This chapter contains very mild details of abuse. Please read ahead with caution.
You try to start your week fresh: coffee with Dakota, sketching in the art lab, nodding as Priya pitches her mural ideas. The ache in your chest is a steady companion, but you keep moving, hoping busy hands and crowded halls will drown out the noise.
It's Jasper who breaks the surface.
He finds you after your last class, waiting outside the door. There's no gentle greeting, no patient smile: just a cold, calculating look as he scans the hall for witnesses. Once you walk out, he falls into step beside you, voice low.
"You didn't answer my texts," he says. No question, just fact.
You fumble for an excuse. "I was at brunch. Then Beckett stopped by-"
His jaw clenches. "Of course he did. I'm starting to think you do this on purpose. Avoid me, run to him, then play innocent later." His words sting, not just from anger but from something deeper, colder.
You stand outside your dorm, heat creeping up your neck. "Jasper, I'm sorry. I needed quiet."
He laughs, sharp and humorless. "No, Maren, you needed attention. From Beckett, from all your little fan club. It's always the same, isn't it? You know how pathetic it looks?"
You stare, words lost.
He crowds you against the doorway, tone quiet but fierce. "You don't think people talk about you? About the way you bounce between me and him? Beckett's the hero, Priya's the genius, you're just trying to keep up. You think any of them care about anything but themselves?"
You shake your head, but he doesn't let up.
"You want to make this work?" he demands, eyes wild. "Then act like it. Stop pretending you're some martyr. I need you with me. Not halfway, not distracted, not playing games."
You flinch at the venom in his voice, panic closing your throat. "I'm not-"
He cuts you off, grabbing your wrist. "You're not what? Worth fighting for? Or just too easily swayed by whoever flatters you next?" He squeezes, leaving fingerprints in his wake.
You pull away, your heart thudding. "I'm doing my best."
He scoffs. "Maybe your best isn't enough. Maybe it never was." He steps back, icy smile fixed. "You wanna be with me? Prove it. Cut Beckett out. Stop embarrassing me."
You stumble inside, closing the door behind you and sliding to the floor, shivering, vision blurred. Jasper's texts start piling up again within minutes.
Jasper: Are you sorry yet?
Jasper: Don't make it worse.
Jasper: Tell me you're not going to him.
You sit there in silence. Broken, confused, and for the first time, truly afraid of what comes next.
You stare out across campus from the roof, hoodie pulled tight, the wind teasing violet strands around your face. Jasper's texts pile up on your phone, each buzz relentless and accusing.
Beckett slips through the door, carrying a can of soda and a fold of notes for some forgotten homework. He settles next to you, quiet at first, and just sits.
Eventually, he glances at your phone, watching it vibrate again. "You know you don't owe anyone your time or energy, right?" His voice is gentle, free of judgment. "Not Jasper. Not me. Not anyone."
You squeeze the phone tighter, blinking back tears. "You don't get it, Beck. I don't have a choice. If I don't answer Jasper, he just… keeps going. Keeps coming. It's exhausting."
Beckett leans in, steady and kind. "You always have a choice, Mare. I know you do. You know what you need. You just have to believe you deserve to make that call."
You look up at him, the ache in your chest shifting. For the first time, the fog clears just enough for you to see the truth inside his words.
You take a long breath, heart racing. "I do know. I can't keep doing this to myself. To everyone."
He doesn't smile, just nods, offering quiet assurance. "So do what you need to. I'm here."
You nod again, tears biting your cheeks, but they're different now, wild and free.
You scroll through Jasper's messages one last time and type a single reply:
I need space. I need you to let me go. This isn't healthy for either of us.
You hit send, your chest aching, but for once, it feels like the ice beneath your feet is finally cracking for the right reason.
Beckett squeezes your hand. The two of you sit together, saying nothing, watching the dark fall quietly over campus as your world shifts, uncertain but finally yours.
Later that night, you're in your dorm painting. Dakota is out on a date so you're using this time to really draw up some inspiration.
The door swings open and Jasper walks through.
"You think you can just end things with me over a text?" He asks, slamming the door closed behind him.
You step backward, hands up. "Jasper, please. I just need space."
He shakes his head, grabbing your wrist tight in his grip. "Space? Space from everyone except Beckett, right?"
You wince at his grip and try to pull your hand away, but he tightens his hold. "Jasper, you're hurting me!"
"And you're hurting me!" He says back, his face inches from yours. "All I ever did was care about you!"
His hand makes contact with your face before you can register what happened. You drop to the floor and your hand flies up to your burning cheek.
Jasper doesn't waste any time. He balls his hand into a fist and strikes, making contact with the left side of your face.
You cry out, feeling the blood dripping down your face. He grabs you by your hair, making contact again. You see stars as you collapse onto the ground.
From the ground, you hear Dakota enter the room, already on the phone with 911. Jasper makes a run for it, and you stay on the ground as Dakota crouches beside you to tell the dispatcher your condition.
As soon as Dakota is off the phone with 911, she's dialing Beckett's number.
"Beckett, you need to get here. Now. It's bad." She says, gathering up anything she can use to help clean your face.
Beckett gets there before the EMT's do. He bursts through the door and looks at you, immediately closing the distance.
"Oh, Maren.." His voice cracks as he reaches down to run his thumb across your cheek gently.
When you see him, something inside of you breaks. You reach for him desperately. He drops down beside you and pulls you into his arms. You grip his shirt like it's the only thing keeping you on the ground as sobs escape from your throat. He holds you tight as police and EMT's come into the room to examine you and ask you questions.
You answer all the questions from the police and end up declining a hospital visit due to your exhaustion.
Beckett stays the entire time, never leaving your side.
Once the room clears out, Dakota checks on you one more time before leaving to give you and Beckett some space.
Beckett holds you as long as you need, never once faltering.
After what feels like hours, but maybe only minutes, a police officer comes back.
Beckett leaves you briefly to answer the door and then comes back, sitting back down and pulling you into his arms again.
"They arrested him." He says softly. "There's a protective order. We'll go first thing in the morning to extend it."
You nod against his chest, not trusting your voice quite yet.
After a while, you pull away from Beckett, looking up at him. "I'm tired, Beck.."
He nods, gently pulling you to your feet with him, and leads you to your bed.
He helps you lie down and pulls the cover over you. "You okay?" He asks, his hand running over the top of your head once.
You shake your head. "Stay?" Your voice cracks on the word, your eyes are brimming with tears, and you can't bear the thought of Beckett leaving your side right now. "Please.."
He looks like something inside of him breaks, and he kicks his shoes off. He slides into the bed next to you, careful with his every move.
You move, sliding toward him until your head is on his chest. He hesitates for just a second, then he wraps his arms around you. "I've got you, Mare." He says softly against your hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
You nestle against him, letting his arms comfort you in ways you never knew possible.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here." He says after a moment.
You shake your head. "Don't do that."
He tightens his arms around you. "Do what?"
You look up at him. "That thing where you blame yourself for something you had no way of knowing would happen."
He shakes his head. "I can't help it."
You breathe in Beckett's scent, clean and familiar, the weight of the night pressing down, but his arms holding you steady. For the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself be small, knowing you don't have to be strong. Not with him. As sleep finally drags you under, you hear Beckett whisper to the dark:
"I've got you, Mare. I'm right here. I'm not letting go."
And you believe him because it's Beckett. He's always been there. He's never let you doubt that.
He's always been your constant.
You wake before the alarm, body stiff and sore, heart thudding with the sudden clarity of memory. Beckett is still beside you, his hand resting gently on your arm, thumb tracing absent patterns along your skin. You shift beneath the covers, and he stirs, blinking himself awake.
For a moment, you both linger in the half-light, silent. Then Beckett sits up and brushes his fingers gently through your hair.
"You ready?" he asks, voice careful. You close your eyes and nod, because you have to be.
The world feels sharper as you get dressed, every bruise a reminder. Dakota meets you in the kitchen with a paper cup of coffee, her eyes full of things she doesn't say. Beckett wraps your scarf carefully around your neck, like you're made of fragile glass, and you almost laugh at how gentle he's being until you see your reflection in the mirror and realize you wish everyone would treat you carefully, at least for a while.
The campus police station is only a few blocks away, but Beckett drives. The ride is quiet; the radio plays soft, forgettable music, and neither of you says much. You focus on the rhythm of the car, the way Beckett's hand hovers just over the console between you, like he wants to reach for you but doesn't want to press.
Inside, the police station is bright and clinical, the linoleum floors echoing with footsteps and muffled voices. Beckett checks in for you at the front desk while you hug yourself, cold despite your coat. The officer who meets with you is kind but direct. He asks about the night before, your statement, the new protective order. You answer everything, voice small but steady, Beckett's presence an anchor at your side.
They give you copies of the paperwork, explain your rights, promise you that if Jasper tries to contact you, he'll be arrested on the spot. You keep nodding, clutching the documents in frozen fingers, feeling the weight of every word.
By the time you make it back to the car, your breath is shaking, your chest tightening like a fist around your ribs. Beckett helps you in, then slides behind the wheel.
The silence sits between you for a moment, then you lose it: face in your hands, the tears coming hard and ugly and unstoppable. Beckett reaches over, pulling you into him across the console, awkward and desperate, but exactly what you need.
You cry until you can't anymore, until your throat is raw and your hands have stopped trembling. Beckett doesn't say a word, just rubs slow circles on your back, letting you soak his shirt, holding you together as you fall apart.
When the tears finally subside, you lean into him, exhausted. Beckett lifts your chin with infinite care, meets your eyes with gentleness and heat all at once.
"You did it, Mare," he says softly. "You're safe. You're so damn strong."
You try to answer, but the words stick, so you just nod, leaning into the warmth of his hand, letting it be enough.
He waits until your breathing's even and your lashes have dried before he starts the engine, pulling out into the slow traffic. The world outside goes on, students hurrying to class, the day brightening. But inside the car, it's quiet and close. A shelter you didn't know you needed, until now.
As you drive back to campus, Beckett squeezes your knee, glancing over with that earnest smile you know by heart. The ache hasn't left you, but it doesn't feel as sharp, not with him beside you. You grip his hand tighter and focus on the space ahead, willing yourself forward, one breath at a time.
When Beckett drives you back to campus, he doesn't pull up in front of your dorm. Instead, he glances at you, searching, gentle. "Come with me?"
You nod, still feeling hollowed out, and follow him to the old fire stairs. He leads you to the roof, your roof, where so many nights have been spent in laughter and silent worry, your secret little world far from anyone else's eyes.
The air up here is crisp, the clouds skidding low and close. Beckett leans against the railing, his posture tense and wound tight. For a moment, he just lets the wind ruffle his hair, hands clenching and unclenching.
You stand beside him, blanket still around your shoulders.
Finally, he speaks. His voice is barely steady. "When I saw you last night... When I saw your face, what he did to you…" He stops, swallowing, staring hard at nothing. "I've never wanted to hurt someone so badly in my life." The words come out rough, truth peeling away his usual calm. "I know I'm not supposed to say that. I know violence isn't an answer. But Mare, when I saw you, God."
His fists tighten on the cold rail. "If they hadn't already had him in cuffs, I don't know what I would've done. I wanted to find him. Make him pay. Make sure he never comes near you again."
You watch him, stunned by the intensity in the admission. You see the fear behind the fury, the love that makes him tremble to imagine you hurt.
He turns, meeting your eyes at last. "I'm so damn angry, Maren. Angry at him, at myself for not being there sooner, at the world for letting someone like that get close to you." He shakes his head. "But most of all, I'm just… relieved. Relieved that you're here. Relieved that Dakota showed up when she did."
He looks like he wants to say more, but his lips press into a tight line instead. He looks away, out over the campus.
You don't stop looking at him. Tears fall down your cheeks.
"You're always there for me, Beck." You say softly, voice wavering through the tears. "You can't protect me from everything, though."
He shakes his head. "No, I can't." He looks over at you again. "But I can try."
You look out across campus, taking in a deep breath. "I don't know what to do." You say after a while.
He shrugs. "Take it day by day." He says simply.
You nod, leaning against his arm. "Day by day."
You both look out across campus, settling into the comfortable silence between you.