Fantasy in Death - J. D. Robb [135]
“I did okay before you—without you. I was doing just fine. Christ knows you were doing just fine before me.”
“I don’t want just fine. Do you?”
She shook her head. “I mean, it was okay. When you don’t know what you can have, you do okay with what you’ve got. But now I know, and I don’t think I can get through without you. I wouldn’t be just fine, or okay, or anywhere close to it. I don’t know how people get through. All the people left behind, the ones I have to look in the eye and say he’s gone or she’s gone. I don’t know how they take the next breath.”
“Isn’t that why, in a very real sense, you do what you do? You are what you are?”
“Maybe. You can’t think about it or it makes you crazy. Or sad and tired.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to look straight into his. “When we were in there, and it looked like we wouldn’t walk out again, I could deal with it. Because... I know it’s stupid.”
“We’d die together,” he finished.
She let out a half-laugh at the beauty, and the oddity, of being understood so well. “Which is probably sick and selfish, and a bunch of other neurotic shit Mira could pick at. But, yeah. Going down together’s one thing. Taking the next breath without you? That’s not possible. But you have that... possibility to cope with every day. Roarke, I wish—”
“Don’t.” His fingers tightened on hers, and his tone sharpened. “Don’t sit there and tell me you wish it could be different. That you could be. I don’t want different. I fell for a cop, didn’t I? I married a cop, though she discouraged me. We’re not easy people, either of us.”
“Really not.”
His arched his eyebrow. “Do you want easy?”
“No. Hell, no. I want you.”
“Well, aren’t we the lucky ones to have exactly what we want?”
“Yeah. We should go home.” She let out a long breath. “Get a little sleep,” she added as she rose. She saw Roarke’s body stiffen, saw the wince as he got to his feet. “After Summerset takes a look at your side.”
“I don’t need him fussing over me. It’ll do.”
It might be small, it might be petty, she thought, but it was both a relief and just a little satisfying to reverse their usual routine.
“The MTs said you could use a follow-up at the hospital,” she reminded him. “So it’s that or Summerset.”
“It’s literally a flesh wound as the knife didn’t get anything but meat.”
“It’s your meat, pal, which makes it mine. In this case, I’ll go with Summerset, a soother, and some sleep. And before you argue, think back to the number of times you’ve hauled my ass to a hospital when I didn’t want to go, or poured a tranq down my throat. Being you’re just a consultant, I outrank you. You were injured on my watch.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe a little. Probably more when we get home and Summerset gives you grief. But for right now?” She looked up at him as she guided his arm around her waist. “Lean on me. I know it hurts.”
“It bloody well does,” he admitted, and leaned on her, a little, as they walked out together.
EPILOGUE
EVE LOOKED THROUGH THE GLASS WHERE BENNY SAT AT Cill’s bedside, his hand over her still one. She could see his lips move, and imagined he read her something as his gaze tracked from his handheld to her face.
Her eyes remained closed, as they had since the attack.
“Word is he’s here every day all day,” she told Roarke. “Most of the night—all if he can talk the medical staff into it.”
“Still no change.”
“No. No change.” She walked in. Benny stopped in midsentence.
“We’re reading the latest issue of Whirlwind.” But he set the handheld aside. “Got company, Cill.”
“We can sit with her awhile if you’d like to get some air,” Roarke said.
“No, but thanks.”
“I wanted to let you know,” Eve began, “Var’s lawyers and the PA’s office have reached a plea agreement. I can break it all down for you if you want, but the short version is he’ll do fifty years, hard time, off-planet.”
“It doesn’t matter. What happens to him doesn’t matter. She’s all that matters. Three days now. The doctors, they say that every day she... that every day’s good. That she could wake up in five minutes.