His Savior, Her Hero (A Tim Gutterson Story)

Finally Home

Harper was in the hospital for almost two weeks. One week for recovery, one week of physical therapy. She would have to continue physical therapy, but at least she was home.

In the hospital, she had talked big about what she would do when she got home. All she did was sleep. After a few days of acclimating to being home, she started working around the house. She spent a good deal of her day alone since Tim was finally going back to the office.

He had been so sweet while taking care of her. She was worried it would end.

"Dammit," she sighed as she looked at the glass that was out of her reach. "Stupid Tim being stupid tall."

"Firefly, I'm not that tall," Tim said as he reached over her and took the glass from the shelf. He kissed her cheek, "It's not my fault you're disabled."

"It is your fault for putting shit where I can't get it."

He easily pinned her against the counter, kissing her. The intention was clear, but there was no following through, not for another few weeks. Tim had offered other ways, but it made Harper more than a little uncomfortable.

"You need to stop before I rip open my stitches," she breathed.

He smiled, kissing her again and backing away, "You didn't ask the most important question."

Harper took the glass to the fridge, forcing it open, "And what question would that be?" She paused, the situation suddenly clicking as she closed the fridge, "Why are you home in the middle of the day?"

"Got sent home. A threat came in, directed at you."

"Cute," she said blandly as she opened the fridge again, pulling out the strangely heavy pitcher of tea. "Who threatened me?"

"We're not sure. A body was brought to the morgue." He handed her a picture. Carved into the man's chest was Bonnie-Mae.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that."

"Harper, I can't ignore that."

Harper put the pitcher back and looked at her deputy, "What did the coroner say about the body?"

"He's recently deceased, probably got carved after he died."

"Someone dug up this poor man, carved that into him, and left him somewhere." She sipped the tea, "I've dropped and carved enough bodies to know that man was probably buried recently, someone dug him up, carved him, and dropped him somewhere without thought of how to make it look real." She tapped her finger on the counter top, "How many corpses have you seen that keep their mouths closed?"

He gave her an annoyed look, "You could have started with that."

"If you figure out who knows me and knows him, I'm sure you'll find who killed him."

Tim wrapped his arms around her, "That's not my job. My job is to keep you safe."

She smiled, "I'm okay with that."

He snaked his hand up the back of her shirt, gently tracing scars, "I love you."

His expression was different. He used his other hand securing her face and pulling her into a tempting kiss. She didn't resist this time. He touched her soul.

Tim helped change her bandages. He had been careful or as careful as he could be. Despite her pain, Harper knew what she wanted from him. With how she had moved, he was surprised nothing had busted.

"I think that's enough therapy for today," she said as she crawled back into the bed.

Tim smiled, "You're not done."