Free to Love: A Second Chance Romance

by Cabe Sparrow

  His vision was a little fuzzy again and he regretted denying medical attention earlier. Yet it was only for a moment, because his eyes quickly turned to the revolving doors and he remembered that Natalie was far worse off than he was, and a little headache shouldn't be such a bother. He thought that if he just sat down for a second, it would go away.

  However, before he could find his way to a chair, sweet relief for his unsteady frame, a hand on his shoulder jerked him around, pressing him back against the wall. It sent another wave of nausea through his system, and this time when Harper looked at him, even though he was only inches away, Turner couldn't make out the details of his face.

  Turner blinked a few times, but his vision only grew more muddled, unclear. Panic started to set in, and instead of pushing Sam away, he tried to steady himself by leaning on Harper's frame. Whatever threat or insult the detective had planned didn’t come as Turner gripped onto his shoulder.

  "Hey Turner, you alright?" He asked, his voice seeming a million miles away.

  The pounding in his head intensified as Turner tried to contain the bile that was slowly making its way up. His mouth felt dry and his limbs finally gave out as he felt for the arm of the chair and slumped down onto it.

  The temperature around him rose, as small beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. He felt them, but couldn't reach up to wipe them away, too tired. He desperately wanted to close his eyes, give into the exhaustion, and just slip into unconsciousness to make this pain go away.

  Harper continued to shake him, slapping his cheek lightly, trying to keep him alert, but Turner couldn't feel anything anymore. The numbness he so desperately wanted earlier had finally taken over, paralyzing his limbs, though not staving off the ache.

  He could barely move his head, but out of the corner of his eye, Turner saw Rodrigues shouting something at the nurse's station. Cranston knelt down beside him, hand on his shoulder as she said something to him, but it was indistinct, as if she was shouting from a distance. He gave her a small smile, wanted to compliment her on her show of defiance earlier, but his tongue felt heavy. He couldn't form the words.

  Suddenly, he was being pulled away by someone, perhaps one of the nurses who were previously staring at him with sympathetic eyes, but he couldn't be sure. Whoever it was, was inches away from him, hands probing, asking him questions he couldn't answer because he couldn't hear. Voices faded into the background as he finally gave into the exhaustion, eyelids falling shut.

  There was indistinct chatter around him, movement, someone touching him, but the delicious numbness spread through his body quicker than he expected and pretty soon he felt nothing. He heard, tasted, and smelled nothing.

  He was back to hours ago.

  Back to the waiting room, back to watching the doors swing back and forth as he wondered if Natalie would be okay, but this time there was no panic, no anxiety, just warmth and stability. He felt the imprint of her cross in his hand, and even though the actual necklace wasn't in his grasp anymore, he didn’t panic, because he knows she would be alright.

  She'll be just fine.

  And he will be too.

  He just needs to rest his eyes for a little bit. That's all.

  Chapter 24

  "God, how could you be so stupid? The guy had a knife on him, Turner, a knife. Did you not realize that?"

  They were in the car, driving back from a crime scene, where her stubborn advisor decided he was impervious to a knife and tried to talk down a distressed suspect high on meth from the ledge of the balcony, while said suspect held the knife to Turner's neck.

  She was so angry, her knuckles were bone white from being wrapped around the wheel so tightly. She wouldn’t look at him, refused to note his facial expression, which would no doubt be as nonchalant and infuriatingly arrogant as ever.

  There was also the little problem that the depths of his eyes would draw her in until she was no longer upset, no longer indignant about his utter lack of self-preservation, and she couldn't have that, because he needed to learn his lesson. He needed to understand that there were consequences, ramifications to his spontaneous and utterly ridiculous decisions.

  They pulled up to a red light and she relaxed for a moment, still staring straight ahead even though Turner hadn't said anything, which was unusual. However, her resolve wouldn't let her turn and look at him. Besides, knowing Turner, he probably expected her to and was trying to lure her with his silence.

  She opened her mouth to give him another piece of her mind, when all of a sudden a very pale and cold hand wrapped around her wrist. Something sank in her stomach, tightening into a coil of fear, reminiscent of the emotion she tried to ignore when she saw the knife poised at Turner's neck earlier and she slowly turned her head, afraid of what she would see.

  Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight of her advisor, slumped against the window, breathing heavily as he clutched his thigh where a steady crimson stream was staining his dark gray slacks. Turner's blood.

  Oh God.

  Watson registered nothing beyond that. Something didn’t feel right, but she ignored it, concentrating on getting Turner to the hospital instead of wondering where the cut came from, why she hadn't seen it before, and why Turner neglected to mention it.

  She stepped on the gas, even though the light was still red and willed the car to go forward, but it didn’t. She checked the pedal again but it refused to budge; slamming the wheel in frustration, she cursed at the SUV for failing on her.

  Tears blurred her vision unexpectedly as her heartbeat escalated. The pounding in her head wouldn't abate and suddenly, she didn’t feel good herself. However, even through the dizziness, she reacted quickly.

  "Hold on, there's a first aid kit somewhere here and I'm going to call 911, everything will be okay."

  Turner didn’t seem to hear her, so she leaned over, unable to resist running her hand through his curls. His eyes met hers and a shiver ran through her, leaving her cold and helpless. He had already given up.

  "There isn't enough time," he said quietly, but it resonated deep within her, words twisting around her heart like a snake, ready to squeeze the life out of her.

  She was so stunned by his reply that she didn’t realize he opened the car door, until he was already halfway out.

  "Turner, Eric, where are you going?"

  The desperation in her voice was unmistakable, but Turner didn’t react. Instead, he got out of the car, wincing noticeably in pain, and shut the door, pressing his hand against the glass.

  He said something, but she couldn't hear him, and then he was walking away and she was calling for him, voice hoarse, body refusing to move. She was numb all over; limbs weighed down by an invisible force and all she could do was close her eyes and pray.

  Tears slipped from beneath her eyelids as her fingers crept to her neck, desperate for some stability, for hope.

  But her neck was bare.

  Suddenly, her panic was amplified.

  Where was her cross?

  Her fingers searched frantically, nails scratching across the pale skin of her throat.

  She never took the piece of jewelry off, not even when she was sleeping, because it's been with her through everything, a constant source of resilience and comfort, a protection that was unexplainable but very strong; something that made her feel safe.

  Now that feeling had disappeared along with her necklace and the ache in her chest threatened to consume her. She couldn't wrap her mind around what had just happened. The day started out normally enough and now she was in her stalled car, alone, no Turner, no cross, nothing to make her feel safe, nothing to make her keep moving forward.

  Her throat grew incredibly dry, as she realized her hand was wet with blood, Turner's blood... Oh, God.

  Flashes of Turner smiling, Turner kissing her, Turner holding her morphed into the lasting image of Turner hurt, Turner silently saying goodbye, his naturally vibrant eyes sunken, hollow, devoid of life. It cut her deeply, made her shake with unbid
den sobs. Bitterness seeped in, numbing her again, until she couldn't feel a thing, not even her own fingers as she clawed at her neck in hopes of finding that elusive strength that kept her going all these years.

  Her own voice seemed miles away even as she called for Turner again, though she knew he was too far away to hear her...

  As per the doctor's instructions, she was supposed to wake up on her own, but watching her thrash around like that, tears escaping past fluttering eyelashes as she whispered Turner's name was almost too much to bear, even for the normally composed and difficult to faze analyst.

  So after checking that no one was about to come in, Ng put his latest novel down, and leaned over his boss, hand lightly prodding her shoulder.

  The motion didn’t do much, except make her jerk even more violently, and Ng feared she was going to rip her stitches, so he gave her a rougher shake. Though he was anticipating it, Watson fingers wrapping around his wrist was somewhat of a shock, her panicked eyes connecting with his as recognition fills her gaze.

  He has never seen her look so disoriented, so emotionally overwhelmed, but her warm breath was grazing his knuckles, and he could feel the beat of her heart beneath his palm, and everything else seemed almost irrelevant at that point, because she was alive. He was not going to deny that ever since Turner's call earlier that morning, he had needed the reassurance of seeing Watson awake to confirm she wasn't going anywhere.

  Despite her worried gaze and Turner's name falling from her lips again, Ng managed a small smile and replied to her anxious inquiry.

  "Turner is okay. He's in another room though, being examined."

  He didn’t miss the flash of fear and confusion that slowly morphed into realization as Watson struggled to sit up. She didn’t ask for an explanation, but Ng continued, understanding by the look in her eye what she needed to know but could not ask yet.

  "He suffered a severe concussion, which was only exacerbated by his resistance to medical attention."

  He picked up a carafe by Watson's bed and poured her a cup of water. She took it eagerly, draining it in a continuous sip while Ng contemplated whether or not to tell her about what brought on Turner's blackout.

  Watson cleared her throat, coughed a little, and then sighed.

  "Figures. Stubborn man, is he going to be alright?"

  She looked at him with an expression he has never seen before, her large, emerald orbs were filled with a vulnerability that made the decision for him. Some details were better kept concealed until later.

  "Don't worry. He's a tough bastard, we all know that."

  He couldn't help the sense of triumph at the small smile that tugged at her lips. She looked down, eyes undoubtedly connecting with the large gauze wrapped around her thigh.

  They managed to stop the bleeding long enough to assess the damage, which turned out to be far less than anticipated. Even so, after stitching her up and doing an x-ray, they put her on a course of antibiotics, just to avoid infection.

  Ng wanted to tell her this, explain that everything would be fine, that she was incredibly lucky that the drugged up creature missed all the vital areas and that Turner, barring a few weeks of discomfort and forced bed rest, would be okay. The way her shoulders immediately slouched as she stared at her leg, realization of the last day's events invariably washing over her, made him sit in silence beside her, realizing that any words of comfort had no place at the moment.

  “So, I'm assuming since you're here, everyone else knows?"

  He really shouldn't be surprised that despite the injury she suffered and learning of Turner's concussion, that Watson's mind would still be on business.

  He couldn't begrudge her that, however, realizing that under those circumstances, where she must feel so helpless, it would help her to focus on work, and figure out what her next step would be. She had obviously thought about the repercussions and what-ifs, if her look of determination was any indication.

  He was about to open his mouth to concur, maybe give her a little heads up. He thought it might be a good idea to warn her that Harper was somewhere in the vicinity, fuming with equal parts guilt and annoyance over aggravating Turner's condition, and really over the whole messed up situation. He was about to fill her in when he suddenly heard the aforementioned detective's voice as it filtered through the curtain separating Watson's bed from the other occupant of the room, and his eyes immediately fell on Watson, who suddenly looked beyond panicked and anxious.

  Though outwardly she remained calm, Watson's eyes went wide with fear and perhaps a hint of humiliation. However, Ng never once questioned Watson's credibility, nor questioned her competence in the wake of this mess. Briefly, he wondered if he was blinded by his loyalty to her, but as the last few years being her second-in-command flashed through his mind, he shook away his doubt, knew his judgment was sound.

  No, Watson was the most capable, level-headed, and astute detective he knew. He was sure that once Turner had found out about Evans, there was no stopping him. Ng only wondered why Watson never brought a weapon with her, or her badge.

  He would have to ask her about it later.

  "Ng?"

  The hint of panic in Watson's voice broke his reverie. Shooting his gaze to the door, Ng gently instructed her to close her eyes as he edged the curtain back into place. He was back in his chair, novel splayed haphazardly in his lap seconds before Harper poked his head in.

  His gaze drifted to Watson for a second, glazing over in brief reverence before narrowing his gray eyes at Ng again.

  "I thought Natalie was awake." He stated with an edge to his voice that, if Ng didn't know any better, would make him think he was being interrogated. Well, he didn’t take well to being questioned, so the lie rolled easily off his tongue.

  "No, she's sleeping," The younger man responded without so much as a glance back at the detective, who was getting more irritated by each second of no eye contact.

  "Thought I heard you talking to someone," Harper continued, having the audacity to wrap his arms across his beefy chest, tone almost accusatory, not that Ng blamed him, considering he was right.

  "Unlikely. I don't read out loud and I doubt even in her sleep, she would find what I'm reading at all interesting," he replied nonchalantly, expression unmoving as Harper narrowed his eyes at him even further. Ng finally met his gaze, silently challenging the detective to probe some more. Eventually, Harper nodded and turned to retreat, and asked Ng to let him know when Watson did wake up. He nodded in return; turning back to his novel. However, at the last second, he changed his mind, and called after Harper.

  "Any word on Turner?"

  The detective stilled, shoulders tensed up just slightly. Ng counted his blessings when Harper didn’t turn around, because upon hearing of Turner, Watson's body trembled ever so slightly.

  "His CT scan came back clean. No sign of a subdural hematoma, but they want to keep him overnight just in case. He does have a severe concussion so he can't be sleep for more than two hours at a time. I'm sure you can imagine the fun his nurses are having. I think he's managed to scare off two since he's been awake."

  Despite his innate stoicism, Ng couldn't help the hint of a smile at the thought of the advisor wreaking havoc from his hospital bed. One quick look at Watson told him she was more relaxed now than she was moments ago. Her lashes fluttered imperceptibly against her cheeks and he knew she contemplated waking up.

  "Yeah, I can imagine," Ng smirked and Harper finally easesd up a little.

  His eyes flickered over to Watson again, but his gaze didn't linger, instead he sighed and drew his attention back to Ng.

  "They'll probably discharge her as soon as she wakes up if she passes a few neurological tests, so let me know when she does."

  When Harper finally slipped out of the room, Ng released all his tension in a steady stream of air and immediately pulled his chair up closer to Watson's bed, touching her arm softly as her eyes fluttered open.

  Blinking as her vision came back into focus
, she turned to her second in command with a soft smile.

  "Thanks, Ng."

  "No problem, I'm glad you're okay," he admitted in a moment of rare emotion, and the compassion in his dark eyes formed a knot in Watson's throat. Unwelcome tears burned beneath her eyelids as if his words unlocked the place where she kept everything hidden, reality suddenly engulfing her, making it almost a little too hard to breathe.

  Ng noticed the change in her demeanor right away and couldn't help the little bubble of panic that rose in his throat. He didn’t really know how to handle these situations, but especially where Watson was concerned, he was extremely out of practice, so used to her always being in control.

  However, be it his luck or her unfortunate circumstance, his need to comfort her became moot when the curtain was roughly pulled back and they both looked up to find their superior gazing back at them.

  Watson tried to hide her surprise at seeing Rodrigues, but invariably failed, as his appearance reminded her once again where she was and what she was doing there. Her relief over knowing that Turner was relatively okay was overpowered by a deep feeling of shame as she tracked the disappointment in her superior's eye.

  She was not surprised by Rodrigues's reaction, but it hurt all the same. She bit her lip uncharacteristically, pulling the chapped flesh between her teeth, if for nothing else than to feel something other than the tight knots in her stomach.

  "Don't worry. I sent Sam on a coffee run."

  Watson was not sure whether she should thank him or be even more ashamed that Rodrigues knew about her little deception.

  "It was my decision, sir. I thought Watson needed some-..."

  Ng tried to speak up, but Rodrigues cut him off with a raised hand reflecting exactly how he felt about the situation. The dryness in her throat returned and no amount of water would be able to get rid of it this time.

  "Ng, give us a few minutes, okay?"

  The older man finally turned to the junior officer, his tone almost apologetic, almost. Yet, Ng held no grudge. He simply nodded and exited the room, but not before shooting Watson an encouraging half smile, something that despite her current circumstance warmed the detective's heart. It reminded her that even if her superior was about to give her a stern and much deserved reprimand, her team was still fully behind her.