Shot to the Hart

Chapter 8: Serenity Sunrise

Sal didn't know her. After all this time, even looking deep into her eyes, she was still a stranger. It saddened her to think that maybe their connection didn't run so deep — for him anyways.

"I'm Nadia Hart," she said after some hesitation. "I'm a... financial planner. I was leaving work when the shooting started, I acted on instinct." She grabbed Bobo the Black Cat from his hands and returned her to her perch on top of the fridge. 

"A financial planner who carries a weapon like that?" He gestured to her piece on the kitchen island. He had a point. 

"My father's retired FBI. His motto is, 'always be prepared. Coffee?" 

Lying came so easily to her, it was almost scary. She looked around the quaint kitchen and wondered for just a flash what it would it be like to be normal; to have never killed before. To regain that innocence, walking the world without knowing it's evil depths. What if they were just a normal couple, having coffee in the kitchen. Maybe that's what they were in a parallel life. 

A pang hit her then, deep and sorrowful. As much as she tried to deny it to herself back then and now, it was clear. She loved Sal and she always would. But it was something he would never, ever know.

He nodded, looking like he didn't believe a word of it. Suddenly he grimaced in pain. The kettle boiled and she turned to make the coffee. She needed more than anything in that moment but he was looking like he would have to take it in an IV. She turned to him.

"Why don't we stop trying to kill each other and take some time to rest, heal, maybe get some sleep, have some food. Tomorrow, I'll go my way, you go yours. But for now, no one knows you're here so it's a good place to stop and catch your breath. You're free to go, but I suggest you take the night to recover, consider your options. Someone is out to get you, and rushing back to your world might not be the safest option. Now let's get you hooked up to that pain medication again," she said, hands on her hips.

"I have to make sure my mom is ok..."

"I texted your mom before I ditched your phone and she's under heavy guard. She's fine, and she knows you're fine. Now will you please lay down before you fall down?"

He nodded reluctantly. "Fine. I could use some rest and to change this bandage. But I'm not going back in that hospital bed. I'll chill on the couch," he said.

"Suit yourself," Nadia said and helped him get set up in the living room. Once his dressing was changed and the IV back in place, he began to regain some of his colour and even closed his eyes for a while.  A short while, she observed, as she cleaned up the kitchen and heated up a couple of cans of soup while she drank her coffee. She expected a barrage of questions but he was strangely silent. 

Why would he recognize her? After all, she was no longer the gangly teenager with the twist in her spine that looked like a question mark and the slight limp on her right side. Thanks to state of the art surgery she received at the Mayo Clinic and the titanium rod in her back, plastic surgery to fix the bump on her nose, and a sleek blonde bob replacing her long red curls, she was a new person. A stronger, better person in many ways. Externally, anyway.

"You're going to burn the soup," he said and she jumped back as the thick boiling liquid sputtered and spit at her. "Goddamn" she muttered, ruining the second rooster hand towel. Nadia dished up a steaming bowl for him and put some crackers on a small plate.

She brought his meagre dinner into the living room and he struggled to sit up. "You're used to fine dining but I'm afraid I don't have much in; this'll have to do," she said, putting it on a small table in front of him. "Eat the crackers too, the soup won't be enough for you to get your strength up. I don't think they're too old."

"I'll eat anything at this point. My stomach thinks my throat's been cut," he said, blowing on a spoonful she laughed, a loud, genuine giggle that surprised them both. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile and she resisted the urge to ruffle his hair. He always could make her laugh.

"Looks like you needed that laugh," he said, slurping a cautious spoonful.

She wasn't hungry, foregoing the soup to eat a few crackers out of the box and wishing she had chosen tea instead of coffee. All her nerves were frayed, she felt like she had live wires coursing through her body and she could hardly sit still. She wondered who named the herbal teas, what a job that would be, sitting at a computer coming up with names like "Serenity Sunrise," — a delightful mix of cloves, rooibos, cinnamon and essence of orange—

"Yo. Come back to earth, woman. What were you thinking about?"

"Trying to think of the last time I laughed," she lied, realizing her thoughts too ridiculous to share. It was like that when she disassociated; sometimes her sharp mind needed reprieve and slipped a bit sideways while she stared into space. Like a reset. In those times, she really did feel like she left earth and spent some time in another dimension.

"You said each other," he said, finishing the soup and lying back with his eyes closed. Clearly the meds were taking hold, finally. 

"What?"

"You said 'we should stop trying to kill each other.' I clocked you with a rock - not to kill you, by the way, just to disarm you and figure out what the fuck was going on. But you said you weren't trying to kill me." His eyes fluttered, he was fighting sleep.

"Were you trying to kill me or not?"

"It was... I wasn't..." The lies that always dripped so easily from her tongue for once eluded her. Nadia's mind when blank as she tried and discarded words she knew he'd reject. 

Maybe it was time to come clean. After all, he had a right to know there was not just one but apparently two people or groups after him. 

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "You want the truth? Here it is—"

A deep, rumbling snore interrupted her. Grateful, she glanced at him and her eyes softened. 

She went to him and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Sleep well, prince," she said and covered him with the blanket.