Harry: Chapter Seven

Departures

by Liederlady

Notes

Edwards.

My eyes closed—whether signaling relief or regret, I was ill-prepared to say.

I felt Harry’s hand clench tighter at my arm. I opened my eyes to his equally clenched jaw. I quickly pressed my own hand upon his then turned to face Edwards as he strolled toward us.

“Constable,” I acknowledged acidly.

“The two of you seemed deep in, well, deep in something. I see you're dressing him in your clothes, Doctor,” Edwards chuckled. It in no way resembled a humorous sound.

I felt Harry move toward the constable, but I intervened, placing my body in his path. He stilled, but pressed against me. I could sense the tension suffusing him—like a poised panther.

“Not quite as fetching in clothes, is he?” Edwards said.

“What do you want, Edwards?” I said irritably.

“I suspect you both know,” Edwards said, gazing at Harry who stood, barely contained, behind me.

“My patient is still too weak to answer your questions.”

With this, I turned fractionally and blindly pressed a hand to Harry’s back, implying he should walk alone back to his room.

He remained rooted to the ground.

“Please,” I whispered imploringly. But he would not budge.

“Really, Doctor? He looks strong enough ... strong enough for quite a bit of exertion,” Edwards said, his dark eyes flashing challengingly. He moved toward the young man and I again maneuvered myself between them. Edwards ran his eyes over me appraisingly, lingering somewhere south of my belt.

I heard a menacing rumble from behind me. It sounded for all the world like a warning growl.

As had happened earlier in the day, Edwards and I were confronting each other. Only now I had the additional disadvantage of Harry pressing against my back, apparently wanting to rend a choice portion of the leering constable. My mind whirled for a way to defuse the situation.

“You may stand aside, Doctor,” Harry said with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Ahh, our molly boy speaks!” Edwards said, his eyes glinting with malice, “and I thought something or someone had stole your tongue.” His eyes darted briefly to me then back to Harry. “You see, Doctor, he’s quite up to answering a query or two. I believe you should stand aside and allow us to renew our acquaintance.”

“Edwards, before that ever happens I believe you and I should continue the discussion Doctor Brett interrupted this morning.” It was my turn to growl.

“No, Doctor,” I heard Harry snap behind me. I half turned to him.

Without warning Edwards rabbit punched me in the jaw twice then delivered a crushing left to my solar plexus, sending me sprawling backward into Harry. I tried to deflect my falling body from his, certain the force of the punches would knock us both to the ground and harm him.

I need not have worried. The young man’s arms went round me, his strength and agility setting and steadying me upright on wobbly but adequate legs.

The next moments were a blur.

I heard Harry’s hoarse voice bellow something unintelligible and sensed his body sailing past me. I was vaguely aware of his rapid succession of undercuts and jabs to Edwards’s face and body. Then I watched the constable’s lengthy crumple to the ground with Harry looming over him, agitatedly bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning like a murderous fiend.

“Harry, good Lord, my boy, what have you done?” I gasped with barely enough air. Edwards’s blow to my groin was yet impairing my breath. My legs were still rubbery, but I lurched toward the boy.

He reached out to steady me and looked down at me, panting from his exertion. He appeared elated, but I recognized fatigue dimming the exuberant light in his open eye.

“Are you all right, John?” he asked, his piercing gaze scrutinizing my eyes, his fingertips ghosting over my right jaw, pummeled by Edwards’s flashing right. Harry’s right arm was firmly supportive about my waist, pulling me close.

“I am fine, I must see to the constable. Damn, why did you do such a thing?” I attempted a snarl, but still lacked the air. I was angry that Harry had put himself in danger. The bulky Edwards could have harmed him. And when the constable came to, he would likely arrest the boy for assaulting a law officer.

“The ruffian struck you, and in a most ungentlemanly manner ... when you were turning away,” Harry snorted his displeasure and scowled down at the unconscious Edwards.

I tried to bend to see to the man, but Harry was not releasing his hold upon me. He was much stronger than his slimness implied and breaking his grip would require considerable force.

Even had I possessed the strength at that moment, I would not have further depleted the boy’s reserves. Harry was holding me so close I could feel his racing heartbeat and measure his slightly labored breathing. Despite the bulk of the overcoat, I became disturbingly aware of his body’s sinuous angles.

“Harry, let me go, I must see to Edwards,” I groaned, gently attempting to disentangle myself. I could not fathom my reaction to him.

“Only if you assure me you are all right,” he commanded, inspecting my eyes with an intensity that nearly burned.

I gazed up at him and he bent his head to mine. For a frantic moment I thought our lips would touch. Then his trembling hand moved up to again stroke my aching jaw. His fingers continued their journey, repeatedly flitting over my lips as though lured there like a lamp-ensnared moth—their delicate touch as feathery and nervous as fluttering wing beats.

“I am all right,” I pleaded. To prove it, I inhaled a deep, unhindered breath and scented my own shave tonic on his skin. On him, it smelled exotic and seductive and dangerous.

Harry blinked then looked about anxiously and reluctantly released me. As I knelt to examine Edwards’s injuries, I heard an orderly puffing up toward us.

“What happened, Doctor?” the stocky man asked, panting. He looked from Edwards’s prone form, to my reddened jaw, to Harry hovering over me, his hands protectively gripping my shoulders.

“The constable had a nasty fall, Mowbray. Would you mind helping me get him inside?”

“Ay, sir, a nasty fall, helped along by this young one. Did the slimy beast sully you, sir?” Mowbray asked with more than a touch of heat as he regarded Harry.

“What the devil do you mean, man?” I said rising to stand defensively between him and Harry, thinking Mowbray referred to our embrace.

“Him, sir,” the orderly said, jerking his head down at Edwards, “He makes a habit of touching young men. My cousin was sullied by him when he was picked up for loiterin’. Swore if I ever got a chance, I’d lay the bloke out. I'd like to shake your hand, young sir,” Mowbray said, extending his meaty hand past me toward Harry who took it amiably.

The huge orderly glared down at Edwards again.

“There may be laws, but they should be the same for everyone,” he snarled.

Then Mowbray bent and hoisted the unconscious constable up and onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Where do you want the beast, Doctor Watson?” the orderly grunted.

“Take him to one of the secluded examining rooms, please Mowbray. And would you remain with him until I see the young man back to his room?” I asked.

“I’ll keep my eye on the snake, Doctor, don’t you worry,” Mowbray advised. Then he winked and carted the unconscious man off.

I turned to Harry. He was watching me carefully ... doubtless for some sign of weakness.

“That was a foolish thing for you to do. When Edwards awakes he will arrest you for assault,” I snapped.

“He wished to arrest me anyway. At least now there will be sufficient reason,” the boy argued with a satisfied smile.

“And do you think I’ll allow you to be under his control? His earlier ... what he tried to do this morning ... and now with what Mowbray just brought to light?” I said, my hands shaking with rage.

“I shall be fine,” Harry said, but I heard the trace of a tremor beneath his hoarseness. He blinked demurely as he firmly caught my wrists in his hands and began rubbing his thumbs soothingly over my pulse points.

My mother’s gesture … he had remembered it from that first horrible night of trauma and pain. Harry smiled at me.

Something warm and unexpected and alien welled in my chest, but at that moment I could not, would not acknowledge it.

“Well, I shall not.” I barked, jerking my hands away. “Get back to your room and wait for me while I examine him. I just hope you did no serious damage.”

“He is merely unconscious. I did not use full force,” Harry said, grinning.

“This is not amusing, young man,” I shouted, blasting the grin from his lips. He actually cringed in response to my angry tone.

“Get back to your room, get back into bed and wait for me,” I commanded and stalked away from him.

I had little doubt he would be furious with me for my ill temper. I was slightly less certain he would be waiting as I had ordered.

It turned out that Harry knew his own strength ... Edwards was not seriously hurt. But I suspected he would have a gargantuan headache when he awoke. I applied styptic to his bleeding cheek, lips and nose. Harry’s sharp knuckles had made short work of them.

Edwards moaned from the sting, but did not awaken.

I tasked Mowbray, who had remained outside the room during my examination, with keeping watch over Edwards. If the Constable awoke, I did not want him barging into Harry’s room—both for Harry’s safety and the policeman’s.

When I entered Harry’s room, he was perched on the edge of the bed, facing the door. He still wore my overcoat.

He looked awful.

“I told you I wanted you in bed,” I said sternly.

“I am in bed, Doctor,” his tone positively icy.

“Here, put these on,” I demanded, dropping a bundle of clothing next to him on the bed.

He looked at the clothes, then up at me questioningly.

“You’ve been saying you wish to leave. Well, now you truly must,” I said soberly.

“I know I did not seriously harm him,” he said standing quickly, but there was an uncertain quaver in his voice. At least I would know he could be uncertain about something.

“You did not. He will be all right. But once he regains consciousness, he will certainly take you into custody,” I said with a scowl.

“And if I am gone, he will go after you. I will not permit that,” he said darkly.

“He will have no evidence that I helped you. I will be in no difficulty,” I assured him.

“I will not leave y-- “

“You must leave soon. He will awaken shortly. Get dressed now. I will wait outside,” I said.

“John,” he said, moving toward me. His hand gripped my sleeved arm, turning me back toward him. Then his hand slipped up to encircle my bare wrist and I felt his fingers tremble.

He suddenly looked less tall than before ... and less capable.

“Harry, there is very little time. I wish this was not necessary. I am still concerned about you. You need further care, but I fear you will be in greater danger from Edwards. Please hurry and dress, my boy,” I implored him. Then I disengaged from his grasping hand and left the room.

He emerged a few moments later, dressed in my clothes. The suit’s sleeves and legs were too short and the shoulders and hips too large, but he looked appropriate enough to travel. My shoes, at least, looked sufficient to his needs. He handed me my overcoat.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but I silenced him with a look then motioned for him to follow me outside.

I had arranged for a hansom to take him where he wanted to go. I handed him two five-pound notes as we reached the street, embarrassed that it could not be more. He looked down at them and shook his head.

“How do you expect to get where you need to go? Take them,” I said firmly.

He raised his eye from the money to my face, searching it for a long moment.

“Eminently practical—typical medical man,” he said ruefully, then accepted and pocketed the notes.

I then handed him my overcoat along with my black bowler which I suspected would look dreadful on him, but it was the only good informal hat I owned.

“I cannot-- ” he began.

“Doctor’s orders. You must not get a chill,” I said with a slight smile.

“John, I-- “

“Please take them. I will soon be entering the army. They will be useless where I am going,” I said.

“Where are you going?” he asked, suddenly alarmed.

“India. It will be far too steamy there for an overcoat and I would have to trade my bowler for a fez,” I told him with a crooked smile.

“India,” Harry said, then grew silent. I watched his bottom lip quiver, or did I simply imagine it?

“It is too much. I-- ” he began.

“I want you to have them. Please, it will comfort me to know you are warm until you get safely home and into your own things,” I said, swallowing a considerable lump.

He straightened awkwardly and that vulnerable, isolated look immediately clouded his eye.

I held out the coat for him. He sighed, but turned and compliantly slipped his arms in. I hefted it to his thin shoulders, smoothed the dark blue fabric over them several times then uneasily pulled my hands away.

“When are you leaving here?” he asked.

“In about three weeks,” I said, as he turned to face me.

“I will return before then to repay you and return your things. I owe you too much already,” he vowed.

“I think it best that you not return. If Edwards discovers you are here--”

“I will return. I must. I must see you again,” he said. His gaze appeared momentarily frantic. His voice sounded more so. Then his normal reserve resumed and I released the breath I had suspended.

He extended his hand. Only then did I note that his knuckles were scraped and bleeding from the battering he had given Edwards.

I instantly withdrew my kerchief and wrapped it round his torn knuckles. Then I handed him the small parcel I held under my arm. He looked at me inquisitively.

“Dressings,” was all I said. He colored and pursed his lips; god, I would miss that expression.

I took his wrapped hand and shook it warmly, covering it with my left. His exposed flesh felt cold. His entire body was trembling.

“Harry,” I said, my mind racing to find another solution to this debacle.

“When I return, I shall be free to tell you my name,” he said.

I nodded, but my brows knitted in consternation at his phrasing. I still knew nothing of his circumstances prior to his admission, other than his terrible abuse.

“You will be all right?” I asked, suddenly uncertain I was doing what was best for him.

“I shall return to you,” he promised, without answering my question. He was still clutching my hand. I was just as reluctant to relinquish his, but knew Edwards would soon awaken.

“Be well, Harry, be safe,” I said, pressing my other hand to his back, guiding him into the waiting cab.

He nodded and stepped into the cab. I closed the lap doors for him and he reached out and grasped my hand once more.

“And you, until we again meet, John, when I may properly thank you,” he said. His eye shimmered. As the cab jerked forward under our hands, I saw his bruised cheek stained by the overflow.

And then he was gone.

Chapter Eight: The First Return