Him

Where are you, my love?

The days in the hospital are one like the other, differing only in who comes to visit. Bud and Harriet. Cresswell with updates from the CIA, that merely say there is nothing new. Jen Coates. Mattie with tears in her eyes. Sturgis wisely keeps away. Meg Hartley with her little daughter could not help herself though. She cried over me. She kept saying she was sorry. She looked genuinely distraught. I would have cursed her out, but Georgie was here and so I only took the two hard candies the child pressed into my palm and thanked her. I wonder whether Meg decided to bring the child along as sort of a shield against me.

That was also the day I tried to get up. My terror over you is ever-present. Every minute I spend lying in the hospital that fear keeps growing inside my chest until it feels like a living beast intent on devouring my heart. I am not allowed to move about without supervision yet. My side is healing slowly, my stitches are not yet out. The head injury resulted in a severe concussion and with my history of blacking out and banging my head, the doctors have every reason to be worried. My brain seems to work at a snail pace, memories get jumbled up from time to time, my head threatened to explode when somebody draws aside the curtains. The dull light of winter seems to be thrusting knives in my eyes. The few times they helped me to the bathroom I was desperately unsteady on my feet.

But after Meg and Georgie finally left, I had enough. I needed to get out. I needed to find you. Somehow. I would only worry about the fact that so far there had been no leads as to your whereabouts, later. For that moment, I just had to sit up. I would find you. I just had to walk over to the door. I knew I could find you. Until my knees gave out under my weight and I collapsed with a howl as I felt the stitches rip along with my skin. I vomited. I felt exhausted. Then I knew nothing.

When I woke up again, I was looking into the sad eyes of my mum.

"My boy," she sighed as she gently caressed my hand, so much bigger and usually stronger than her own. "My poor, sweet boy."

She was the only other person in the world besides you I can allow to see me cry. I sobbed in her arms for thirty minutes.

She and Frank alternate being with me from then on unless they are forced to leave the hospital.


Her

Harm! Are you OK, Harm? I imagine you in a hospital bed, much like I have seen you in it after they fished you out of the Atlantic and wonder who is there to watch over you. I have never wished for wings before, but perhaps it might amuse you that now all I pray for is to sprout a pair and fly to you. Once I even dreamt it, before they forced me awake. Before the reality was thrust upon me again.

Webb is no longer on drugs. Apparently, he has run out even before he got here and naturally there is no supplier on this island. I should have realized his erratic behaviour was a part of the withdrawal symptoms. Since that first day things did indeed gotten worse, as Polarski promised me. Nobody pretends to be friendly anymore. The masks have fallen, useless and now discarded. There is no more of "my dear" and "we want only to help". I am and have always been just a honey stick they needed to lure Webb back home and now they keep waving me in front of him as a trophy they will give to him once he is a good boy again.

Every day is the same. They drag me into the same room as him. Polarski makes him talk and he does. With each day he is more coherent, but he keeps repeating the same things. How he saved me. How he loves me. Then he begs and pleads. And I just sit there and keep silent, no matter how much Polarski tries. At first, they always kept Webb away from me when he inevitably lost his temper, but no more.

I have bruises upon bruises, though he always seems so shocked after he hits me. Thankfully, he mostly only screams.

I think of you. Every minute I think of you. You keep me sane. You keep me strong. Even when I want to give up again when I feel that dreadful lethargy overtaking me again, you are there in my mind to snap me out of it. I cry a lot. I found out it is better than to bottle it all up. I should have just cried more throughout my life, I suppose. Maybe I would have been with you right now if I had.


Him

The doctors finally allowed me out of my room so I asked to visit Keeter. They made me sit in a wheelchair and since Cresswell was just present he was the one who pushed me all the way to see the guy. Jack is still on life-support, but they say he is doing better. He was conscious and actually tried to joke with me. He will be fine, though it seems his career as a field agent is over. His injuries have seen to that.

He is broken up about letting that witch take you away. I think that after me, he is one person in the world who could tear Webb apart with his bare hands next time he sees him.

I dream of you.

I am getting you back.

No matter how.


Her

Polarski is no longer present at my "meeting" with Webb. At least not all of them. They seem to think that my human and Marine morale will kick in when I am the only person with Webb and help him.

And also because watching a person sweat and shiver and go into seizures is not pretty. Sometimes he throws up afterwards.

Sometimes they leave both of us locked in like that for hours.

My internal clock has come back somehow. I don't know whether it is a blessing or a curse. Now I can count literal seconds of being imprisoned and away from you.

Today he recovered from his seizure and looked at me as if he saw me for the first time. Bewildered. Confused. As if he had forgotten everything. For a moment he looked like the Webb we once knew. The one we made fun of but always thought we could rely on. Our friend. Even the man I have left with for Paraguay. It all changed there. I changed. You did. And Webb.

I never should have gone.

The house is quiet. Somebody is coming. They will collect Webb, clean him up, put him to bed. Then they will return for me. Allow me to visit the bathroom. And force me to sit over the sleeping Webb.

"Your presence seems to calm him down," the old witch told me coldly. He sleeps fitfully. He wakes up from time to time. Calls to me. I do not answer, but somehow he knows I am there anyway.

I have not said a word to him still.

I have new bruises.

I think of making love to you. And of those funny pancakes that looked like cows, you made for me the next morning.


Him

Where does one go when they let him out of the hospital but your place no longer exists? Mum and Frank insisted I join them in a hotel, but I am sick of hotels. More than ever I hate Webb for what he did to your place. That is where I would want to go. To be touch things you chose for yourself, to be where you have spent so many years, to sleep where you have slept.

I hope you will laugh when you hear it.

I temporarily live with A.J. Chegwidden.

The man is finally back in town and instead of enjoying a happy reunion with everyone, he is out there harassing every official, agent and politician he knows for favours. He is looking for you.

"I have let her down once. I am not letting her down again," he said. He has had no luck.

Where are you, my love?

I am still healing, but can be on my own again. Visitors keep coming. Meg did not come again. Bud said her kids are back with their dad for a few days so I guess she does not have Georgie to blackmail me with.

We should have had a baby girl by now. With your eyes. Your smile. Your nose. Mini Mac. I would have spoiled her rotten.

I sit on the porch, that same porch where we talked about our feelings for that first time, with your impending wedding to Brumby hanging above our heads. You kissed me here. I kissed you then. After that night I could not touch Renée again. Would you care to know I had to force myself to even take her hand after that night? I kept working late. I was relieved when she had to go out of town. We were over and we both knew it. We just kept holding on because I could not have you and she was not ready to give up. So we kept hurting each other some more.

I hope she is happy.

I hope you are safe.

Be safe, my love.

Be safe.


Her

Harm!

Harm I need you!

I can't do this! I will go mad!

Harm!

Christ! No! No! No!

So much blood! How long does it take to die? How long does it take to die with a bullet in your lungs?

The blood is sticky and hot. So is the gun. So is everything around me.

Death smells sickly sweet, did you know that?

Harm.

I cannot do this.

Harm.

My love...


Him

For the first time, I am going with Chegwidden and finally joining the search. I was going stir crazy already.

Five weeks.

A lifetime.

I throw the jacket on and secure the gun in its holster.

"Where do we start today?" Chegwidden asks. He has nearly run out of acquaintances to threaten and plead for information.

"We go to Meg Hartley," I say. "She was in contact with Webb for a short while, before Mac disappeared. Maybe if she recounts her meetings with him we might get at least a clue where to go next."

I realize this is almost useless. Meg had been questioned by the CIA. She swore she knew nothing. But I am not giving up. I am also still mad at her. I want her to know what she did and I no longer care she did not have the full picture. I would have given it to her but she kept closing her eyes. Chegwidden just nods and we head for his car.

The weather turned icy. The wind bites into my cheeks and frozen snow cruches under my feet.

A car is coming towards us before we even manage to get to our own vehicle. The windows are tinted and the driver is unknown to me. We stiffen, already thinking of our guns. But it is Kershaw who steps out of the car.

And behind him...

I gasp and feel Chegwidden slipping his arm around me to steady me.

I cannot move.

I don't have to anyway.

You rush into my arms with the strength of a storm and suddenly I am sitting on the snowy pavement kissing your face like a madman. My hands are around you, on your shoulders, in your hair, on your waist, on your cheeks, I cannot believe you are here. Are you fine? Are you hurt? Sweetheart, are you injured in any way? But you are laughing and we are both crying at the same time, our tears quickly freezing and I realize fresh snow is falling from the sky.

Kershaw and Chegwidden try to get us into the house.

We do not move.

Let me freeze.

I dare not to disrupt this moment. I am too terrified it is not real.


Her

Hold me.

Hold me.

Hold me.