Mattie napped in the chair next to Charlie's bed. She would only need food, water, and rest to recover from the ordeal. Thankfully, Charlie was only being monitored overnight and would be allowed to return home tomorrow if all went well. He had bad bruising on his sternum from the compressions, exhaustion, hypothermia, bad rope burns around his wrists and ankles, and had apparently copped a beating before being thrown into the lake. He should make a complete recovery, the medical staff promised, and Mattie knew they were right.
He had mostly slept for the seven or so hours since they had arrived, and over the course of the day, Mattie had moved the armchair close enough to his side to rest her head on his pillow and sleep beside him. She considered holding his hand but decided against it given the raw wrists and the sore-looking knuckles.
Apparently, Charlie had been running as planned when the group of three ambushed and overpowered him, but not before he had dealt a fair few hits to each of his attackers. For over an hour they had used him as a punching bag after tying him up, though he managed to free his hands once and got in a few more hits. This fit with Lucien's account of the trio, who he recounted as nursing multiple injuries. That had put a smile on Charlie's face.
Their exchanges had had to be brief given Charlie's fatigue, but he had concisely expressed his gratitude for their coming to his aid, and caring enough to come looking in the first place, in between vital details about the assault.
Lawson had come to hear the story and see to his officer's health. From their conversation hours ago, Mattie gleaned that two of them were interviewed by Davis during the investigation of someone called Thomas Sinclair, a local criminal who had several crooks under his command. Charlie had gathered the evidence against Sinclair and arrested him. This was a revenge attack for getting their boss locked up. Luckily, murder was a step up for those guys, and they were out of their depth, so to speak, and did a rather poor job, as evidenced by the calm policeman breathing evenly in the bed in front of her.
Jean and Lucien had left something like five hours ago, after the housekeeper had brought some food and comforts (including a change of clothes for Mattie), with a promise to organise time off from work for the pair of them. Mattie and Charlie had slept fairly solidly since then, Charlie waking up twice to ask for water for his damaged throat and insist that she could go home, that he would be fine alone. She refused to leave and he didn't force her. Nevertheless, five hours was a long time to sleep in such an uncomfortable position.
She was watching his peaceful face as he slept, her chin propped in the edge of the pillow, thinking of the photo in his bedroom. How close they had come to having to call his mother and tell her and his brothers that he had been drowned. Or maybe they wouldn't have found his body for some time, and could only say that he had gone for a run and never returned. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking back the welling tears in her eyes.
When she focused on Charlie's face again, so close to her own, he was eying her sideways. Unexpectedly, he grinned. "You upset I made it?" he teased, his voice raspier than usual.
Mattie sniffled and rolled her eyes, but smiled, if a little shakily. "If I didn't want you to make it, do you think I would have ruined my wristwatch in the lake?" she asked, a little more steadily.
He turned his head to face her, still smiling. Mattie winced at the black eye and split lip the movement revealed, remembering why she had chosen to sit on this side while he slept. "Thank you, really. I'll buy you a new watch, I promise," he said, his face still holding humour despite its battered state at present.
She let her head fall sideways against the pillow, eyes roving over his face. She thought about how pale and fragile he could seem when relaxed, but that was at odds with the power, almost aggression, he displayed when he ran after a suspect or strength he revealed when adversaries tested him. He seemed so in his element as the quiet, sturdy character of the trustworthy policeman, yet sometimes his playful nature won out when he was away from suspects and witnesses and colleagues. He was difficult to pin down, Mattie thought, but more and more he became the cheeky boy who loved to solve puzzles and make fun while he was at home with her and Jean and Lucien.
She realised she was staring, and Charlie was staring back with an expectantly raised eyebrow. "Do you think of Ballarat as home? Or are you just… waiting to go back to Melbourne?" she asked quietly. He looked surprised, and Mattie supposed it was an odd time to pose the question, but it was out now. She looked at him steadily, waiting for his reply.
He made to roll onto his side to face her more completely, but hissed and fell back, in the end just shifting to get a better look at her while still on his back. "I don't know, really. I mean, you grew up in Melbourne, it's always going to be a bit sad to be apart from your home city and your family. I came here for work, and I was expecting to be going back after a couple of weeks," he explained softly. "On the other hand, the longer I'm here, especially after moving into the doc's house, the less I think I'll want to leave. So yeah, I think it's becoming home. But it's always a possibility that they'll call me back, so it may not be up to me in the end."
She nodded, caught off-guard by the depth and frankness of his response, even though the question was bound to be fairly intrusive to begin with. She understood what he meant, and was glad it didn't sound like he would ask to be transferred away from the town. Away from her, if she was being honest with herself, which was a major concern. The young nurse had grudgingly acknowledged his good looks and peak form soon after meeting him, and had grown accustomed to his presence soon after the doctor won him over. She supposed the hours the three of them had spent together piecing together the surviving film from the projection room fire marked the beginning of their friendship, as that was when she had (mostly) forgiven him for arresting her, and they had developed a rapport since then. She continued to stare into his pale blue eyes, lost in them and lost in thought, as she came to terms with her current feelings. She was fighting the urge to push forward and close the short distance between her face and the sergeant's. She could feel his breath gently against her of face, but she knew it was unkind to corner him while he was physically unable to escape her and felt indebted to her.
Instead, she made herself stand up, breaking the intimate bubble. "You're right, by the way. I should call Jean and tell her I'm staying here overnight," she said before striding out of the room, not giving him another chance to tell her how he'd be fine alone.
It was half past nine according to the clock she passed on her way to the phone at the end of the hall. It was Lucien who answered the phone, who sounded unsurprised by her intention to stay with Charlie. He said they would pick the two of them up at one o'clock the following afternoon, and with that they hung up. Mattie was strangely anxious to get back to the stable patient in the fully staffed hospital, but she had come to feel that he was her charge after pulling him out of the lake, reviving him, warming him up on the trip to the hospital and keeping vigil at his bedside. She felt calmed as soon as she saw him, eyes closed in respite with a tiny smile playing on his lips.
For the next hour or so – she couldn't see a clock from inside the room – she flicked through a magazine, tried and quickly gave up on reading a book, knitted two rows while struggling to restrain her usual humming, and tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep in the chair. She was trying to use a ball of wool as a pillow when a croaky voice piped up, "Not that I'm complaining, but how many more times do you think you'll move around in that chair in the next half hour?"
Charlie squinted at her in the darkness, and she scowled at him, whether he could see it or not. "Believe it or not, this chair is really not that comfortable. I hate to admit it, but you were right: this thing is making me wish I had gone home," she admitted at a murmur. "How are you feeling?"
"I've felt better, but I've felt a lot worse, too. I'll tell you one thing I don't feel, though," he grinned and made a show of stretching luxuriously, albeit carefully. "Cramped."
Mattie glared for a moment before standing with a pleasant smile. "I'm glad to hear it. I suppose there's room for two, if it's so roomy," she said.
He laughed, though he sounded slightly nervous. "You're not serious."
She picked up the blanket that Jean had left for her. "I am. Move over," she said without batting an eyelid.
"Mattie, I don't think it's–" he began, but she cut him off, now standing next to the bed.
"Move over. It's too late for me to go home, and I've been told I need rest. I won't be getting any sleep in that chair, so move over," she pointed out, managing not to laugh at Charlie's face, a mix of shock and petulance.
"This bed isn't exactly spacious, you know. And be careful, I'm covered in bruises," he complained, pouting and he gingerly shifted away from her until he reached the edge of the mattress.
He was right. Hospital beds were never luxurious, and Charlie's wide frame was going to make it impossible to maintain personal space. Even so, Mattie had to hold back laughter at the honest-to-goodness pouting, crossed arms and pushed out lips, being exhibited by a grown man and officer of the law who had managed to deal out a beating to three thugs at once and survived the encounter. The wild curls and hospital-issue pyjamas only made him look more adorable.
Sliding off her shoes, Mattie sat down at his waist – where he was narrowest and left the most space for her – before swinging her legs up and tucking them under the blanket industriously.
Charlie sighed loudly.
Now came the awkward bit. Or rather, even more awkward bit, where she had to work out how to lie down. Being shorter than him and placing her hips on par with his meant she may be too far to reach the pillow, and this bed was only one and a third Charlies wide. With a shrug, she lay back, trying not to jostle the bed overmuch. Half her back fit, and she barely touched the pillow.
Charlie turned his head and gave her a look that was a beautiful mix of annoyance, 'I told you so', and restrained laughter.
"Unless you plan to sleep that way, uncross your arms," she instructed, her discomfort the only thing keeping her awake at this point.
He lay his arms by his sides, having to wedge one between them. Mattie rolled onto her side, prodding him on the shoulder.
"What was that for?" he demanded in a whisper.
"How's that shoulder?" she asked in a murmur, receiving a shrug in response. Taking that to mean 'fine', she shifted forward and rested her head on it. She wiggled around slightly to get comfortable, then stilled, relaxing her body and feeling sleep pulling at her immediately.
Charlie lay stiff and unmoving for a while, before moving his arm to rest against her back and settled. He was respectable through and through, a gentleman, so no doubt had some qualms about the sleeping arrangements, but apparently was willing to make an exception under the circumstances.