Prompt: Fist Fight (no weapons)

Title: In The Arms of a Stranger

Fandom: Jack Reacher (2012)

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse.

Word Count: 3,310

Synopsis: After you finally take your chance and leave your abusive boyfriend behind, what happens when he and his friends catch up with you? Will someone step in and save you from returning from the living hell you just escaped?

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In The Arms of a Stranger

A bitter wind blows against your cheeks, no doubt quickly turning red from the cold.

With a grumble, you simply tug the rather worn in jacket tighter around you, as if to seek some sort of warmth from the relentless winter wind.

Your booted footsteps crunch through the snow on the sidewalk, your pathway lit with the bright florescent lights from the displays of the shops along the Main Street you're trudging down.

Head bowed, inwardly muttering curses.

Today had finally been the day.

You'd finally left that ludicrous bastard you'd somehow once called your boyfriend, behind.

With nothing but the clothes on your back and the money in your wallet to keep you afloat until you can figure out what the hell you're gonna do next.

You hadn't cried - hadn't said two words.

You'd just left after you finally retaliated against him.

He'd hit you and you'd hit right back, sending him reeling across the living room.

You'd used his shock to your advantage and taken your leave.

But, knowing him... he'll likely already have the word out that you'd left him...

And he'll be out looking.

For the only one that could ever understand the world of constantly changing technology - unknowingly helping he and his guys to get whatever they wanted.

That's the key word.

Unknowing.

You'd unknowingly become their most important asset.

All those years ago... one small challenge that your cousin had approached you with... and then... it just snowballed from there, with your knowing gradually becoming more and more... until... you finally had it.

And that was tonight.

You'd finally had enough.

Shivering, you feel for the change in your jacket pocket, mentally counting the coins.

Enough to at least get a cup of warm coffee.

Lifting your gaze to survey the rather empty Main Street, the falling snow bathing the ground in a white powder, the street lights illuminating the white world in a rather yellow glow...

A restaurant and bar sits a bit farther up the way - the one on the corner.

You can see it's welcoming lights from here, almost shining like a tiny beacon of hope.

So, you continue to trudge through the snowstorm, only stopping to stomp the snow off of your boots as you pass through the door, instantly being met by the overwhelming stench of alcohol and the noise of far too many people crammed into one space.

The bar portion of the building is absolutely packed, with people overflowing out into the seating area.

In fact, there isn't a seat in sight, other than an empty booth where a lone man sits, a cup of coffee sitting idle on the table in front of him.

He appears to be one of the few patrons that aren't intoxicated at this ungodly hour, so, summing up whatever courage you have left, you begin towards the booth, offering a small smile as you approach.

You watch as he simply frowns upon laying eyes on you, your presence having clearly pulled him from his previous thoughts.

"Mind if I have a seat?" You practically shout over the noise, to which he just nods, shrugging as you shed your jacket and slide into the bench seat, your legs thanking you as you finally sit.

"You look cold," The stranger states plainly, gaze wandering your reddened features over, his frown deepening.

"Yeah, who wouldn't be? It's a bit of a blizzard out there!"

The short conversation falls silent for a moment as a waitress appears at your side, asking your order.

You request a coffee, thanking her with a genuine smile as she hurries away.

Though when you turn your attention back towards the man across from you, your heart jumps a bit, his figure leaning forward against the table, clearly wanting to ask something.

"You know them? The two guys who just walked in here?" He mumbles, voice barely audible to you above the ruckus.

You twist in your seat to get a better look, gaze surveying the crowd...

"Shit," You mumble, a sudden panic overtaking you.

He'd come along with them to bring you back.

"I'll take that as a yes. You got any plans to leave town yet?"

All you can do is wordlessly shake your head, your breathing evening slightly, this stranger's tone almost setting you at ease?

"What the hell are you doing out here, Y/N? You know the rules! You don't just get to decide to get up and walk away!" The all too familiar tone of your former boyfriend sounds from beside you, absolute rage filling his voice.

You don't even make eye contact, instead, shifting away to avoid his gaze completely.

"And who the hell is he? Some dude you've been seeing on the side? Huh?!"

You make no reply, practically unable to move, your entire being shaking with fear and adrenaline.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you!"

You feel his hand grab your shoulder, the pressure of it likely enough to leave a bruise...

But then-

It's gone.

Your back hits the padded booth seat with a thud, attempting to clear your dazed gaze as you blink rapidly, trying to comprehend the scene in front of you.

The stranger is no longer in his seat.

Instead, he's at your side, practically towering over the now crumpled figure of the man who'd just grabbed you, now laying on the filthy tiled floor, clutching his abdomen, shock and anger written across his features.

"You touch her or talk like that to her again, that's what'll happen," Your apparent rescuer states firmly, a certain coldness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yeah? Who the hell are you, man? Some sort of cop?"

Your former boyfriend is struggling to clamber back to his feet now, his nose beginning to bleed from where this stranger's fist must've also made contact with his face.

"You could say that," Comes his reply, slightly smug sounding. "But you can take one look at me and know that's not the case."

"Why don't we go outside? Do this the old fashioned way? Yeah?"

"You'll want to get your buddies there to pay their cheques then."

"They will. Later."

"They won't be able to."

A beat of silence passes between the stranger and the group of men all clad in black surrounding you both, their gazes flicking from him, back to you, a few of them sharing a light laugh at your rescuer's comment.

But, inwardly, you'd place a pretty hefty bet that he isn't kidding.

"Alright then! Out we go, fellas!"

****

If bets had been placed, you would've walked away with a few more bucks in your pocket.

As you simply stand there, in utter shock at the absolute beating the thugs sent to get you had just received from a mere stranger - that has no motive for protecting you - a gasp of disbelief escapes you.

Accompanied moments later by a rather choked sounding sob, your tears not even falling, just freezing, in this weather.

You're finally free.

Without even thinking much of it, you practically sprint towards your rescuer and tackle him in an embrace, a huff of surprise being pulled from him at the sudden contact.

Though to your own surprise, he doesn't step away, instead, he lightly - hesitantly - squeezes back, almost in a sign of reassurance.

"Thank you, I-" You start, stepping away from his much larger figure, gaze meeting his.

"You said you didn't have plans to leave town," He cuts you off, offering a small smile, one that is surprisingly warm for a man of his apparent character. "So we'll figure that out in the morning. For now, we just need to get out of this wind."

You nod wordlessly once more, your pockets of your jacket only keeping the cold away from your fingers so much.

"C'mon," The stranger urges, extending a hand out towards you, which you accept, not really having much of a choice other than to follow him through the blizzard.

Your booted footsteps quickly sync up as the pair of you silently trudge through the snow, heading further towards the outskirts of town.

Mentally, you're debating if this is the smartest decision you've ever made, but at the moment...

You feel at ease - aware of the fact that the man you're keeping pace with is a stranger yes, but also now fully aware that he apparently doesn't tolerate very much.

"Would it be too much to ask for your name?" You muse aloud, voice sounding surprisingly small as it echoes back at you, your gaze raising to meet his.

He opens his mouth as if he's going to make a reply, though he pauses, seeming to be re-thinking his words.

So, you prompt him on, hoping you don't sound too pathetic or pleading.

"Your real name?"

At this, the man at your side sighs heavily, turning to face you with a rather passive look.

"Jack Reacher," Comes his reply, tone unwavering. "And yes, that is my real name if you have your doubts."

"No middle name?"

"Nope. Never had one. What about you? You got a middle name?"

"Huh," You simply hum back in response, suppressing a shiver. "And yeah, I do - M/N. I'm Y/N M/N L/N."

Hopefully wherever you're headed is warmer than out here.

The man you're keeping pace with just nods, seeming to ponder over your words as a beat of silence settles between the pair of you.

"Well, thank you, Jack."

Once more, he passes you a look that you can't quite make out.

"Don't thank me. Thank yourself for finally leaving that bastard behind for good."

Surprise ripples through you at his words as you both round a corner, the distant lights of the local motel glimmering through the snowy darkness.

"How did you know that I left him?" You mumble, glancing up at Reacher, who just huffs a chuckle, grinning.

"It's not often a girl like you walks into a bar like that looking as well put together as you do, especially at this time of night. So with that considered, the option of you looking for some guy to hook up with and make a few bucks was off the table, which led to the only other possible option: you were on the run."

You blink a few times, a bewildered frown twitching at the edges of your lips.

"So you are a cop?"

At this, he stops in his tracks, gently but firmly grabbing your bicep and pulling you close, his tone lowering.

"I'm just a guy who wants to be left alone."

The pair of you resume your strides again, though this time, there's a certain urgency to them, the cold finally beginning to get to you.

"But yet you just saved me from getting hauled back into the mess I just clawed my way out of and now you're taking me along with you?" You hum aloud with a chuckle, your question simply hanging in the winter air as Jack makes no effort to reply.

And inwardly, you smile, a certain warmth growing within you.

Maybe there's more here to him than you're currently seeing.

****

By the time the pair of you had reached the motel, the watch on your wrist had read 2:23 AM - far too late for your liking.

Jack had led you down the rows of motel doors, stopping outside of the one clearly marked with the number 101.

He'd fished a key from his jacket pocket and unlocked the door, wordlessly ushering you inside and out of the relentless winter breeze.

And now, you're simply enjoying the sensation of having a hot shower, the warmth of the water running over your skin such a welcome sensation, you're struggling to stay awake and alert.

It had been Reacher's recommendation that you warm up, explaining to you that he'd go get some groceries while you did so, obviously not wanting to impede on your privacy.

You'd watched him lock the door when he'd left after having pulled the blinds closed.

But a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach can't help but feel a certain fear.

If he hadn't have stood up for you back at the bar all those hours ago, who knows what could've happened after you'd been dragged back.

And that unknown... those vague, foggy ideas of all the awful scenarios that could've played out so differently if he hadn't had been there...

A sudden panic overtakes you as your now shaky hands reach down and turn off the water, the silence without it practically deafening.

You know right well that you're over-reacting.

Those guys were in no shape to continue following the pair of you back to this motel.

But the emotional side of your brain disagrees.

What if there were more of them?

Stepping out of the shower with a shaky sigh and quickly wrapping yourself in a towel, you take a quick glance at your clothes which you'd hung on hangars and left on the towel rack, hoping the steam would freshen them up slightly.

And judging by the look of them, your hunch had been correct.

But that still doesn't ease the trembling in your movements as you dry yourself off and slip back into your now, much warmer clothes, your reflection in the bathroom mirror a tell-tale sign of your frightened, fatigued state.

Dark bags sit heavy under your eyes, your hair a rather unruly mess.

Though as you peer closer at your reflection, your right eye appearing slightly darker than the other, a groan of frustration bubbles in your throat.

"He must've hit me harder than I thought," You mutter bitterly, running a nearby washcloth under cold water and gently dabbing it against your skin in a vain attempt to lessen the dark spot.

Though the sudden clack of keys against the door to the small motel room gains your attention as you drop the cloth, hastily leaving the bathroom behind and scrambling into the main area, warmly illuminated by the lone lamp on the bedside table.

Your fear is rushing back harder than before as you watch the door in front of you swing open, your trembling fists clenching...

"Oh," You breathe in abrupt relief, the now familiar figure of Jack Reacher appearing in the doorway, his gaze merely wandering over your frightened figure, a look of confusion dancing across his features. "It's just you."

"Who else would it be?" He muses aloud with a slight chuckle, striding into the room, the door being closed and double locked behind him.

You make no effort to answer as he places the paper bag of groceries down on the table, once more passing you a look of silent prompting.

He wants an answer.

"Oh, I don't know? More of those guys he sent after me?" You croak with a false laugh of humor, fatigue finally settling into your headspace.

Though your rescuer's expression shifts, a certain glimmer of something you can't quite make out shining within his gaze as he nears you, almost hesitantly as if not to frighten you any further.

"You think there could be more?" He muses, tone soft, gaze firmly holding yours.

"Maybe! I was never privy to the fact of how many there were! I just made sure all their tech did it's job!"

Exhaustion, coupled with the dwindling adrenaline and fear racing through you, is playing at your thoughts and emotions, your body instinctively moving backwards as Reacher nears you.

"Listen to me, Y/N," He urges, a hand stretching out towards you almost to show he has no intention of doing anything other than talking. "There's no reason be scared, you know that, right?"

"What in the world makes you say that?"

Your voice is cracking now, the tears you haven't let spill all night finally beginning to crack.

"Well, are you smart?"

His question takes you by surprise, your backwards movements halting for a moment as your sniffles fill the quiet.

"Obviously," You manage to croak out, the faintest hint of a smile swelling within you.

"Then don't be scared," He muses as he continues to near you once more, a hint of almost... compassion? glistening in his gaze.

Though this time, as he nears where you stand, you make no move to evade him.

Instead, you allow him to come closer, your breath hitching in anticipation.

"Did he hit you?" Jack mumbles lowly, his tone carrying an edge of disbelief and distaste quickly coupling with anger.

"O-Occasionally," You stammer, your rescuer's much larger figure still drawing closer to you, a hand reaching out, rough yet surprisingly gentle fingers running over the quickly bruising skin beneath your eye.

"Before you left him tonight - did he hit you?"

His tone is stern now, a silent urging in his gaze that holds yours steadily, though you're quickly becoming lost in his, your tired eyes barely staying open.

"He did, yes."

At this, the man mere inches from you sighs, closing his eyes in sheer disbelief, almost as if to suppress his rising anger before once more opening them, examining your blackening eye with a frown of concern.

"This complicates things," He mutters beneath his breath as he quickly steps away from your rather dazed figure, tossing off his jacket before heading into the bathroom, the light from the smaller room being cut off as the door closes.

Leaving where you stand only lit by one warm lamp, bathing the room in an orange hue.

Stifling back a yawn, you cast your gaze around the small room, the neatly made queen sized bed simply calling your name.

So, you pull back the covers and clamber in, your head hitting the plush pillows with a contented huff from you.

Your entire body is aching from simply standing and moving all night, your muscles crying out in relief against the mattress beneath you.

The rather comforting sound of running water coupled with the knowing that someone else is here with you is enough to set you at ease, your eyes finally beginning to shut...

You can feel yourself drifting away on the hands of sleep...

But before you succumb to it entirely, a harsh light floods the room for a moment before being hastily flicked off, the running water now absent.

Quiet footsteps meet your ears as you will your eyes to open slightly, the shirtless figure of your rescuer padding softly towards where you lay barely visible through your hazy gaze.

A quiet sigh sounds from somewhere beside you, and before you fully comprehend what's going on, the mattress dips beneath you at the added weight, a sudden warmth radiating from your side.

"We'll figure things out," A soft, now immensely comforting voice, echoes in your hazy thoughts, the weight next to you shifting closer to you ever so slightly. "Because there is no way in hell that you're ending up back where you came from."

And as the rather foreign feeling of a cool cloth is placed over your black eye, you barely hear yourself sigh contentedly once more, a mere murmur of thanks falling from your lips.

A thanks that seems to fall on deaf ears.

But before you succumb to sleep entirely once again, you shift even closer to the man at your side, your bodies almost touching as you crack open your good eye.

And the man who calls himself Jack Reacher is simply laying there, gaze wandering the ceiling, a small, genuine smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

Snuggling deeper into the blankets, a certain warmth rises within you as the steady breathing from the man who'd quite literally rescued you begins to lull you into a well-deserved slumber.

You know you'll be safe for tonight, even if you are in the arms of a mere stranger.