hair, and then we’ll go to the store.”
Jemma smiles back. “Okay.”
May leans forward, and presses a kiss against Jemma’s hairline. The girl might’ve gone through horrors in the past, but now she has May. And May is going to fight tooth and claw to make sure that she’s never hurt like that again.