Chapter 2

When Laura reached the ICU ward, she took a long, deep, steadying breath. With a trembling hand she desperately wished to steady, she pushed into a room filled with a lingering scent of bleach - and death.

As she approached the bed, she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. He was pale, deathly so. And it wasn't as if he had much color to begin with. Not lately anyway. An IV in his arm, tubes in his chest, his neck and his mouth obscured so much of his long, thin frame she felt herself reaching for the reassurance a simple touch of his hand could bring. The skin beneath her fingertips was cold; circulation forced though his body by the whirring of the machines hadn't completely reached the less important extremities.

She clutched his hand in both of hers and stared at his serene face, easily mistaken for simply sleep if it hadn't been for the tube currently breathing for him. The monitors; green and yellow and red lines and numbers blinked and chirped indicating all manner of things she wouldn't understand but found herself trying anyway.

Nurses came in, checked readings and left again. One matronly older woman dragged over a chair and with a kind smile, guided her into it.

"You'll be needin' your strength now. Take a rest. He's not goin' no where."

Mistaking the woman's kindness for a hint that she should wrap up her visit, Laura answered with a firm, "Neither am I."

A knowing smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder made Laura's heart ache. "I know, your Ladyship."

Then Laura was alone again with her thoughts and a litany of might-have-beens. She closed her eyes but was unable to get the image of him lying in a growing pool of blood out of her mind. And when she was finally successful in pushing out the gruesome image, it was only so that it could be replaced by a handsome face riddled with intense pain and a desperate attempt to speak.

She'd placed a finger over his lips in an effort to save him crucial oxygen but alone, amidst the buzz of the machines and the steady whirring of the ventilator, she admitted that it hadn't been solely out of concern. It had been fear. Fear that she knew what he was about to say. She'd seen it in his eyes, in the despairing way they never left her face. He was trying to speak because he didn't think he was going to live.

And she'd stopped him.

Then they'd taken him away.

She closed her eyes against the growing sting and lowered her cheek to their joined hands. Beneath them, the sheet grew damp.

"You can't tell me you love me without giving me the chance to say it back," she whispered through short, stuttering gasps.

Tears leaked from beneath tightly closed eyelids as she felt the tension and adrenaline she'd been running on since the whole ordeal began evaporate. Her breathing evened out and a chilly restless sleep descended like an unexpected dusting of snow on a mid-winters day.

An unknown amount of time later, she woke to Mildred's hand on her shoulder, and a kind, understanding smile on her face.

She sat up and rubbed at her eyes. "They let you in." She wasn't surprised. Not a bit.

"No one keeps out Krebbs."

A little huff of amusement was all Laura could muster as she kept one hand twined with her husband's and swiped at her face with the other.

Mildred dragged up a chair and Laura instantly felt more at ease; the other woman's presence a comfort.

"News is saying Miners were to blame. Some old vendetta against the Chief."

Laura nodded ruefully, not at all surprised. "We foiled a plan they'd hatched to kill the Earl of Claridge. Guess this was their chance to get revenge."

"They're sayin' the shot was fatal, too. I'll be happy to correct 'em." Mildred's eyes glistened with glee at the prospect. "But I didn't want to say anything without talking to you first. I even told the docs they couldn't talk to the press or Krebbs'd tan their hides."

"Thank you," Laura whispered, eyes firmly locked on her husband's face.

"And I sent the Rolls back to the castle with instructions to bring a change of clothes. For both of us."

She exhaled a grateful sigh and squeezed the older woman's hand. "Thank you. I don't think I've said it enough." She was drained. Mentally and physically. "There are so many things I haven't said."

"Don't go there, Mrs. S. Not right now."

"If not now, when?" Laura winced at the harshness in her own voice. Anger had replaced the sadness, shock and fear. Anger at her own unwillingness to tell him how she really felt. Anger at his apparent inability to do the same.

She felt Mildred pat her hand. "He knows, honey. He knows."

Laura swallowed thickly. "I don't think he does. I've never - I've never told him."

"Does he look like a guy who needs words?"

A burst of laughter escaped before she could check it. "Oh Mildred, you don't know how right you are. He said that to me once."

"He did?"

"After that Sensitivity Spa fiasco."

A perplexed look spread across the older woman's face. "But you solved that case." A beat of silence passed. "Didn't you?"

Laura hadn't told Mildred about their fight. There were some things she didn't need to know. "Yes. But not before sniping so much at each other I didn't think we'd ever recover."

"You guys seemed okay when you got back."

Laura recognized the leading comment for what it was but she'd already decided to she needed to talk about that nearly disastrous experience, get it off her chest with someone who would listen silently and not judge. "He took me to the beach."

Mildred wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Yeah?"

Laura slapped gently at Mildred's hand. "Oh stop it. Nothing happened. As much as you," she smiled in warm remembrance, "and he, wanted it to."

There was a lengthy silence before Mildred asked. "So what did happen?"

"We'd said some hurtful things to each other. It was a really bad weekend."

"But turned out all right in the end."

Laura envied the ease with which Mildred saw her world and those who revolved around it.

"Eventually."

"Listen, honey. You don't have to-"

Laura squeezed Mildred's hand. "I think I do." She was grateful for the silence as she gathered her thoughts. This next bit was the hardest for her to admit – out loud. Again.

"I told him I didn't need him in my life if he was going to be afraid to make a commitment."

Out of the corner of her eye, Laura could see the older woman wince.

"He was so mad at me. We had this big, fancy room and he slept on the chaise." Her eyes squeezed shut at the memory. It was so clear, even all these months later. "And I had decided that that was the weekend I'd let go of some of my - inhibitions. I should have known how that would work out. We've never been too lucky in our attempts for some alone time." When she opened her eyes, they were fixed on the ventilator. "But it's me who's been afraid to make a commitment. Not him. He's been here all this time. Wanting. Willing. Waiting."

"I think we all know how willing he's been. You too. On occasion." Mildred's suggestive wink went ignored.

"Oh, willing hasn't been the stumbling block - as he so astutely pointed out as I beat him to a pulp with a bataka." Laura snorted ruefully.

"Sounds – fun?"

"An exercise at the spa." An embarrassed blush tinged her cheeks. "We failed spectacularly. Gave the other couples a good show."

She was grateful when Mildred didn't press for more answers. But she felt compelled to continue. It was therapeutic. In a way.

"He hasn't needed words to show how committed he is to me and the agency. His deeds have been enough."

"That they have," Mildred agreed with a soft smile.

"But my fear of abandonment is just so-" Laura broke off, frustrated. "Ingrained."

She could tell the instant Mildred understood what she hadn't said and was grateful, yet again, for having such a sharp woman at her side. One didn't work so closely in their business and not know a lot of personal details. Mildred probably knew more about her bosses than most secretaries but Laura didn't mind so much. It wasn't as if she had anything to hide.

"Because of your father."

"I don't think I've ever seen him so mad – or hurt. He's nothing like my father and here I was, accusing him of being exactly that. All because I was afraid he would just up and leave one day."

"Like your father."

"And Wilson," Laura confirmed with a reproachful huff. Voiced aloud, it seemed foolish. But she couldn't help the paralyzing fear that gripped her at the thought of it happening again. Especially now. When she was in so deep that it would break her if something happened to take Mr. Steele away. "I had nearly four years proof of his commitment. We didn't work it out until the beach." She shook her head, chuckled a bit at the memory. "He admitted words don't come easily to him. In his line of work, he'd learned to judge a person by their deeds instead."

"Sounds just like him."

"Words are so important to me." She thought about it, glanced at the man lying so still in the bed, "or used to be."

"He knows you love him, honey. You don't have to say the words."

"I've been afraid to." Laura gulped back a sob and glanced at the monitor. It hadn't changed. The blinking numbers still indicated a stable heartbeat. "I can't lose him, Mildred. Not now. Not when everything – it was about to work out."

She leaned heavily on the older woman when short, stubby arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. "You'll be gettin' on with the honeymoon in no time."

This time, when Mildred wiggled her eyebrows in a suggestively dirty manner, Laura let herself smile and imagine that happy future. Because if she didn't, she was going to break down and cry, and she didn't know if she'd be able to stop.

TBC

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