The old skills - alertness and risk assessment - kicked in right away. Jackie moved, placing herself between Alexander and Bernie. A second later a shocking understanding came that she aimed to protect him, to shield him.
"Josie!" Bernie cried out and once again grabbed Jackie's arm.
From the corner of her eyes, Jackie caught Alexander's slight movement. She could almost sense his anxiety as her own. He was all raw nerve right now; she could guess by the shudders running through his body, the grimace on his usually composed face, the little twitches of his lips, and his darting eyes. She remembered the literature she'd read on his neurodivergence, and wondered if someone touching her felt to him like being touched himself. Since he was focused on her and due to their history, he'd had trouble separating himself from her experiences. From her body. He shifted towards them; his hand flew up - to push someone else away from Jackie; but then he withdrew.
Jackie twisted from under Bernie's hand.
"Alexander, do you need to go to A&E?"
She assumed he wouldn't be comfortable in the dentist's car, and she pulled her phone out of her pocket to order a cab; when he shook his head.
"I'm sorry I came," he rasped out. "I didn't think you'd be with someone. I'll go."
"No!" Jackie cried out. "It's OK. Let's go inside, and I–"
"Josie, can I speak to you for a second?" Bernie asked in a tense voice.
"It's alright," Jackie repeated, turning to her. "I'm sorry about it, but I have to take a rain check on that cuppa. I'll call you, alright?"
Bernie took a wide step towards her and leaned in. "Are you sure? He doesn't look stable." The dentist threw a dark look at Alexander.
"I'm sure," Jackie answered firmly. "Thank you for the lovely evening. Alexander," she addressed the man. "Let's go inside."
He stumbled back, away from her.
"You've got plans," he whispered. "I thought you'd be home."
She suppressed the desire to rush to him and to wrap around him. Instead, she stretched her hand to him.
"C'mon." She kept her voice soft. "Let's have a look at your bruises."
He hesitated - and then swirled and headed to the backdoor. Jackie rushed after him.
"Night, Josie," the dentist called after her.
"Night," Jackie answered without turning.
While she fumbled with the key, he stood, hunched, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his black jeans. She could see dark stains on the front of his jumper, of blood probably.
They walked inside, and Jackie turned on the lights. He cringed and made a noise in his throat.
"Would you like a shower?" she asked. "If you don't need stitches, you can just go wash; and I'll get the first aid kit."
He was staring under his feet.
"Alexander?"
"Is it OK that I'm here?" His voice wobbled.
She opened her mouth to squawk and confirm that it was, half-ready to start faffing about around him, and offering different solutions, and bringing him medical supplies, and making him tea - and then she remembered with whom she was dealing.
"Yes, it is completely OK. So, shower?"
He nodded and walked out of the room. Before he turned the corner towards the bathroom, he started pulling off his sweater and his tee in one go; and she caught a glimpse of his bare back. There was a red bruise already blooming on his latissimus dorsi.
She'd just arranged her first aid kit on the kitchen table, when he showed up, dressed only in his pants. Water was dripping from his hair.
"I made your towel dirty. There's blood." He held it in his hand. "I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it." She looked him over. Besides the bruise on the back, she could see a couple more on his torso. His knees were scraped, as if he tried to skid on them on the asphalt. "I'll put it in the machine. Can I wash your clothes too?"
He nodded and heavily sat down on one of her chairs.
"You should start on your hand," she said. "I'll deal with the washing, and then I'll look at your back and face."
When she came back, he had tended to his hand and his knees. His training was showing: he'd treated the lacerations; put a plaster on his joint of his middle finger; and cleaned up the cleansing wipes and the cotton pads he'd used for the antiseptic. Jackie put down the make-up mirror she'd brought from her bedroom, in case he'd prefer to deal with his face himself; and threw a fresh towel over his shoulders.
"Anything broken?" she asked.
"Most likely, not." He still hadn't met her eyes. "You look nice."
Jackie froze mid-way while reaching for the kettle.
"Thank you," she answered slowly. "I'll make you tea."
"I'm sorry about your friend." He sighed. "I should've called first."
"It's alright," Jackie said for the umpteenth time this evening. She walked around the table and stopped in front of him. "Let me see your face."
He wasn't moving.
"Alexander?"
He shook his head, with sudden force; and a rumble quavered in his throat.
"I'm so– sorry."
It almost sounded like a sob; and Jackie gently cupped his face, mindful of his injuries, and tilted it, making him look up.
"Alexander, what happened?" she asked.
His eyes burned, either feverishly, or maybe from tears he was blinking back. His lips parted softly; an exhale trembled on them.
"A lot– I don't know how to tell," he choked out. "And I– I don't– can't? Because we aren't–" He ground his teeth. "I'm sorry I came."
Jackie's heart clenched. She needed to suss it out - and quickly. He was spiralling down, she was sure of it. There had to be something in his clipped, puzzling words that she could use.
"I am not sorry you came," she said. Holding his chin firmly with one hand, she tenderly stroked his cheek with the thumb of the other. "And you can tell me anything. And you can always come to me... if you need me."
That was it.
He jolted, with all his massive body; his arms went around her; and he hid his face into her sternum. He was trembling, violently; and Jackie bent down and curled around him. She tenderly rubbed the back of his neck, her other hand pushed into his hair.
They stayed like that for a few minutes; and slowly, his body relaxed, and his grip around her loosened.
"Three lads tried to dust me up," he said, moving away from her. "I was in– Shit. Your dress."
Jackie looked down and saw blood on the cut of the dress and on the shirt underneath.
"Fuck. Sorry," he added in a hoarse voice.
"I'm more worried about your face," Jackie dismissed. "Do you want me to–" She picked up a new wipe. "Or you can do it yourself."
"Help me, please," he said and dropped his head back, closing his eyes.
After the shower, the blood and dirt washed off, his cuts didn't look that bad. She only needed to tend to his eyebrow and cheekbone.
"You're good at this," he said.
"Unfortunately, I've had plenty of practice in my previous school."
She sounded grumpier than she was, because she was focusing.
"How did you get stabbed?" he asked.
She halted, a cotton bud a couple centimetres away from his cheekbone.
"There was a fight, and I got in the middle of it," she answered grudgingly.
His eyelashes fluttered open, and he stared at her face. "Was I not supposed to ask?"
Jackie once again swallowed her first comforting and reassuring response.
"I don't like talking about it," she said. "I had to go to therapy after it. Mostly because I– I felt really isolated after it."
"Did he not support you through recovery?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
"Can we talk about it some other time?" Jackie gave out a little fake laugh. "You're the wounded one today."
He studied her, in his usual unnerving manner.
"I don't know how much to describe to you. I don't want to upset you," he announced.
Jackie smoothed out the ends of a plaster on his forehead.
"I'm not easily triggered," she said. "You don't have to tell me anything right now; but you can, if you want." She picked up the towel and carefully patted and scrunched his hair. "Or you can go lie down. I've got paracetamol if you need any."
"Your friend was scared of me," he said after a few seconds of silence. "Are you?"
"Why would I be?" Jackie dried his nape and shoulders. "She just doesn't know you."
"I've got anger management issues." Muscles rolled on his jaw. "I lost control tonight."
Jackie settled the towel around his neck.
"Did you do anything you regret?" she asked him and tenderly moved a few wet curls off his face. "From what I knew about you in the past, and what I've heard of you recently– I just don't see why I should be scared of you."
"I stopped myself before it got too bad," he said in a low voice.
"That's what I thought." Jackie smiled at him. "Bed?"
He inhaled noisily. "I'll wait for my clothes here. I might fall asleep if I lie down."
"You can," she answered.
He gave her a surprised glance. "Your friend saw me," he pointed out. "And maybe the vicar's wife too." He sounded remorseful. "I was out of it and didn't check. Sorry. You weren't home. I knew I should've left, but I just couldn't move. Someone might have seen me sitting there. It was still light."
That would've been three hours ago. No wonder he was so stiff when he'd gotten up to greet her. Jackie lunged forward and hugged him.
"I don't care," she mumbled. "If you want to, you should go to bed. And you can stay the night. Whatever you need."
"Will you be with me?"
She tightened her grasp on him. "If you want me there."
"I do."
He rose in one smooth continuous motion, pressing her into him, her backside on his forearm.
"Alexander, painkillers!" she cried out, but he was already marching towards the stairs to the first floor.