Marissa braced for the impact. She let go of one crutch and tried to deflect the blow with her hand. She felt the pain of the weapon connecting with the inside of her wrist. The next one caught her in the abdomen and she fell back against the vanity. More punches were thrown and she fell to the floor. Punches were replaced with kicks to her torso. Instinctively, she curled up in a ball to protect her vital organs, which resulted in Tomas kicking her in the back instead. He stayed away from her head. They never left marks on a person's face – unless they were planning on killing them.

Eventually, the beating stopped. Tomas walked out, leaving Marissa lying on the floor, battered and bruised. She heard the apartment door close behind him. Using her crutches for support, she tried to get up but was unable to. Her left wrist hurt like hell and a cut on the underside was bleeding. She managed to pull herself across the floor to where the toilet paper roll was. Fortunately, she was able to reach it and tear what was left of the roll off. Holding the tissue to the wound, it bled through within seconds. She lost consciousness.

Marissa came to when she felt a hand on her other wrist. She opened her eyes and saw a strange man. She screamed and tried to get away from him. “Marissa, it's okay, Dr Mike was just feeling for a pulse. We didn't know if you were alive or not.” It was Brian talking. “Mike is going to take care of you and treat your injuries.”

“How did you...?” she asked in a weak voice.

“Tomas called me after he left. I apologize for what he did. He is never supposed to do that without direction from a superior and he will be disciplined for this.”

“Brian, he said I was short – I didn't take any!”

“I know, June. We got a call from the people who helped you get ready to come back. They found the missing one after you'd left. It had fallen on the floor. It wasn't anyone's fault, just something that happens. Had Tomas checked his voicemail when the plane landed, he'd have known that. Don't worry, you won't see him again. We're moving him to another city.”

“Dr Mike” - Marissa was sure it was an alias – had been assessing her injuries. He stood up. “I need to go to the car to get my suture kit. There's a couple wounds that need stitches. I don't know if that wrist is broken or not – can you get her to the hospital for an x-ray?”

“It's best not to. Too big a risk the doctor would call the police – it's pretty obvious she was beat up. We can't pass this off as a fall.”

“Well, if there's no improvement in a couple weeks, it really should be x-rayed.”

“All right, we'll find a way if we need to.”

Brian picked her up and took her to the bedroom while the doctor fetched his kit. Marissa was in too much pain to care if she got blood on her sheets. She could replace them if it wouldn't come out.

While he sutured her cuts, Dr Mike said to her “You are going to be very sore for a while, doll.” Marissa cringed at the cutesy name, but she felt that maybe he did not know everything about what was going on. The way Brian had talked to her, not out and out referring to smuggled drugs, made her think that the doctor wasn't in the loop. She wondered if the Cartel had some dirt on Mike and had threatened him to get him to come and probably keep quiet about it. “I can't give you a prescription for pain medication, I'm sorry.” Marissa wondered why.

“Mike, write down what she needs and I'll make sure she gets it”, Brian said to him. “June, do you need anything before we go?”

“I need my crutches. Can you please get them from the bathroom?” She didn't tell him that she had pain medication – the ER doctor who diagnosed her kidney stones and tumour had given her a script for a strong painkiller. But she couldn't tell Brian, as she didn't want him to know about the tumour.

“How are you going to walk?” Mike asked her. “You won't be able to put weight on that left wrist and your knee might not hold your weight – that's quite a bruise on it as well as a deep cut.”

“I can go short distances with only one crutch. I'm a farm girl, I've been injured before. I can handle it. I have my wheelchair if it gets too hard.”

“Where is it? I'll get it for you.”

“It's in the living room, in the corner by the window.”

Brian and the doctor left soon after that, with Brian promising to be back with some pain killers for her. Marissa fell asleep despite the pain. She was awoken by her phone. Assuming it was Brian, she picked it up, not noticing it was the wrong phone. She put it on speaker so she wouldn't have to hold it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Marissa! I finally reach you!”

“Who is this?”

“It's Braxton Jagger.” Oh shit, she thought. “I've been trying to reach you.”

“I was away on business.”

“Are you okay, Marissa?” She knew her voice was weak.

“Yes, I'm fine. Just jet lagged. I was sleeping so I have bed-head.”

“I want to see you, Marissa. Tonight.”

“Why?”

“I've been worried about you. I want to make sure you're okay.”

“I can't, I'm too tired.”

“All right, tomorrow. Come to my office at noon. I'll make us lunch.”

“I'm not your patient.”

“I know. It's not a 'session', just lunch with a new friend – at least, I hope...” he let the sentence trail off.

“Braxton, I can't. I don't think I can get up the stairs.”

“You got up them last week in the rain.”

“My back is really sore from sitting on the plane. Disk disease”, she lied, heading off the inevitable question of “What's wrong with it?”

“Okay, I will come to you. What's your address?”

Once again, she didn't think. “1025 Dunbar.” Oh shit. Well, she wouldn't give him her apartment number. It was rented under the name Janice Thompson, so neither Marissa or June was on the buzzers downstairs. “Never mind, I'll be there tomorrow.” Just then, she dropped the phone on the floor. “Fuck!” she yelled out.

“Marissa? Marissa?” Marissa tried reaching for the phone, but it was too far away - she was too sore to get up and get it. A jolt of pain in her back hit her and she screamed. “Marissa, are you all right?” she heard through the phone's speaker.

“I dropped the phone and can't get it. Just hang up and I'll see you tomorrow”, she said. At that point, she passed out.

============================================================

Braxton was elated that Marissa finally answered her phone, but elation quickly turned to concern when he heard her voice. He could tell something was wrong and that she was not being truthful when she said it was jet lag and “bed-head”. He was trained to know when someone was hiding something. He believed her that she had dropped the phone but her failure to get up to retrieve it was just further proof that she was not okay. Added to that was her scream, which really worried him. He got in his car and put the address she'd given him into his GPS. She had not given him her apartment number but all large apartment buildings had a tenant directory inside the doors. He wondered which name hers was listed under.

He found a vacant visitor parking spot at 1025 Dunbar St. and sprinted to the door. Inside, he quickly found the tenant directory and scanned it. No Rivers or Brennan listed. Damn, had she given him a fake address? She hadn't hesitated when he asked her for it, so there had been no time for her to think of a false one. He went to a couple apartment buildings nearby in case he was remembering the address wrong, but there were no tenants of either name in them. He tried calling her, but she didn't answer. Finally, he headed home, hoping she would show up tomorrow.

==============================================================

True to his word, Brian came by with some pain medication for her. Marissa gratefully took it from him and, at his urging, took two pills. “Thank you, Brian. I'm sorry to cause you so much trouble.” She did not tell him about giving Braxton her address – for Braxton's protection. Besides, he didn't have the apartment number and the lease was not in either her real name or her June alias so if he tried to find her and asked the superintendent, Mrs Murphy would say she did not have a tenant with either name.

“You haven't caused me any trouble, June. You're my best worker. I want you to take it easy and get better. I will send someone else on your trip that is scheduled for next week. We'll see how you are doing the week after. If there's anything you need, call me.”

The next day, she was feeling no better. She wanted to call Braxton and cancel, but she was afraid if she did, he would insist on her giving him the apartment number so that he could come over. She could not chance the Cartel finding out and harming him. She didn't think they would as long as he did not know about them, but she couldn't take the risk. He was innocent and had nothing to do with this situation she found herself forced into.

Marissa took a cab to Braxton's office. She was in too much pain to travel by public transit. Getting out, she looked up at the steps, feeling a sense of deja vu. At least this time it wasn't raining.

It took her longer than the last time to climb the steps. Anticipating this, she had allowed herself lots of time. She had to use both crutches and it was causing increased pain in her wrist. Her knee was hurting pretty bad as well. A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She'd been raised on a dairy farm and was no stranger to pain. Between the cows and the horses, she'd been kicked, stepped on, bitten and thrown, the latter two by horses – she didn't ride cows and they don't bite. The only other time pain had made her cry was when she'd had her heels cut open with no anesthetic. This was bad, she suspected the wrist was broken but Brian didn't want her going to the hospital – too many questions would be asked. She didn't want to have to go, but feared she might not have much choice.

When she finally reached the top of the steps, the outside door opened and a man came out. Marissa wondered if he was Braxton's 11:00 patient. He held it open for her as she made her way inside. She debated which door to go to – the patient entrance or his private one. Since she was there for lunch and not as a patient, she chose his private entrance.

Braxton answered her knock right away. “Hello, Marissa. You came!” he said in astonishment. He'd expected her to cancel or not show up.

“Hi, Braxton. I said I would come, didn't I? And I'm glad I did – it smells so good in here.” She smiled - half forced, half genuine. The kitchen really did smell good.

“It's nothing fancy, just macaroni and cheese.”

“Comfort food. I love it.”

“Come and sit down”, he said, gesturing toward the table. “I'll take your jacket. Do you need to sit down to take it off?”

“No, but it's much easier.” She was partway to the table when her legs gave out. Braxton was right behind her and caught her, preventing her from hitting the floor.

“Marissa! Are you okay?”

“Yes. This happens every now and then.” It didn't, but she didn't want him to fuss over her. She hoped Tomas hadn't seriously injured her back.

Braxton helped her to her feet again and she took a seat, propping her crutches against the table. Then she took her jacket off, being as careful as she could to hide the tan coloured wrap on her left hand and wrist. She'd chosen a sweater with extra long sleeves, hoping that he wouldn't notice the bandaging.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asked as he took the jacket from her.

“Yes, I'm fine. Please don't worry.”

Braxton hung her jacket up in his coat closet, then served lunch. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. “I don't have any pop, but I have juice, coffee and tea. And wine and beer, if you'd like that.”

“No, thank you”, Marissa replied. “I took pain medication before I came over. Water is fine.”

Braxton got her water and a glass for himself before sitting down. “You told me you didn't have any pain meds.”

“I didn't. I do now.”

“I'm glad. You shouldn't be putting up with extreme pain when you can ease it with medication. How are your kidney stones?”

“Better. I passed a couple more after that day here.”

“You have a lot more in there.”

“How do you know?”

“Dr Pratt told me.”

“What?”

“While you were making your escape from the hospital, I was talking to Brody Pratt and he told me your scans showed kidney stones and a tumour.”

“I don't have a tumour. It must have been someone else's scans.”

“They were yours.”

“He had no right.”

“He told me after I told him about June.”

“June who?”

“Come on, Marissa. Cut the bullshit”, Braxton said in a stern tone of voice. “We both know that you are June Rivers.”

They had been eating as they talked. Marissa kept her bandaged hand under the table, out of Braxton's sight. She was a bit slower using her right hand to eat, but she wasn't very hungry anyway. She never was anymore. Not since the Cartel had cut her Achilles tendons. It was too hard to make a meal and get it to the table. Much easier to eat a few crackers once or twice a day. Her stomach had gotten used to it and rarely did she feel hunger anymore.

“Will you get off this June kick! I am not her!” she yelled as she tried to push her chair away from the table. As she brought her left hand up to do so, Braxton saw blood on her sleeve. She screamed in agony as she pushed against the table with her hand. “What's wrong, Marissa?” he asked.

“Nothing! I'm going home.” Momentarily forgetting that she couldn't walk without crutches, she took a step. Her legs gave way and she fell to the floor. Braxton got up and went to her.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“What's this?” he pointed to her abdomen where her sweater had been pushed up in the fall, exposing some of the bruises from the beating.

“Nothing.”

He took the hem of her garment and lifted it up. “This isn't 'nothing'. You have bruises all over. What happened?”

“I fell down some stairs.” She tried to get up. Braxton put his arm around her back and helped her up. She winced with pain. He pulled the chair over and helped her sit down. Then he lifted the back of her sweater.

“You are bruised all over your back, Marissa. No wonder you are so sore. This is not from a fall down some stairs. Someone did this to you.” She was silent. Braxton took her left hand and lifted her arm up.

“Ow!” She yanked her hand out of his and held her arm to her torso. She saw the look of pain on Braxton's face.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you more pain. I noticed the bleeding and wanted to see what's going on.”

Marissa looked at the inside of her arm. There was blood on the wrapping and on her sweater. “I-I don't know why it's bleeding”, she stammered. “It's stitched up.”

“Let's take a look.” Braxton gently unwrapped the bandaging and the white gauze wrapping inside. He lifted the bloody piece of gauze covering the cut. Marissa wanted to tell him to stop, but she realized that the source of the blood needed to be found. “It looks like some stitches have come out. It's pretty swollen, was it like this before?”

She looked at it and shook her head. “No.”

“It needs to be restitched. I'll take you to the hospital.” He began to put the bandaging back on.

“No, it's okay.”

“It's not okay. This needs to be attended to. Who put those stitches in anyway? It looks like a sloppy job. What hospital did you go to?”

“I didn't go to a hospital.”

“Then what doctor?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“I just know his name was Mike.” She felt there was no harm in saying his first name. He couldn't be found with just that. Mike was a very common name.

“You must know where you went.”

“He came to me.”

“How did you find him?”

“He's a friend of a …. an acquaintance.” She'd almost said “friend”, but remembered that she'd told Braxton she didn't have any friends here.

“Is this acquaintance the person who beat you up?”

“No.”

“So you were beat up!”

“That was dirty, Braxton Jagger!”

“In my line of work, you learn tricks to get people to tell the truth.”

“Like calling them by a different name?”

“You didn't fall for that. I was impressed.”

“Maybe because my name is not June.”

“So Marissa is your real name?”

“Of course it is. I showed you my driver's licence.”

“How did you get health insurance under a fake name?”

“What? I didn't.”

“I wish you'd trust me and tell me why you used another name.”

Marissa sighed. “Braxton....”

He cut her off. “Marissa, come on. We both know you are June. I'm not going to push it right now, though. I have to get you to an ER. Let me put the leftover macaroni and cheese in the fridge, I'll bring you a bowl later. You didn't eat enough to feed a bird.”

“It's hard using my right hand.”

“Left handed, I take it?”

“Yes. Braxton … I don't know how I'm going to get down the stairs.” She'd resigned herself to going to the ER. “I could barely get up them.”

Braxton was getting plastic wrap to put over the baking dish. “Can you walk with just one crutch?”

“For short distances. I don't know about stairs.”

“I'll help you down. If I have to, I'll carry you. You don't weigh much.” He put the leftovers in the fridge and got her jacket and his. “Let's get going.”