***
I didn't want to open my eyes. If I held perfectly still, I could pretend that nothing hurt and that everything was okay. Unfortunately, my body felt the requirement to breathe. I felt so hazy and tired, like all I wanted to do was sleep but my body couldn't figure out how anymore; I could feel the IV in my arm pushing cold fluid into my veins, the medicine only taking the edge off. I remembered someone saying the words broken ribs- maybe that was why every breath felt like fire. I tried to put the pieces together of what was going on, but everything was so blurry and fragmented.
“Where is Claire Vanders? Where is she?” I heard Mr. King growl outside my door. He sounded like an angry bear looking for his cub. Someone must have pointed towards my room because I heard the door open. I didn't want to open my eyes, afraid he might not really be there, afraid of the look on his face.
He paused at the foot of my stretcher, his hand grazing my foot through the blanket. His soft touch didn't hurt; it instead felt so reassuring that I decided that I could open my eyes. It took so much effort to lift them, as if they were made of lead. Even just trying to open them somehow hurt. By the time I managed to get one eye cracked open, Mr. King was sitting by my head, his warm hand gently holding mine.
He looked so unlike his usual confident self I wondered if the medicine was affecting me more than I thought. His normally perfect blonde hair was disheveled, highlighting a face full of worry. His clothes were wrinkled and he had missed a button, skewing his entire shirt to the right. The only thing that convinced me that the flustered man sitting there was the illustrious Gregory King were his eyes. I could feel worry radiating out of their hazel depths. I tried to smile, but even that slight movement sent tiny spikes of pain shooting through me. I tried to speak, but my voice simply croaked instead.
“Shhh, Claire, you're safe here. I got here as soon as they called me” he shushed gently as he saw me waking. His hand brushed some hair out of my face, his fingers gentle. A nurse came in and asked if I wanted more medicine. I managed a nod, and she injected something into the IV. I could feel the pain slip away, never fully leaving, but something I could tolerate.
“How did I get here?” I asked. I am pretty sure it came out, “Hwdideyegtere” but Mr. King stroked my hair gently as he answered.
“An ambulance brought you here. They had to cut you out of your car. What happened?”
“That other car hit me,” I started.
“What other car?” His voice was quick and angry. I looked up at him frightened, and his face suddenly softened. “There was another car?”
“It was dark and they were following me...” I tried again. My memory was fragmented, and the medicine kept the pieces from falling together and making sense. “Their headlights were so bright. I was upside down.” Mr King nodded encouragingly, his fingers softly playing with my hair.
“Then there were fire fighters. You should be a fire fighter. You would look pretty in their uniform.” My thoughts seemed to run straight through to my mouth. Mr. King's eyebrows raised, but he kept stroking my hair.
“Do you remember anything else?” He asked.
“I needed to tell you something. Something important, but I don't remember now...” I looked up at him, the medicine making me sleepy. “Maybe I'll remember in the morning...” I wanted to sleep so badly, but something was bothering me, something I needed to tell him.
“They took my laptop!” I sat up quickly, and instantly regretted the movement. Mr. King carefully laid me back down on the stretcher, whispering soft words until I was again comfortable.
“We'll find it. You rest now.” He resumed his gentle strokes through my hair.
“Will you stay with me? I don't want to wake up alone again...” I asked quietly. He smiled and softly kissed my forehead.
“Of course, I'll stay with you as long as you want me to,” he whispered. My drug addled brain wondered if he meant something more than just staying with me at the hospital, but I couldn't hold the thought. Sleep rushed up at me suddenly, and before I could answer I was lost to dreams.
***
Two broken ribs, one black eye, a split lip, 14 stitches on my calf, a concussion, too many bruises and scratches to count, and a partridge in a pear tree. I stayed the night in the hospital as they made sure I was safe to send home. Gregory never left my side. Every time I woke up, he was there, sitting next to me and holding my hand.
When they discharged me, he practically carried me to the car and drove me home himself. He wanted to carry me into the house, but I steadfastly refused. Instead he simply supported my lopsided hobble into the main room.
I looked at the stairs with dread, my leg protesting the use. Mr. King instead guided me to the conservatory, where among potted trees William had created a bedroom. There was a queen sized bed with a small nightstand on either side with the book I was reading sat at the ready under a lamp. One of the glass walls now was draped with heavy curtains, a large TV with an easy chair set up for my entertainment. A new laptop sat on the seat of the easy chair charging and awaiting me to claim it. I looked around in amazement, trying to take it all in.
“Thank you guys!” I finally sputtered out as I limped towards them.
“William gets all the credit,” Mr. King deferred. William turned a lovely shade of red, especially when I kissed his cheek. “The doctor said you were to rest today, so no work.” Mr. King said sternly, guiding me towards the big recliner. I put up no resistance as the comfy chair enveloped me, sighing with relief as I kicked out the leg rest and elevated my aching leg.
With a goofy smile, Mr. King handed me my phone with the text messaging open. “Text whatever you want to that number- William and I thought a bell would be a little too cliché, so we went with an electronic bell instead. I have to get to the office, but you have my number as well.” He paused like he was going to add on, but instead he quickly shut his mouth and instead kissed my forehead. “Feel better soon,” he whispered as he stood up and nodded to William on his way out the door. I wished he didn't have to leave.
“What can I get for you Claire?” William asked, approaching my chair.
“Something to eat, something to drink, and the remote for the TV,” I replied with a grin. I opened the laptop. He nodded once and brought me the remote from the table before heading to the kitchen. I loaded a movie from the TV menu, and began booting up my new computer. The laptop started quickly, and Mr. King had already loaded it with my settings, even replacing my music. It made me smile, and it let me get to work faster.
Despite his 'no work' mandate, I needed to look at my work files. Someone ran me off the road and stole my laptop, which told me they thought something valuable was on it. I had done some reasoning while waiting for my discharge, and even on pain meds, it made sense. I had downloaded something important the night of the accident. I knew it also had to be something about that particular collection of files, or they wouldn't have gone to all that effort for me not to get at it; I must have had all the pieces to the puzzle on that computer and just didn't realize it.
Luckily, whoever did this to me obviously did not know about my cloud storage space. I logged on and downloaded all the files, spreading them out across the monitor, trying to find a pattern. William returned with a bowl of homemade chicken dumping soup and sweet tea, giving me a wink as he saw me working. I started looking for a pattern, trying to figure out who was cooking the books and who had put me in the hospital.
***