Back To You ~ (Cazzie Fanfic)

Bruises Begin to Show

This chapter is brought to you by Therapy.

CW/ TW: mention and very vague (no details) description of consensual sex between two women that turns non-consensual. 

I tried to handle this carefully and I hope I did. I don't think years of trauma would just disappear overnight but I also don't want to make Izzie out to be a damsel in distress. And while none of this is her fault, it's important to me that no one save her. She will save herself.

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It's 2 AM when Izzie finally gets home. She has a track competition in 2 days and practice first thing tomorrow followed by a full day of classes. The exhaustion is already setting in just thinking about it all. She hasn't been up this late in a long time.

Welp. Tomorrow's gonna fucking suck, she thinks, as she walks up the sidewalk toward her apartment.

She should have been in bed hours ago. Little bits of dirt and gravel stick to her bare feet as she grips her uncomfortable shoes in one hand. She has to admit that taking an uber home alone at 2 AM wasn't the safest thing she'd ever done. Hell, hooking up with Tara wasn't the safest thing she'd ever done. God... what had she been thinking?

After she left the Gardner residence... after seeing Casey... she had walked up to the road, ordered an uber and gone straight to the local lesbian bar, Ginger's. It wasn't actually a lesbian bar, it was just a regular bar that all the lesbians happened to hang out at. Ginger's was kind of a home away from home for Izzie. She was almost guaranteed to run into a friend there and, if not, at least someone cute to dance with or drink with. Not that she drank much. She usually just pretended. She would bring the bottle or the glass to her lips and tip it, as if taking a sip. But instead of actually letting the liquid go into her mouth or down her throat she would just let it splash against her upper lip. Just a taste. No one ever noticed. After all, she would never get where she wanted to go if she was just getting drunk all the time like Sasha. But one had to keep up appearances.

At Ginger's she'd run into Tara, a stocky, muscular woman ten years her senior with short hair, full lips and a fashionable, tomboy sense of style. Tara could be incredibly sweet and giving in the bedroom but she had a temper and when she was in a mood she could also be really fucking rough, in a non consensual way. And she had a tendency to be territorial and domineering when Izzie rebuffed her. But seeing Casey had left Izzie feeling adrift and out of control. When she noticed Tara across the room she'd walked right over, without even stopping at the bar.

Tara had just nodded, said "Iz," and looked her up and down curiously.

"You busy?" Izzie had said, by way of greeting, rattled and jumpy from her unexpected interaction with Casey.

Tara had smirked and they'd walked right back out the door and gotten in her truck.

They hadn't talked much. At Tara's place Izzie had stripped off her clothes inside the front door.

Tara said, "Ok then," grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the bedroom.

At first it was just mildly rough in a pleasant, mind-numbing way, but as the night wore on it had gotten way too intense.

"Hey, that's too hard," Izzie had said, and, "Wait... Tara..."

And as usual Tara had either pretended not to hear or pretended it was part of some role playing thing, and just kept going. And Izzie could have pushed her off... probably... maybe. She supposes she could have screamed or something, but instead she had just gritted her teeth and gone along with it. Because she knew from experience it would be over soon. And at least the pain and fear kept her rooted in her body. Kept her mind off of Casey. Izzie didn't mess around with pain often. That's one reason she usually avoided Tara. But... desperate times... desperate measures.

Her apartment building's stairwell is open to the outdoors on one side and as Izzie climbs the stairs she shivers in the cold evening breeze, clutching her coat tighter around her body. She bites back the urge to cry. She's tired. And sore. She feels empty and confused... and a little ashamed. As she rounds the corner she sees the orange ember of Gabby's cigarette where she is sitting outside the front door smoking, her plastic chair tipped back against the wall so that it rests on two legs.

Izzie walks up to her and stops. For a moment they just regard each other silently.

"I told you I'd be late," Izzie says, defensively.

And then, "Can't sleep?"

Gabby watches Izzie for another long moment and then replies, evenly, "Everything ok?"

She lowers her chair and flicks the ash off her cigarette into an old coffee can. She's wearing pajamas under her coat and her brown hair is piled into a messy bun. Izzie sighs.

"Just... rough night," she replies tiredly, taking the last few steps to the door. "Don't stay out here too long, ok?"

As she opens the door Gabby calmly says, "You know, addicts aren't the only ones who need therapy Big Sis."

Izzie stops.

"Don't."

But Gabby persists, "And not all addictions are substance related."

"I'm not the addict Gabby," Izzie sighs, going inside.

It's a low blow. She knows it. But she's just so tired. Gabby doesn't take the bait though. She's really come a long way in the past few years and sometimes Izzie has the disorienting feeling that Gabby is actually the big sister.

"Tell that to the bruises on your neck," Gabby calls, through the crack in the almost-shut door.

"Shit," Izzie hisses, rushing to the hallway mirror.

There, on either side of her neck, are vaguely finger shaped pink and red splotches that will almost certainly be blue or purple by morning. It's not as bad as she feared but it will still be visible.

Fuck, she thinks. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Thank god it's winter. She makes a mental note to order more turtlenecks before she goes to sleep.

She hangs up her coat and heads to the bathroom feeling defeated. She starts the water running for the shower and pulls her dress over her head. There's a knock at the door and then Gabby is there, holding out an ice pack. Izzie takes it, wordlessly, holding it to the side of her neck that looks the worst. In the mirror her bloodshot eyes meet Gabby's and rest there. Gently, Gabby wraps her in a hug from behind, resting her chin on Izzie's shoulder... watching her passively in the mirror. And in this late, broken moment Izzie doesn't have the strength to keep her walls in place. Not with Gabby.

"I saw Casey," she rasps.

Gabby raises her eyebrows.

"Shit," she says simply.

Then, tentatively, "Want to talk about it?"

Izzie blinks back tears and shakes her head.

"I really just want to go to bed."