Shattered

By: Abellen

Chapter Nineteen: Forlorn

When I opened my eyes again Fillmore was gone. A different hand, slimmer and more feminine clutched at mine, the grip tight as though it was trying to hold me in the world of the living. The room was lit with the harsh light of the overhead lamps rather than the sun, and I narrowed my eyes against the glare.

'How are you feeling?'

I looked at Ariella and tried to smile reassuringly, but the warm, fuzzy mist of the anaesthetic was long gone, and the pain in my side was rapidly becoming unbearable.

'That bad, huh?' Ariella asked softly, squeezing my hand before reaching out to push a button. 'I'll get the nurse to give you some more pain medication. They said it would be bad.'

I nodded, and then frowned in confusion. My memories, normally so crystal-clear were decidedly fuzzy around the edges. I wasn't sure what was real, and what wasn't. My parents were nowhere to be seen, and I asked the most painful question first.

'Are Mom and Dad really dead?'

Ariella gave a little jolt of surprise, her face morphing into a look of horror. 'You don't remember?'

'I – Yes, sort of. Everything's just really confused. I thought maybe I'd dreamt it.'

Ariella shook her head mutely and shuffled her chair closer to my bed, as though attempting to comfort me with her proximity. 'They died eleven days ago. There was a car accident…'

'I hit my head,' I said, nodding as the memory sharpened, and with it the events of the past week or so fell in to place.

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Harris,' I mumbled. 'I thought that I could solve the case before it got that far. I hoped I wouldn't have to report him for anything. Now…'

'He's at the police station, along with the two that helped him,' Ariella said grimly, her face hardening into anger. 'Fillmore caught the male accomplice, along with the other boy… Is it Anza?'

'Yeah.' I let out a groan of annoyance which quickly became a grunt of pain as my ribs ached. Something suggested that movement or speech in excess was not a good idea, and instead I frowned. 'I knew it was Rossi. All the clues were pointing towards her, but Flint! He was the male accomplice, and I spoke to him first when I questioned people. He sneered at me for going to the most obvious suspect. I can't believe it was him all along!'

'I don't know all the facts,' Ariella said quietly. 'You'll have to wait until Fillmore comes in tomorrow. Maybe he can tell you.'

'Is he okay?' I asked.

'Physically, yeah. Mentally I'm not so sure. I think you scared the life out of him.'

I shut my eyes for a moment. 'He feared it. More than anything he was scared of me being hurt, of me being raped and him being too late to help,' I felt tears prickle my eyelids and one of two spilled over my lashes to land heavily on the pillow.

Ariella got a tissue and wiped gently at my face. Her hands were soft and elegant, like Mom's had been and I felt the grief and self-pity well up in me again.

'I'm sorry I can't be Mom for you, Ingrid,' Ariella said softly. 'She'd have known what to do.'

'It's okay,' I said quietly, my breath hitching as I sobbed. 'I just wish things were normal again.'

Ariella stayed quiet for a while, before saying, 'If you think about it Fillmore wasn't entirely too late.'

'No, he saved my life, but I don't think he'll see it that way. What am I going to do?'

'About Fillmore?' Ariella asked.

'About everything.' I sighed miserably and cuffed at my tears again.

'I suppose the only thing you can do is take it a day at a time. I know that's probably the most feeble advice ever, but it's all I can think of.'

The nurse came in and gave me a sympathetic look, taking in my tear-stained cheeks and pain-filled eyes. She checked my pulse and temperature before she went out of the door. In a matter of moments she was back with some tissues. They were the soft ones with lotion on, and I smiled gratefully.

'Well, I hate being in hospital when everything is starched half to death,' the nurse said quietly. 'I'm Rosemarie. If you need anything, just ask.' The young woman injected some pain medication into my drip line. 'You'll start to feel woozy quite quickly,' she warned, before she nodded to my sister and departed.

'When you've gone back to sleep I'm going to go home and get some things. Do you want anything, other than some pajamas that cover up your butt?' Ariella asked, making me chuckle weakly.

'Some books.'

'Any in particular?'

'No, just whatever is lying around.'

'Fillmore will probably be back as soon as his parents let him. They waited until he was too tired to complain before taking him home. You won't be on your own for long.'

I tried to struggle into a half sitting position and grimaced as pain shot through me. 'Ariella, what exactly have they done to me? It really hurts!' I touched my fingers to the area that was stinging and could make out the rough ridge of a bandage around my torso, beneath the hospital gown.

'They had to take out your spleen. The knife nearly went straight through it.'

I gave a small frown of thought, and then said, 'Maybe I should have hit Harris harder.'

Ariella gave a small, tired laugh and leant over to kiss my forehead. 'Sleep well, Bronze.'

'Bronze? Dad used to call me that… I never found out why,' I mumbled sleepily.

'Because we're Thirds of course. Third place gets a bronze medal!'

'When has a Third ever been anything but the best?' I asked, yawning. My eyelids felt heavy again, and the pain was receding fast. 'Ariella?'

'Uh huh?'

'Can we have a cat?'

Ariella bent down again and kissed my check, and this time her voice sounded tight with tears. 'When you're well you can have anything you want, but you've got to get better first.'

I nodded, too tired to reply, and barely felt her pull the sheets up to cover my shoulders before I was peacefully asleep. I stayed locked in a dreamless slumber until the sun began to creep in between the blinds that covered the window. The hazy light fell on my face and I opened one eye to give the sun a critical glare. I moved to roll over, before going rigid as the pain stabbed into my side again. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, but it was hardly comfortable.

A doctor looked up from his examination of another patient and smiled at me. 'Good morning, Miss Third!' he said cheerfully. 'Are you still in pain?'

'A bit,' I said quietly, easing myself into a half sitting position and trying not to wince.

'Well sitting up, talking and not demanding instant medication is always a good sign. I think we'll be safe to move you out of the ICU and into a private room. I believe your sister has brought you some more comfortable attire. I'll send a nurse in to give you a hand.'

'Um, thank you.'

I watched him go and vaguely wondered if his enthusiastic bedside manner was genuine, or if it was just a result of a twenty hour shift and more caffeine than the human body could stand. Rosemarie came into the ward a couple of minutes later and pulled the curtain around the bed, before rummaging through the bag my sister had brought.

'All right, Miss Third. I want you to try and get dressed yourself. Once the doctor has deemed you not to be at death's door we try and get you on your feet as soon as possible.' She winked cheerfully. 'I'll be just the other side of the curtains. Call out if you need me.'

She undid the ties that held the papery hospital gown on and carefully removed the needles from my arm that held the drips in place. I winced throughout the process, but didn't whine and she gave me a pleased smile before she left me to my own devices.

I looked at the pajamas that Ariella had found and noticed that she'd had the sense to make sure they were baggy enough not to touch the wound. I pulled on the dark green pants first, only pausing for breath once or twice as a sudden movement made the injury sting. Getting into the top was a bit more difficult because lifting up my left arm just hurt too much. In the end I struggled into it and lay back on the pillows, exhausted.

'Done!' I called out, resting one hand against the bandage.

Rosemarie peered around the curtain and nodded in satisfaction. 'Good. I'll just change the dressing while we're here, and then we'll see if you can muster the strength to walk to your room.'

'Walk?' I groaned. If changing into different night clothes had made me this tired I couldn't see how I was going to walk anywhere.

'It's only three doors down, and we'll take it slowly. Then you can stay in bed for the rest of the day if you want.'

I lifted up my top to just below my breasts and watched with trepidation as the nurse used a pair of scissors to cut the bandage away. She picked up a spray bottle to moisten the dressings before peeling them carefully away from my skin. There was one incision about four inches long down the middle of my chest, towards the bottom of my ribcage. It was a neat, straight line and I noticed that there were no stitches to hold it together.

'That's looking fine,' the nurse said. 'The stitches are in the tissue below, holding it together. They'll dissolve away, and you should be left with nothing but a thin, flat scar.' She removed the second dressing and I winced at the angry skin. The wound that Harris' knife had left was ragged, and the doctors had carefully stitched it together. 'This one will probably be worse. I'm going to put some antiseptic salve on that, and then we'll bandage you back up again.'

I stayed quiet through the nurse's ministrations and tried not to make any sound of discomfort. She worked quickly and carefully, obviously very aware that any sharp or sudden movements were likely to cause pain. The antiseptic stung and I made a small hissing sound, unable to stay quiet any longer. 'It'll fade quickly,' she said reassuringly, 'and it's got anaesthetic properties, just to help with the skin irritation. I can put the drips back in for you, or you can wait until you've had something to eat before taking some tablets for the pain. What would you prefer?'

'Tablets,' I said after a moment's consideration. The crook of my arm was already quite bruised and I didn't like the idea of another needle in my skin.

'All right, you rest there for a minute and I'll make sure your room is ready.'

I lay back on the pillows and shut my eyes. I had only been awake for an hour at most, and already I felt like I could sleep for another year. Resolutely I shook my head and eased myself upright. Lying around wasn't going to help me get better, at least, not much.

I put my right foot down on the floor and then eased my left foot down to meet it. Nothing hurt, but my legs were very shaky and I felt a shiver or two go through me before I pulled myself together. I didn't quite trust my legs to support my weight so I leant back against the mattress to wait for the nurse.

'Shouldn't you be in bed?' a familiar voice asked quietly. Fillmore had made his way silently across the ward and was standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, trying to look stern. He seemed to be having difficulty maintaining his frown though, and a smile of relief kept flickering across his lips.

I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear. 'I've got to walk to my room, apparently. It's the tough love approach to recovery.'

Fillmore shook his head in disbelief and I noticed that he was very tense. Despite the smile on his lips I could see the tension in his arms and neck and I gave a little frown. 'You didn't get hurt yesterday, did you?'

'No, I'm fine. Why?'

'Ariella said that you and Anza caught Flint. I didn't think he'd go with you quietly.'

'He didn't. He ran into the park, but we cut him off. It was a good thing Anza saw him or…' he trailed off and looked at the floor, swallowing hard, 'I might not have found you in time.'

I pursed my lips together and said, 'I'm sorry for not telling you what was going on. I just couldn't risk them lashing out at the other victims.'

'You thought you could solve it by yourself, I know,' he said with a sigh. 'I know.'

I looked up at him and noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and the tired lines in his face. 'Fillmore, did you sleep at all last night?'

'Yeah, kind of.' He shrugged as though it didn't matter, his brown eyes never leaving my face. He was looking at me as though he was trying to memorise my features, or perhaps he was trying to drink in the sight of me alive. I wanted to reach out and touch him, just to let him know that I was all right, and reassure myself that he was going to be okay. Instead I clenched my hands into fists. I couldn't touch Fillmore, not with the memory of Harris' assault still fresh in my mind.

'Miss Third, are you all right?' Rosemarie asked as she approached, bringing me away from horrific memories and back to the present. 'You didn't have to get out of bed until I came back, you know.' She smiled at Fillmore in greeting, and I could tell that the nurse's sharp eyes had taken in his exhaustion as quickly as I had. 'If you're tired, Mr Fillmore, the coffee machine on the second floor is the best. It's got some flavour to it.'

'Thanks. I'll get some in a bit.'

'Did Ariella bring me any books?' I asked as I accepted Rosemarie's help and took a step forward, only to wince as the skin around the wound pulled and stung.

'She brought a small library with her. I know you read fast, but I think she just picked up every book in the house,' Fillmore replied, watching me carefully as I took another step.

'Gently, Miss Third. Don't rush yourself,' the nurse reminded me.

Fillmore walked slowly beside me; always close by but never actually touching my skin. It was as if, even though there were only a few inches between us, a chasm had opened up and there was no way to bridge the distance. 'Are you sure you're all right doing this?' he asked.

'I'm fine,' I retorted, my tone impatient at my own weakness. 'If I don't try to get better, I won't.'

'It is with the doctor's permission, Mr Fillmore,' Rosemarie added reassuringly. 'Today she just needs to walk a little way, and then tomorrow we'll try getting her to stay up for a couple of hours. It helps keep the skin flexible as it heals, and it helps maintain muscle strength.'

It took far too long to reach the room for my liking, and I felt terribly weak by the time I got to the bedside. 'Stay standing up as along as you feel you can,' Rosemarie said gently. 'Then get into bed and get comfortable. You've made very good progress today. Press the call button if you need me. I'll go and find your sister and let her known where you are.'

'Thank you.' I leaned back against the edge of the bed and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to muster the strength to stay on my feet.

Something warm touched my arm and I flinched away, half in fear and half in surprise. Fillmore withdrew his hand quickly and I saw the hurt in his eyes before he looked down at the floor.

'Sorry,' I whispered. 'I'm just -'

'Don't worry, I understand,' he said, cutting me off with a sharp shake of his head.

'I know that you're nothing like Harris, Fillmore. I – I'm just jumpy and -'

He backed away slightly and motioned towards the bed. 'Why don't you get some rest, Ingrid? I've got to get to school.'

'Okay,' I whispered, trying to keep my disappointment out of my voice. 'I'll see you later.'

Fillmore nodded quietly before he turned and walked away, leaving me to slip between the stiff sheets of the hospital bed.

I wanted to call him back, to beg him not to leave me behind, but Rossi's words came back to haunt me. Why would Fillmore ever want to have a relationship with me after this? How could we ever be more than just partners? I let the tears slip down my cheeks onto the pillow as the pain well up inside my chest. I felt as though I was trying to pick up the shattered pieces of my life, but every fragment cut my fingertips, and every day brought nothing but sorrow. It was hard to see how the future could be bright when the present seemed so dark, and I felt so very alone.

I didn't know that just outside the door to my room Fillmore was leaning against the wall, trying to hold back his own tears as I wept.

End Of Chapter Nineteen

A/N: There's just one chapter and a (probably short) epilogue left! The Next chapter will be posted on Thursday, which I think is Thanksgiving in the States. The sequel "Shadows" will probably be posted in the new year.

As always thanks to all reviewers. This chapter pushes "Shattered" to the position of longest fanfiction currently on so thank you all for your support!

Someone asked who Flint was. He's sixth in the grade listings, and he was the guy Ingrid talked to in the library in chapter seven.