«Marry me, Moneypenny.»
Those had been Freddie's first coherent words after more than a week of periods in and out of conscience, surgeries, and endless worry.
When Bel rushed to him, she didn't even register their meaning. She was just so relieved, thankful and indescribably happy he was talking at all. Sometimes she had been afraid he'd never do it again, given all he had been through before and after he had been dumped on the front lawn of Limegrove.
«Freddie», she said, having to stop herself from touching his beaten-up face, ridden with healing bruises and cuts, at the last moment.
»Freddie.», Bel repeated, with a smile bending her mouth upwards but with tears running down her face, smoothing his hair instead.
She had been so close to losing him. Bel had lost him in fact. On the night of the attack, she had lost him for an agonising and seemly never-ending minute and a half. She had had to endure the worst glimpse of future from behind a closed door, until a shot of epinephrine brought Freddie back to life, back to her. For those moments, Bel had felt as if in free fall over the edge of an abyss, with nothing she could do to avoid crashing on the sharp rocks underneath.
She knew they were threading on very dangerous waters, a girl had even been murdered because she had talked to them, but how could things have gone so terribly wrong for one of their own?
Dishonest cabinet members, corrupt policemen and shady businessmen would be exposed and, hopefully arrested, criminal rings would be dismantled – that had been what had prodded her to overcome the fear that had taken over her. Journalism would do a bit more to right a few wrongs of the world.
It wouldn't be easy but if everything went according to the plan, Freddie would convince Kiki Delaine to talk, bring her to the studio and present the show.
He had been beaten almost to death instead.
Cilenti and his henchmen had broken several of Freddie's bones, including two ribs and his left wrist, cracked others and left him very bruised and battered.
The ambulance didn't seem to arrive quickly enough and even when it did, it didn't give her one bit of rest. The urgency of everyone's actions while they were cruising the city to Hammersmith Hospital and once they had arrived kept reminding her of how much of a delicate situation it was.
«Does he have a next of kin?»
Bel was still shocked and frightened after seeing Freddie being wheeled away, out of her reach, fighting for his life.
The hospital clerk asked her again.
«No...no.», she mumbled. She knew she had to contact Camille eventually, but Bel didn't have a clue about where to find her. Besides, they were estranged. Not for long, it was true, but she had left and Freddie had chosen her.
Doctors wouldn't compromise on predictions when it came to the possible damaged sustained to his brain but his condition stabilised, at least physically.
Bel didn't leave his side meanwhile. If he were silent, he had never cut much of figure, but his thin frame lying so helplessly on that bed made him look even more fragile, almost bird-like, for some reason.
Afterwards, she'd hold editorial meetings in the hospital corridors and had also been back to produce the two programmes that had happened since. Lix had told her to not worry herself with that, they'd manage and Randall would protect her in front of the board but Bel refused. Freddie's condition was complicated and overwhelming, she needed The Hour to maintain her sanity, to be there for him the best she could in those very troubling and difficult times ahead.
She wasn't alone though. Lix, Sissy, Sey, Isaac, Randall, Hector, and even Marnie would drop by frequently, doing what they could to help. Truth be told, there wasn't much, so it mainly meant keeping a barely conscious Freddie company while Bel went home to eat something, take a shower and sleep some hours on other place than the wooden chair where she spent most of her day.
Despite all the pain it caused, when she wasn't working silently by his bed or discussing the details for the next programme, she'd find herself replaying that day over and over again in her mind.
Freddie hadn't followed Kiki back to the studio as he had said he would. Only something very serious would have prevented him from coming back. He'd been the one to push the story further, the one that had not let them give up.
As time went by, her despair kept growing. Bel was trying to convince herself that he'd appear at the last minute - like Lix had said, he was Freddie, he'd get there. But he didn't and every minute the clock struck felt heavier and more final than the last one. Why didn't she insist harder for him not to go on his own? She knew the risk. First, Rosa Maria had died and who knew what had happened to Freddie. All the guilt his enthusiasm and her desire to do the right thing had put at bay was engulfing her again.
«Mr. Cilenti has gotten him.», Kiki's words were materialising a certainty she was familiar with but was trying to refuse to acknowledge. Freddie was lost. Once he hadn't made it to the show, Bel was aware he was lost, probably forever. The realisation made her broke down and cry. It wasn't the right thing to do, but it was all she could at the moment. As she read the letters she had written but had been too coward to send, she was glad they had talked about 'they'. Not much though, because, as Freddie had said, they talked too much and did too little. Looking back, her perseverance regarding that subject was probably the result of some sort of hunch.
When the phone rang and she was told Freddie had been found, Bel was strangely relieved. In journalism and in life, no news is bad news. But any comfort that that information had provided evaporated once she saw him lying motionless on the floor. He had been trying to say something but she had arrived too late. Freddie had fainted meanwhile.
After having cradled his head on her lap, Bel had seen life leaving him behind; he was too weak to fight back. She kept urging him to, kept assuring him that everything would be alright, that it would be possible. But Freddie was so far away, caged in intense pain. All that she loved about him was escaping through his body, carried by every drop of blood still running from his injuries - his stubbornness, his will to pursue any story he deemed important, his sense of humour, his sureness of how they'd be happy. Even the way how he could be frustrating and infuriating was threatening to never come back. It was probably an odd thing to remember so vividly, but her thoughts also flashed back to the image of the deep red of his blood on the joyful red of her clothes.
«Marry me , Moneypenny.»
Bel couldn't dismiss it as the groggy result of trauma, anaesthesia and medication. Not after where they had left off.
«I'd love to.», she said, smilling. Bel looked into his green eyes, brighter than before, but still a bit void of that inner spark that made Freddie stand out from the crowd.
He was indeed one of life's natural heroes, and not only in his words.
His courage had made her brave. She would leap feet first too.
Author's Note:
I wrote this story some months ago, in the aftermath of s2's finale and the (sad) news of the cancellation, but hadn't published it yet.
I hope you enjoy it and reviews would be highly appreciated. :)