Force Chapter 6

Author's Notes: Alright, finally a scene with some real fluff! Thank you for staying with me for five chapters, and thank you to all you reviewers! Please keep it up! Wendell has actually come fully out of my closet and is sitting in the way of the door. This is the longest he's been out of my closet since I was 11.

Disclaimer: I wish I was Connie...you'll see why... ***********************************

"Ow!" Connie gasped as she tried to get out of bed. She'd been there for the last day and a half, with the exception of trips to the bathroom, and now she was allowed to go home. And my goddamned legs won't work.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Mike asked gently from the doorway, entering the room quickly and wrapping one arm around her waist. "The doctor said you'd be sore after the ordeal your joints had been through, not to mention—"

"Not to mention being kidnapped by gangbangers," Connie finished, knowing this excuse inside and out after two days in a hospital. "Yes, so I've been told. But it's been two days, Mike; I should be better by now."

"Come on, you've seen the bruises," Mike consoled, sitting her on the side of the bed while he dug through the bag her sister had brought. He found a pair of black flats and handed them to her, watching in amusement as she tried to bend over to slide the shoes on her feet. "Want me to help you with that?"

"No!" Connie replied haughtily, trying again to stiffly bend over without getting off the bed. "Shit!" she muttered, trying once again. Mike came over without a word, and, gently taking hold of her ankle, slid her shoe on. He did the same with the other shoe, then looked up into her eyes, still kneeling before her. "Thanks." She whispered, following his progress to a standing position. He smiled at her, his real smile, not the one he reserved for witnesses and victims. With the sweet little dimples and everything. She was so engrossed in his smile that she barely registered that he was speaking to her softly.

"I know I haven't told you this yet, but I'm really glad you're okay, Connie."

Connie smiled at him softly, getting off the bed and leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt him release a shaky breath before gingerly placing his arms around her waist. She closed her eyes, breathing him in.

He'd been so good to her over the past two days, more like a friend than a boss. As promised, he had slept in her room, making sure she was properly tended to. He waited outside the door while one of the nurses helped her shower. Mike had even smuggled in contraband last night—he'd snuck out while her sister had been visiting and brought back Thai food concealed in a plastic bag from a pharmacy. Connie had laughed gratefully, letting him try (and fail) to explain baseball to her while they ate. He'd been amazing, but Connie was now wondering if she'd relied on him too much.

As she pulled away from him, she looked him over objectively; rumpled jeans, which, she thought, suited him nicely; bags under his eyes, and his skin pale from getting up with her in the middle of the night.

"You look worse than me," she teased. "You should have left me here and gone home, gotten some rest."

Mike shook his head resolutely. "Nah, you needed someone to take care of you."

"Thank you, again, for everything you've done. Any chance you could call me a cab?"

"No, I'm going to see you home. You're going to need help getting into your apartment, then I'm going to let you to rest." He replied. Connie smiled. They exited her room, Mike's hand around her once again, and made their way downstairs to the front doors.

Mike hailed a cab and helped Connie into the backseat, giving the driver her address. They rode in silence, Mike's hand mere centimetres from hers. Connie could feel her heartbeat pounding in her chest, her lungs constricting painfully as she tried to breathe. The cab pulled up to the curb in front of her building, and Mike went around to her side of the cab while she paid the fare. He helped her out again, assisting her into the building and into the elevator, carrying her bag for her. When they got into her apartment, he set the bag on the floor and guided her into her bedroom.

"I'm going to go and let you get some rest," he said softly. "Call me if you need anything, alright? And I don't want to see you at work for another while."

Connie smiled and nodded. "Yeah, okay. Thanks again, Mike. I'll be fine. I promise."

"Okay. But don't hesitate to call me, okay?" with a little wave, he walked away down the hall. She smiled at his retreating back, locking the door securely. A little shiver ran down her spine, so she undid the locks and fastened them again. Sighing at her paranoia, Connie turned away and went to draw herself a long, hot bath.

*************************************************

Mike was awakened again by the phone. For a moment he had travelled back in time three days, and Connie was still in the clutches of Jose Phillipe and his thugs. Yanking the phone off the cradle, he held it tightly to his ear. "Cutter."

"Mike," Connie breathed a sigh of relief on the other end. He allowed his grip on the phone to loosen slightly, until he heard her let out a shaky breath and realized she was crying.

"Connie? What's wrong, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just needed to call...it's stupid..."

"Connie, is everything okay?" He was starting to get really worried now.

"It's just...I had a nightmare...about him."

"I'll be right there." He hung up on her and immediately called a taxi. Then he pulled another pair of jeans on and tossed a black polo shirt and a windbreaker over his bare chest. The taxi was waiting for him outside, and he nearly jumped into it, giving the startled driver Connie's address and paying him in advance. The car hadn't even come to a complete stop and he was on the side walk, rushing up to the intercom. She let him in immediately, not even asking who it was. Who else would be at her door at quarter to two in the morning?

When she opened her door he knew immediately she was not alright. Every light in the place was on, leaving no dark corners. She was in her most comfortable sweats and her beautiful brown eyes were red- rimmed.

Without a word, he took her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder. He closed and locked the door behind them then led her over to the couch. She clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer and tucking her head under his chin. He couldn't help noticing it was a perfect fit.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked softly. She sat up a bit, wiping her eyes.

"It was just- just a replay of...what...happened."

"Okay, it's okay. You're safe now, Connie, you survived this. And I'm gonna camp out on your couch tonight. I don't have a gun or anything, but I'll call Lupo if you want me to."

She smiled slightly, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you Mike. I'm sorry I dragged you out of bed."

"Don't worry about it. Why don't you go get cleaned up, okay? I'll be right here. Hopefully you can get some decent sleep tonight. You need it."

She nodded and disappeared down the hall, into what he assumed was the bathroom. Mike watched her go, his brow furrowed. She hadn't had any nightmares in the hospital, at least, none that he knew about. Was it possible she had been hiding them from him? Or was she having nightmares because she had been alone? This last thought filled him with an unexplained warmth. Maybe she needed him. It was nice to be needed, wasn't it?

She returned a few moments later with a pillow and a few blankets for him. Deciding that she was too stressed out right now to handle a conversation about her nightmares, he let her occupy herself with arranging his makeshift bed. He thanked her, waiting until she was safely in her room before stretching out over the blankets. He was hoping she wouldn't need him again tonight, but he was there for her if she did.