Page 18 of Deja Who
It did, actually. My heart wasn’t in it. Well, the second time.
“I said I was sorry,” she said when they were alone.
“You apologized for one grotesque wound, not both.”
“As I am certain,” she continued, “you are sorry for spying on me and scaring me.”
“Scaringyou? No way in hell. An IRS audit wouldn’t scare you. Goddamned Typhoid Mary wouldn’t scare you.” Since Leah had met Mary Mallon just last year, he was correct. “You don’t scare.” A half-second pause, followed by, “Okay, sorryIscaredyoubutyoudidn’thavetostabmetwice.”
“You’re right.” She thought for a few seconds.Am I really going to do this? Yes. I am.“Can I get you anything?”
He blinked those dazzling eyes at her. “What?”
“You say ‘what’ a lot. Magazines? Gum? A cigar? Do you want me to call anyone?”
“...no.”
He doesn’t have anyone. Like me.The thought brought another unwitting smile to her lips.
“Why are you looking at me like that with your sexy shark eyes?”
“I...”Because I can’t see you, and I would like to.“I apologize.”
“I’ll tell you what I’d like.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. I can’t believe I’m even thinking it. But...”
And that’s how she found herself spending the night curled into a surprisingly comfortable chair beside Archer’s hospital bed, the beeps and boops of the monitors around her lulling her into a sleep almost deeper than Archer’s drugged one.
