Priory // h.s.

chapter sixty

I choose to sit by myself on the airplane, even though Jillian offers to keep me company. After I tell her that I just want to be left alone, she retreats, maybe with the slightest bit of hurt, but also with understanding glowing in her eyes; she goes to join Niall a couple rows ahead of me. Gerald takes up the seat farthest back in the small jet, his laptop fired up in his lap, a frown permanently creasing his brow as he types away furiously on his keyboard.

There are blankets in the pouch in front of me, and I pull one out and swaddle myself in it. Huddled up, I press my nose to the plane window and watch the sky skim past, the plane's wings leaning out to brush fingers with wispy cloud tendrils...

... and then I'm thinking about how far up we are...

... which makes me think of Harry's acrophobia, and fuck, it's like getting hit in the chest with a small train.

The cruelest part is that the only person I can think who can comfort me when I'm like this is, well, Harry. Ironic, isn't it? 

Letting out a soft sigh, I clasp my fingers together till they turn white with the pressure and start mouthing a wordless prayer that we make it.

 — 

Half a dozen police agents get to their feet as we thunder into the hospital waiting room. Niall and Jillian attempt to fend off their questions, telling them for the hundredth time that we're not interested in further continuing the investigation right now, or even in the whereabouts of Mr. Lee, Damon, and their crew; all we care about is our friend. White-faced, Gerald grips my hand and bulldozes his way through the waiting room. "Room 196, Room 198, here." He stops in front of a door and dives for the doorknob, then suddenly seems to jerk to his senses. His features crumple into a tentative, unsure expression that I've never seen the businessman wear before.

Taking a steadying breath of air, I gently nudge his hand aside and open the door.

The hospital bed is so thickly swarmed by nurses and doctors that I can't see the patient. "Excuse me?" I call. 

"Is there really a need for... everyone to be here?" Gerald says apprehensively.

A pretty Asian doctor walks over to us. "No, no, go on, get out, anyone who isn't assigned to this room. My apologies," she says, turning to me, "but the rest of the staff was curious; we've never had a case like this before, obviously..." She trails off at the look on my face, realizing how insensitive she sounds; maybe she senses I'm seconds away from punching her in the face. Turning red, she coughs. "Well, anyway, feel free to see him now..."

Gerald goes first. He takes one look at Harry, gives a choked sort of sob, and turns and stalks out of the room.

I go more slowly, lingering at the edge of the hospital bed; dimly, out of the corner of my eye, I note that the last few nurses and doctors have exited the room briefly; I'm alone with Harry. 

As I look down at the boy I love, I take everything in: the I.V. inserted into his arm, the palor of his skin, the limpness of his body.

"Harry?" I whisper.

He shifts, and his eyes flutter open. I gasp at the unexpected motion and stumble backwards. "You're-" I break off.

"Awake? Alive?" He blinks up at me, as if it hurts his head to keep me in focus. "I... Yeah, for now, anyway. How's that cure coming along?"

I promptly burst into tears.

Harry struggles to sit up, but I push him back down. "Hey, I didn't mean... I was only... Amber, stop it. It's going to be-"