~~oOOo~~

Author's Note: The title of this story is a reference to Pope John Paul II's apostolic letter Rosarium Viginis Mariae. Even as someone who is not Christian, it was well worth reading and provided me with an incredible insight into the devotion and faith of a man whom I respect. I can easily see Captain Becker feeling a connection to that level of faith and devotion, even if he no longer necessarily believes in the church and it's mission. And I can certainly empathize with having experienced tumultuous points in my life where I resorted to the comfort of the prayers of my childhood as an outlet for my hopes and grief.

~~oOOo~~

"How long has he been here this time," Jess asked the nurse quietly with a nod toward Becker asleep in the chair beside her.

"Third shift said he showed up sometime around 4am," the nurse replied as she passed a cup of water to Jess to wash down some paracetamol.

Jess nodded mutely, a gesture she was very appreciative of being able to use after feeling dizzy for most of a week from her concussion. Awkwardly she shifted up higher in bed so she could watch him as he slept, knowing that he'd done the same sometime during the night.

She'd been in hospital for 2 days when the almost nightly ritual began. She wouldn't have known about it at all if Becker hadn't been there when a nightmare brought her gasping out of her sleep. He'd sat with her, talking and holding her hand. He told stories of his brother, Casamir, his time at seminary, at Sandhurst, in Afghanistan. Somewhere along the line she'd fallen back to sleep. When she woke again he was gone but on her bedside table was a yellow origami lily fashioned of one of the nurse's duty reports and a bit of electrical wire. A note was folded through the end of the wire that said in his usual neat and tidy handwriting, "thank you for chasing my nightmares away". When she'd noticed the lily that morning, one of the day shift nurses mentioned that he'd been there every night since the accident, departing early each morning to go to work before Jess woke.

He didn't come every night and sometimes she only knew he'd been there because of some tiny gesture left behind for her to find. From talking to Connor & Abby, Jess knew that he was still working his usual shifts every day. Still he visited often, bringing stories of the daily goings on at the ARC. The ward nurses had all come to accept his presence and no longer attempted to kick him out at night. He was quiet, polite, and his dedication to Jess made no few of the female staff sigh with longing.

Becker's eyes opened as the door closed a little too loudly behind the departing nurse. Jess envied him that sudden wakefulness. Unless he was exhausted the man never seemed to go through that stage where he was only half-conscious. Mindful of her shoulder, she shifted her body to turn more fully towards him.

"Bad night again?" she asked with quiet sympathy.

He shook his head in response.

"No," he smiled, "just wanted to be here to see you wake up."

"Sorry to disappoint you," she smiled back.

While he still had moments where he shut her out, the glimpses he'd shown her over the past week of who he was beneath all the emotional armour made Jess ache with empathy. He felt things even more deeply than she'd previously believed. The more Jess learned about his past, the more she understood how Becker had become the emotionally isolated automaton that everyone else saw. But the man who was looking at her now was anything but emotionless. There were equal parts humour, tenderness, and hunger in his eyes right now and the combination left Jess a bit breathless.

"Come here," she asked, patting the edge of the bed beside her.

Obligingly he uncurled from the chair with controlled grace. Jess still found it mesmerizing at times just to watch his body move. He was dressed for work already in a tight fitting black t-shirt, black fatigues, and boots with his jacket tossed over the back of the chair. The play of muscle beneath clothing was tantalizing. As he settled on the bed beside her, Jess found herself very aware of the scent of him. Scents she was becoming rather addicted to having surround her. Gun oil, the clean smell of soap, and a hint of something spicy.

Jess took Becker's hand in hers, loving the contrast of the calluses and smooth skin. Absentmindedly his thumb stroked lazy circles across her palm. It was such a tiny gesture but one she'd come to treasure as symbolic of how hard he was trying to let go of the inhibitions of his past.

"Doctor Ntembe says he's going to discharge me tomorrow if I can go the entire day and night with nothing but paracetamol for discomfort."

When Becker didn't respond, she looked back up into his face, curious as to what had him so preoccupied. Jess almost forgot to breath at the intensity of his expression. The vulnerability she'd seen in the past was right at the surface mixed with a hunger. The combination of emotions was perplexing. Jess sighed, realizing that despite having made good progress toward understanding each other better over the previous week there were still many times when Becker was a mystery to her.

"Hey," she said with a little tug on his hand to get his attention, "what are you thinking?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally settling on what he wanted to say.

"I know Lester would willingly send a car round for you. And Connor & Abby have one of the ARC's trucks on loan. But I would much rather be the one to pick you up when you're discharged. That is, if its all right with you?"

"I'd like that," Jess replied slowly, "but I get the impression there's more to it than that."

Becker looked down at their joined hands on the bed sheets. Much as it was difficult for her to watch him struggling, Jess waited, giving him time to find the words for what he wanted to say.

"I was visiting Father Ferrick again. That was why I missed the anomaly call."

Jess knew instantly which anomaly he was referring to. She continued to wait patiently as Becker skirted his way around the subject he truly wanted to talk about. She hated seeing him awkward and uncomfortable but it was necessary as he worked on finding ways to express his needs and desires in words.

"The first time I visited him was while you were away in Japan. That's why I had my head on straight for a little while after you returned. So when the accident happened, and we hadn't been speaking to each other but I couldn't stand it any more, I went back. I had so much in my head and in my heart but none of it was things I was ready to say to you. I needed someone to help me sort it out. I trust him so he seemed a better person to talk to than some therapist I've never met before. Besides, he knows my past, knows my family, so I don't have to waste time explaining all of that."

"And has it helped? Do you feel that you're getting yourself sorted out?" she asked.

He nodded and took a couple deep slow breaths before continuing on.

"I know that we're neither of us ready for this yet, but I'm going to tell you what I wanted to say when you mentioned being discharged from hospital because it's important for you to know how I feel."

Expectant and still, Jess gave him her undivided attention. Becker took a deep breath and tried to convince himself that this wasn't rubbish, this talking about his feelings thing. That's just an excuse, he reminded himself. She's not a mind reader and she deserves to know.

"I wanted to ask you to come home with me, to stay with me, let me care for you. As I said, I know we're neither of us ready for it yet, but the point is that it was what I wanted."

"Do you know why you wanted that?" Jess asked carefully.

Her voice wasn't entirely steady but she didn't bother to hide it. His words had an effect on her and he deserved to see that. If she was going to insist that he was no longer allowed to hide from her she had to be brave enough to do likewise.

"Because I love you," he replied with uncharacteristic candour.

A tiny smile graced Jess lips and slowly transformed her entire face. The expression felt strange and new in the places that it tugged at the corners of her mouth and around her eyes. She realized with amazement that she'd never worn this particular expression before; equal parts delight, shyness, and adoration. Perhaps it was the first time she'd truly felt the same way in return. Perhaps it was empathy and wonder at how hard she knew that admission to have been for him. Regardless, the sudden syncopation of her heartbeat told her everything she needed to know about how to reply.

"I love you too, Hilary, have done for quite a while," she said with a self-deprecating smile. "But then, I suspect you knew that already."

He nodded mutely, fingers lacing and unlacing restlessly with hers.

"Only trouble is, I've no clue what to do with that feeling, with this desire that I have to be there beside you when you wake up each night."

"Is that why you've been coming here rather than sleeping at home?" she asked in surprise.

"Partly," he temporized, trying to find a good explanation for the complexity within his head. "Do you remember those nightmares when we began seeing each other?"

Jess nodded. She remembered quite clearly how the pounding discipline of his childhood had tormented him that first time he'd given in to his impulse to touch and hold her. He'd not been able to break free of it then and she was still fearful of its hold on his psyche now. But his hand clasping hers, thumb rubbing ceaselessly across her palm, reassured her that he was fighting it this time. Even if those ghosts still resided within his head, Becker had the will to fight them or he wouldn't be there beside her still.

"The night of your accident, I couldn't leave here. There was so much I needed to say to you and you were in no condition to hear it so I settled for simply being here, hoping I would eventually be given the chance to ask your forgiveness."

"But I forgave you-" Jess began but he cut her off.

"Yes. And I couldn't face the possibility of going home to an empty flat after that. I didn't want to sleep alone, to fall head first back into those nightmares again, so I stayed here instead. But then one of the nurses kicked me out finally and I had nowhere to go. It was 2 in the morning. I passed the chapel, as I was leaving, and I-" he stopped again when words failed him.

Shifting his position on the bed, he dug around for a moment in the pocket of his fatigues. When his hands came out again, he held it out to her mutely, refusing to look her in the eye. Wound around his long slender fingers was the chain of an old rosary. The rosary looked old, dark wooden beads strung and knotted on a silken cord with a tarnished and worn silver cross dangling off the main look from a strand of 5 additional beads.

"I think it's the first time I've prayed since leaving seminary," he told her, sheepishly. "The next morning as I was getting ready for work, I came across this in my drawer and found myself putting it in my pocket. I'm still not sure why."

"Did praying give you the answers you needed?"

"I suppose it did," he responded honestly.

"What were you praying for?" she asked.

"This," he said with a gesture toward her hand still laced with his, "a second chance. I couldn't conceive of not having the chance to tell you how I felt."

"And the rosary?" she prompted.

"I'm peaceful when I'm by your side, but I can't be here all the time," he said with a foolish and lopsided smirk. "Now every time I start to doubt myself, my hand finds this in my pocket and it's a reminder to have faith. It might not be the faith that Father Ferrick trained me to in seminary, but for the moment it's helping me hold the demons at bay."

"In which case, whether you choose to invite God back into your life or not, so long as it's bringing you peace I would say that the rosary and prayer have both fulfilled their purpose."

"Then you don't mind?" he asked, puzzlement in his voice.

"Not so long as you don't suddenly decide to return to the seminary!" Jess quipped back.

Becker laughed easily along with Jess. Suddenly he could easily see a life beyond the confines of his career and he found himself rather liking the images that were played out in his head.

~~oOOo~~

You have to walk carefully in the beginning of love; the running across fields into your lover's arms can only come later when you're sure they won't laugh if you trip. ~Jonathan Carroll