10.
Before she realized it, he was around behind her, catching her by her arms and steering her for the couch. Sitting her down, he gently scooped her legs up, settled her back in the cushions and tugged a pillow towards them, before gently lifting her head to place the pillow underneath.
She felt a sickly sweat wash over her as she started to gain some sense of her world, and promptly started to get up.
"No…" he murmured, one hand on her shoulder holding her down. Schell started to protest, but was stopped when he held up a warning finger.
"Ah ah…" he said, shaking his head. "You've had enough."
"I'll be all…"
"Schell," he said firmly. "You just passed out. Stay put." He got up then and she moaned, in mortification.
"Oh god! I am so sorry!" She muttered, reaching up a very shaky hand to run down her face. She heard water running and seconds later he was gently wiping her face. The coolness of the cloth struck her brain with its intense relief. She could feel her pulse racing a little as she started gaining some control over her spinning senses.
"Relax…" he murmured, folding the cloth over, gently daubing at her face.
"I am so sorry, Horatio!" she whispered in despair. "You must think I am the biggest wimp."
"Nonsense," he smiled, his other hand stroking back her white bangs, "But you have had enough today. You need to rest." He said with a finality that brooked no arguing. Schell finally focused on him, reaching up for the cloth, she smiled wanly and reluctantly nodded.
"Maybe I better go back to the boat," she whispered. Taking the damp cloth from him, she dabbed at her neck.
"I think that's a good idea." he said as he pulled back his hand. He clasped them before him, from where he was sitting on her coffee table again, his arms resting on his knees as he watched her closely. "Once you think you are able to get up again," he added.
"Just give me a few minutes okay?"
"Not a problem." He reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "Let me go cover that painting back up," he suggested. She nodded, swallowing, and set her arm over her eyes.
Rising, he deliberately took his time, picking the tarp up and holding it in his hands as he studied the Aivazovsky replica. He was lining up what she had been telling him with his experiences in the admittedly few art forgery cases in his case files, (several years worth of case files) along with that of what he knew regarding Paul Hirsch. She was being frank and honest with him. How had Paul Hirsch and Schell been detected by this ring of forgers?
Reluctantly, he covered the painting, tugging the tarp into place. He stood back, hands on hips and looked towards her work in progress, without actually seeing it, lost in his thoughts. The sounds of Schell trying to sit up brought him out of his reflections. He frowned slightly, noting that the day was beginning to wane towards evening. He returned to the couch.
She looked nearly grey with fatigue as she gave him a slightly pleading look.
"Time for me to go home," she whispered.
He smiled in understanding. "All right, here let me help," he said and gave her his hand, helping her to stand up.
There wasn't much to say as Horatio locked the studio door, having Schell wait on the landing before they set off down the stairs. His hand on her shoulder, they set off across the parking lot towards the docks, each lost to their own thoughts, and he could feel the tension in her neck. It was when she stiffened and slowed down suddenly that he snapped back to the present world and saw what it was she was slowing down for.
Walking up the 'S' dock towards them was Carl Beckman.
"I cannot deal with him right now," she whispered and looked pleadingly at Horatio. He squeezed her shoulder gently.
"You won't have to. Can you go the rest of the way on your own?"
"Yeah," she said frowning slightly at the sound in Horatio's voice, he was watching the approaching detective very closely, his eyes hard. He glanced away, his smile softening the hardness of his features for a brief moment as he looked at her, reaching up to run his hand down her hair once.
"I'll take care of him," he said reassuringly moving to position himself between the detective and Schell. "You just go to the boat and wait for me there."
"'Bout time you showed up Miss Demereau." Beckman was growling, climbing up the stairs, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he approached them. "I was getting ready to put out an APB. You're wanted for more questioning."
"Go on…" Horatio urged her, very gently moving her away from Beckman with a nudge towards the dock. "I'll be there in a minute. This won't take long," he said sternly more towards Beckman than anywhere else and a wolfish smile slowly appeared on his lips as he locked eyes with the man.
"Don't you go anywhere," Beckman snapped and Schell promptly ignored him, working her way around the two men, glancing fearfully for a split second at Horatio who nodded for her to go.
Hands on his hips, Horatio stepped in very close to Beckman, forcing the detective's attention toward him as he invaded the man's personal space. The two men were nearly equal in height as Horatio stared hard into Beckman's face, his lip curled in a faint smirk of disgust. Horatio titled his head to one side.
"Miss Demereau! I'm warning you, do not walk away from me!" Beckman snapped, taking a step back from Horatio and looking towards where Schell was taking the stairs down to the dock.
Horatio stepped forward, following Beckman as the detective turned angrily towards him. "Do not…" Horatio purred. "Pursue this."
"Demereau! Do not take another step!" Beckman barked, reaching towards his hip where his handcuffs sat.
"Beckman…" Horatio's already low voice dropped into a lower, sinister growl.
"Southern, you are this f'n close to getting arrested for interference in an on going investigation!" Beckman snapped, standing his own ground.
"That would go down on your record as a stellar point in your career." Horatio replied sarcastically.
"Not if I could make it stick!" Beckman fired back. "Now I am going to go down there and get her, and she is going to start answering my questions!" Beckman said, turning towards the stairs. Horatio neatly sidestepped him and literally got within inches of Beckman's face.
"Do that and I will personally see to it that you never work the streets as a cop ever again."
"Is that some sort of threat!" Beckman snapped.
"I don't make threats, Beckman…" Horatio said in a sibilant hiss, his eyes never blinking as he stared the man down. "Now we can do this in one of two ways. Either you back down and listen to what I can tell you about what she has told me today, or you can find out just how much pull I have with IA, and the Feds. Your choice."
Beckman, his lip lifted in a snarl, stared back at those hard, unblinking blue eyes, sighed in disgust and took a step back. He folded his arms with a surly defiance and waited.
"Smart move…" Horatio said with a sour smile.
"Get on with it!"
"You know, you'd get a hell of a lot more accomplished seeking answers from the perps then you are harassing a victim, Beckman." Horatio growled, looking at the detective like he was some sort of slightly disgusting lab specimen. "You already know the obvious and that she is in no way involved in the bombing of her own boat or Hirsch's disappearance. You have proof of that from sources other then me. So how about I give you something you can pursue?"
Horatio reached into his lapel pocket and extracted his notepad. Tearing off a page he handed it to Beckman, holding it up between his index and middle fingers. "Paul Hirsch was taking her to a warehouse somewhere near this location. He was using her to help identify replica paintings and forgeries. I also suspect he was using her to help identify originals as well. Hirsch was very careful not to let her involvement go any further. If you really want to be effective in this case? Find out what you can about this warehouse, and how they may have been compromised. You might even try looking into a Professor Dale Lewis' background, she took a restraining order out on him about 2 years ago. Then there is a Russian corporation that has commissioned her to do a piece for them that I don't think anyone has thought to look into. Do you think that might give you enough to do other than throwing your weight around a victim who hasn't even had time enough to recover from what's happened to her?"
"And just what exactly do you plan on doing, Southern?" Beckman shot back at him, his tone heavy with innuendo.
Flipping his notebook shut, Horatio looked down a moment, his smile having no mirth. "Since Seattle's finest can't find it in themselves to protect a witness from getting killed, I, am going to do it myself."
Horatio looked back at him with contempt as Beckman opened his mouth to speak. "And you can leave the jurisdiction crap behind. I've several weeks of accrued vacation, and can volunteer to do the job myself."
"I bet you would," Beckman said sarcastically, as he looked down at the address Horatio had given him.
"Either way, detective, " Horatio said, with a sour emphasis on the title, "I can easily work with you, or against you. Again that choice is yours."
"I still want to talk to her." Beckman snarled, realizing that Horatio had him in corner.
"Give her some time, and I will see to it that you talk to her. In the meantime, there's also the Thorpes you might look into as well, they are her current commission holders." He added, waiting for Beckman's response, and hoping like hell that he had managed to get around the detective's innate laziness.
Beckman looked at the paper again, then glared at Horatio in disgust. "I'll be in touch. " he growled. "I have your number."
"You do that," Horatio replied, hiding his sigh of relief as he broke his gaze from Beckman's face, successfully hiding the smirk that threatened to grace his lips. He waited as the detective glared at him again before finally moving off and heading for his car.
Shortly thereafter Horatio headed down the dock towards the 'Amalia Blue' contemplating the eternal question of how certifiably incompetent employees always managed to keep their jobs despite being a danger to themselves and others. He was a little dismayed to see Schell standing on the deck, huddling into her sweater and looking out over the rapidly darkening bay.
"Schell?" he asked, climbing on board and looking at her in concern.
"You have my keys," she said.
He paused, reaching down to his pants pocket and felt the telltale lump, then he shook his head with a smirk. "Forgive me…" he said pulling the keys out, "Let me get the door," and stepped forward to unlock it for her.
"What's going on with him?" she asked, sounding tired as he let her go down the steps into the salon ahead of him.
"Beckman? He just has questions he wants to ask, but I've put him off for a while. What you told me this afternoon ought to keep him plenty busy." Horatio said. "At least long enough for you to get a good night's sleep. You will need to talk with him at a future point, but it can wait for now," he started to follow her down.
"He doesn't exactly strike me as being the brightest crayon in the box," she commented turning left into the galley and flipping on the light switch. There was a momentary pause behind her then she heard him laugh. She turned and her heart nearly stopped as she looked up to see a flash of white from his decidedly lopsided, boyish smile. As he entered the salon his bright blue eyes were twinkling with amusement.
"That was succinctly put." He said as she broke her gaze and turned to start the onboard heating system. (Still March, Seattle evenings tended to plunge into the lower 30's) Horatio still smiled, but more to himself as he stood looking down at her keys, which he toyed with. He looked up as she moved towards the starboard closet to hang up her sweater.
"Here's what I would like to do," he said, a bit hesitantly; but at her look of inquiry he went on. "I need to go to my hotel and gather my things. So I would like to hang on to these for a little longer…" he held her keys up. "I'll lock the cabin behind me and be gone maybe an hour tops. If you are still awake, I'll let you know its me before I come in. Just don't go out of this cabin after I leave. All right?"
Schell thought a moment, then nodded. "Okay," she said moving back towards the galley. "But you might want to make that more like 90 minutes, it's rush hour. Oh…" she started and looked around the kitchenette, "You might want to stop somewhere and get what you like to eat." She inclined her head towards the refrigerator. "Do you like to cook at all?"
It was such a mundane question, but it caused him to pause, then he said a little hesitantly at first, "Yes… yes I do and that is a good suggestion." He smiled at her.
"Then just make yourself at home, galley's all yours. I'll clear those boxes out of the forward bunk, give you a little more room and shift my things out of the port side closet."
"No," Horatio said, "You just go in and get some well deserved rest. I can handle that chore when I get back," he raised his finger at her look of protest. "Besides, it'll give me something to do," he added.
"All right…" she assented. "The computer's all yours to use too, and you're welcome to use the CD player in the cabinet. If you don't mind classical."
"Classical is fine." Horatio said with a soft smile, as he looked down and fingered the pewter sand dollar on her key chain. He shook himself a little and looked back at her. "All right then, I'll be back shortly. I don't think I have to tell you about letting anyone else on board?"
"I'll be good officer, I promise." she said with a mirthful acquiescence. Horatio smirked ever so slightly at her, raised his finger in warning, smiled, and left.
When he returned, holding a sack of groceries, a small black suitcase and a garment bag, he saw she had promptly ignored him. Stacked neatly on the port side bench opposite the table, were her moving boxes. He shook his head, setting the groceries down in the galley. Placing his briefcase on the nav chair, he went and put his garment bag in the closet and saw that she had gone so far as to make up the full size starboard bunk for him to sleep on, leaving a tiny reading light on. He smiled to himself, and paused, looking around the interior of the salon. It was very quiet. Only the muffled sounds of the marina could be heard and he could feel a very gentle rocking of the boat. He stood a while, lost in thought and then made his way to the master bedroom. Her door was ajar, and he paused in the doorway, let his sight adjust to the gloom, and looked in on her.
Schell was completely out, flat on her back, her head tipped away from him. How long he stood there in the doorway he never knew. He just watched her sleep, as a soft but occasionally sad smile touched his lips. She looked... beautiful, an idle part of his mind wondered, studying her face. How long had it been since he had thought that about someone, anyone...?