AN: I realize that it has been awhile since I've last updated and for that, I'm sorry. I know that this chapter is shorter than my usual ones but I hope that it is not a disappointment and that the wait, though long, was at least somewhat worth it.
Thanks for reading!
M
Monday evening found Boris in his office once again. More accurately, he was on the balcony which connected to his office, his blue eyes staring out over the slowly darkening landscape at the guesthouse. Although Boris had believed Hank to be "on the fence" about going back there, he had evidently been wrong as his guest was gone by that evening. Boris hadn't seen him since. Not out of anything petty but simply because shortly after Hank had left, Boris had had to fly to Sweden to meet with a client. When he had arrived at Shadow Pond three hours ago, his first instinct had been to go check on Hank. Dieter had fought him on that plan, stating that it wasn't dignified for him to do so, especially with Edward Lawson still on the property. From Dieter's point of view, the less exposure Boris had to Hank's father, the safer and better things would be for all of them. Boris didn't disagree with his assessment but he also didn't want to force Hank to make his way over to the main house, leaving him to put off his visit until tomorrow when Dieter had assured him that Edward Lawson would not be at the guesthouse.
A crisp knock on his office door announced Dieter. "Come," he answered, granting permission while still remaining on the balcony. It was a beautiful, if chill, night and he didn't want to be inside the empty house just yet.
The sound of uneven footsteps was his first clue that the person who had entered to office wasn't Dieter. Masking his confusion with an expression of indifference, Boris finished off the small portion of brandy and went inside to meet this new and unexpected guest. He stopped just inside the doorway when he noticed that it was Hank standing in front of him.
"Welcome back," his doctor said with a slight smile. The man looked uncomfortable and Boris suspected that it wasn't his slow-healing injuries that made him feel so.
"Thank you," Boris said, returning the smile ever so slightly. "Please, sit," he invited as he motioned to one of the armchairs which sat in the middle of the room. He waited for Hank to do so and then he went and sat in the chair opposite. "What can I do for you, Hank?" He hated that the only times Hank came to see him was when he wanted or needed something (or when he was summoned, for that matter) but he also wasn't sure how to change it as Hank didn't seem to be the type of person to seek out human contact unless there was a purpose for it.
The smallest of blushes rose to his doctor's face and Boris felt his curiosity heightened. Still, he remained silent, patiently waiting for Hank to say what was on his mind. While he waited, he studied the doctor. The bruising on Hank's hand, wrist, and fingers had begun to fade; it was still prevalent but not as much as it had been before he'd left. He still used the crutches - something that Boris remembered Ms. Katdare saying would be necessary for quite a few weeks - but he seemed to find them easier to operate now that his other injuries were healing. The leg was still braced and was currently stretched out in front of him, rather casually at that.
"So, I was wondering if your offer to stay in the main house a little longer was still available?"
Interesting. "May I ask, why the change of mind?"
"Yeah, I thought that I could deal with my dad living with me but every time I see him, my hand gets twitchy. It's probably not a good sign."
Boris wished to know why Edward Lawson provoked such a response from his son but he refrained from asking. He knew that it was personal and he doubted that Hank would actually answer him if he asked. "What sort of room did you have in mind?" he asked instead.
"Nothing grand," he said immediately, probably thinking that he would be a nuisance. "Just something small and out of the way."
"I am not sure that Shadow Pond has a small room, Hank," Boris hedged. His eyes traveled to the injured leg and the crutches. "But perhaps we could do something on the first floor this time."
Hank smiled, making his eyes light up to an almost blue. "Might be a good idea."
oOo
Standing in the suite that would now be his new living quarters for the next couple of weeks, Hank knew that he should have been far more implicit about his qualifications. He wasn't exactly sure how the word 'small' translated into the word 'suite' but this is apparently what Boris heard. In spite of that, the room was nice. Spacious. A part of him wondered if Boris had had a room converted into a bedroom but he decided that it was best not to ask as he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer.
This time in spite of a studio set up where the bedroom and sitting room were all in one place, they were separated with a door and wall in between them. It was still a rather sizable room; both were, actually. The 'living room' portion of it was smaller than the bedroom but it was a rather cozy. The couches looked more comfortable than the previous ones which boded well for Hank being able to get some work done while not being in pain. They sat across from one another with a coffee table in between with an armchair completing the formal rectangle. Hank was almost scared to sit there for fear of spilling something on the white rug that lay beneath them.
"Will this be suitable, Doctor Lawson?" Dieter stood behind him, quietly waiting for Hank's approval or disapproval.
Honestly, Hank wasn't sure how he was supposed to respond. He found it hard to believe how anyone could be unhappy with the room but he also wasn't comfortable with it. It left him feeling more out of place and confused than he had when he'd been Boris' guest before. But since he also didn't want to offend Boris, Hank smiled and said, "It's great. Tell Boris thank you for me."
Dieter bowed but said nothing before he exited. Hank sighed. Now he had to tell his brother and father that he was moving back to the main house. He honestly wasn't sure if he looked forward to the conversation or dreaded it.
oOo
"You're moving?!" Evan exploded, unable to stop himself. Why was it so hard for him to get his brother and father in the same room? "Why?"
"It's just until I'm a bit more mobile," Hank assured. It might have worked had Hank's eyes not slid over to Dad immediately afterwards.
Evan looked over at their father as well, wondering if he'd noticed. Judging by his saddened expression, he had. Seriously, if Hank wasn't already injured, Evan would smack him upside the head! Couldn't he see how his attitude was affecting their father?
"Maybe I should go," Dad suggested. He then proceeded to begin to gather his things together.
"This is crazy, you don't have to go anywhere," Evan objected. When his father continued, Evan went over to stop him. "Dad, stop. You don't have to leave."
"You really don't," Hank supported.
"Clearly I do," their dad returned. "Hank can't even spend a weekend with me."
"It's not that simple," Hank argued, sounding patient but insistent. "I just need some time, okay?"
"Time for what?" Evan argued. His own patience was at the breaking point. "For goodness sake, Hank, what will it take for you to get over this?!"
"Time!" Hank yelled back. Throughout most of the conversation, Hank had stood placidly still, leaning on the crutches for support and leaving his hands free while he talked. Now, his hands clamped onto the handles of the crutches, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping them. In spite of that, he looked tired and guilty. "Look," he said, doing his best to look at both of them. "I'm trying, alright. I just need more time."
"Was that all that you needed us to grab, Doctor Lawson?"
Evan jumped as one of Boris' security team came up behind him. He'd actually forgotten that they had been there which was stupid because how else was Hank supposed to get some of his things, it wasn't exactly like he could climb the stairs that easily. "Dude!" he still objected while spinning around to look at the man, "Can you not sneak up on people?" The guard only blinked. Evan rolled his eyes and looked back at Hank.
"Yes, that's all," his brother said, giving the man a small smile. It didn't last longer than a second but it was there. "Thank you." He looked over at Dad again and gave a brittle smile. "Stay as long as you want, Dad. I'll be at the main house if either of you need anything."
"Henry," Evan said, astounded that this was where he planned on leaving things.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Ev," his brother said. His exit was slow but it held a note of finality that Evan had trouble swallowing.
oOo
Something was happening between the boys. A storm was brewing and Divya was worried that she was about to get stuck in the middle of it all.
oOo
Hank's new room was definitely easier to find. It would also be better for Hank. Since he didn't have a flight or two of stairs to worry about, it would be easier for Hank to be more mobile and he wouldn't feel as confined. When she knocked on the door, she waited for his soft "come in" before she entered. He was sitting on the couch that faced the door with both of his legs on it and his computer in his lap. "Hey, Divya, what's up?"
"So, I just came from the guesthouse where a really upset Evan is about to wear a hole in the floor." His attention snapped towards her and she hesitated for a moment before sitting down in the armchair diagonal from where he sat. "Would you care to tell me why?"
"I don't know," he answered, seeming tired. "I told him that I would talk to him tomorrow."
"Yes, well, he seemed to have forgotten that," she answered, frustrated. Because, yes, she had talked to Evan and he definitely hadn't mentioned that.
Hank sat back against the arm of the couch. "I honestly don't know why he's freaking," he said. "I temporarily moved to a place that was easier for me to move around in."
"He made it sound like you'd decided to move out entirely until your father left."
"Ugh," he said, leaning his head back. "That wasn't what I meant. At all."
"Yes, well, we all know how clear you can be when your angry," she teased with a gentle smile.
He returned the smile, looking a bit shy as well, and added a chuckle to it. "Yeah, well." A pause. "I don't know what it is about my father that makes me so angry."
"Well, I don't suppose him abandoning you, your brother, and your mother had anything to do with it." The corner of his right eye twitched and Divya knew that she had gotten pretty close to the mark. "You need to talk to your father about this," she persisted. "And I mean, really talk to him, not just you yelling at him or both of you simply sitting there."
"Divya," he began but she cut him off with a swipe of your hand.
"I mean it, Hank," she said. "You and your brother aren't going to survive this if you don't."
"Evan and I will be fine," Hank objected, "We always are."
"Hank," she said now with pity in her voice. "Your anger at your father is tearing Evan apart." His attention seemed to sharpen at those words. "Your brother is caught in a war between you and your father, Hank, and unless you attempt to make peace and end it, it will destroy your relationship with Evan."
Divya watched that sink in. He seemed stunned. And sad. She nodded, got up, and gave him a kiss on the forehead. She didn't say anything before she left; she wanted him to think about what she'd said. On her way out, she saw Jill Casey pull up. She thought about delaying the woman, telling her that now was not the right time, but she stopped herself. She had jumped into Hank's personal life enough for one day. This was something that he needed to deal with on his own.
oOo
Jill's heart was racing as she followed Dieter to Hank's room. Part of it was because she wasn't sure that Hank wanted to see her; he'd seemed a bit stand-off-ish when they'd last talked. But another part was being in the main house. Normally Jill wasn't one to let something like money or size intimidate her but as she got to know Hank better, she slowly got to know a bit of Boris as well. Hank hadn't been all to specific most of the time but she had gleaned enough to know a bit of just how dangerous the German could truly be. She worried because, not only was she not here at Hank's invitation, but because she wasn't here at Boris' either.
She smiled when Dieter stopped before an oak door and then left her alone. She tried to calm her heart a little and slow her breathing before she knocked but the mere action of raising her hand to do so made her efforts for naught. After barely hearing Hank tell her to come in, she opened the door, stopping far enough away from it to close it behind her but still close enough so that she could retreat if it was needed.
Surprise overwhelmed Hank's features. "Jill," he said, moving his laptop to the coffee table and then lowering his legs to the ground. The brace over his right knee told her that he hadn't been downplaying his injuries as much as she had originally believed, which was a good thing. "What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd come by and check on you," she said, hoping that she hid how nervous she actually was. Stepping further into the room, she was soon close enough to see faint bruising on his right hand. Had he been in a fight?
Before she could dissuade him otherwise, he stood up and met her halfway. He used the crutches like he was used to them but something inside her hurt because they were necessary. She didn't like that he'd been hurt; more to the point, she didn't like that he'd been injured and that she hadn't been told of it until a couple days after the fact.
"Thank you," he said, though he still seemed…discontented.
When he seemed unsure of what to do or say next, Jill smiled, "Can we sit?"
"Yeah, of course." It was exactly the kind of response she had expected him to give. The words hinted at him thinking that he should have thought of that already but his expression made him look more unhappy than she would have liked. Sure, there had been a time when he wasn't necessarily happy to see her but for the most part, he usually was. So why wasn't he now?
Following behind him, she waited for him to sit down before she took the seat to his right. He shifted, as though uncomfortable with her being so close, but the couch only allowed so much room before one ran into the side so he didn't get far. "How are you doing?" she asked, pivoting so that she could see him better.
"I'm okay," he answered, still a bit fidgety. "Moving around is getting a bit easier and less painful, so that's nice."
"I see that you injured your hand," she said, looking down at the limb which lay fastened to his left hand in his lap.
With her mention of it, Hank let go of his hand and brought it up so that they both could see it a bit easier. It was then that she noticed the brace that was attached to his wrist and she stifled a frown. "Yeah, it was a weird combination of events, but I ended up re-fracturing my wrist and adding a couple of knuckles in the process."
She took his hand gently in hers, careful not to add any undo pressure as she did so, and examined it. "Judging from the pattern of the fading bruising, you didn't fracture your knuckle but your hand," she said as she ran her fingers gently over it. She stopped when she saw him wince and released his hand. "Did you punch someone?"
He eyed her sharply but said, "My father."
His father is in town? When did that happen? Doing her best to hide her surprise Jill changed the subject. "So, what happened to your knee? Unless your father was the cause of that as well."
Hank laughed at that, the sound seeming almost strained, as though he were trying to hide some emotion or other from her. What it was, she didn't know but she didn't like that he was doing it. He was her friend, or so she'd begun to think, and this coldness towards her that she was getting from him stung. "No, uh, a patient of mine became violent."
"So much so that he broke your patella?" she asked, surprised. "Was no one there to stop him?"
His smile got a little bit colder. "They did, it just took them a bit of time to get there."
"Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me everything?" she asked suspiciously.
"Probably because I'm not," he admitted bluntly, though not unkindly. "But since I figure that Evan doesn't know the whole story yet, I probably shouldn't tell you either."
"Why haven't you told Evan?" Hank wasn't what Jill would describe as an open book, but he didn't seem like the kind of person who would keep something like that from his brother. When Hank's lips firmed into a hard line Jill knew that he wasn't going to answer that. She fidgeted for a minute, folding her left leg under her and propping her head up on her left hand. "Can I ask you a question?"
He tried to move so that he could see her better but with his braced knee, he wasn't able to get far. She watched him try a second time before she got up, motioned with her head to make him move to where she was and then sat down in the seat that he'd just vacated, moving back into her previous position just on the opposite side this time. Hank folded his left leg so that he could meet her face to face. His green eyes were serious when he said, "Yeah."
"I feel like you're shutting me out of your life," she said. His brows wrinkled in confusion but he didn't dispute the fact. "I guess I'm just wondering - why?"
"I'm not trying to shut you out, Jill," he said. He moved his left hand far more than he moved his right when he talked, unintentionally showing Jill how much the injured hand was hurting him. Hank had never been the kind of person to not talk with his hands. Every time he spoke, his hands were involved. One could almost say they were violently so but Jill wasn't about to go that far. Still, the fact that he was favoring the injured one meant that he couldn't do what he normally did without causing himself pain. "Things have just been a bit…stressful lately."
Jill's brows furrowed. The way he tripped over the word stressful made her wonder if that was the best way to describe how his life had been as of late. Since she hadn't been around, she didn't know if there had been a better one to use so she didn't call him on it. "Why?" she asked, pushing him to talk to her. "What's been going on, Hank?"
He opened his mouth as though to answer but then shut it again, looking resolute against answering. Something was holding him back. What it was, she didn't know, but something was. She grabbed his left hand, squeezing it as she did so. "Please, Hank. Let me in," she begged.
Pain clouded his face for a second, remaining in his eyes when it had cleared. "I'm sorry, Jill," he said, pulling his hand out of her grasp. "I can't." She was ten seconds from exploding on him or saying something hurtful when he added, "It's too raw for me right now. If I were to start, I don't think I could stop myself from…" he broke off but the tears filling his eyes told her what he wouldn't - he was afraid if he began that he would start crying. While she didn't necessarily care if he cried, Hank obviously did. Something cold crept into his eyes, replacing the hurt and pain that she had seen with something far different - anger. Jill had once heard someone say, "Beware the anger of a good man" and Hank was slowly becoming the epitome of that. He looked away, staring down at the bruising on his hand. "I just can't."
As much as Jill wanted to tell him that she would be there when he was ready to talk, she couldn't. The fact of the matter was that his distance was becoming too painful for her to bear and that she needed a line to be drawn so that she knew where they stood. She licked her lips, almost dreading the answer he would give to her upcoming question. "Hank, I need to know what we are," she said. He looked confused so she clarified, "Are we friends? Are we colleagues? Or, are we more?"
Understanding came into his eyes. "You tell me," he said, clearly hedging whatever answer he gave so that it would match hers.
And that made her pause because, while she wanted a definitive answer from him, Jill wasn't sure that she could give him one. A part of her kept whispering that she shouldn't have given up on Charlie so quickly and another part kept saying that she shouldn't have even allowed that cretin to come back into her life. But a third part was simply too tired to care about either man and was simply done with men for the moment. It was that one that she listened to. "I think that we should be colleagues," she answered, feeling a bit bad when she saw disappointment cross his face. "I'm sorry," she added, "but if you can't even tell me what's been going on in your life the past week or so, I don't think that we should be anything more than that."
Resolve straightened his spine and made his jaw clench. She knew that he had taken that as some sort of passive-aggressive pass at him and, though that hadn't been what she'd intended, she didn't correct him either. Instead, she nodded and got up. "This doesn't mean that I'll treat you any different than I would anyone else," she promised, "But I also can't do you any favors."
Hank joined her in standing, looking unsteady until he grabbed the crutches to help give him balance. "I understand," he said and Jill felt tears in her eyes when she heard how distant he was already being with her. "I'll walk you out."
"That's okay," she denied, holding up a hand to stop him from moving. "I know the way and you shouldn't try to push your wrist too hard." He continued standing but didn't move otherwise. She smiled, stepped forward and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye Hank," she said when she'd stepped far enough away that he wouldn't be able to reach her without effort and speed.
Hank smiled so slightly that she wasn't even sure that it was there. Honestly, Jill thought that he looked…sad. She almost thought that it was devastated but she soon downgraded it because it wasn't quite that. "Bye Jill."
She turned her back on him before he could see her begin to cry. Holding her head high, Jill walked out of Shadow Pond and to her car. It had such a feeling of finality to it that she only wept more. Things with Hank had ended before they'd truly begun but she wouldn't wait around for a man who couldn't seem to let her in even a little. As she drove away she had the fleeting thought of how any woman could get so far as to get engaged with him when she couldn't even get past the second date. It flew away with the wind as she rolled her window down. It didn't matter now. Things were over.
TBC