Set after the fire, but I created my own little world. A one shot, Fourth of July fic.
Sparks
Natalie struggled to sit up as Michael entered her room. The fire had been last night, and she had only a fuzzy recollection of John pulling her out of the flames followed by the harsh florescent lights of the hospital. She had a throng of visitors during the morning hours but now that night had started to settle in they had dwindled off, leaving her alone, something she really didn't want to be. "Tell me those are release forms?" Natalie begged, gesturing to the chart in Michael's hand.
"You were in a fire, Natalie!" Michael chastised. "You inhaled a lot of smoke, and took a bad bump on the head, and you broke your ankle."
"I was there, Michael. Really don't need a play by play." Natalie replied dryly.
"Yeah. Sorry." He apologized sheepishly.
"It's okay. So I'm guessing since those aren't my happy go-home papers that some nurse is gonna come waltzing in here any moment to use me as a pincushion?"
Michael pulled a chair up beside her hospital bed. "Natalie, how are you feeling?"
"Feeling? Fine. Like I could do '100 cartwheels and run a marathon' fine. Does that mean I pass the test and get to go home?" She asked hopefully.
"No." He watched her intently. "I meant how are you feeling emotionally?"
"About you?" Natalie asked, weirded out. "Umm… okay I guess. I mean- Are you hitting on me?"
"God no!" Michael replied, taken back. "I just asked because John is outside…"
"John?"
"Yeah." The young doctored sighed. "He wanted to see you but I told him I had to check something first. So if you're not up to it I can tell him you're sleeping or something."
"You would do that for me?" Natalie asked in an awed voice that Michael would lie to his brother for her. The younger McBain brother turned away tips of his ears going pink. "It's okay, Michael. I'll see him. I need to see him." She amended. Deep thoughts had been running through Natalie's head since the fire and she decided she couldn't be that girl anymore, the one chasing and pressing. There was too much hurt down that road, she had to let it go.
Michael rose, resigned but not pleased with Natalie's decision. He opened the door and held it open to his brother. "Not too long." He warned as John walked past him. "She's been through a lot."
John didn't need a reminder but as Michael walked out and the door shut with a click, he felt a twinge of gratitude that someone was looking out for her. "Hey."
Natalie shifted in the bed, feeling suddenly childish in her retro smurf pajama bottoms and white tank top. "Hey."
John took the seat Michael had moved by Natalie's bed. "How- how are you doing?"
"I'll live."
John nodded; the air tense and heavy between them. Nothing with them was ever simple; it was always wrapped in a sense of urgency with the past hot on their heels. And yet… Being with her just made sense. Her smile, bright and dazzling, her dancing blue eyes, these were the things he lived for, of course neither were present now. And he knew why. "Natalie, I'm so sorry."
"What?" An apology was the last thing the red head was expecting.
"I told you once that I would make sure you were okay."
"That was when Haver was trying to- John that has nothing to do with what just happened."
"I told you…"
"No, John." Natalie covered his hand with her smaller one, her alabaster skin against his tanned fingers. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me."
"You?" John looked up, eyes shocked.
Natalie shifted under his gaze, feeling exposed. He always did that to her, stole her soul and laid it out like a book, turning the pages, revealing her secrets with his eyes. "Yes me." She flushed under his stare, ripping like a strawberry in the sun. "If Rex hadn't been trying to help me then Evangeline would have never been kidnapped."
"So now it's your fault for what Rex does?"
"No but-"
John brought a finger to her lips silencing her protests. His finger calloused with trigger brushing against her soft lips, causing Natalie to sit in silence the thick air tempting her to suck the digit into her mouth. But before she could subsume, John had removed it. "No but's, Natalie. Balsam isn't your responsibility."
"I'm not yours." Natalie quietly reminded John.
"Is that what you think, Natalie? That I think of you as some 'responsibility'?"
Natalie pulled the oxygen feed off of her face. "Don't you?"
"How could you even ask that?"
"Well it's the truth, isn't it? That's why you saved me first, right? Because you felt you had to because of how I lost Cristian?" Natalie questioned, blinking back tears, and hoping with every fiber of her being that she was wrong. But it was too clear, he would always save her, protect her, but he wouldn't love her, not the love she craved, not the love she deserved.
John angrily ran a hand through his hair, frustration seeping out of every pore. "Is that what you..?" He grabbed her forearms in a rush of heat. "I saved you first, Natalie, because I can't picture my life without you. Don't you get it! You're not some damn obligation! You've never been one!" He pulled her close, jarring her injured body. "You just keep pushing and pushing! I never wanted to feel like this!"
"Like what?" Natalie asked softly, fear creeping at the edges of her voice.
"Like this!" John yelled, his cyan eyes passionate. "Outta control! After Caitlin died I didn't even want to feel a thing yet alone fall-"
Bang.
The loud noise erupted and John's first instinct was gun fire as he sheltered Natalie's body with his own.
Bang.
His eyes went on alert but found nothing. Only Natalie's laughter broke through the panic. "What?" He asked moving off of her, but still wary.
"It's the fireworks." John bunched up his brow in confusion but Natalie continued. "Happy Fourth of July, John McBain. What? Did you forget?"
John ran a hand along the back of his neck, feeling rather foolish. "I've been a little preoccupied." He admitted. "Must have slipped my mind."
"Well you're lucky." Natalie commented. "It didn't slip mine. I mean, it did, for like a second, until everyone started to leave…I know it's not their fault that I'm constantly getting myself in trouble…"
John placed a hand on top of Natalie's bowed head, his fingers sliding down her silk crimson strands before slowly lifting her chin to see her beneath the curtain of red, tears streaming quietly down her cheeks, her eyes pleading with his. "It's okay. You don't always have to be strong."
"Neither do you."
John took in this piece of advice but didn't comment on it. Only she made him weak, made him crazy and out of control. She had made him live again when he had forgotten how. "Natalie…"
She shrugged, pushing her hair back from her face, and wiping at her tears. "It's just sorta another reminder that I'm not really a Buchanan, ya know? I went last year, everyone had this big barbecue at Asa and the entire time I kept thinking I miss Atlantic City. I miss the fireworks reflecting off the dark water and the food and the people."
John smiled half heartedly. "I'm with you on the food thing."
"It's just here, everything is so dark. In A.C. it's all bright, everything is lit up."
John knew what she meant. He had spent many a night with the throngs of people watching the fireworks from the pier, the casino lights just behind them. In a crowd like that you could never feel alone or unhappy, even as a child, even that first fourth after his dad had passed away. Their joy was your joy. Getting up he pulled back the blinds. "Here." He held out a hand, pushing a chair close to the window. "Can you walk a few steps?"
"Sure." Natalie tried to stand but got caught in her cords. John came quickly to her rescue, helping disentangle herself and moving the IV stand over with her.
John crouched on the floor next to her as purple and red hues burst across the sky. Gold twinkling one, ones that looked like falling stars, bright burst of green. They watched together. "See. It might not be A.C. but there are still fireworks. You just have to look for them but there are still fireworks"
Natalie turned her head to look at John's silhouette colored by the bright flashes of color. They still had such a connection, fireworks you might call it. "I know, John. I see them." And her hand found his, they still had sparks.
-End-