The Throne (Prince Harry fanfic #6)

Chapter Forty-Four

Harry rested calmly with his nose pointed in the air and his body rigid but straight. At least there wasn't a tube down his throat, so he looked to pull through. Harry was hooked up to many machines, and it was easy to tell that he yet breathed. So much beating filled the quiet room.

Lucy waited by his side, a chair pulled up to the bed, as medication would've started to wear off soon. It was close enough to nighttime now, almost a full day since Harry had been shot, and the children had fallen on top of each other asleep. This day had been stressful for them, of course. Though Mum was back, now Dad might have been down for the count. Food had been almost force-fed into them. At least they relied on each other for comfort. 

Lucy hadn't slept yet, and she didn't feel the need. She spent the whole day with her children at hospital, except when she talked with police and royal officials for two hours, recounting what happened. She had still been at hospital, but the children had been moved into another room.

The door creaked open, but Lucy didn't glance behind herself. It wasn't the boogeyman coming to get her. She assumed it was another doctor or nurse. A hand pressed down on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Lucy glanced up then and found the bright blue eyes of William.

"How's he doing?" he asked.

"Fine, for being shot." Lucy kept her voice low, but it held disdain. "I would allow you to talk to your brother alone when he wakes up, but I don't feel like it."

William swallowed roughly. "I had hoped to speak with you alone."

"No."

"It could be now," he continued calmly, "while he's sleeping and your children are sleeping. They'll never know you've gone."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"Lucy," he warned.

Her eyes shot back at him. "I will permit you to be in the room with your nieces and nephews and your brother. But I don't have to like it, William. I'm not playing this game right now where we pretend to be nice people. You do you, and I do myself." Lucy looked back at her husband.

"You allow me to stay?"

"Take a seat. The floor is open." Lucy stared at her husband while holding his hand. William didn't sit on the floor but stood by the door. He waited standing.

"What's that?" he asked, referring to the envelope on Harry's nightstand addressed to him.

Growling, Lucy hopped off of the chair and gripped William's hand tightly, pulling him out of the room. William let out a rush of air as her tight grip but gave no retort. Lucy hated when he waited patiently. It was one of his moves. "What do you want?" Lucy demanded in the hallway. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"That's my brother in there."

"Really, I had no idea."

"You're obviously angry at me, Lucy. Why?"

"Where to start?" she asked aloud. "Well, there are many things throughout our whole relationship, but let's be recent. You let Harry go."

He stopped. "You think, Lucy, I let Harry go try to save you? You're thick to think that."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Then tell me what happened. Why did he come? How didn't you stop him or how didn't any of you know?"

"He kept it from us."

"Then you're the thick ones. How is that possible? He just walked straight of the house. And what about Robert and Simon? They went with him and were his back up, but they did nothing else. Someone explain this to me. Explain to me why my husband is shot in there."