Chapter 48: Chapter Forty-Eight

Fog. Thick penetrating fog, like the kind surrounding Elliot Bay in the early morning. The kind that required lighthouses and foghorns. It was all around him. It made him cold. Little pinpricks of cold shot through his body.

He tried to push through it, but it was remarkably similar to slogging through armpit-deep wet cement. Lost, chilled, and unsure of where to go, he hesitated to see what would happen. Then, like a beacon of light through the darkness, came a voice he'd missed hearing so much.

"Come on, Detective. It's going on two weeks now. You have to wake up and say something. Your parents can't take much more of this." He heard her sigh. "Can't say I'm a huge fan of this either. You need to open up them beautiful gray eyes of yours."

Ian felt the fog slowly retreat as her voice continued to flow to his ears.

"I missed you at Dylan's funeral. I wish you could have been there to hold my hand. Really could have used your support for that. It was a beautiful service, as far as funerals go, that is."

Her warm stroke came gentle upon his forehead and down one cheek. Her touch vanished before he felt it again as she curled her fingers around his limp hand.

"Come on, Detective. Stop being so stubborn. I miss you, miss your voice, the way you hold me, and kiss me. I even miss the way you look when we argue, that stubborn set of your chin and the glint in your eyes. Then the way it flares into passion. The way you look at me as if I'm the only woman in the world. I can't live for the rest of my life without seeing that again. I don't know what else to tell you, except that I love you and I can't imagine living my life without you in it. I don't know what that means, but if you don't hurry up and find your way back to me, I never will. Please come back to me. I need you in my life. I need you, Ian."

As if he were opening up blackout curtains on a sunny day, he saw his way back illuminated. He cracked his eyes open slowly and stared at Fallon through lowered lashes as she sat beside his bed. Her left arm was in a sling and he frowned. What happened to her? Her head was bent low over his hand, her hair gathered up haphazardly in a clip, and a few strands hung around her temple.

The way she said his name made him smile inside. If only she'd show me this kind of emotion when she knew I was awake. He couldn't complain, he knew Fallon was reserved and he damn near felt like an eavesdropper as he listened to her whisper to him.

"I think it means you're stuck with me," he mumbled as he opened his eyes fully, in time to see her wide ones swing to him.

"Ian!" she gasped. Immediately her face was close to his. "You're awake?"

"Hey, beautiful," he rasped.

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth as she smiled. Her mouth moved but no sound came out for a bit until finally she managed to say, "I should go get the nurse. And your parents." Her fingers reached out toward his face before pulling back, leaving him feeling bereft. Ian wanted to hold onto her as she withdrew her hand but he didn't have the strength.

"Fallon?" he asked before she got too far from him.

"Yes, Detective?"

"What you said, did you mean it?" He held her gaze as he watched her battle with her decision on what to say to him. Ian knew it had been a private conversation she was having, not expecting him to overhear.

Her expression grew soft as she stared back at him. He watched her thick lashes drop down slowly and rise back up. Her brown eyes banished the last of the chill he'd felt earlier. "Every last bit of it." Her expression smoothed out before she turned and walked out of the room.

The next thing he knew, he found himself faced with his parents, who for once weren't arguing, and a doctor. Through all the commotion, Ian kept searching for Fallon, but she wasn't there.

Finally fed up with the whole situation, he shoved away the water cup and demanded, "Where's Fallon?"

His parents fell silent and stared at him. "Out in the waiting room," his father informed him.

"I want to see her," Ian insisted.

"Okay, okay," Donal said. "I'll go get her." Eyes so like his own stared down at him and Ian would have sworn there were tears in his old man's eyes.

"Thanks, Da," Ian returned with a smile.

After his father left, Ian kept his gaze glued to the doorway. He needed to see her, be in her presence, and touch her. He felt his entire body relax as she stepped through into the room ahead of his father.

Her eyes sparkled with happiness and a little bit of mischief as she smiled at him. "Seems you needed to see me, Detective. What can I do for you?"

"Stay," he ordered.

Fallon didn't say a word, just pulled up a chair near his head and settled in it. She touched his face with her right hand and smiled at him. "Rest, Detective. You rest now; I'll be here when you wake."

He'd been waiting for those words. Turning his head, he pressed his dry lips to her soft skin and closed his eyes, giving into the exhaustion that pounded at the door.

***

Fallon sighed as she overlooked Elliot Bay. Christmas was a week away and Seattle sure was ready for the holiday. She'd just spent time at the cemetery and had come down here to try to find some comfort. Her heart still ached at the knowledge she'd not only lost her parents, but Dylan as well.

Eyes trained on the Olympic Mountains, she curled her fingers around the venti sized Starbucks in her hands. Even with the cardboard holder and her leather gloves, she could still feel the warmth seeping into her.

The city seemed to have settled back into a normal routine; after the news of the scandal broke, things had gotten a bit crazy. She'd not seen much of Ian, nothing really, since he got out of the hospital.

You're the idiot who's been ignoring your heart and him, her brain accused.

She did miss him. A lot. She watched the press conference where the Federal Bureau of Investigation recognized him for his part their sting that ended the horrendous child sex ring. There were images in the papers of Ian marching Rick DeVane's father in handcuffs down the steps of his house.

He was a hero. Especially once the news of Rick DeVane's rigging of Ian's car with C-4 hit the airwaves as well. She knew how much he missed that car; it had been his pride and joy. There was talk of a promotion, or even him going to the FBI.

Either way, she missed him. The cold wind blew across her as she stared out at the approaching ferry. With a sigh, she took a drink of her mocha. With one hand, she brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of her face.

"Hello, beautiful," a sinful voice from behind her said.