Author's Note: This is being posted a little later than I expected. Some cold bug decided to invade my body. Thanks for reading and reviewing. As always, I truly appreciate it.
Harold entered Joss's room at the safe house and sat next to her bed. "How are you today, Detective?" Maybe it was hopeful wishing, but she looked a lot better this morning. Not as pale as she'd been. Was the much hoped for turnaround in her condition starting to happen? Bringing Mr. Reese back would only help in her recovery. Both of their recoveries. "I have to leave for a little while, but I should be back later tonight or tomorrow morning." Harold took Joss's hand in his. "I'm going to bring you back a visitor. A visitor I think really needs to see you. I understand that when people are in comas, they can still hear people talking to them. Hear me, Joss. You're going to be okay. Both you and Mr. Reese are going to be okay."
A beeping sound from one of her machines startled Harold. He leapt from the chair, standing beside her, his pulse racing. "Joss?"
Footsteps rushed toward the room. "What happened?" David asked, rushing to Joss and pulling on his stethoscope, as Angie scurried to other side of the bed. She touched the side of Joss's neck and stared at her watch.
"I – I was just talking to her. Then the machine started beeping. What is it? Is she all right?"
"Her pulse rate is up a bit," Angie answered.
David removed the stethoscope. "Her heart is racing, but not enough to be concerned." He turned to Harold with what appeared to be a little smile. "In fact, I'd say that was a positive step."
Harold's eye widened. His mouth stretched into a big smile. "Really?"
"Yes." David punched some buttons on the beeping machine, and the noise stopped.
"Whatever you said to her, it got a reaction," Angie offered. "I suggest you keep talking to her about that."
"Oh, no." Harold glanced at Joss. "I have to go on a little trip. I hope to be back before the end of the day, but I can't be certain." Harold turned to David and Angie. "I'm grateful that's she's made a positive step, but I visit her three times a day every day, and I always talk to her. She's never responded before."
"Perhaps it was the topic of conversation. If you mentioned you were leaving, it might have triggered something, as you are her only visitor. Also, David started his treatments on her this morning, but I don't think he's ever gotten a response that fast, have you?" Angie asked, turning to her husband.
"No, I haven't. My results, though staggering, have all occurred over a period of months and sometimes years, but never this quickly." David rubbed his chin. "I did alter the makeup of my drug for her, but it's only been a couple of hours since I gave her the dosage."
Harold smiled brightly. He felt like he could kiss David. "I could tell Joss looked differently this morning. I thought it was hopeful wishing. Doctor, you are making this happen. I knew you could do this."
"Don't get too excited. She's had a good sign, but there are still tests and a lot of waiting left to do."
"The waiting will be a lot easier now. For three weeks she's just been asleep. No changes, no nothing. It was your medication and…" Mentioning Mr. Reese. He had to get John back to New York. "I must go." He gave Joss's hand a squeeze. "I'll be back as soon as I can with your visitor."
"Her visitor?" Angie and David said in unison.
"Yes. Doctors, keep doing what you're doing, it's working," Harold said, limping hurriedly out the door. He had to get to West Virginia.
"David, come take a look."
He turned at the sound of Angie's voice, blinking after staring at Joss's chart for the last hour. He rushed over as Angie rolled the lab chair to the side, making room for him at the microscope. David looked into the double lenses. "No adverse effects to her blood cells," he said, folding his reading glasses into his lab coat.
"That's right. It has been four hours. The dosage is completely out of her system, and she is responding to painful stimuli. She is turning a corner, and it's thanks to you."
Moving from the microscope, David turned and sat on the edge of the table, his attention focused on Angie. "And to think I was in prison two years ago."
"You were a different person when you did the things that caused you to go to prison. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this to make you understand. You are not that person anymore. When I met the David Hayward you were back in 2008, I hated your guts." David laughed. "And I know you felt the same way about me."
"Hate is such a strong word, Angela."
"But accurate in this case. You were hurting my friends and being a nuisance to the whole town. You had me arrested for breaking into your house, when I was trying to help Krystal. Remember that? "
"If I had a clue that you would someday be my wife, I would've never let that happen," David said with a smile, bringing her stand between his legs. Holding her close in his arms, he claimed her lips in a soft kiss. "We've come a long way, baby."
"God knows that's the truth." She pressed her forehead to his. "Det. Carter has come a long way, too."
"She has responded amazing well to her first treatment. Even better than I could've imagined," David said, reaching behind for Joss's file. He was always his own biggest fan; just one of the reasons Angie detested him so back when, but he couldn't get over Det. Carter's quick response to his treatment. "It seems it won't be much longer before she wakes from her coma. And, somehow, I think this visitor Finch is bringing her will be just the push she needs to get to the other side of this."
"I'm sorry, Joss. I'm so, so sorry. It should've been me. I wish it was me." John reached for his bottle, his fingers going further than they should for the bottle he knew he kept close. He opened his teary eyes and sat up on the cold floor. Where was that damn bottle?
"Looking for this?"
Harold? John looked over his shoulder to see a fuzzy image of the reclusive billionaire sitting on wooden stool in the right corner of the room, holding one of his bottles. "What are you doing here?" he asked, brushing the tears from his eyes. "What are you doing with that bottle?"
"Trying to save you from killing yourself is what I'm doing here. As for this bottle, I've already done what I wanted with this and the two others you had left. I poured the contents down the sink."
"You what?!" John pressed his open palms to his head. Oh, the pain. He needed that bottle.
"It's obvious you've had more than enough, Mr. Reese. And I'm here to cut off your supply and get you home."
"What home, Harold? Home isn't a place or a location. It's something you carry in here," he said, pounding his fist to his chest. "My home died with Joss."
"I know how you're feeling, John. But you don't - -"
"Stop!" John held up a shaky hand. "You have no idea how I feel. You walked away from the woman you loved. I loved two, and they were ripped away from me. Ripped away. Grace is alive. You can see her face. The only reminder I have of Joss is a grave marker." John wished he could face Taylor, but he couldn't. He had to deal with his disappointment in himself, he couldn't face Taylor's, too. "You have no idea what this is like, Harold. You don't want to know this pain," he murmured, burying his face in his hands.
"Mr. Reese, listen to me. I …"
"I don't want your pity, okay? All I want is to be left alone with my bottles. That's all. Just go to the corner and get some more, and then leave me alone."
"I can't do that. First of all, the store is gone. After your display with the store owner, you were too inebriated to notice the camera, I had to get some lawyers to settle with him. Two hundred thousand dollars and an 'Out of Business' sign later, your troubles with Mr. Snell are over." Harold left the stool and lumbered over to where John sat on the floor. "Now, you need to get up, get in the shower, shave, and get ready to go back to New York. Perhaps we can find a barber on the way to the airport. I brought along a change of clothes, so…"
John snatched away his arm as Harold tried to pull him up. "There is nothing for me in New York."
"And this lived-in lodge with its comfortable floor outside of Davis, West Virginia has everything you need? I'm not going to leave you here to drown your sorrows in whiskey."
"You can't stop me," John replied in a barely audible whisper, glaring at Finch.
"Don't threaten me, Mr. Reese. I don't believe for one second you'd hit a bespectacled man with a bad leg. You're not that cruel, you're just hurting." Harold paused. "How do you feel? You were shot a few weeks ago."
"I'm fine." John didn't feel any pain from the wounds, the pain in his head and heart overrode everything else. "And I'm old enough to take care of myself and make my own choices. And if I have to turn this town upside down, I'm going to find some bottles."
"You are needed in New York."
"I don't care about the numbers, Finch. What good is saving people if I can't save the person I love the most? I don't want it anymore."
"What if I told you that Det. Carter was still alive?"
John shuddered, as if slapped by a backhand. "I'd say that's a damn horrible thing to say, Harold. Joss died in my arms. She's gone."
Harold nodded. "Yes, she was gone. But the EMTs brought her back. As did the doctor at the hospital. Dr. Madan."
"Madan?" John repeated. The doctor had saved him after Snow tried to take him out. He'd asked the doctor to…
"That's right," Harold said, as if reading his mind. "The doctor you asked to become private physician to Joss if she'd happened to be admitted to the hospital. Well, he did that. He kept her alive and he called me when he couldn't reach you. She's in a safe place with wonderful doctors."
"She's alive?" John's head started spinning, and it had nothing to with whiskey that had become his closest friend. Joss alive? "It's really true?" John struggled to his feet, his gaze fixed on Harold. "You're not just saying this to get me back to New York?"
"I would say anything to get you out of this place. But, yes, it's true. We need to get back…"
"How is she? I mean she was hurt so badly that…" Tears filled his eyes. "How…"
"She's holding her own, Mr. Reese. I will tell you all of the details on the flight, but please shower, shave, and change first. I'll wait for you downstairs and see if this place has coffee. You will need quite a lot of it." Harold pulled a phone and a bottle of aspirin out of his pocket and dropped them on table. "Hold on to the phone, and take the aspirin."
John dry-swallowed three aspirins and raced toward the bathroom. His pain and dizziness was gone, all replaced with hope. Joss was alive, and he was going to see her. "I'll be down in ten minutes."
"Please, make it twenty." Finch turned up his nose. "I took the liberty of placing a shaving kit and some other toiletries inside the washroom."
"Just be ready to go when I get down. I have to get to Joss."