A/N: None of this is intended as any sort of therapeutic advice. In real life events would likely unfold differently.
Woz sighs. "She worries me. Barely eats, doesn't talk." He sighs again and cards fingers through his grizzly hair. "I have to return to the
precinct."
"So the logical choice was to call me?"
"Yes, you, guardian angel. Time to live up to your name."
Stahl huffs through the nose.
"Take her home, keep an eye, take good care. Cristina and Cathy will go with you. The rest-it's better if they don't know."
Stahl leans back in the chair and closes his eyes. Did Woz get hit in the head or something?
Gravelly voice from the doorway. " And, FBI? Don't fuck up."
NIGHTMARE
Stahl's mansion.
The first time she has a nightmare Woz's wife and Cristina won't let him in. They got it, they say, it's alright, she will make it. Which part of this is fucking alright? he wants to scream back at them. Instead, he swallows his words. Hard.
He sleeps in the study. It's too loud upstairs...
Time drags on. She is like a ghost, just a shell of herself, with pale skin and hair that has gotten too long and eyes that have gotten too empty.
Woz calls every day. She is doing better, she tells him. Still a convincing liar.
The weather grows cold. She's graduated from tea to warm soup and is mastering dragging noodles around the bowl.
Kitchen. She pats Cristina's head.
"Baby, I love you so much."
"Mom, I want to stay."
"Honey, you have missed an entire semester."
"Mom..."
"I know, Baby, you don't want to leave me. But I will be alright. And Cathy and ...
"Robert?"
" Yes. They are staying."
Make sure she has everything. Harlee inwardly shudders.
In a couple of weeks she manages to send Cathy away. Now it's just he and Harlee.
The first time he falls asleep in his bed, he is woken up by her crying. At least it is not screaming. He sits up and hesitates briefly trying to remember what's wrong. The next minute he is at her threshold. Blue darkness is deep but there's moon outside. and her outline rests against the white of the pillows. Her back is to him. He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. She, on the other hand, volunteers.
"Get out."
He is a fool to expect anything different.
FIRE
That evening he is reading in the kitchen. He yawns and rests his chin on his folded forearms. He thinks of the summer, the gravel, the marina, the smell of Woz's cigarets. Something faintly acrid and unfamiliar accosts his nose. It smells strange, like burnt…something. The fireplace.
When he enters the study, she is sitting crosslegged in front of the fire, staring into the flames. She is tossing in some papers. And hesitates to pull out her hand. She hisses and he is beside her, jerking out her hand. Flames lick at his in the process. Unease squeezes his neck. Only then does he notice her hair. A lot of it. On the carpet.
"Harlee..."
"I can't stand it."
"Did it make you feel better?"
"Yes."
FRAGILE
It doesn't take long for him to be reminded that she has a talent. Two days later, something crashes upstairs. Goddamn flowers...Again. He almost doesn't want to go up but takes a deep breath instead. Firmly, he climbs up the stairs. Her room-broken glass is strewn about. She is on the floor on her knees, rolling shards between fingertips. The glass cuts. That must sting like a mother...
"Harlee..."
"Screw you."
Well, that's nice. He pulls her up and flicks the shards off her palms. He does the same to her knees and then picks her up. He deposits her on the bed. In his room.
"Sit and don't move". She obliges.
He comes back with moist cloth, a towel, and ointment. She watches him as he treats her cuts. She does not flinch, even slightly. It's like she doesn't feel anything. God. He closes the door shutting them in.
"You are sleeping here tonight." He tosses a pillow and a blanket onto the floor. She moves to get up.
"That is for me. And, Harlee, the door creaks pretty loud."
COMMITMENT
When he delivers the doctor, she refuses to see him. With all due respect, she is not at the point of commitment, she informs them and bangs the door shut. He senses a spark of her old fire. The doctor tells him angry Harlee is better than numb. But, if there is one more time...
"You will take a trip to the hospital."
"it won't happen again."
"Still, this is the plan. However, try doing something good for yourself. How is your daughter doing in college?"
"She is happy."
"And you need a break. Go see her, it will be good for both of you." As long as you are safe.
MIDNIGHT
She leaves. She is back the same day. At 2 o'clock in the morning. She carries the scent of another. Something muddy squeezes his chest. He faces the wall.
"Go to bed, Harlee."
Thin, hoarse voice. "I just needed to feel something. Anything."
"And Nava is it?"
"It's easy with him."
His steps echo the way to the study. A lock clicks. Didn't he promise himself not to feel anything?
It goes on for another three nights. He is this close to saying something.
SYLVIA
"Sylvia, I don't know what to do."
"You know you have choices. You just don't want to make one."
STAIN
His study is dark. He is at his desk, a circle of light touching him softly. She walks in.
"Did I make you mad?"
No, Harlee, waiting for you is my pleasure. A pen suddenly breaks in his hand, ink dripping on paper. He stands up but keeps the desk in between them. A wall. A two-way protection.
His words are awfully quiet.
"Me, mad? You have quite an imagination, Harlee. Do you think I am that pathetic, to carry the torch for you after you've been with my best friend? When his body isn't yet cold in his grave? I would be offended but...it's all true." His voice grows more firm but somehow still soft. He flips the light on. The shadows are harsh on his face. His throat is reddening, slowly.
"Yes, I am that asshole, dirt for telling you this." He smirks. "Oh, please, you need to hear this." He plunges in. "I still wish...dont you dare interrupt me..to hold you, to fuck you, to take anything you would give me? How disgusting is that? I still need... Just go, Harlee. Walk away since I can't."
Something sickening, startling kicks in her chest. Honesty? to his detriment? How strange...Her hands start to shake. She pushes the feeling down, down. To be sucked into that, that vileness again? Hell... Yes, even that far apart her skin turns on fire. doesnt he know he just buried himself?
Except, she dreams of his body at night, warm and safe. And she is afraid. She remembers his hands on her skin, his long fingers, those pale thin lips that somehow could be so gentle, his breath, his caresses, the unabashed strength of his desire that she allowed to touch her back then. . She is pulled to give up the fighting and dissolve in him... She shudders again.