by Cabe Sparrow
That knowledge gave her a little strength, at least enough to look Rodrigues in the eye as he geared up to launch into his tirade. She bit the inside of her cheek, preparing herself for the tongue-lashing that she knew was justified. However, her boss caught her off guard by leaning against the window, pushing back the curtain to peer into the street, and heaving a deep sigh.
"Why didn't you bring your gun with you? Why didn't you even run a background check on this guy before going unarmed to his residence? How could you be so stupid and careless? This is not how I run my unit, Natalie. This is not what I trained you to do when you first joined the force. What happened?"
He finally returned his gaze to her and the hint of desperation in his voice paired with the concern marring his blue eyes was no match for Watson's emotional control. She blinked back tears as she stared mutely at the older man, fighting fiercely against disappointment welling within herself. The fact that Rodrigues' reprimand felt more like that of a father than a boss didn’t help matters.
Clearing her throat, she stared down at her hands as they twisted nervously in her lap.
"I just didn't want the PPB to be involved in any way, in case things did go wrong."
Although it really was her impetus for going to see Evans unarmed and she let Turner know as much when she consented to it; now the idea sounded ridiculous coming out of her mouth.
"The PPB is always involved, Natalie," he replied patiently. "Anything to do with the Red River Killer means the PPB is involved, especially when there's a mess to clean up. I thought you knew that better than anyone.”
“I did.”
Her response was mechanical. She didn’t know what else to say. Despite her perpetual role as damage controller, especially where Turner was concerned, Watson suddenly couldn't justify her actions, couldn't for the life of her understand how she ever thought it would be possible that this was going to be simple. She hadn't thought beyond the conversation with Evans, but even if they had been successful and the kid did have knowledge of the Red River Killer's identity, at what point would she inform the PPB? They would have had to be notified eventually. Even if Turner resisted, she would have had to go to Harper sooner or later.
She was certain that it would have destroyed her relationship with Turner and the knowledge that that could have possibly played a role in her decision sent a powerful wave of nausea crashing through her system. Desperately, Watson grabbed the cup of water of the table, draining it greedily in the hopes of forcing the wave back down.
All the ire and frustration that had been building within Rodrigues since he received word of this mess disintegrated into dust at the first sign of Watson struggling. Slowly, he made his way to the bed, gingerly perching himself on the edge as he took her cup and refilled it.
She watched him over the rim of the cup, her eyes a mixture of confusion and apprehension at the change in his demeanor. Rodrigues really couldn't blame her. He couldn't make up his mind about which role to play here.
He knew he needed to be the boss, make the difficult decisions, and he already made up his mind on that issue. However, he should have known it would be impossible to remain cold and detached in the face of Watson injured and scared, staring up at him from her hospital bed. She seemed to read the expression on his face, understanding his misgivings and ambivalence as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and exhaled carefully.
Rodrigues was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t hear her soft apology but it echoed in the room, drawing his eyes back to his detective. Her eyes were set within dark circles and their usual green vibrancy was missing. The fire he saw in her, what assured him when he first met her that she would make a superb team leader, seemed to have been extinguished. It sapped the last bit of anger out of him, replacing it with concern, which she probably didn’t deserve at the moment.
"Don't be sorry. It already happened," he replied and Watson cast her glance down, nodding stoically, mouth opening and closing as she realized there wasn't much she could say in her defense.
Instead, she continued to study her lap, eyes darting every once in a while to her injured thigh. She couldn't feel it at the moment due to the copious amounts of painkillers being pumped into her system. For now, she was numb to the pain, but much like her situation, she knows she will feel the ramifications, both physical and psychological, soon enough and reality would not be as easy to ignore then.
The drugs left her lethargic, fighting to stay alert as Rodrigues spoke, wishing fruitlessly that she never put him in this situation. She saw the worry lines etched on his forehead and the way he oscillated between reprimanding her and fretting over her condition.
"You know that you and Turner are both suspended effective immediately?"
It was not really a question, but the regret in Rodrigues' voice only managed to seize her heart even more. Still, resigned to her fate, Watson nodded mutely, finding a sudden interest in her fingernails.
Her boss exhaled deeply. "I mean it, Natalie. I don't want to see either you or him in the office for at least two weeks after the holidays, until the storm had settled. I don't want you making excuses to come back in and make sure Turner didn’t either."
Despite the realization that she would likely be cooped up in her house for fourteen days without much else to do but ruminate on the idiocy of her actions, and making sure Turner didn’t lose his mind from having nothing to do as well, she felt a little restored when Rodrigues asked her to keep Turner in line.
Even if it was superficial, she was glad to know that she was still trusted with some responsibility and following orders left her with some sense of normalcy. However, the punishment didn’t seem to fit the crime and of its own accord, her gaze seeking, she slipped her hand to Rodrigues' shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
He seemed a little stunned by the physical contact, but his expression softened considerably as his blue eyes settled on her and she found the courage to speak.
"I understand the suspension, but I don't want you to take responsibility for something I did. I'm a grown woman, I knew the consequences going in, and I should face them now."
"No, what I think you should face is the reason why you did what you did."
Her eyes grew wide at his words, the blunt reply sinking deep into her bones, leaving her cold and defenseless, forcing her to confront what she had been trying to ignore all along.
"You need to remember that you weren't in this alone."
She met his gaze then as he rose to stand at the foot of the bed. The knowing look in his eye makde her blood run cold. She didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t want to even think about it, but she could't escape his look and she realized that he knew.
"It's not against the rules because he's on retainer and not a full fledged employee, but I hope to god that didn't cloud your judgment in this case." He continues when she couldn't seem to find any words, "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Natalie, just because I know Turner and he probably would have gone along and done it anyway, but do not put me in this position again. Are we clear?"
For a second, she was mortified as the implication of Rodrigues' words settled in, but she didn’t break his gaze and forced her feelings down as deep as she could.
"Yes, sir. It won't happen again."
He nodded in return, and a heavy silence fell over them. She was sure he didn’t believe her and she really couldn't blame him. She never let it get this far before, but it's not like her credibility hadn't been questioned by everyone else. She just always assumed Rodrigues was the exception and the coil around her heart only tightened at the realization that he may not be that anymore and there was no one to blame but herself.
Perhaps having noticed her inner turmoil, Rodrigues drew her attention back by clearing his throat and catching her glance, "Taking some time off might do you some good."
He stood silently by her bedside for a few more minutes, eyes darting every so often to her injury, until Watson couldn't take it an
ymore. It was not his uncontrollable outward display of concern that got to her; it was that she felt she didn’t deserve it after dragging him into this mess.
"Hey," she said softly, peering up at him through hooded lashes, "You don't have to watch over me. I'll be fine."
His surprise only lasted for a moment before he managed to regroup.
"I know that. Just take it from someone who has been there and don't try to play hero and refuse pain meds. Trust me; they'll be your new best friend for a while."
Watson couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her throat or the smile that formed on her lips at his words, and she nodded, bangs falling over her forehead.
"I won't. I think I've had enough playing hero already."
The words slipped out before she could stop them, but before they could kill the lightheartedness of the moment, Rodrigues managed to smile back, holding her gaze for a while longer.
"I'll go get the nurse then so we could get you out of here."
Watson nodded in agreement and bit back her desire to apologize again as her superior disappeared behind the curtain, only to be replaced by Ng who looked uncharacteristically concerned as he stepped back into the room.
"Everything okay?"
She smiles as warmly as possible at her colleague, "Yeah, nothing I didn't expect. Don't worry about it."
Ng remained as stoic as ever and returned to the empty chair by her bed and sat down, prepared to open his novel again and continue reading. At first, Watson was okay with his company, preferring not to wait for the nurses and the doctor alone, but the sound of Christmas jingles somewhere down the hall reminded her what day it was and she no longer wanted him to stay.
“Ng".
The Asian man looked up from his novel, his expression immovable and she almost couldn't handle his nonchalance. His loyalty in the face of the last few hours, hell the last few years baffled her sometimes.
"Could you do me a favor?"
He stared back expectantly and Watson couldn't help smiling as he looked at her attentively.
"Go home and spend Christmas Eve with your family."
If Ng could ever look surprised, it would be then as he shut the novel and gazed at her pointedly, "No. I'm good. April is with her family and my mom is with my aunts. It's fine."
"No, it's not," Watson exhaled, wishing for once he would disagree with her. "First of all, it's not fine that you're sacrificing time with your family for me and second of all, I'm fine. As soon as they discharge me, I'm going up to Turner's room, so you don't have to worry about me. I'll have my hands full with him."
Despite the smirk that penetrated his calm facade, Ng still didn’t seem convinced and Watson let out a sigh before propping herself up and reaching out for his hand, "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but you've done enough. Besides, you need to keep your strength up considering you'll be running the unit for two weeks after vacation."
Ng blinks, opened his mouth to say something, but Watson cut him off, "Rodrigues suspended Turner and myself after the holidays. It's officially two weeks but could be longer depending on how intensely Internal Affiars gets involved."
She thought it would be painful to repeat those words, to finally accept the reality of her situation, but surprisingly, the explanation rolls easily off her tongue, as if this suspension, this punishment wasn't happening to her, but to someone else.
Ng's eyebrows migrated to his hairline, but soon his features relaxed and Watson looked away. Not strong enough to dwell on the situation any longer.
“I’m sorry."
"It's fine," she said quickly, finding it annoying that this particular word kept popping up. She never believed anyone who's told her they were 'fine' and now she's being the hypocrite. Ng was once again skeptical, but didn’t say anything, instead chose to remain silent and strong by her side and Watson was forever thankful to have him as her second in command.
Watson wanted to thank him, communicate to him how grateful she truly was for his unquestionable loyalty but the words died on her lips. Somehow, a generic thank you didn’t seem like enough, so she remained quiet, closing her eyes to catch a moment of respite before the storm of nurses and doctors begin to probe and examine her before hopefully releasing her.
She tried to block out the beeping of the machines and the cheesy Christmas music in the distance. Instead, she imagines she was back on her porch drinking spiked coffee with a smiling Turner telling her this is the happiest he has been in years.
She held onto the memory as long as she could, letting it wash over her in hopes that it will fill her with calm, warmth, everything that had eluded her since she woke up. Letting her thoughts stray would burst the bubble of hope she built that everything will be alright.
Watson preferred to entertain that delusion for as long as she possibly could.
Chapter 25
He woke up to the familiar aroma of cinnamon and apples. The room was dark and his vision was still a little blurry, a side affect of the concussion. For a moment, Turner could convince himself that he was just lying in bed with Watson in his arms, unable to sleep as usual, but finding a certain comfort in her curled into his side, hair tickling his neck.
But then she shifted in her sleep, left leg stiffening as she stretched it over his hips and the last day's events rush through his mind like a kaleidoscope of broken images, bringing back the guilt and shame he felt before he blacked out. At least the pain in his head wasn't as sharp and he now knew the source of it.
He was no stranger to concussions, but this one must have been extremely severe given that he couldn't focus his eyes for more than a few minutes at a time without feeling strained. He blinked several times, rubbing his eyelids gently before trying to right his vision again.
The room was dark, the curtain drawn back allowing moonlight to filter in through the window, casting a glow on his surroundings. There was barely any furniture, the walls were gray, and a strong stench of antiseptic solution hung in the air.
He really hated hospitals.
It was supposed to be a healing environment, but to him it always felt more like a prison. Hospitals are one of the only places where he is divested of all his defenses, stripped of his suit, his mobility (at the moment), and most of all his voice. It didn't matter how much he complained or not so subtly insulted every single nurse of his, no one budged. No one would dare to discharge a patient in his condition, not even someone as disagreeable as him. That didn't mean he had to like it though.
He took a deep breath, and the familiar scent of Watson's shampoo awakened his senses again. He had to smile, had to tighten his subconscious hold on her, even if it pulled at the IV in his arm. He didn't know at what point she snuck into his room, but he was so incredibly grateful for her presence that he didn’t care. Although he just saw her this morning, it felt like they've been reunited after a long separation and the painful twisting in his chest, the one reminding him how incredibly lucky he was that she was still by his side only grew, along with a healthy dose of gratitude.
His hand unconsciously buried itself in her hair and he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead, unable to resist the smoothness of her skin. He breathed a sigh of relief when Watson didn’t move, a sign that he didn't wake her up with his spontaneous show of affection.
He relaxed against the pillows, content to hold her for as long as possible, feeling her breathing peacefully besides him, her warmth extending a bubble of comfort over him. However, within moments he felt, rather than saw, her wake up as her eyelashes fluttered open, brushing against the exposed skin of his neck.
Turner didn't realize just how close they were to one another until Watson lifted her head just slightly and her breath ghosted across his cheek. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes until the cobwebs of sleep cleared away. Then the slew of emotions that passed over her gaze in succession brough the overwhelming feeling of dread and uncertainty he's done an amazing job suppressing back with a vengeance.
&n
bsp; He didn’t dare look away, paying his penance just by having to witness the amount of pure, untainted hurt in her eye. He knows Watson, knows how guarded she was, how it took four years and a display of unwavering loyalty to slip past her defenses enough for her to open her heart to him. So letting him see just how hurt she was, was almost more painful than any physical injury he has ever sustained, especially not this concussion.
Watson didn’t break their gaze either, though only because she couldn't get enough of the sight in front of her. It was a little ridiculous, but the overwhelming relief spreading like anesthetic through her body seemed to numb everything, including the dull throbbing from her wound.
She knew that he was okay and that he would be just fine. It was another thing to see him awake, warm and strong, and at the moment, looking incredibly guilty and embarrassed as he stared at her. It was enough to melt some of the ice that seemed to have frozen her heart when she woke up in the hospital, mad as hell at herself and Turner for this stupid mess they were in.
She reacted impulsively, pressing her lips to his, guided by the ache in her heart at the thought that this day could have ended much worse than it had. She silently thanked God that it didn't, because as stupid and selfish and single minded as Turner was, she would rather have him alive and all those things than the alternative.
Bemused, Turner didn’t respond immediately. When he finally did, Watson pulled back, breathing heavily and realizing that the relief she felt just moments ago was only temporary. Now, as she really looked at him, she saw everything else besides him too, like the fact that he was in a hospital gown and that they were in a hospital room and that she couldn't really move too much now that the pain medication was wearing off.
