Slow Burn | HS

arsonist's lullabye

May 2017

It's another hour before a doctor arrives. Mara and Liam haven't turned up yet, and with the chaos that's occurring near the fire, Joelle doesn't expect them anytime soon. When the doctor leaves, she grants access to Harry's father to go inside the room. His father kindly invites Joelle to come in too, but she waits to give him a few minutes alone. Mia stays in the waiting room, asleep again.

When Harry's father steps out after about ten minutes, his eyes are red-rimmed and the wrinkles on his face appear even deeper. He's a gaunt man, with eyes that look as if they've seen enough to fill three lifetimes.

He approaches them slowly, steadying himself on his feet. "It's all yours," he says, gesturing to the room. Joelle blinks. Odd. "My name is Cash Styles, by the way. I don't know if Harry's talked about me much."

He hadn't at all, in fact, and the only inkling Joelle ever had of his existence was the picture that she found in Harry's locker while she was looking around his room at the station. The man in front of her is unrecognizable in comparison, with the exception of the green eyes that remarkably remind her of Harry's.

"I'm Joelle Katler," she replies and robotically sticks out her hand for him to shake. His hands are worn and leathery, and Joelle thinks she sees a large flash of scar tissue trailing up from his wrist before he pulls his hand away.

"I'm going to go make a few phone calls," he says, rocking awkwardly on his feet. He puts his hands in his pockets before looking at the floor. Joelle can't stop noticing the difference between Harry and Cash's social comfort.

Joelle leaves him in the waiting room now that she has permission from Harry's father to visit outside of normal visitation hours.

She knows that she'll walk into something bad, but the sight of his state still makes her heart drop like a weight into her stomach.

Harry's face is ashen, a tube protrudes from his mouth, and his leg is wrapped in a contraption that's tied to weights dangling freely from the footboard. When she moves closer, she sees his hands are bound to the bed by restraints.

Her vision blurs as she steps forward. Reaching for his hand, she grasps it tightly with both of hers. A small squeeze is felt in response and lines mark his forehead. She doesn't know how, but he can sense her there.

"Hi, baby," she says quietly. Her hand reaches up to push his dirty curls away from his forehead, a finger runs across his eyebrow, clearing soot. Another squeeze. "I'm right here."

She pulls over the chair so she can be right next to the bed. Leaning down, she kisses the back of his palm.

A nurse walks in with a cart, scanning medications.

"Hi there," she greets. "My name is Brooke, and I'll be Harry's nurse tonight." She moves closer and takes his vital signs, while Joelle continues to hold on to his hand tightly.

"I'm Joelle, his girlfriend." She pauses while the nurse listens to Harry's lungs. When she hangs the stethoscope back around her neck, Joelle asks, "Why is he restrained?"

"It's to protect him," she tells her, turning to face her. "Sometimes patients on ventilators, as a reflex, reach up and try to pull on their tubes. We don't want Harry to do that and hurt himself. The ventilator is allowing him to breathe." When Joelle nods, she adds, "It's not a behavioral restraint. Those are much different."

Joelle glances at his leg. "And his emergency contact said that his leg is broken?"

"Yes, the bone in his thigh will take a lot of time to heal. The orthopedic surgeon wanted to hold off on surgery to allow his oxygen level in his blood to stabilize a bit. He'll be intubated in the OR as well, but they wanted to take some time to monitor him beforehand." She gestures to the weights at the foot of the bed. "This odd thing helps prevent muscle spasms before surgery."