Good morning! (or afternoon ... or night ... it's morning here.)
I have a busy day today and didn't want to forget to post, so I'm doing it early.
I'm dedicating this chapter to a boy who can't read yet, and who also happens to be the reason I'm going to be busy today.
HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY GARRETT! AUNTY LOVES YOU!
That being said, I'd like to thank my betas, Wuchel1 and Dlldarkwolf, for giving me a significant amount of help with this chapter (that required a partial rewrite).
Now, as promised, the part where Harold gets pain meds ...
Chapter 9
Grace scrubbed Harold's tie before pulling it out of the water to see if she was even making a difference. She hadn't tried to get blood out of silk since … since the last time she was with Harold. He had gotten a paper cut and dripped it on his tie. Of course, that time it had only been a few drops. This time ….
She let the train of thought fade away and went back to scrubbing. It may seem ridicules, but she felt that if she could get the tie clean then Harold would be okay. If only she could wash away his injuries as easily.
With the tie finally clean, she hung it up to dry and headed back to the library. It was the room that felt most like Harold, so it was only right that this is where she would wait for him. To her surprise, she was not the only one with that thought.
"John? Is everything alright?"
"Fine," he answered, not moving from the edge of the window. "Finch will be back soon."
"So he really is okay," Grace said with a sigh of relief.
"I said he would be, didn't I?" John replied with half a grin.
She smiled back before taking her new favorite spot in the armchair by the fireplace, the same spot she had waited for him the night before. Had it only been the night before? Their time apart seemed to be shrinking, as if she had never really left him. But Vince's arrival was a dark reminder that things had changed. The world was a lot more dangerous, for both of them.
*P*O*I*
Harold shifted slightly, but no matter what he did the fire in his side refused to fade. He had been injured by two bombs and a gunshot, not to mention numerous back and neck surgeries, so why did this feel like the worst pain ever?
"You doing alright back there?" Detective Fusco called from the driver's seat.
"I'm fine."
While the cop pretended to believe him, Harold continued to shift around the back seat in a futile attempt to get comfortable. Unfortunately, all he succeeded in doing was aggravating his injuries. Hadn't it been long enough for the pain killers he had taken at the hospital to kick in? Perhaps he should have requested something stronger … like chloroform.
"Home sweet home."
The announcement brought more relief than the hard cushions ever could and Harold couldn't get out of the car fast enough. However, his bad luck continued and the pain killers took the exact moment he was vertical to knock him sideways. Good thing that Detective Fusco was faster than he was.
"Fine, my ass," he grumbled, looping his arm under Harold's for support. "Why don't you wait until we get inside before you collapse, huh?"
He tried to thank him, but speech was becoming difficult. Somehow, the two managed to make it to the steps before the world started to tilt again. More hands appeared and he found himself in the soft embrace of …
"Harold?"
He opened his eyes to see Grace smiling down at him. It may have been the medication, but he could swear there was a soft glow around her, like the halo of an angel. It made her look more beautiful than ever.
"Hi," he whispered, unable to contain his own grin. "You're pretty."
"I guess the medication is working."
The new voice was too deep to be from Grace, but still made him smile. His eyes shifted to see his partner next to his girl, also surrounded by a glow. But when did he become an angel?
"John … you're pretty too."
"Maybe we should let him sleep some more," Grace suggested, adjusting a blanket that had somehow appeared over him. "Sounds like he needs it."
"No," Harold protested, weakly catching her hand. "Stay."
"I'm not going anywhere," Grace promised, kneeling beside him. "Never again."
"Never again," Harold echoed.
Holding her hand as tightly as his weakened state would allow, he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him. As long as he had her with him, everything would be okay.
Everything would be okay.
However, the next time he awoke, everything was not okay. The pain had returned with a vengeance and whoever had been kind enough to remove his glasses while he was asleep had not bothered to put them close enough that he could find them in the dark. The only comfort he had was the warm hand still resting in his.
Grace.
It seemed she had been serious about staying with him, though their conversation felt like one from a dream, why else did he remember her and John glowing? Speaking of John …
"Mr. Reese?" he whispered into the shadows.
"Yes, Harold?"
The answer was a little unnerving, since he couldn't see where it came from other than somewhere behind him. Still, if there was anyone he trusted lurking around in the dark, it was John … not that it was comfortable for anyone to be lurking around in the dark. Was he lurking or watching? There was a threat … wasn't there? Yes, that was why he was in pain.
"You still there?"
"Sorry … uh … yes. It seems my … where are … medication."
"Right here."
One of the shadows moved and Harold felt the distinct shape of a pill being placed in his palm. Good thing one does not need to see to find one's mouth. Still, he needed-
"Water?"
No sooner had he said the word then a calloused hand gently lifted his head and a cup was pressed to his lips. After a few cool sips, the cup was removed and his head was once again placed on a pillow. With that taken care of, all he had to do was wait for sleep to take hold again, but first …
"Mr. Reese … that man … he-"
"We're already on it, Finch," John whispered, once again moving behind him. "He won't get to you again, or Grace."
That promise was all he needed. Tightening his grip ever so slightly, he held onto the hand of his beloved, hoping she might follow him into his dreams.
Well, what do you think?
Let me know while I go celebrate with my sweet little nephew. (Of course, he is a big boy now and too old for Aunty's hugs and kisses ... YEAH RIGHT! His 11-year-old brother can't escape those! :P)
COMING SOON: Someone finds Vince ...
