Date: Thu, 09 Oct 2003 20:54:37 -0700
From: RC in Sacramento <sacwriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Becka the Beast, Chapter 15

This is a work of fiction from a first time author. It depicts acts of sex
and sexuality between two teenage females. If such content disturbs you, or
you are under 18, get out and stay out. As always, this story can only be
reproduced by consent of the author.

			Becka the Beast
			 by Sacwriter

Chapter 15***

	Dr. Lorne was as hesitant as anyone else about Becka's decision, but agreed
that there was no medical reason why she couldn't make the trip, especially
if she used a wheelchair. One was quickly found, and with a tenderness
surprising in a man so large, Phil picked Becka up and gently set her into
it. With Phil pushing and Gia close by her side, Johnny and George bringing
up the rear and with Caruso leading the way, the small parade wound its way
through the hospital corridors.
	The scene seemed familiar to Gia, and for a time she couldn't figure out
why, but then suddenly she remembered. Like most girls her age Gia's two
favorite TV shows where Buffy the Vampire Slayer and it's spinoff, Angel.
In the opening credits for both shows, the final shot ends with all the cast
members marching down a hallway or corridor, grimfaced and clutching
weapons, determined to face whatever monster they happened to be fighting
that week and kill it. 	The memory brought a smile to Gia's lips. Maybe when
they met Ralph, they could drive a stake through his heart.
	The detention ward turned out to be four rooms at the end of a corridor on
the top floor, as far from the rest of the patients as it was possible to
get. To get into the ward you had to pass both a security guard and an
electronic door. Inside the door there was another guard at the end of the
hall, who held the keys that gave access to each of the heavy metal doors
for the four rooms. Each door had a large window with steel mesh and shatter
proof glass, and an intercom on the wall beside it. Caruso had to show his
badge twice to get them through that first door, and was only allowed to
take the entire group in because Ralph was the only prisoner.
	Phil wheeled Becka up to the door that the guard indicated, and then he and
Gia helped her to stand up and look through the armored glass. Inside there
was a single bed against the back wall, with a shrunken figure in a hospital
gown, propped upright. The right side of his face was sheathed in fresh
white bandages, but there was no doubt that it was Ralph. Becka stared at
him for several long minutes, and then asked the guard a single question.
	"Can he see me?"
	"No, miss, he can't. That's one way glass, so he can't see out. It's to
make sure they never know for sure that we're not watching them."
	"I need to go in there. I need him to see me, too. And I need to do it
alone."
	Gia started to protest, but instead held herself back, but just barely. She
listened as Caruso and her father told Becka that it wouldn't be possible,
but saw the determined look on Becka's face.
	"He's handcuffed to the bed, right? And you'll be right outside the door,
won't you? So I'll be okay. Look, I have to face him, I have to look him in
the eye and show him I'm not afraid of him anymore. If he doesn't see that,
than he'll always think he owns me. You have to let me do this."
	"No, Becka, I don't. You're the chief witness against this guy, there
shouldn't be any contact between you and him at all. If you go in there
alone, his lawyer could claim that you threatened him, or said that you were
going to perjure yourself on the stand. And even if they had no proof that
you said that, we couldn't prove that you didn't. The accusation would be
made, and it would still be in the minds of the jury. I'm sorry, Becka, but
we can't take the chance on prejudicing the case."
	"You could tape him."
	Caruso and Becka both turned towards Gia, surprised at the unexpected
words. The dark haired girl pointed at the intercom next to the door.
	"That thing works, doesn't it? You can use that little tape recorder, the
one I've seen you take notes with. You can record everything they say, and
then you can prove that Becka didn't say anything wrong, that there wasn't
any, what do you call it, 'collusion'. And maybe Ralph will say something
that'll incriminate him."
	Caruso and Phil looked at each other, both thinking about Gia's words.
	"Is it even legal?" Phil asked. The other man shrugged.
	"Should be. He's in custody, so he should have no expectation of privacy.
And as long as he's not talking to his lawyer or his clergyman, it's not
privileged information. Yeah, it'll probably stand up in court. If she wants
to do it, I'm inclined to let her."
	"Do you have enough tape for that thing?"
	"It's digital, it's got about 45 minutes of memory. That ought to be more
than enough."
	Caruso spent the next ten minutes instructing Becka on what was and was not
admissible as evidence, if Ralph said anything incriminating. While he did
so Becka exchanged looks with Gia, sending the other girl her thanks with
the silent communication they seemed to have developed. When Caruso was
finally done, he had the guard open the door to Ralph's room, and let Becka
wheel herself inside.

			* * *

	Becka wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to feel, as she stopped the
wheelchair in the middle of the room. Behind her she heard the door shut
with a resonant click! It echoed off the walls like the cocking of a gun,
although she noticed that there was no sound of the lock turning. Still she
was alone, inside a room with the man who had terrorized her since she was a
baby, and who had made her life a living hell for the last six years. Should
she be afraid? Or should she be angry? Would she shrink into the corner like
the terrified child she had been, or would she throw herself at the
monster's throat in a killing rage, as she had done when he had threatened
Gia? What should she feel?
	What did she feel?
	Becka took a deep breath and refocused her attention on the figure in the
bed, and for the first time she noticed that Ralph was awake. His head was
turned all the way to the right so that he could look at her with his good
eye. It glared at her, small and pig-like, filled with malevolence. His
voice, when he spoke, was like a rasp on hard wood.
	"Come here to gloat, huh? Wanted to see what you done to your own father,
didn't ya? Well take a good look, bitch! The docs say I'll probably loose my
eye, and even if I don't my whole damn face will be scarred. They can't fix
what you done to me, d'you hear? You little whore, I'm gonna be like this
for the rest of my life. You did this to your own father!"
	There was a rattle of chains as the prisoner in the bed tried to sit up,
only to be brought up short by the handcuffs that imprisoned him to the
rails along the frame. He tried kicking his feet, but didn't even succeed in
dislodging his blankets.
	"Well? Aren't you gonna say something? Or did you just come here to stare?"
	Becka noticed that Ralph's hair was actually clean, probably for the first
time in years. It was still its natural dirty blonde color, but someone had
taken the time to wash and comb it, and to actually tie it off in a pony
tail. She guessed it must have happened when they cleaned him up in the
emergency room. He would have had blood caked in his hair, and they probably
had to shave some of it when they stitched him up.
	"Hey, why are you just staring at me like that? Don't you have anything to
say? Huh?"
	She could picture it now. Some nurse, or maybe one of those big, burly
orderlies would have shaved it. And then the doctor would have stitched his
cuts with a needle and thread, just like they had done to the wounds between
Becka's legs. They would have put him out to work on his eye, and when he
was unconscious they would have cleaned him up, maybe even given him a
sponge bath or something. It would have probably been like washing a great
big, dirty doll, wouldn't it?
	"Goddamn it, stop looking at me like that! Why don't you say something?
Answer me, damn you!"
	What did she feel? Did she feel anything at all?
	"You expect me to apologize or something, is that it? You think if you just
sit there and stare at me like that I'll break down and say I'm sorry for
what I did to you? Well fuck you, 'cause I'm not! You wanted me to fuck you,
bitch. You liked it, 'cause you're a whore, just like your momma was. You
never said nothing to nobody about it, 'cause you fucking liked it, didn't
you?"
	Ralph was shouting now, he was so wound up that spittle was spraying from
his mouth. She could see drops of it dotting the unkempt whiskers on his
chin. She still felt nothing.
	Why didn't she feel something? The animal who had done such terrible things
to her was only a few feet away, ranting and raving like a madman, and yet
he might as well have been some actor on TV for all the effect he was having
on her. She continued to stare at him, as if he were some sort of bug in a
laboratory, and hers was the eye at the other end of the microscope.

	Her silent stare was obviously beginning to have an affect on Ralph. He was
fidgeting, pulling at the handcuffs, and muttering angrily under his breath.
Finally he turned his head away, the bandages over his right eye making it
possible for him to avoid the teenager's gaze. Damn her to hell, anyway.

	But Becka wouldn't have it. She wheeled her chair around the end of the bed
and stopped on the other side, right where she could get a clear view of
Ralph's face and where he couldn't avoid seeing hers. He tried to anyway,
but the handcuffs kept him from turning on his side and the bandages kept
him from burying his face in the pillow. Whenever he opened his eye he could
still see her, silent, expressionless, staring at him with the patience of a
statue. Ralph couldn't believe how much that stare was wearing on his
nerves.
	In her mind Becka was going over her memories, the ones that she had long
ago put into a mental box and labeled 'never open'. Now she hauled them out
and dusted them off, all the horrors and humiliations that she had tried so
hard to forget, all caused by this man in the hospital bed who was trying so
hard not to look at her. She looked at them now, in the full light of day,
and remembered them vividly. Becka was realizing that, although she had
sealed up all of these sources of pain, she had still carried them with her,
and she refused to suffer their weight anymore. As she finished with each
one she didn't return it to the box, but instead threw it away, discarded it
as irrelevant to her now.
	Ralph was talking again, his mutterings now turned into words that he meant
for her to hear. Becka realized that she had been staring unseeingly at him
for some time now, and had no idea what he had been saying.
	"And it wasn't my fault, either. They were my bros. When a bro comes over
to your house, you have to treat him right, treat him with respect. What's
yours is his, that's the way it works. You share your booze, you share your
blow, whatever. And if you got some cunt lying around who ain't your old
lady, you share her, too. It ain't my fault, that's just the way it is.
	"But I did keep Ponyboy away from you, dammit. I never let him touch you
after he started using the needle, 'cause I know you could get the AIDS from
that. Mojo, Mikey and Clapper, yeah, I had to let them do you. But I did
stop Ponyboy, and you know I did!
	"The Gallego brothers, okay, they weren't my bros. But I always did a lot
of business with them, the same business that put a fucking roof over your
head, girlie! That business put food in your belly, and it was only right
that you put in something too, right? Right?"
	Becka suddenly knew that she had had enough. She put her feet to the floor
and stood stiffly, gathering the robe around her. She looked down at Ralph
Danning, who looked back at her out of the corner of his one eye, and
cringed. She realized, then, that Ralph was afraid of her.
	"Wh - what're you gonna do?"
	As she continued to look down on him, Becka realized that she did feel
something after all. In fact, it was probably the single most intense
feeling that she had ever had.
	She felt completely and totally indifferent.
	Becka turned and started towards the door, taking slow, painful steps. She
kept her head high and she never looked back. Ralph Danning was her past,
she would testify against him in court and send him to jail for the rest of
his sorry excuse for a life, but other than that she didn't give a damn
about him. Her future was outside that door, with a woman who loved her and
a family who wanted her. Behind her was nothing.
	The door opened before she could get to  it, and Becka found herself
wrapped in the arms of her future. She held her tight and whispered in her
ear, "I want to got home."

			* * *

	Dr. Lorne wouldn't allow Becka to go home right then, he still made her
wait until the following day, Friday. Gia again spent the night in Becka's
room, but the next day her father insisted that she go back to school.
	"You've missed too much as it is, kiddo. And besides, somebody has to stop
by Becka's classes and pick up all of her homework. She's missed even more
school than you."
	Gia grumbled some more, but when Becka added her voice to the argument she
finally agreed to go. Becka knew that it would be at least another week
before she could go back to school, and she didn't want to fall behind. Now
that she had a future worth looking forward to, graduating with good grades
was suddenly important to her. Her dream of going to art school was now
possible, but she couldn't expect the Cameron's to pay for it, so she would
have to get some sort of scholarship by herself. For the first time in her
life, Becka was anxious to crack a textbook.
	One of the nurses helped Becka pack her bag, and then she finally had a
little time alone. She sighed, as she realized that it was the first time
she had been by herself since Gia had tackled her in the woods outside of
Ralph's house, two days ago. Her, Becka Jackson, the girl who never let
anybody get in no matter what, who stood completely alone even in a crowd.
She had stripped herself naked before the whole world, and had somehow come
out of it more intact than she had ever been in her life. She was safe, she
was loved, and wonder of wonders, she had a family!
	Becka laughed out loud, and shook her head. She even had 'brothers'. Three
big, burly young men, who looked like they belonged wearing sombreros and
crossed bandoleers, each of whom could most likely clean out a biker bar all
by himself. And yet they had shown her the same kindness and consideration
that they would have for their very own blood sister. It was so wonderful,
and yet at the same time, so unreal!
	After her experience yesterday facing Ralph, she had told Phil that she was
no longer afraid, and no longer needed a private guard outside of her room.
Gia had quickly seconded the motion, but from the covert glance that she
gave Becka, the older girl knew that it was only because she wanted to spend
some more time alone with her secret lover. George had acquiesced and left,
saying that it was the end of his shift anyway and he had to get back to
work, but Johnny Cameron had refused to go. Stating that everybody else had
had a chance to spend time with Becka and that now it was his turn, he had
simply sat his six foot frame down in a chair and started tuning up his
guitar. Gia finally gave up trying to get rid of her youngest brother, but
the frustrated expression on her face had left Becka grinning.
	And it turned out that Johnny really could play that guitar, and sing, too.
His voice was a beautiful tenor, soft and clear as mountain water, and he
spent hours serenading the two young girls with Spanish love songs
interspersed with 50's and 60's rock. Afterwards he had sat next to Becka on
the bed and let her hold his guitar, while he gave her lessons and taught
her how to pick out a simple melody. And in between the lessons and the
serenades, he entertained Becka with stories about every embarrassing thing
that Gia had ever done or said. Gia had turned red, and muttered threats
involving Johnny, his guitar, and a jar of Vaseline. Becka had laughed so
hard her stitches began to seep.
	At six o'clock Bobby arrived, and Johnny gathered his things and left, but
not before giving both girls a kiss on the cheek. Gia had accepted it as her
due and barely noticed the gesture, but Becka had sat for several minutes,
gently touching her face where she could still feel Johnny's lips. The last
time someone had kissed her in such an affectionate, non sexual way had been
her mother, two days before she had died. Becka was confused about the
strange way it made her feel, but she was pretty sure that she liked it.
	Bobby had brought along his own sketchpad and crayons, and had spent much
of his time giving Becka tips on how to draw buildings and other man made
structures. Afterwards she had reciprocated by drawing a portrait of him,
which brought a smile to his handsome features. Right then Becka decided
that Gia was right, when she said that Bobby was way too serious, so she had
drawn another portrait, this time with the smile. She then added a round,
red clown nose, which sent Gia rolling on the bed with peels of laughter.
Bobby gave every sign of wounded dignity, but Becka noticed that he kept the
picture.
	At ten o'clock Jessie stuck her head in the room to let them know that she
was on duty, and Bobby hastily added that it was time for him to leave, too.
Becka and Gia shared a grin, knowing that no matter what he said, Bobby
wasn't going any farther than the nurse's station, and one nurse in
particular. After he left Gia went to the cot they had brought for her use,
and messed up the covers. Then she turned out the lights and climbed under
the covers of the big bed, and quickly fell asleep in her lover's arms. The
next morning when Jessie woke her up, she showered and dressed, gave Becka a
truly sincere kiss, and left for school.

			* * *

	They signed her out of the hospital at noon, and it was Phil himself who
wheeled her out to the sidewalk, and then helped her into the shotgun seat
of his Ford Cherokee. He took his place behind the steering wheel and then
looked over at his passenger, watching warily for her reaction. Becka smiled
wryly at him.
	"It's okay, Mr. Cameron, I'm not going to freak out just 'cause I'm stuck
in a car with you. I'm all over that now."
	Phil grinned. Gia had told him as much, but it was good to see for himself
that the young girl was completely past her phobia.
	"Hungry?" he asked. Becka grinned in reply.
	"Hospital food, remember? I'm starving!"
	"HA! Mickey D's it is, then!" He put the Cherokee in gear and they were
off.

			* * *

	The rest of the Cameron family were either at school or at work when Phil
and Becka got home. Phil carried Becka's bag for her, but she insisted that
she was able to walk in all by herself. She did, however, accept his help up
the stairs to Gia's room. Her and Gia's room, she silently corrected.
Strange as it seemed, this beautiful house was her home now, and she would
have to start thinking of it in that way. Phil set her bag down on the bed,
and then stood in the middle of the room awkwardly. He cleared his throat
before he spoke.
	"Uh, Becka, I know that you're used to having your own room, and you know
that we have plenty of spare ones here you can use. But, see, they're all up
on the third floor, and I don't think you should be climbing up all of those
stairs right now. At least not until Dr. Lorne says it's okay. So until
then, would you mind very much sharing a room with Gia?"
	Becka hid a smile, touched at the big man's unconscious generosity. He had
brought her into this beautiful near-mansion and invited her to become part
of his family, and now he was embarrassed that she had to sleep with Gia?
Becka was trying very hard not to grin.
	"That's okay, Mr. Cameron. I stayed here when I slept over last week. I'm
cool with it, as long as Gia is."
	Phil smiled, relieved. "Alright. Well, I'm going to let you get settled in,
then. I'll just be next door in my room, so when you're ready to come
downstairs, just let me --- Oh, waitaminnit! Damn, I must be getting old, I
forgot we got you a present. Wait a second, I'll be right back." With that,
Phil abruptly turned around and left the room.
	Becka stood there in the middle of Gia's ... her and Gia's room, fidgeting.
Her stay in the hospital had given her the chance to know the Cameron boys,
and to learn to feel comfortable in their presence, and even to look forward
to their company. She honestly liked them. But she hadn't spent that much
time alone with their father yet, and she was still a little nervous around
him. Sweet as he was, she couldn't forget that he was the head of the
Cameron family, and that his was the final word about who was welcome under
this roof, and who wasn't.
	Phil was back in under a minute, a picture frame clutched in his hands. He
smiled gently when he handed it too her.
	"I think this belongs to you."
	Becka gasped when she looked at what the frame held, her jaw dropping open
in surprise. It was the portrait that she had done of her mother, the same
portrait that she had gone back into Ralph's house to get. It had been drawn
six years ago on a piece of plain white typewriter paper with a Bic pen, and
the edges were now tattered and yellow. It was crude and simple, the work of
an eleven year old child, yet it still showed hints of the budding talent
that Becka now possessed in full. The woman in it had dark hair and sad
eyes, and her features held a hint of the emaciation caused by the Hepatitis
that would claim her life. But she looked pretty, and kind, and it was easy
to recognize her in the face of her now almost grown daughter. Becka felt a
swelling in her chest, and she had to swallow before she could speak.
	"Where ... how did you get this?"
	"Gia told us about it at the hospital, that first day. When we went over to
talk to Ralph, George and I got it for you. We also tried to pack up some of
your things, but most of if was pretty well trashed, I'm sorry. What we got
is inside the closet. But I figured this was the most important thing."
	Becka didn't know what to say, or how to express her thanks to this big,
kind hearted man, so she just gave in and followed the promptings of her
heart. Phil suddenly found his arms full of seventeen year old girl, her
arms around his neck and her face buried in his big bear chest. He was taken
totally by surprise, but he soon wrapped his arms around her and was
returning the hug, a father's smile on his face.
	"Thank you," Becka murmured, her voice hoarse with emotion, squeezing the
big man as hard as she could.
	And she didn't feel nervous at all.
(continued)