shadow [h.s.]

n i n t h

Thank you to everyone who's been reading/commenting, this story is getting all the attention it deserves and I couldn't be more happy about it! Thanks so much to all of you who are voting and commenting, especially commenting with your theories on who the killer is. Some of you are really close. ;-)

This is dedicated to @tatianaart35 for having the most adorable personality and commenting a lot. :) love you babe!

Even though I was elated at the progress I had made on the case- without Harry's help, I might add- my elation grew to dissapointment in the days that followed. For the usual chocolate curls and green eyes that adorned my office every morning at 9:30 were no where to be found for three or four days. The days trickled by, my memory growing agitated and worried because Harry didn't show. I mean, I had told him to go.... But he had to come back, didn't he?

The truth was, I didn't have time to think about Harry. Mr. Denton called in on sick leave the day afterwards. "My kids are all sick, and they've given me the bug, too," he confessed.

"What sort of sick?" I questioned, giggling, as Leighton tickled my ribs.

"Fever," Denton groaned through the airwaves. "My kids are the absolute worst to have it. They burn up, but they claim they're freezing."

Because of this unfortunate happening, I was overloaded with twice as many cases. So it wasn't until four days after that fateful Saturday that I realized something was wrong. I ran into Fred- the guard from Bentley- at the local Tim Hortons. The guard looked down at me in disgust, then straightened and took off his hat.

I saw my chance. "Where's Harry?" I questioned, eyebrows furrowing together in the light.

Fred swallowed visibly. "He, uh. Hasn't been feeling well."

I bit my lip. "What sort of, 'not well?'"

Fred shrugged. "Who knows."

Frustration overtook me like a raging storm. "And has he been taken care of? You know, given any medicine?"

Fred shrugged again. "You're talking to the wrong person, ma'am."

I huffed in pure anger and stomped out of Tim Hortons, leaving my coffee behind- ("Ms? Ms? You no want you coffee?") - and climbed into my black Nexus. I sped onto the highway, cursing myself for not checking on Harry. At a prison like Bentley, who knew what could happen.

-x-

The only reason I remembered Harry's cell number was because of the digits; 145. They were the same as his case number, a fact that was cute and ironic. But it didn't help me in that moment.

I finally found Cell 145, a miserable excuse for a room at Bentley Penitentiary. I could see straight through the bars, but the room was so dimly lit I had to squint. "Harry?" I called, trying to find him. The light illuminated a simple bed, the one where he had sat when I came and cleaned his wounds. On the wall were the same words I had seen the first time. Hell was better than this.

There was no reply. I jimmied the lock with my bracelet and charged into the small cell, hands on my hips. "Harry," I warned. "I'm in no mood for games."

A half gasp came from the darkest corner of the cell, the one concealed in shadows. I moved closer and, as I approached, saw Harry crouched in the corner. But there was something very obviously wrong; he was shaking and quivering like an animal in headlights. I reached a hand out to him, feeling his forehead.

He was burning up. Mr. Denton echoed in my mind. "Fever. They burn up, but they claim they're freezing."

My eyes widened involuntarily. I smoothed my hand over his face and his eyes fluttered closed at my soothing touch. "It hurts, Sky," he croaked and my heart pumped a little faster at the desperate words without me telling it to. I felt his pulse. It was thready and barely there; a sort of faint pump, rat, pump... rat.

"Harry," I moaned. Those stupid guards. Fury burned in my gut at the harsh world Harry had been forced to live under. The guards hadn't given him medicine, hadn't even bothered to give him a blanket or water.

"When did you last eat?" I asked Harry, trying to remain calm even in my anger.

He tried to answer before crying out in pain when he moved his leg, slouching against me in a weak and withering manner. My heart pounded. The thing was, Leighton never made me feel like this. Leighton never made me feel desperately wanted in my life. Never had I felt so ignited with the pure passion of love for someone whom I never could be with.

I cradled Harry in my arms, trying to come up with a solution. I decided, after a moment, I would take him back to my home. Due to my employment at the police station, I was allowed to take prisoners in and out without so much as a waiver. It wasn't a big deal, I was certified here at the prison- something I was now ashamed of. I helped Harry to his feet, and he stumbled around dizzily.

I grabbed his hand; he grasped my fingers with a death grip. "Don't let go, Sky," he said raspily.

"I won't, Harry," I responded. I helped him, with some hardship, to my car. He held my hand, didn't even let go when we got into the Nexus. The radio and highway lulled him to sleep, and he fell asleep until I pulled into my driveway and woke him up. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead and his eyes were glassy as he scanned my apartment building. "You live here?" He asked.

I nodded. He followed me up to my complex and bit his lip when I opened up the door. "Aren't you coming in?"

Harry looked inside. "I'm not good enough for this type of place."

Shock hit me like a train. Never would I have thought Harry to be insecure. But he was. You could tell by his bitten lip and scattered eyes. I remembered that day outsideTim Horton's- the same fear haunted Harry's face.

So I grabbed his hand again and pulled him into the complex. "Well," I said as I took off Leighton's coat that Harry had been forced to wear under my orders, "maybe it's this place that isn't good enough for you."

Harry coughed into his hand, sputtering for breath as I led him to the kitchen area. He was so weak, I noticed, limping to a stool and laying his head in his hands; too tired to keep his eyes open.

I watched as his shoulders started rising with the deep, comforting drug of sleep. I moved over and smoothed my hands on his back. His spine relaxed. "Come to the couch," I whispered to him. He grasped my hand and leaned on me as I led him to the sofa, covering him with a Winnie the Pooh blanket.

"Don't leave me," he whispered, opening his green orbs long enough to break my heart with his gaze.

I smiled, running a hand over the bottom of the blanket and taking off his shoes. "I won't."

tbh i kinda got all cuddly and romantic-y whilst writing this.

woo hoo for surprise updates.

-Beth