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The first time he opened his eyes, everything was white. Bright. Loud. Too much. He closed them again.
***
The second time he opened his eyes, it was quieter. He tried to figure out where he was and what was going on. Too much. He closed them again.
***
The third time Freddie Lyon opened his eyes, he looked around the stale room and was finally able to place where he was. Hospital. A patient at the hospital. He was the only one in the room. He closed his eyes again.
But the next time Freddie woke, it was to a bustle of noise and voices. Beeping and talking and clanking all managed to break the threshold of his mind and pushed him into wakefulness. It was all very loud and brash. As he opened his eyes, something must have happened because everyone went very still and quiet before rushing over to him.
It was a moan, a soft little noise from the bed that alerted everyone there to Freddie’s wakefulness. Bel stood stock still as the doctor and nurses rushed to him, Hector and Lix with her, Isaac and Sissy just outside. Well. And not to mention…
“Camille?”
Confused, Freddie looked up a bit more, trying to pull himself up to see his wife who managed to push herself through the mass of people to get to his side. It was the first word he’d uttered since completely passing out on the lawn in front of the studios. Bel ignored the stab, the searing slice through her chest at realizing he wasn’t asking for any variation on Moneypenny. Then again, she might prefer to never hear that name again.
“They called me. They said you’d been hurt. Oh, Freddie.”
Who in their right mind had called Camille? She’d left him! Run off without him because he cared about his job too much! Oh, how rich that was, coming from her. Here he was, laying half dead because of that job and she comes rushing to his side. Oh, how grand a reunion. Fortunately for Bel, Freddie didn’t seem too pleased to see her either. He seemed really rather confused. No one could really blame him, there was a lot of talking between the doctors and nurses and the Frenchwoman all trying to explain and talk over one another. He looked so small and lost in the grand old bed holding him there, trying to make sense of the world again. Bel sighed and looked away, resigning herself to the fact that she was just eye candy again, just a piece on the wall of the grand machine of The Hour.
“Bel?”
The room fell quiet again, Camille especially.
“Where’s Bel?”
Her heart leapt into her throat, and she knew right then she had a choice. Either step up or run. Because if she didn’t… Freddie needed her now and if she couldn’t be there for him she might as well just fire him. It would hurt him exactly the same. Taking a shaky breath and swallowing hard, Bel finally stepped forward.
“Yes, Freddie. I’m here.”
***
The next four days went so quickly it was a miracle they came out of it still standing.
Freddie wanted to go home. Camille wanted to take him home. Bel suggested maybe they stay somewhere else until they got a frame for their mattress. Freddie went quiet.
Freddie wanted out of the hospital, that much was clear, but as to the actual act of leaving… Well, he’d been really quiet on the subject. Until Bel got him alone, that is.
Camille left shortly after that, Freddie sitting alone and silent on his cot. They got him out of the hospital with plenty of encouragement from everyone at The Hour, onto a nice sofa bed at Miss Rowley’s. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Bel was giving him her bed for now, while he recovered a bit more, but the details weren’t the important thing right now. Freddie’s recovery was.
Freddie looked awful. Clienti’s men had done a number on his face, but things seemed to be healing well so far. Freddie was in good spirits, as always, making jokes about this and that, calling her Moneypenny again. Just like the good ol’ days. It was… Odd, though, that he seemed to be coping so well. Then again, it was Freddie. He was seemingly indestructible. He was a man of not only words but action as well. He always had his head on straight, and apparently nearly getting it knocked off did nothing to change that fact, which is why Bel finally brought him to work even though, strictly speaking, he was still on medical leave.
***
“I didn’t ask you to, Bel!”
“You didn’t have to, Freddie! God, I just wanted to do something nice for you!”
“Nice?? Nice?? You wanted to do something nice??”
“Yes! Is that so damn difficult to understand??”
“Nice isn’t… That wasn’t… Nice isn’t whatever in the hell that was!”
“Freddie, I took you to the studio. I thought it would be nice for you to come back and see everyone!”
“No. This isn’t what I wanted. Moneypenny, I expected better of you.”
“Oh, don’t! Don’t you ‘Moneypenny’ me right now, Freddie. Now is not the time. Now, right now, you’re going to sit down, stop trying to limp around, and tell me why bringing you to work was such a bad idea.”
Finally, Freddie sat. His leg had taken his weight in a rough fall that night and had been bothering him since, not to mention the internal damage in his torso that caused the limp and pain when he walked. But so far he’d refused to sit. He was still standing his ground on this one. And he refused to answer. A bitter silence settled heavy between them, stretching far and wide through Bel’s flat. It echoed deep in her chest as she watched his hardened face for long, long minutes. She was the one to carry him through all of this! She was the one he wanted to be at home with, the one he wanted with him as he continued to heal, so why wasn’t he talking to her now? Why was he just sitting there, looking for all the world like he’d been deeply insulted and all because Bel took him to the place he loved most?
The silence was unbearable. It stretched on past a tolerable point but Freddie was just as stubborn as ever. Bel finally huffed, shaking her head as she stalked into the bedroom, leaving the idiot alone with his ridiculous thoughts.
***
A clanging woke Bel from the sleep she hadn’t realized she’d fallen into. What the hell was that? She lay still for a moment, listening until it happened again. Kitchen. Oh, God, Freddie. He was probably trying to find that damn bowl he loved so much. With a sigh and a stretch, Bel pulled herself up off the bed and wandered into the kitchen, ready to have yet another shouting match with the man who was invading her flat, her life, her every waking thought…
What she wasn’t expecting was to find Freddie, standing at the counter, having an epic battle not only with the coffee machine but with his hands, shaking like pathetic dead leaves in the winter. And…
“Are you crying?”
Again, Freddie refused to answer, trying and failing again to piece the damn thing together. But it was response enough.
“Freddie.”
His name was little more than a sigh off her lips as she quickly stepped forward, pulled the pot from his hands and forced him away from the counter. He immediately collapsed into her arms, letting go of the tears he had so desperately held onto. He just couldn’t hide it anymore. It hurt. Everything hurt. It was clawing at his chest with every breath, grasping at his throat with every gasp, pulling him down, down, down like the demon it was. The memories clouded his judgment, slapped the sleep from him, pulled away the safety in dreams. He was falling… Falling…
But Bel caught him. She held him up until they both slid to sit on the floor, Freddie a shaking sobbing mess in her arms, nearly hyperventilating. She had no idea it was this bad. Freddie, her Freddie was falling apart, breaking apart at the seams. The strong man she knew… He was broken… So shattered.
“I… I can’t, Bel. I can’t sleep.”
“Freddie, you don’t-“
“I can’t close my eyes. I want to see you, but I only see him.”
He was still shaking, trembling hard, about to vibrate out of his own skin.
“Clienti?”
“Yes. God, Bel, what was I thinking, going after him?”
“Freddie, you were going after the story. Same as always.”
“But to what end, Bel? How can that be worth it?”
His breath was shaking just as bad as he was. He was in the worst state she could imagine, even worse than she’d realized. He was second guessing his life, his whole career, everything. He stood for what he’d done, pushing and pushing until the truth came out. He always knew what to ask, what to do, where to go. And they’d gotten the story. How could he ever think it wasn’t worth it?
“Bel. Bel, please…”
“What is it, Freddie?”
“Don’t… Just for tonight… I’d rather not sleep alone.”
***
It had been three days since the breaking point. They hadn’t spoken about it since, but several things had changed.
First of all, Freddie still refused to go back to The Hour. Lix was working with Hector on ways to get him back (with Bel’s input, of course), but those plans were still in the early stages. His return would come.
Second, Freddie talked a lot more. Most of the time it was about his travels before coming back to London for The Hour, but… Sometimes… Only sometimes, he would open up about himself. About the nightmares that haunted him every single night.
Lastly, and most importantly, however, was their change in sleeping situation. The bedroom with that tiny bed was rather neglected these days as the pair of them curled up on the sofa bed in the living room. Sometimes the television was left on to something nonsensical until late, the noise helping to lull Freddie into sleep, but that wasn’t the most important part of it all. The most important part was that now, finally, they went to bed together. Curled up together, Bel let herself be pulled into those skinny arms she knew so well, tucking herself under Freddie’s chin. These moments were the ones she would savor forever.
***
A thin hand gently drifted through her hair, soft lips pressing against her forehead. Freddie was still awake, the liar. With a wicked glint in her eye, Bel shifted to look him in the eye, a movement which earned her a raised eyebrow, the expression hiding Freddie’s embarrassment.
“You told me you’d be asleep by now.”
“That may have been an oversight on my judgment.”
“Oh, may it have been?”
“Possibly.”
He was looking better now, a soft smile curling his lips as they watched each other. It took only a moment for the feeling to be mutual, each letting their eyes drift shut as soft lips met in the middle, sighing into a soft kiss.
No one at The Hour the next morning said anything when a bouquet of flowers was hand delivered to the office of one Bel Rowley by a familiar-looking dark-haired man wearing a rather striking blue three piece suit.
Well, Mr Lyon. Back to work.