What Will It Take? Part IV
By: Lori (SixteenOzs)

DISCLAIMER: "ER," the characters and situations depicted within are the property of Warner Bros. Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant c Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. The story presented here is written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is making no profit.

Please do not post or redistribute without the disclaimer above, or without the consent of the author.

Feedback is welcome. Please send all questions, comments or criticisms to SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

SUMMARY: Follows What Will It Take? Part III

RATING: PG-15. Recount of violence.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: As always, I'd like to thank Trigg for her input and assistance. Thank you!

PART IV

Mark jumped out of the car practically before it even came to a stop. He rushed passed the elevator, not wanting to wait, and elected to take the stairs instead. His heart was pounding as he reached the landing to Elizabeth's floor, but it seemed to stop the instant he saw the police officer standing outside her door.

"What's going on here?" he asked as he approached the officer.

The officer stepped over to block the entrance. "I'm sorry, sir. You can't go in there right now."

"I got an emergency page from this number. I want know what's going on!" he demanded.

"Please. I paged him. Could you let him in?" Elizabeth called from inside the apartment.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her voice. The police officer stepped aside, and he entered the apartment.

She stood up from the sofa as he walked into the living room.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

There were various police officers and detectives milling about the apartment, but they were both oblivious to everything except each other.

She opened her mouth to reply, but the words just wouldn't come. She started walking towards him, and he met her in the middle of the room and wrapped her in his arms. There were a thousand questions running through the back of his mind, but the only thing he could focus on was that she was there in his arms, and she was safe. He could feel her trembling, so he just held her tighter. After a few minutes, she pulled back slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he gently caressed her cheek.

She nodded hesitantly.

"What happened?" he wondered.

"H-he was here when I got back from the market," she started to explain.

"Who?" he asked in confusion. Then it hit him. "Rollins?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I was putting the groceries away. I guess he was hiding in the closet, or something. He came up behind me, and put me in a choke hold. He-he was going to kill me," she said, her voice wavering.

"Oh my God," he said in shock. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'm doing better now that you're here."

He smiled slightly at that. He looked her over, just to reassure himself that she really was fine. "You're bleeding. What happened to your neck?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice.

She raised her left hand to her throat and when she pulled it back, there was blood. She sighed, then explained, "He got a knife from the counter. I guess he cut my throat. It's not that serious, just superficial."

He gave her a stern look. This was serious, and she knew it. Finally, he said, "Well, I'm taking a look at it anyway."

He was reaching to look at her neck, but she grabbed his wrist with her right hand. "I'm not stupid enough to try talking you out of this, but get a pair of gloves first. I've got some in the bathroom."

"Elizabeth," he said pointedly. Considering the nature of their relationship, he really didn't see where that was necessary.

She stared at him doggedly. "I don't know what Rollins may have given me. I will not put you at risk."

"I'm willing to take my chances," he said seriously.

"I'm not," she resolutely. "You're not going to win on this one, Mark. So, why don't you just go, get the gloves, come back, then you can look at my neck and we'll both be happy?"

"Do you know how incredibly stubborn you can be?" he asked with a grin.

She grinned back. "Takes one to know one."

He laughed as he walked towards the bathroom to get the gloves and the supplies he needed to clean the wound.

She smiled as she watched him walk away, then looked down at her left hand, which was still covered in blood. Grimacing, she turned and walked into the kitchen to wash her hands. As she was standing at the sink, one of the detectives came up to her. Elizabeth thought she remembered the detective saying her name was Kimberly Waterford, she'd been at the hospital the night of the rape.

"Dr. Corday?" Detective Waterford said.

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded.

"If you don't mind, we should really get some pictures of your neck, for evidence purposes," the detective said carefully.

"Okay, I understand," Elizabeth with a slight sigh. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well," she began somewhat hesitantly, "it would be best if you could take your sweater off. We could go in the bedroom, so you'd have more privacy."

"Okay," Elizabeth nodded again.

"I'll get the camera," Detective Waterford said as she moved to speak with one of the officers who was taking pictures of the apartment.

Elizabeth ran into Mark as she was walking back towards her bedroom.

"I've got the gloves," he grinned. More seriously, he said, "Ready for me to take a look?"

"Not quite yet," she replied. "The detective said they need to get pictures for evidence. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"You okay?" he asked sympathetically.

"I think so," she said with a weak smile.

"I'm here if you need me," he reminded her.

"I know," she smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling slightly before he walked back towards the living room.

"He seems really great," Detective Waterford commented as she joined Elizabeth.

"He is," Elizabeth said seriously. "and I know I'm lucky to have him."

"That will help you get over this faster than just about anything else," Detective Waterford assured her.

"Then why does it feel like everyday I take one step forward only to take five back?" she asked warily.

Waterford smiled sympathetically as she closed the bedroom door behind them.

"So, what do you need me to do?" Elizabeth asked.

"Just take your sweater off and stand next to the wall with your head back so I can see your neck. You can leave your bra on," she replied.

"Gee, thanks," Elizabeth said sarcastically. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault."

"But it's not a picnic either," the detective admitted.

"Right now, I just keep trying to focus on the fact that it's not as bad as last time, and that I'm still alive," Elizabeth said as she carefully pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it over a chair.

"That's really all you can do," Detective Waterford said before snapping off a series of photos. When she was done, she said, "We still need to get your statement, but I figure it would probably be best to let your friend take a look at your neck first."

Elizabeth laughed. "He's an ER doc. They have a tendency to be a bit overbearing at times."

"He's just worried about you," she said before leaving the room.

"I know," Elizabeth nodded as she reached for her sweater and pulled it on.

She sighed as she looked around the room. Apparently, Rollins had been in here before she got home. Her clothes were scattered about. She shuddered slightly as she walked over to the edge of the bed and picked up a slip and a few other items from her lingerie drawer that he had displaced. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath as she fought back the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. She dropped the clothing on the bed, not wanting to deal with that at the moment.

Surveying the room again, she could feel the tears forming as she took in the broken and displaced items from her bureau. Kneeling on the floor, she picked up the shattered pieces from the crystal vase her father had given her for her eighteenth birthday and the antique hand-mirror her grandmother had used since she was a little girl. She stared at the pieces for a moment before placing them on top of the bureau. She picked up a few more of the larger pieces and made a mental note to run the vacuum to remove the smaller shards.

She stopped and shook her head. The man who raped her had been in her apartment, and she had no doubt that his intention was to rape her again and kill her, yet she was worried about vacuuming the carpet. "I must really be losing it," she muttered to herself.

The sun streamed in through the window and reflected off of a shinny object on the floor, catching Elizabeth's eye. She picked up the silver photo frame somewhat apprehensively. Turning the frame over, she was shocked to find the picture, and the glass covering it, in perfect condition. She smiled as she looked at the photo. It was of her and Mark, taken last December. Still holding the picture, she walked back into the living room.

He stood up and walked over to her as she entered the room. "How are you doing?" he asked carefully.

"I'm hanging in," she said with a weak smile.

"Ready for me to take a look at your neck?" he asked.

"Sure," she nodded as she took a seat on the sofa.

He sat on the edge of the coffee table across from her. He grinned slightly as he pulled on a pair of gloves, then carefully turned down the collar of her sweater to examine the cut.

She watched him with an amused smile for a few moments. "Are you always this serious when you're treating a patient?"

He glanced up at her and smiled. "You're not just a patient."

"So, how does it look?" she asked somewhat hesitantly.

"It's not too deep, you don't need stitches. There might be a light scar, but it should fade over time," he explained.

"Great," she said sarcastically, "a 'souvenir.'"

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.

"It's not your fault," she reminded him.

He smiled faintly. "I need to clean it, so it may sting a little."

"Okay," she nodded as she clinched her hand into a fist. She flinched slightly as the antiseptic hit the open wound.

After he cleaned it, he carefully applied a bandage. "There, all better," he smiled.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"There's quite a bit of blood on your sweater," he commented as he pulled off his gloves.

"I didn't even realize I was bleeding until the police office pointed it out," she admitted. After a moment, she remarked sadly, "This is the sweater you gave me for my birthday."

"If you want to burn it, I'll understand," he offered with a caring smile.

She laughed slightly. After a moment, she sat forward on the edge of the sofa and rested her arms on her knees. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Opening her eyes, she looked at him and whispered, "He was going to kill me." She was certain of that, but she still said it as if she was trying to convince herself that it was true.

He moved to sat next to her on the sofa. Gently rubbing her back, he softly said, "The only thing you need to concentrate on right now is that he didn't. You're going to be okay. The police arrested him, and he is never going to be able to hurt you again."

Turning to look at him, she gave a small smile. "Thank you."

"For what?" he questioned.

"For being here," she replied.

"You're not getting rid of me this easily," he assured her with a smile.

"I was terrified," she admitted. "I was afraid that I'd never see you again, that I'd die and you would never know just how much I love you."

"I know," he assured her with a smile.

"I do love you," she said simply.

"And I love you." Finally noticing the photograph she was holding, he asked, "What's that?"

She smiled as she handed him the picture. "Remember when this was taken?" she asked.

"Of course I remember," he said with a smile. Looking at her, they both thought back to that day...

He agreed to cover a shift in the ER one Saturday. She was off, but stopped by to meet him for lunch. They ended up having a "picnic" of sorts near the river. They nearly froze, but she loved every minute of it. After they'd eaten, they were sitting at the table talking over coffee, when a photography student came up to them and explained that she was working on a thesis project. She asked if they'd sign the necessary release forms, which they did on the condition that they could each get a copy of the picture.

When they got the photo a few weeks later, they were both surprised at how good it was. It was a black and white photo, which did an excellent job of capturing the ice glistening off the trees behind them. At the moment it was taken, he'd just said something that amused her. Her head was tipped back slightly in laughter, and he was smiling as he watched her.

"I've always loved this picture," he commented.

"Me, too," she smiled. Her smile faded as she said, "This was one of the few things to survive the disaster area, once known as my bedroom."

"Then maybe it's a sign," he suggested as he sat the photo on the table.

"Of what?" she asked curiously.

"We're going to survive this, too," he said optimistically.

She looked at him, then said, "I was crazy to ever even think about trying to shut you out of my life."

He just smiled understandingly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her a little closer. She rested her head against him and just let him hold her until the detective came over to them some time later.

"Dr. Corday, do you feel up to giving your statement now?" Detective Waterford asked carefully.

Elizabeth sat up, and Mark moved his arm. "Yeah," she nodded. "Is it okay if Mark stays with me?"

"Sure," the detective answered as she sat in a chair near the sofa. "Just start at the beginning and tell me everything you can remember."

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and reached for Mark's hand. "I'd been out doing errands. I got home, unlocked the door and carried my groceries into the apartment. I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. I went into the kitchen and started putting things away. I'm not sure how much time passed, probably just a few minutes, but he came up behind me and put me in a choke hold with one arm. He put his other hand over my mouth, then he whispered in my ear, 'Hello, Lizzie. It's been a while. Too long, don't you think?' He told me that if I moved, if I screamed or if I tried to fight him, he'd kill me right there and we wouldn't be able to have 'fun' first. He asked me if I promised to be 'a good girl,' and I nodded. He removed his hand from my mouth and picked up the knife from the counter. I asked him why he was doing this. Hadn't he already done enough to destroy my life?"

She took another deep breath and glanced carefully in Mark's direction before continuing. "He ran the blade of the knife along the side of my face, then across my throat and held it there. He said he came back to finish what he started. He said he thought I was special, that's why he didn't kill me last time, but I 'went back to my boyfriend.' He said I was a slut, just like the others, and he'd make me pay the same way they did," she said as a few tears traced their way down her face.

As she was talking, Mark tightened his grip on her hand. He knew it was a good thing the police had already taken Rollins away, otherwise he may not have been responsible for his actions.

Detective Waterford made a few notes, then asked, "Do you know what he meant by the 'going back to your boyfriend' part?"

Elizabeth swallowed hard. "About a week after I was raped, I was having a pretty hard time dealing with everything. I didn't want to put Mark through that, so I suggested that we stop seeing each other for a while. I just wanted some time to try and sort through everything. I never wanted it to be a permanent break-up. A few days ago, I finally started to realize that I didn't have to go through this alone, and I needed him in my life. We went out to dinner last night, then came back here and talked about everything."

She stopped as it suddenly occurred to her what this meant. "Does this mean Rollins has been following me?" she asked with alarm in her voice.

"I can't say anything for certain," Waterford replied, "but that's definitely a possibility."

Elizabeth shuddered. She'd never even considered that.

"What happened next with Rollins?" the detective prompted.

"He said he was going to make me pay like the others," Elizabeth repeated.

"What did you take that to mean?" she interrupted.

"That he was going to rape me again, and this time, he was going to kill me," she explained as her voice faltered slightly. Continuing, she said, "We moved out of the kitchen and into the hallway. We were heading in the direction of my bedroom. He was behind me, sort of pushing me in that direction. I don't remember everything that happened after that. I think he stumbled over a plant, or something. His grip on my neck loosened, so I took the opportunity to fight back. I jammed my elbow in his ribs, and I stomped on his foot with my heel. He was between me and the living room. I couldn't get out that way, so I ran into my bedroom, closed and locked the door, then pushed my bureau in front of it. I called 911 and told the operator what was going on, she asked me if I had anything I could use to defend myself and the only think I could think of was the baseball bat I had in my closet."

"Baseball bat?" Detective Waterford questioned, trying to hid a smile.

Elizabeth laughed, "It was part of my Christmas present."

"I was planning on helping her fine-tune her game once it got warmer," Mark explained with a grin.

Turning serious again, Elizabeth said, "So, I was walking around my room with the phone in one hand and the bat in the other, until the police arrived."

"What was Rollins doing?" Waterford asked.

"He was pounding on the door, calling me a 'bitch' and a 'whore,'" Elizabeth said with a distant look in her eyes. "I didn't say anything to him. As much as I didn't want him near me, I didn't want him to know that the police were coming so he could escape."

The detective looked through her notes for a few moments, then asked, "Do you know when he cut you?"

Elizabeth thought back, then shook her head. "I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened. Sometime between when he picked up the knife and when I ran into the bedroom. I was so worried about what he was going to do to me, about trying to get away from him, that I don't remember him actually cutting me."

"That's okay," Waterford assured her. "You've given us a lot to go on."

Elizabeth hesitated a moment, then asked, "Did I do the right thing?"

"What do you mean?" Waterford asked with a confused look.

"Fighting back, trying to get away from him," she clarified.

"Yes," Waterford said definitively. "I can say that because you're sitting here right now. Did you honestly believe he was going to kill you, even if you cooperated?"

"Yes," Elizabeth nodded.

"Then you did the only thing you could do. Fighting back was the only option you had. Generally, when we say don't fight back, its for car-jackings or hold-ups. In a case like that, it's better to lose the car or the money, you can replace that. But in this case, your life was at stake. Fighting back was the only chance you had if you were going to survive."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said weakly.

"Now that we've got him in custody, we'll be able to get a warrant for blood sample to run the DNA tests. We'll also talk to the DA about getting a court order for an HIV test. Since you're a physician, and need to consider the welfare of your patients, I think that's enough of a mitigating factor to warrant the test," Detective Waterford explained. Looking around the apartment, she then added, "The crime scene guys should be done in about twenty or thirty minutes, then we'll be out of your hair. Before we leave, we will need to get both of your prints, just so we can exclude you from anything we find in here."

"Okay," Elizabeth nodded.

"I don't think you should stay alone tonight," Mark said carefully. "And I really don't think you should stay here."

"He's right," Waterford added.

"You're welcome to stay with me, but if you don't want to do that, I'm sure you could stay with Carol," he suggested.

She realized it would be easier to give in than to fight him on this. "Okay," she nodded. "Do you mind if I stay with you?"

"Of course not," he assured her.

"Is it okay if we stay here until the police finish, then I'll just get a few things and we can go to your place?" she asked.

"That's fine with me," he said.

She stood up and walked over to the sliding door that lead out onto the small deck off her apartment. There was a hole in the glass. That was how he got in.

Mark watched her curiously for a moment, then stood up and walked over to stand next to her.

"I never saw it," she said quietly. "I came in, I looked around the room, I carried the groceries in and I never noticed it."

"This isn't your fault, Elizabeth," he said seriously. "There was no reason you should have noticed it."

"That bastard was in my apartment!" she snapped. "I think that's a pretty damn good reason why I should have noticed it!"

He didn't say anything as he stood there and watched her.

Glancing in his direction, she sarcastically asked, "What? No words of wisdom?"

"No," he said simply. "I would give anything if I could make this easier for you. I hope you know that. So, if you want to yell or scream or throw things, then I'm willing to take it. Because I know that it's nothing compared to what you're going through right now."

She turned to him and smiled in spite of herself. "You've seen 'When Harry Met Sally...,' right?" He nodded. "There's a line that seems to fit here. 'You say things like that and you make it impossible for me to hate you.'"

He smiled as he took a step closer to her. "Is that what you want? To hate me?"

"No," she said sheepishly. "I'm sorry for - "

He gently pressed his index finger to her lips. "Don't apologize. I told you I'm willing to take it."

He moved his hand and she smiled weakly. "Yeah, but will you still want to be with me once I finally get through this?"

He smiled. "Like I said, it's going to take more than this to get rid of me."

"Thanks again for letting me stay here," she said as they stood in his kitchen, preparing dinner.

"You don't need to thank me," he assured her. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She smiled faintly as she started to chop the carrots and tomatoes for the salad. "I was supposed to be fixing dinner for you tonight."

"So you'll owe me one," he grinned as he opened the oven and checked the chicken, then stirred the rice on top of the stove.

"I'll just add that to the growing list," she said quietly.

"I'm not keeping count," he said as he leaned around her and picked up a carrot. "I just care about you."

She turned around and kissed him gently on the cheek. "I know," she whispered. "But I'll still make it up to you."

"You don't have to," he reminded her.

"I know that, too. I want to," she said firmly.

He laughed. "I've learned there usually comes a time when it's just easier not to argue with you. Somehow, I'm thinking this is one of those times."

"You're catching on," she grinned. Glancing at the stove, she added, "You'd better pay attention, otherwise you're going to burn dinner."

He turned back to the stove, and they worked in a comfortable silence for several minutes.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning around to face her.

"I cut my hand," she said as she reached for a handful of paper towels and applied pressure to the wound.

"Let me take a look," he said as he took a step closer to her.

Without even thinking, she said, "Gloves."

He glared at her for a second, but relented and went into the bathroom to get gloves, antiseptic and a bandage. He returned a few moments later. "Are you happy now?" he asked as he pulled on the gloves.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Now, let me see your hand," he instructed. He gently took her hand in his and pulled back the paper towels. After examining the cut, he thought for a moment, then said, "It's not extremely deep, but it's enough to have me worried. I could try the DermaBond. If it stops bleeding, then no problem. Otherwise, we may need to go to the ER so I can put in a few stitches."

"Fine," she nodded with a sigh.

"You okay?" he asked carefully as he cleaned the cut.

"This is just the perfect ending to this day," she said warily.

"How'd this happen, anyway?" he wondered.

"Ever since this afternoon, I can't stop shaking. The knife slipped and I cut my hand," she explained. Fighting back tears, she said, "I make some surgeon, huh? I can't even slice a tomato."

He placed a bandage on her hand, took off the gloves, then gently caressed her cheek. "After everything you've been through today, I think it's perfectly understandable for you to be a little jittery."

She stared at the floor as she hesitantly asked, "What if it doesn't stop? What if it doesn't go away?"

"What? The shaking?" he questioned.

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

"It will," he assured her.

"What if it doesn't?" she persisted as she looked up at him.

"Then we'll find some way to get through it. Together." Grinning slightly, he asked, "You could always switch specialties. How'd you like your psych rotation?"

"It wasn't exactly my favorite," she said seriously. "Besides, I don't really want to be an intern for a third time."

"I don't think it's going to come to that. You are a fantastic surgeon and you are going to be back in the OR," he said optimistically.

"You really believe that?" She had to ask, because she wasn't sure she did.

"Yes, I do," he said solemnly. "If anyone can get through this, Elizabeth, it's you."

"I hope you're right," she said with a trace of uncertainty in her voice.

"I am," he promised as kissed her gently on the forehead. After a moment, he carefully asked, "Are you going in tomorrow?"

She considered this. Sighing, she said, "I don't think so."

He glanced at his watch. "Romano and Weaver should still be at the hospital. I'll call and let them know."

"Weaver?" she questioned.

"I was going to stay here with you, if you don't mind," he explained.

"I don't. Actually, I think I'd really like that. Thanks," she said with a weak smile.

He studied her carefully for a moment. The fact that she didn't put up an argument, that she agreed to let him handle things so easily worried him. He went into the living room and picked up the telephone.

He hung up the phone fifteen minutes later and took a deep breath before walking back into the kitchen.

"How'd it go?" she asked nervously.

"We're both off tomorrow. Romano wanted to know if you knew when you'd be back. I told him it might take some time, and you'd let him know," he explained.

"Thanks," she said with a relieved smile. "I just didn't feel like dealing with him right now."

"I understand," he assured her. Smiling, he asked, "Ready for dinner?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

After dinner, they settled onto the sofa to watch a movie. He sat with his feet propped on the coffee table, and she rested her head on his lap. About thirty minutes into the movie, he smiled as he realized she'd fallen asleep. Carefully picking up the blanket from the back of the sofa, he covered her with it.

He watched the rest of the movie, then cut the television off and just watched her sleep. At one point, he felt her tense up, as if at the beginning of a nightmare. He gently squeezed her hand and whispered words of reassurance. After a moment, she seemed to relax and settled back into the blanket.

It was almost midnight when she woke up. She opened her eyes and smiled slightly as she saw him. "What time is it?" she asked, her voice still heavy from sleep.

"Ten 'til twelve," he replied.

"How long was I out?" she asked as she sat up.

"Since about eight," he said.

"Eight?" she questioned in amazement. "I slept for almost four hours?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You didn't miss much, though. The movie wasn't that great."

"Did you stay here the entire time?" she wondered.

"Yeah," he nodded with a smile.

"You should have woken me up," she pointed out.

"When was the last time you got this much sleep?" he countered with an intense look.

She shifted her gaze away from his. They both knew she hadn't gotten this much continuous sleep since she was raped. Finally looking back to him, she simply smiled and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he smiled back. "Are you still tired, or do you want to stay up for a while?"

"I'm still sort of tired. I guess everything's catching up to me," she admitted.

"Why don't you take the bed? I'll sleep out here," he suggested.

She considered this, but hesitated before she said, "Actually, I was sort of hoping you'd hold me. I don't want to be alone."

"I think that can be arranged," he said softly. He knew how much she valued her independence, and how hard it had to be for her to say that. "I just didn't want to push."

"I know," she smiled.

A short while later, they were lying in his bed. She was resting on her side, her knees pulled up slightly towards her chest in a semi-fetal position. He was behind her, shielding her back with his body, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

"Mark?" she called, her voice barely above a whisper, just in case he was already asleep.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"What are you thinking about right now?" she wanted to know.

"How grateful I am that you're here," he answered honestly. "How about you?"

"For the first time in over two weeks, I actually feel safe," she said quietly. "Thank you."

Fighting back tears, he whispered, "Elizabeth, I am so sorry that he hurt you. I would give anything if I could take away that pain. But I promise you, I will NEVER let him hurt you again."

She covered his hand with hers as she allowed herself to relax in his arms.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Thank you for reading, as always. Please let me know what you think! SixteenOzs02@yahoo.com

Next on What Will It Take?

Voice Over: Returning to the scene of the crime...

Mark: You don't have to do this.

Elizabeth: Actually, I do.

Voice Over: May be more than she's ready for.

Elizabeth: I thought what he'd already done to me was bad, the rape and then trying to kill me yesterday. But this is worse.

Voice Over: But it may also be exactly what she needs.

Elizabeth: Do you really want to hear about it?

Mark: If it will help you, then yes.

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