Heather finally opens up to Herbert about Emily, and there's more of the hot-blooded detective on the trail. And a surprise I won't spoil but SHOULD be obvious. ;D

Chapter Sixteen

Proposals and Interrogations

Heather was tossing and turning in the bed by the time Herbert came back; he'd awakened with a terrible thirst in the middle of the night after realizing that the wine did not settle his hydration long-lasting, and went to get some water, coming back only to find her screaming and turning side to side in her sleep. At first, he caught nonsensical phrases, before finally catching one he knew all too well:

"Emily! No, Emily...don't go...come back..."

She's still dreaming about her sister, he realized, hurrying over and climbing on top of her, pinning her body down to stop her from convulsing in her night terrors, grabbing both her wrists in his hands and pinning them on either side of her head as he leaned down into her face. "Heather! Heather, please! Wake up! Wake up; it's only a dream!" None of it worked, so he did the one responsible, risky act in leaning down to kiss her, praying it would snap her out of it. Nothing else did, and this was the last attempt. After a few moments, Heather finally stopped struggling and woke to his mouth on hers. She returned the kiss tenderly at first, and then desperately, wanting to make sure she wasn't in her nightmare any longer.

Herbert drew his head back to answer her. "You're here. You're all right," he told her, breathlessly, staring into her eyes for a few more seconds before feeling her body still quivering. A tremendous sadness overcame him as he let her go, slid backwards and allowed her to sit up and fold her arms across her chest, trying to control her breathing. He hated seeing her like this, but he did not know how to ask her about her...nightmare.

"I thought they'd stopped," she said after a while, shaking her head. "But I think tonight brought them back."

"The memory of your sister." She nodded.

"That thing...smashed her head into the wall. Her blood splattered all over the place." Her voice was strained as though trying not to cry. Hearing that as well as her finally telling him about her sister made his heart wrench; he felt guilty now and hated it. "I held her in my arms when the police came in and shot it down; her last words..." Her lips quivered. "...she begged me not to let her go, but I couldn't, as much as I wanted to. And I tried performing CPR until I was torn away in time for paramedics to take her away. They told me it was too late, and I just screamed over and over that I wanted to bring her back to life, but..."

She wailed in despair and threw herself into his arms. He held her, massaging her back gently to calm her cries. As hard as he was trying to understand her and sympathize, he was still a man who didn't understand women, but she needed him to; why else would she be talking to him, or trying to? "Your parents were no better help, were they?" He remembered vividly her parents ignoring her since then, and Dan was the only friend she had after that. Heather lifted her head but didn't look at him directly; she rested her cheek against his chest, her words blubbering out of her mouth now.

"M-my p-p-p-parents...they were gone when she died. Dad was a doctor, and he was away on a business meeting, and Mom had to go along with him and leave Emily in charge. When they came home, they said it was my fault. They said, 'You failed her, Heather. You were supposed to call the police before it happened.' But how was I supposed to when that monster was stronger and faster, and could have killed me, too? And Bianca, my old friend, had gotten away enough to get the cops in time...but not in time for her." She wasn't crying anymore, but she still held onto him, and Herbert's arms around her tightened with the pain he shared with her. He felt closer to her more than ever now that, despite being different people but both being whom they loved most, they lost someone who drove them to the goal they aimed for. And he silently thanked Dan for making her into the woman she was now, but he was also beyond furious with the two other people who were supposed to love her and protect her, still acknowledge her despite losing one child. But that is too much for someone who had two to begin with. He never knew his parents, but Heather's were bad examples enough to know.

He smiled to himself when he thought back to the other couple across the hall outside. Those two were perfect examples, and their son was a remarkable lad, making him wonder how it would be to raise one of his own. But that would mean keeping it as far as possible from the experiments. He'd never been around children at all in his life, not since he was that age, so he'd nearly forgotten what it was like to be one himself.

The thought alone brought him to what he had on himself all this time, that no one – not even the Warden when he first came to the prison – ever knew he had. He did a fine job, if he said so himself, keeping it a secret all these years. But that would have to wait just a little bit longer because of the girl who needed him more than ever. He gently grasped her forearms and pried her from him, holding her at arm's length so he looked at her face. Her cheeks and lips were puffy from crying, eyes red-rimmed, tear stains drying on her skin. "They never should have left you alone," he said, his anger seeping into his words from his body, "nor should they have blamed you for it. You tried to save her, as I tried to save Gruber all those years ago. Your parents were ignorant fools who failed to see you and your potential, and I wouldn't be surprised if your father, the 'great physician' –" he spat, "– that he is, wouldn't have gone with you on the idea of conquering death."

Heather shook her head. "He didn't. I brought the idea up when I was about fourteen or fifteen, and he cruelly laughed it off. Said that every doctor who tried failed, so he told me I would if I tried myself."

"Heather Phillips, hear me out. You didn't fail. You found it, only you didn't do it alone. The time is now to let go of the past for the sake of your future. I did that, so it's time you did the same." He brought his hand up and rested it on her cheek; she moved her face into it and kissed his hand, sensations sizzling afterwards that he had to tear it away before her disappointed eyes. I need to ask her now before I lose it. With that thought, he stood up and hurried over to the top drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the black velvet drawstring bag Hans gave him years before when the subject of love first came up.

Heather stared at it, baffled at the sudden change of subject. "What is that?"

"Something I've been wanting to ask you long enough," he stated, dumping the contents into his hand. Her eyes lit up then, her jaw dropping. Both wedding bands were sleek sterling silver, varied in size, and the woman's engagement ring had a deep blue sapphire surrounded by emeralds in a serene green hue. "My mother's and father's that Dr. Gruber passed down to me, said they wanted me to have them," he said, unsure of how to do this, and he wasn't a romantic man. He was speaking the truth as it was. "Heather, I love you because you are my partner in everything, and if you'll have me, I want to spend my life with you as long as we both shall live." He watched her, waiting for her answer with trepidation, wondering if he would regret it from now on if she refused.

She gave no verbal answer, just leaned up and kissed him full, long and passionately on his lips, and his worries washed away. Herbert West laughed with uncontrollable happiness as he gathered her into his arms, her legs straddling him as she put her hands on his shoulders and deepened more kisses that followed.

~o~

I'm engaged...I can't believe it. I'm engaged; I'm getting married! Heather felt like she was on cloud nine almost the whole day at Boston General as she went through with Dan, but she kept it to herself for now. Especially after last night involving the death of a colleague and the deception of another, who had not called in and the administrator was doing numerous times until finally he gave up and asked Dan to take over his patients for him. That meant no word yet from Moreland, not around the hospital or anywhere outside, not even anymore deaths on the television other than the one reported last night. The suburbs had been the scene of a terrible killing broadcasted, but the grisly details in photography were blurred out for those who had a soft stomach as well as for younger audiences.

Both she and her last patient for the day saw it still playing on the news; Julie White was sixteen years old, and her case was an unplanned pregnancy as the result of unsafe sexual intercourse. Should have used a condom or at least got yourself on birth control. But she was supposed to be the loving doctor who encouraged, not criticized, so she'd kept her mouth shut on that part and instead did the usual physical examination before performing an ultrasound. Julie was eight weeks along, and so far, the baby was doing well in development. She hadn't decided if she wanted to keep the baby or not purely out of Heather's advice: "If you choose to decide to put the baby up for adoption, you will never stop thinking about it and regret it. But if you decide to keep the baby, it will break the hearts of the people who were planning to adopt it. I would suggest waiting until after the birth to decide."

Dressed in a blue turtleneck and her work pants, she stood and escorted Julie out the door, bidding her a good day but inwardly praying both she and the baby would make it through all this trouble. Doing this, she fingered her necklace out of nervous habit for silly reasons. Relax, we'll find him soon, girl. Herbert is flawed in this, but he always fixes it. Remember that you also own the mistake, too, and fix it.

"Heather Phillips?"

Her head snapped to attention to her right to see the person who spoke her name, and froze in her tracks. Oh, shit...oh, shit, oh God, no. This can't be happening. Detective Miranda Chapham stood right there, lips in a no-smiles line, dark hair in a bun. "Oh, yes. Dr. Phillips." She smiled and extended her hand, but the older woman did not take it, instead chose to walk past it, setting her off. "Excuse me, but is there a problem?"

Chapham whipped her head around with the grace of a vermin and narrowed her eyes. "Manners, young lady. I came here to ask you and Dr. Cain some questions about last night."

Heather nodded and led her the way into her office. "Oh, yes, last night with the girl. It's terrible, and he told me he was there. But sadly, I don't know when Dr. Cain will be here –" She was interrupted by a knock on the opened door, and there stood Dan, his face schooled perfect into a face devoid of surprise at seeing the woman from last night here. "Oh, never mind, here he is."

Chapham stared at her. "I can see that," she stated plainly before turning back to Dan and finally smiling, though it was forced. "Dr. Cain, good to see you again."

"Detective Chapham," he answered, stepping in and closing the door behind him. "What can we do for you?"

"Well, I'd love to ask you both about last night...and a couple other things, too." Chapham seated herself down in the black chair reserved for patients and visitors, crossing one leg over the other. "I believe you know what's among the 'other things', don't you?" Her smile had taken on a chilling tone that Heather felt her bones shake when she sat down at her desk.

Dan shook his head innocently. "No, ma'am," he lied, but she saw right through it. Her smile faded and became one not at all different from Warden Brando.

"Oh, come now, Doctor. By my last name, you must have figured I'm related to the late Lt. Leslie Chapham of the Arkham Police Department."

Heather chewed her lip nervously, finding it hard to keep it hidden from this inquisitive female. Dan was getting there, too. "Kind of did. But how?" Dan, keep yourself together. You're going to blow it soon. But she was finding it hard on her part to keep herself together under the detective's piercing gaze.

"He was my father. Not that any of the details are of your concern. The point of my being here is because of my simple curiosity." Oh, simple curiosity, is it? "Dr. Cain, the moment I heard your name, I remembered from long ago a certain massacre at the Miskatonic University morgue. Involving you and your old colleague, Dr. Herbert West, whom you were in a partnership with involving some morbid scientific experiments with..." She put her finger to her left temple as an act of show, feigning an attempt to remember. "...re-animation of the dead. But so many lives were taken in the mess, including that of the dean, his daughter, and Dr. Carl Hill."

"None of which was all my doing, Detective." Dan's defenses were raised now, and he walked around so he stood beside Heather's desk, his "nice guy" face slowly dwindling to become almost like Herbert. "West is in prison now, from what I still understand, so I don't understand what other point there is to be here."

She laughed. "Well, then, I suppose you haven't heard about the riot at the Arkham State Prison last month. Countless mutilated corpses – both guards and prisoners, including the last Warden himself – and even though we haven't found any escapes, we also did not find the body of Herbert West. He was pronounced dead, but now last night, a body was found and mauled in an unnatural way. It begs the question about you and your past, Doctor." Her eyes glittered maliciously, sure of herself that she was catching up. Oh, she was, but neither Heather nor Dan would let her.

"No, I have not," he lied again, but Chapham still would not back down.

"That leaves you, Dr. Phillips, to know the answer yes since you were present. Is there any light you can shed on this?"

Heather decided enough was enough in order to protect those she loved. Standing from behind her desk, she spoke colder than the North Pole's temperatures. "Detective, that case is closed and the prison is back on track. A new Warden has taken over, and I am no longer the doctor there. And in answer to your question about Dr. Herbert West, he was my assistant in the infirmary because I requested due to his impressive medical background."

"But he committed acts of insanity, murder and against God –" Oh, she really wanted to go there! The nerve! She clenched her fists so hard she thought her nails would pierce and draw blood.

"Dare you bring God in again," Heather hissed furiously, getting a nasty look from the older woman, "and get us back to the point." She had never been this angry before, nor had she ever defended someone else so valiantly, but the fire in her blood was getting higher than a house heater. "I did not see West again during the riot, and I didn't see his body either. There was no evidence of any escape as well as no warning to the world of him being on the loose, if that is what you're implying, so I don't see the point of you being here and asking any of this if neither of us know anything, and that the case is closed as I have stated." She narrowed her eyes with the obvious truth forming on its own. "You're conducting this investigation about the massacre at the penitentiary and the college morgue behind the backs of the rest of the force."

Her bold statement drove Chapham to rise to both her feet and take two slow, deliberate steps forward until she was leaning over Heather, her dark eyes dueling with Heather's light blue ones. "Tread that question of yours with care, Doctor. West was responsible for what happened to not only important authority figures of his, not only to others' dead bodies, but also to both of my parents. I might not have gotten along with my father, and he may have beaten my mother to death, but neither deserved it. The prison was ravaged uncontrollably, and an innocent civilian died last night, so I won't rest until this is all put to an end." She was leaning in by then, and Heather slowly felt herself shrinking under pressure until Dan's strong, comforting hand was on her shoulder and drew her away.

"Thank you, Detective. I think that will be all if you have no more questions for us," he said smoothly.

"Indeed, I'm finished. And I'll let myself out." She fixed her jacket and made her way for the door, pausing to turn back and fix them with one last warning on her face, silently telling them that she would be watching them both. She didn't close the door behind her, so Heather did it herself, peeking out the crack to watch as Detective Chapham vanished down the hall, shutting it tight and pressing her back to it, exhaling loud and deep with relief. But not for long.

~o~

"Oh, God in heaven, who does that horrid woman think she is?" Heather threw her head forward once and then back, the back of her skull hitting the door, making Dan laugh.

"Please, don't give yourself brain damage."

She shook her head. "Sorry." She walked around him and sat back down behind her desk. "I just thought we were careful to get away from Arkham for good, that's all. I thought moving here would be better."

Dan shook his head, too. "In my experience, nothing with Herbert West is easy, and with him is never normal." He sat down where that insufferable woman was, right in front of her, crossing a leg over the other like she'd done. "She's so much like her father."

Heather picked up her pen from the corner of her desk and began to write something down on the latest case of her last patient. "What was her father like?" she asked, sounding like she wanted to change this topic and soon, but at the same time, she wanted to know. Out of habit, Dan picked at the end of the left armrest of the chair, the leather having been worn from years of use.

"He was a nosy son of a bitch, knew better than anyone else the case of the Miskatonic morgue wasn't closed, that it had to do with his wife who was among the corpses Hill brought back. He beat her to death and tried covering it up that she fell, but Herbert knew better, and besides that fact, he killed Chapham out of self-defense the night he broke into our house and the lab, brought him back despite me knowing exactly what would happen." He had been looking down at his lap the whole time, then found it in him to gaze at Heather's rapt face. "He killed Francesca's dog and almost did it to her before he got away, before we could get him. But he returned the next night with the others in the Sefton ward; they cornered us – West, me, Francesca, and our creation who had Meg's heart – in the lab adjacent to the neighboring crypt, where it all brought me and Francesca to you," he finished with a little smile.

She returned the smile. "And brought me to Herbert."

He noted her tone of voice, as if thinking about him took her to a much higher place than now. "Should I ask if it's official between you two?"

Her sweet face had taken on a mask of uncertainty. "Uh...I wasn't going to tell you so soon, since last night, but..." She paused right there, the bob in her neck visible as she swallowed, pondering how to get it out. "Herbert proposed to me," she said at last.

Dan dropped his jaw. Of all things, he hadn't expected that. He had no idea how to take this in, either. "S-s-seriously? You two –?"

"Yes." She nodded brief and once. "We're getting married, but we haven't set a date just yet." She reached down, shoved her lab coat aside and pulled something out; actually, it was now on her left hand, on that finger. Emeralds surrounded the middle stone, which was a rich, oval-shaped sapphire. "It was his mother's," she told him, holding her hand out for him to see.

Dan had to admit, as he took her small hand into his, he admired the impressive detail, which was a balance between romance and luxury. Something old, something blue. "Guess the old say 'something borrowed, something blue' couldn't have been more true," he said. "But, Heather, are you sure about this? This is a really big deal."

"I am sure of it," she insisted, but he wasn't finished. He knew all of this from experience, and marrying with haste also meant divorcing with haste, with most couples who did. Including those who partied in Vegas and got drunk, married in eight hours. But that was beside the point.

"You have to be sure that you're fully committed to him. This...lifestyle you live with him...suppose something happened soon to either of you, or the both of you, as well as any children you guys might have." Her hand turned onto him and grasped him in her hold instead, firm and reassuring. Her other came to join its companion, cupping his hand in hers.

"Daniel, I know for sure he's mine, and I'm his. We've gotten to know each other in a short amount of time, and I know we'll be fine. We'll get through all of this together." She let him go, stood up and walked around to throw her arms around his neck. He hadn't expected her to do that, so he was surprised. Laughing, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She drew her head back to whisper in his ear.

"Dan, you're my best friend in the world. You and Fran. You were always there for me, and I want you guys to be there for us both through this mess and this happiest day of our lives."

His heart leaped with inexpressible joy, accepting a kiss on the cheek and returning it to her. "How can I say no?"

~o~

Now that she was engaged, she was now picturing how the big day would turn out. If she imagined her wedding, it would be small and intimate, outdoors and romantic. She wouldn't want very many guests, and besides, she and Herbert could always have a renewal someday if possible. But right now, she was more than ready to tie the knot with Herbert as soon as possible.

"How fast are we talking?" Francesca asked her, four days later, as they strolled the streets of Boston in search of an ideal wedding dress. She was a blazing sensation in her red-and-white floral dress, her jewelry crystalline, and her hair wild; Heather, however, chose to remain in her secondary blue turtleneck and khaki pants from work, feeling comfortable enough to not change. Dan had remained at home with Herbert, both of them at work. Men at work while the women go out and have fun, Heather thought with a little laugh. They came across Diana's Bridal, one of the few nearest ones in Boston, housing more than enough exquisites in the town. Heather was partly overwhelmed, because who got engaged in a day and immediately went on the hunt for a wedding dress?

"At least two, three weeks."

Francesca gasped. "So soon?"

"We know what we're doing, Fran," Heather assured her, being the first one in, and they were greeted by an older but still lovely woman in black, her soft blonde hair cropped short, and multiple strands of pearls around her neck.

"Hi, you must be Heather," she greeted in a chirpy voice. Just what she needed. "I'm Camilla."

"Nice to meet you," Heather answered. "This is Francesca, a very dear friend of mine." The Italian responded to her with a handshake and a short phrase in her native language that the consultant didn't understand exactly but knew it was a greeting.

"Nobody else, not even family?" Camilla questioned, frowning slightly.

"My parents and I aren't close, and that's just the way it has to be," Heather responded, the half-truth settling in without any worries. "We're having a small, intimate wedding outdoors, and it will be outside the courthouse, whereas the reception will be small and in the courthouse ballroom," she explained, having discussed no place better than that with Dan and Francesca. "It won't be a big party exactly, just enough for my fiancé and I to start the first day of the rest of our lives together." She then held up her engagement ring, having once been his mother's – the mother-in-law she would never know – for Camilla to see. "This was his mother's, passed down to me."

Her eyes flashed with impression as she took Heather's hand in hers. "Oh, that is so pretty and unique. He must be one lucky guy."

"He is," Heather answered, turning to Francesca and receiving a wink. "We've gone through a lot in our time together, but we've made it so far."

"That sounds like you two will last forever." Her consultant made it sound like an ideal fairytale, but Heather thought it far from that. "So, is there a specific style in mind?"

"Definitely elegant, vintage and classic. I don't want anything too lavish and over-the-top, just intimate and romantic. And I still wanna show off my body."

"She needs to show some curves," Francesca teased, making them both laugh. "Like my mama used to tell me, 'if you got it, flaunt it.'"

Camilla went right to work in helping her pick out a few samples; the budget had to be a thousand to fifteen-hundred, no over. Heather was paying for her dress herself, but just because she was making through her field fine, it didn't make her rich. It took years for a doctor to be that rich. Why am I thinking this? Money's never been a problem for me.

However, the moment Heather was in her first, it didn't exactly impress. Sure, it was sweet yet grand, sheathed satin overlaid with lavish beading and had a single, fluttering left sleeve. But Heather thought the single sleeve would bother her the whole time, so this one was rejected. Francesca agreed with her. "It's not you, and Dan would think so."

"Dan?" Camilla questioned.

"My husband," Francesca answered. "We've been married nine years now, and we have a five-year-old son." She giggled when she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet, showing the family picture in the front. Camilla gushed at the adorable little one and the lovely couple before helping Heather into the next pick.

"I know you said you didn't want anything overtly done, Heather," she explained as she laced up the back, and Heather was already scrutinizing it, "but this will help make a grand statement at your once-in-a-lifetime show. Perhaps you'll change your mind?"

Taking in the deep sweetheart neck and ruched bodice, as well as the many layers and ruffles of tulle finished with a crystal belt, Heather shook her head. "I don't really like ballgowns; I feel like a child again. This is something you'd wear," she told Francesca in the mirror.

She nodded. "You're absolutely right."

By the third time...turned out the superstition "third time's the charm" couldn't have been more true. Heather felt her heart skip beats when she looked at herself in the mirror in this particular dress. Oh, my...God...I think this is it. I think I can see myself in this. It wasn't too grand, but it wasn't too simple either. It was a classic slim A-line with stunning ivory lace appliques over soft champagne gold for an antique look and feel, the illusion lace sleeves three-quarters long, and the V-neckline which plunged low to show the right amount of her chest was adorned with crystals. "Oh, Fran, I think..."

"I think so, too," Francesca whispered, out of breath. "It's wonderful...reminds me almost of myself."

"Except this isn't as extravagant as yours was," Heather corrected.

"You're right."

This one's me. It's antique, romantic, and classic. Years from now, I'll look back to the fond memory of it.

However, by the time she and Francesca were leaving the store with the dress in the garment bag and over her shoulder, they heard the newspaper boy down the street and his call of the latest headline.

"The Boston Times: Doctors Eric Moreland and Leslie Coburn missing for four days! Police have no leads or evidence of kidnappings!" The paper itself read the same headline: BOSTON DOCTORS STILL MISSING.

"Search for the renowned surgeon Dr. Eric Moreland and ex-wife, Dr. Leslie Coburn, enters the fourth day," Francesca whispered, catching the smaller cased, bold-print title beneath. Heather's spine caught a chill when she thought of the last two bodies that had been discovered near the cemetery: a teenage couple who had snuck away from their parents' house for a late-night rendezvous, only the morning before yesterday. If this was the pattern, no matter the amount of bodies, then that meant she and the group had to hurry and act quick while still trying to evade a certain prying police detective on their hides.

Heather and Herbert are engaged! :D And Heather's wedding dress appointment was inspired by one of my favorite shows, "Say Yes to the Dress".