3.
The sound of the mobile ring doesn't wake Stevie. Instead, she stirs, mumbles, and tries to nestle closer to River. He watches her, enthralled, refusing to think about last night's shooting, his burning shoulder, Erin's body, they still need to find, and anything else he, in all honesty, should be thinking about now. When Stevie's mobile, still unanswered, goes quiet and the woman remains asleep at his side, River breathes a sigh of relieve.
The mobile goes off again, and this time Stevie is up. Awkwardly she scrambles to sit up straight, elbowing River in the process. She fervently pats her pockets, almost rips her jacket digging in the hole in the lining, and finally fishes the ringing mobile from between the couch cushions. It goes quite before she has time to answers.
"Shit!" Stevie stares at the screen. "Shit! Chrissie is going to kill me!" She jumps up, narrowly avoiding another elbowing incident. "Shit!"
She looks at River, "I missed three calls from her, and I promised I'd ring as soon as we left the hospital." She checks the time. "Four sodding hours ago!"
"Chrissie doesn't know that," River considers saying. And she, probably, is too happy to have both of them survive the shooting to worry about missed calls. He doesn't say anything though, because he finds it much more enjoyable simply watching disheveled and harried Stevie pace around his living room. Alive.
"Alright, I'm going to tell her… What?" she frowns at River. The mobile in her hand goes off once again. "Shit! What do I say?" She taps the screen to answer, "DS Stevens."
The voice on the other end of the line is so shrill, even River can hear it. With a grimace, Stevie moves the phone away from her ear, covers the receiver, and glares at River, "What? You want to talk to her? No? Then keep quiet." And adds, "And wipe that daft grin off of your face!"
"Chrissie," back to her mobile, Stevie changes the tone. "I am sorry. I am… yea, I know…" While talking, she walks out of the room. Suddenly alone, River remembers his back, stiff from sitting still for hours, his throbbing shoulder, the sound of the gunshot on the quiet street last night, Stevie's look, like it is she, who's got shot, it is she, who is in pain… He takes a deep breath – she is fine, they will figure it out, and then he will… He will…
While Chrissie keeps Stevie on the phone, River goes to use the bathroom. That turns out to be a tricky endeavor. With his left arm in a sling, dealing with his pants isn't as straight-forward as it usually is. Struggling to put them back on, he bumps into a wall, trips and loudly curses, barely stops himself from taking out the shower door and curses even louder.
Stevie knocks, "You're alright there?" It takes River few minutes before he gives up and lets her in. There've being many instances over the years, when they helped each other in and out of their clothes – excessive drinking, sloppy vomiting, panic attacks, injures, and the like – but never before River's felt so… so mesmerized, as he does right now, watching the top of Stevie's head, while she belts his pants and fixes his shirt.
"So, what did Chrissie say?" his own voice sounds odd to River.
"Well, she said it was either your shoulder or my head," Stevie replies without interrupting her task, "And all thing being equal, she prefers your shoulder. Told me to thank you anyway." She looks up at him and flashes a quick smile, "So, thanks, you nutter."
After Stevie leaves, he splashes cold water on his face. Twice.
Stevie is in the kitchen, pouring him a cup of tea. "Where did we put your meds?"
"Pocket?" River takes a sip and remembers how thirsty he actually is.
"Yours or mine?" Stevie asks, heading to the living room in search of her jacket and his coat.
River finishes his tea and pours himself another cup before Stevie returns with the tub of pills.
"You need to take one now, and another one in six hours," she says after reading the label. "And call for delivery, you have no food."
River swallows the pill and asks, "What did Chrissie actually say?" For a moment, Stevie gets that awful look from last night once again, but quickly fights it off with a forced smile, "She… well, things are moving along."
River waits.
"And," Stevie checks the time, "I need to get going. She sent a car to take me to the station…" Under River's determined stare, she offers, "I'll stop by later to check up on you and..."
"I am going with you," River interrupts.
"You are injured, you are off the case," Stevie's attempt at being reasonable doesn't sound right. "Doc said rest and fluids. And to be careful with that," she points at River's shoulder.
"What does he know?!" River scoffs, "I am your superior officer. You were shot at under my command, I have to be a part of the investigation," confidently River dismisses Stevie's reasons, and then adds softly, "I told you I'm not letting you out of my sight until we figure this out."
Stevie looks away, and just like the enchantment of the last half an hour is broken – there is a shooter on the loose and Stevie's life is in danger.