Against All Odds

Chapter Nineteen

"Well, he has the power," Ida says, still shell-shocked on the edge of my bed. "And he's probably used to taking these kind of calls- being in government."

"I don't even want to think about that," I utter, shaking my head. She purses her lips, slowly.

"You're not angry at him for saving you, right?"

I shake my head immediately, sniffling. "No... no. I'm shocked. I-I'm grateful... I'm surprised that-that he could kill someone. I never thought he could be capable of that."

"Well it's obvious, Mia. He loves you, of course he would do everything in his power to help you."

"What is this going to do to him though? To us?" I ask, worriedly. "Why won't he call me back? What if he never calls me back?"

She rests a hand on mine. "Honey, you haven't slept. You've gone through too much today. You need to lie down."

I reluctantly lay back when she urges again, not willing to fight.

My world is upside down, everything thrown about into the chaos.

...

"I'd suggest she remain low for a few days in bed, if she can. She's in dire need of rest. The trauma is taking it's toll. Since she wouldn't sleep, I gave her something. It should do the trick," the doctor, who still hasn't given me his name, says on the other side of my bedroom door. I listen as he informs Ida of the dosages of my medication until my eyes droop low and I can't hear anymore.

...

There's a soft hand pushing my hair back from my face, gentle and familiar. If I were able to escape this induced comatose, I feel like I'd smile, remembering England.

...

I wake groggily, feeling pain when the sun hits my pupils, so I shut my eyes quickly, burrowing my face into a hard chest. A hard, familiar chest. Despite the burn, my eyes open wide, staring at my hands up against a crisp white dress shirt. Arms are surrounding me, they squeeze tighter after a moment.

I feel a breath leave my body, all of it.

He's here.

Like a dam is released, my tears come in the form of a flood. Tears of relief, mostly. Henry's hand cradles the back of my skull, gently.

"Shh," he whispers, kissing my forehead. "I'm here, love. I'm here."

"Henry," I gasp, clasping his shirt tightly.

"I'm here," he reassures, exhaling. For the first time since I left England, I feel safe. I lift my head, sniffling softly, tilting my face towards his. The tears drift down my cheeks as my eyelids shut when his lips come down upon mine, strong and impassioned dives at first but quickly cautious, gentle kisses. I exhale as his mouth drifts from my mouth, pressing softly to my cheek.

"Are you hurting?" he says, after a moment, pulling back. He swallows, emotionally while his eyes drift over my features, worriedly. I shake my head as he wipes his thumbs over my cheeks.

"No. I- can't believe you're here."

"I came on the jet. Took off right after you called. You've been asleep for a while."

"The doctor gave me something."

"Good." He stares into my eyes, trying hard to hide himself but he fails, miserably. I reach up, running my fingers through his hair, as I've done many times. He closes his eyes at the contact, looking gloriously upset.

"I should have made you stay," he whispers. "I should have fought harder."

I shake my head. "This isn't your fault."