Protecting Jess

Chapter 13 - Comfort and Need

Jess was intensely uncomfortable.

The crowd was serious, people in small groups talking, hugging, sniffling. Everyone had candles in plastic cups fluttering in their hands, others held flowers, laying them at the edge of the fenced off area in front of the factory. Jess wasn't sure what to expect, and the sadness in the air was making her jumpy. People wanted to console her, and she didn't want to be touched by strangers.

Thank God for Shaun, who was lock-step with her, his shoulder radio turned up and beeping out the odd chatter in his full uniform, even his flak vest emblazoned with "POLICE" across the front. Once folks saw him, they left her alone, and nodded or offered a quick "So sorry". He was tall, and when she'd seen him come out of the bathroom in his uniform, he had been quite intimidating in the small space of the front hallway.

Well, intimidating and, despite the distraction of where they were going, sexy as Hell.

News had, of course, made its way through the media. The dots had been connected by most of the journalists, even though they hadn't really released details on how Jess was estranged from her fucked-up family. That hadn't passed her notice. People pointed at her and Shaun when they arrived, gathering several news parasites, who pointed their big cameras in their direction.

This would be horrifying for her aunt, and her uncle would get really, really mad. Private people, to the nth degree.

Fucking vultures echoed in her head as they made their way towards the buildings. She had spat just that when they had ridden in Shaun's truck through the throng of people at the gate, sinking in her seat as flashbulbs went off in her face, right outside her window.

"We'll be through it soon," he'd advised, his cop demeanor out in full, being in a uniform automatically giving him that calm, stony vibe she'd gotten from him when she met him. "Just sit tight, don't look out the window."

After they had escaped the scrum, he'd put a hand on her thigh as they drove, and she had covered it with hers. It was comfortable, touching him, as natural as breathing. His jaw had flexed a few times when she had stroked his fingers, and he'd ground out a "don't" and squirmed. So she stopped, twining their fingers instead, looking out the window, both of them thinking about where they were going.

Shaun scanned the crowd, and Jess looked up from her feet and her distracted mess of thoughts. They were now close to the front of the crowd gathering. Off to her left, she saw Heather, Tracey, and Michelle, and braced while they all folded in around her. She caught them up on what had been going on at the farm, reassuring everyone she was okay, enduring several bone crushing hugs and 'ohmygods' from Tracey.

Shaun was right, even if right now she was so uncomfortable she wanted to scream and run. She did need to talk to someone, and to let others comfort her. It wasn't easy for her to let people in.

These girls were friends, not close ones, but she really didn't have many of those. She chatted with them for a few minutes, introducing them to Shaun, who nodded curtly and said his "ma'ams" like any good officer. Michelle's eyes had lit up like a Christmas tree the moment she'd seen him, and Jess whispered in her ear "Down girl. He's taken."

She had no idea why she'd done that, but the pout from Michelle had been worth it. She didn't elaborate on who, of course, because he wasn't, really. It had felt good, even so.

The flickering light of hundreds of candles hurt her eyes as more people gathered, some sort of formal ceremony was starting soon, it seemed. She refused a candle when Michelle handed her one, and stuffed her hands into her pockets, scanning the mess of flowers, teddy bears, pictures of the victims fluttering in the somewhat stiff evening breeze. It was surreal, all the outpouring of grief into things laid on the ground, punctuated by sniffling, coughing, muted conversation. She couldn't find a picture of her father, but she didn't recognize him in pictures right away so any of the men in the photos could have been him. The loss of life and the sheer stupidity of it hurt her chest, and she fisted her hands in her pockets, biting her cheek to keep her emotion in check.