Thanks again to the ever wonderful KiwiSWfan, Greylostwho, and Freya82. I'd have probably given up without them. So thanks for your faithful reviews.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Monday 29th July
I Got It Bad
"Nikki?" Harry mumbled, his body heavy with sleep.
"Shh! Go back to sleep, I'm just going to the bathroom…"
Harry felt the duvet flap, and the noise of her feet padding across the floor. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn't escape the weight of exhaustion and satisfaction, pulling him into the mattress. Not until he heard the front door click.
Then he was wide awake.
"What have I done?" he called as he jumped out of Leo's bed and tore down the stairs, passed his clothes, but noting that she must have collected hers. There was no sign of her as he opened the front door. It wasn't as if he could run naked onto the street after her. It felt like the middle of the night but on checking the time it was 5:45. Maybe she was just heading home to take a shower before work.
But her shower wasn't working.
Maybe she wanted clean clothes.
She had spares from when she'd stayed over before, and all the items she'd washed in Leo's machine.
He went in search of his phone and some clothes, his body shivering violently despite the mild July temperature. He stared at his phone wondering whether to text or call. What would he say?
"Nikki!" he shouted in frustration, kicking a kitchen chair as he did so with his still bare foot.
The phone went straight to voicemail, so he sent her a text.
"I'm wide awake now! Breakfast?"
Why had she run? It wasn't as if pillow talk was going to be difficult. It wasn't the first time they'd have woken up in the same bed. He thought back to their time together in New York, how uncomplicated it had all seemed then.
He had to talk to her.
He walked in circles around Leo's table. He'd boiled the kettle but got no further. He'd pulled the muesli out of the cupboard but not opened it.
He phoned the office as soon as he thought she'd be there but she didn't pick up, it was Clarissa.
"Hi Clarissa, it's Harry Cunningham, is Nikki in yet?" he said.
"No, I'm sorry she's not." Clarissa replied. "Can I help you?"
"No." Harry stuttered and put the phone down.
This time he got as far as placing a tea bag in his cup but his frantic pacing was halted by a text message. He didn't recognise the number.
"Nikki says 'Out at a scene, phone out of battery, call u later.' Jack."
Harry stumbled back up the stairs and into the bathroom, surprised he wasn't actually sick. His stomach churned more wildly than it had in a long time. He splashed water onto his face and saw the note she had left him propped up on the bathroom mirror. He picked it up and kissed the scrap of paper.
Why hadn't he even considered the possibility that she'd been called out to a scene?
He had it bad.
It was also no real surprise that her phone was out of battery. It's not as if either of them remembered to plug them in before going to bed. It hadn't seemed like a priority at the time.
He tried phoning the office again after half an hour. He spoke to Clarissa again.
"No, she's still not in yet. Can I help you?"
"Maybe you can," he'd said. Now his brain had recovered from the shock of Nikki running out on him, he'd gone back to thinking about the stash or records they had found the previous night.
"You know how you know everything about everything…"
"I've never even met you," Clarissa laughed, "I'm not sure I know everything about everything."
"Yes, but you seem to know how to find out stuff."
"Yes, I do," she admitted.
"If I were to email you a list of old records do you think you could find out if they were valuable or not?"
"What do you mean, old records?"
"Vinyl, seven inch, 12 inch, albums… Those kind of records."
There was a pause.
"I might know someone," she replied.
"Really?" Harry asked. "Is there anything you can't do?"
Clarissa gave a half choked scoffing noise, "You'll find out." She muttered.
"Have you got time, do you mind?" Harry asked.
"Send me the list and I'll see what I can do," she said. "Oh Harry, you still there?"
"Yes, why?"
"Nikki just walked in; do you want to talk to her?"
"How does she look?" Harry asked cryptically.
"Are you asking me if she looks like she's enjoyed a long overdue night of passion with an old colleague?"
Harry blushed scarlet and made strangled noises down the phone but no real words.
"She looks fine, Harry."
"Fine?" Harry asked. He loathed that word.
"More than fine, she looks happy, relieved, better than I've seen her for a long time."
"You're not just making that up to make me feel better?" Harry asked, his insecurities rising again. He wasn't even sure how Clarissa had guessed what was actually worrying him. Maybe she really was that good.
"No wonder it took you this long." Clarissa muttered and then said loudly and pointedly to Nikki. "I've got a Harry Cunningham on the phone for you? Are you here?" She held the phone towards Nikki and wheeled away.
"You alright?" Harry said sheepishly, "You left early."
"Yes, Harry. I'm alright. I was just coming back to bed when I heard the phone go. I tried to leave you a note."
"I know, I found it."
"But not straight way."
"No…" He said, knowing she would read into his answer all that he had thought and felt that morning. "Thanks for getting Jack to send that message."
"You were worried."
Harry snorted into the phone, "Me? No…" again he knew she would pick up on his lie.
"Can I come over later?"
"You don't have to ask, it's your house too."
"That's not what I mean."
"I know."
"Can I?"
"Yes please," Harry said.
I Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good) Nina Simone (Duke Ellington and Paul Francis Webster)
