Wonderful
AUTHOR: Lucky.
DISCLAIMER: Except for the creations of the author, all characters, characterizations, situations, and locations described in this unsolicited and not-for-profit work of fiction are the property of ABC Television, Capitol Cities, Inc., Steven Bochco Productions, the many talented people who created the world of NYPD Blue, and the actors who have made that world such a lively place. The author would also like to extend her personal gratitude to Mr. Scott Cohen for his light, his vitality, his inspiration, and for being such a compelling muse. Thank you, sir.
FEEDBACK: To Lucky
"Detective Russell?"
I was just going for a walk, I swear... She pulled her eyes away from the hospital, dragging them across the sunny Saturday sky, and looked at Dr. Clarence. "Yeah?"
"Hi. Are you here to see Harry?"
No. I was just going for a walk. "I was thinking about it."
The doctor grinned. "You should. I think he'd like the company."
Not mine, I'm sure. "Really?"
Dr. Clarence nodded, motioning for Diane to accompany her as she completed the trip from her car to the hospital door. "I'm pretty sure he's getting tired of discussing Hippocratic ethics and administrative politics with the nursing staff."
Diane pulled the doctor to a stop. "Wait a minute... Hippocratic ethics and administrative politics?"
The doctor nodded again, almost gravely this time. "To hear them talk, he's the new union president." She started moving again. "Either that or he's the new mascot. Actually, I'm surprised he hasn't gotten marriage proposals yet." The doctor glanced over with a sly grin. "At least not that I've heard."
Diane let herself fall in step behind the doctor, gaping at the back of her head in disbelief. For the asshole she remembered Denby as, the man Dr. Clarence referred to only as 'Harry' sounded almost sweet. The kind of man a girl might like.
The kind of man a girl might marry.
She followed the doctor into the hospital and up to the post-trauma ward. In the day, activity was more pronounced, but still carried out with the respectful, convalescent quiet of health in restoration. Dr. Clarence ducked behind the nurses' stand.
"Do you remember what room he's in?"
Diane nodded, looking away down the hall. The one without the chairs around it. "Yeah. I can find him."
The doctor nodded, glancing at her watch. "It's lunchtime, so he's probably got one of our aides in there with him making sure he eats."
"Why wouldn't he be eating?" ... and why am I so concerned?
"He's having problems with his appetite and so far he's been pretty good at sweet-talking his way out of it. Dr. Uhrig thinks it's the alcoholism coming back to haunt him. She's assigned someone to watch him... spoon feed him if necessary. He should be fine." Dr. Clarence watched Diane for a moment. Then, "It's usually the sort of thing family does."
Diane nodded a little, trying not to read too much into the doctor's quiet statement. "So, um... How much longer do you think he'll have to stay?"
Dr. Clarence folded her arms, pointing her eyes up for a moment as she thought. "Well, that depends."
"On what?"
"Someone needs to keep an eye on him. He spent the more painful part of his withdrawal asleep, but he's still going through it. The problem is that he doesn't know why."
"What do you mean?"
Dr. Clarence laid her hands out on the desk in front of her. "He's not mentally aware that his body is asking him for alcohol and cocaine. All he feels is the physical addiction."
"Wouldn't that make it easier for him to clean up, though?"
"Sure, if I wanted to hold him hostage in that bed for the rest of his life." She cocked her head a little at Diane with a questioning look. "You were here on Tuesday evening, right?"
"Yeah."
"Did you know that until then, and in all the time since, nobody else has come looking for him? Nobody's called, nobody's tried to contact us. Not a single living person has given us any indication that they knew he was injured, much less cared that he's alive, and we've had him for two weeks now." As she spoke, the doctor's voice became determined, her finger pointing down the hall towards his room to punctuate her conviction. "That's not normal, and I can't let him go until there's someone who I can release him to. Not in the condition he's in." She dropped her hand, staring pointedly into Diane's eyes. "He needs to be in someone's care. Until I can find someone who cares about him, he's just gonna have to stay in mine."
Diane felt suddenly, uncomfortably, volunteered. "That's okay," she mumbled, dropping her gaze away from the doctor's eyes.
Dr. Clarence gave a derisive chuckle and shuffled through the stacks of folders on the desk. "You're the only person he's even given an inkling of possibly remembering. Maybe you can help him remember someone who actually does give a rat's ass about him."
Diane snapped her eyes up to the suddenly flushed doctor, stung by her words, taking a step back. "Are you saying I don't care about Harry?"
Dr. Clarence's blue eyes flashed icy. "Don't you?"
Diane glared at her for a second, then turned away and stalked up the hall, but only because it was easier than trying to answer. The lie would have been easy enough to say, and she could hear all the times she'd said it before ring through her memory's ear, but all the times she'd said it before were before it was a lie. The truth, on the other hand, was too new, still wet, eyes and ears clamped firmly shut, trembling like prey and waiting to be killed by a man who didn't remember.
Yet.
Diane found his room and stood outside the partially open door, listening to what was going on inside. She could hear bright, arrhythmic orchestral music and gaudy, overdone sound effects, overlaid with the childlike laughter of two adults.
"Now, you see," said the male voice. "That's 'Blanc's Rule Of Cartoon Physics Number One: If you look down, you're gonna fall'. It's been fifty years. How many cliffs is that dog gonna run off of before he gets it?"
A feminine giggle, then her response. "Yeah, there's that and if you're on the ground and look up, you get an anvil in the face." Slight pause, mildly miffed voice. "And Wyle E. Coyote is not a dog, thank you."
Incredulous, with just a hint of teasing. "What, are you his agent?"
The woman giggled again. "No."
"Oh, so you're just doing this Nurse Ratchet thing on the side. I see where it's at now."
"Harry, if you call me Nurse Ratchet one more time, I'm gonna have to smack you."
"Nurse Ratchet."
There were a few seconds of threatening silence, then both of them broke out into laughter. As it subsided, the woman spoke again.
"Okay, I'm here for a reason and it's not to watch Looney Tunes with you."
"But we're having fun," Harry whined.
"Why don't we have lunch while we're at it, then?"
"I'm not hungry."
Diane put her shoulder into the door, pushing it open just far enough to see, but not far enough to catch the attention of either of the people in the room. A tiny little woman sat on a raised stool beside Harry's bed with a tray of food beside her. Harry, in turn, looked at the food in open disgust with his arms folded stubbornly across his chest. The woman pushed at her glasses and sighed.
"Why do you do this every day? Has pouting ever gotten you out of eating before?"
He flirted his eyes at her a little. "It worked on everyone else."
"Yeah, well," she pointed her square little jaw at him. "I'm me. Get used to it."
Harry flopped his hand around on the bed until he found the television remote and he clicked off his Saturday morning cartoons. "You're making me miss Bugs Bunny."
"A guy's gotta eat. I'm sure Bugs'll understand." Harry stared at his feet, rapidly losing the fight to keep the smile off his face. The woman continued to nag him, snapping playfully. "Look, do you want them to shove a tube down your throat? Because I can arrange for that. Believe me, this is a lot more pleasant."
"You're so stubborn," he growled indignantly.
"And you're so eating. I don't care what you say." The two of them stared at each other in silence again, then the woman spoke again in a gentle coax. "We can even play 'airplane' if you want."
Harry's eyes sparked hopefully. "Stewardess and pilot airplane?"
The woman's dark eyes snapped and narrowed a little. "Airplane and hangar airplane."
Harry pretended to be disappointed. "Oh..."
She sighed heavily. "Or I can just ram it down your gullet with a stick. How about that?"
"Airplane is fine," Harry capitulated, nodding and smiling quickly, making the woman laugh aloud. He watched her for a moment, seeming truly happy for her laughter, then he offered her a gentle voice. "Actually, there is something I'd like you to do for me."
"Will it get you to eat?"
"It'll bring my appetite up a little, if that's what you're asking."
She rolled her eyes at him. "What do you want?"
"Take your hair down."
She stared at him for a moment, looking suddenly unsure of the silken thread in his voice. Carefully, she put her hands up, pulling at the trappings of her tight bun, shaking her head a little as her hair fell past her shoulders in a straight swing of warm brunette.
Harry's eyes flowed over her for a second, then he reached up, beckoning her forward with his fingertips. "Come here." She leaned forward and he caught the edges of her glasses, pulling gently until they were folded on the blanket in his lap. He reached up again, toying a little with the fringe of her hair as he smiled. "I was right."
"Right about what?"
"I just knew that any woman with a name like Aurendel had to be beautiful under all that professional austerity."
She blushed a little, suddenly shy, pointing her eyes away. "This isn't what I'm here for, Harry."
He touched the little dimple in her chin and chuckled. "If it's any consolation to you, I'm hungry now." He dipped his head a little to catch her gaze again with his smile.
Diane's jealousy came out of nowhere to get the better of her and she rapped her knuckles loudly on the door, shouldering it open hard enough to bang it off its stopper. "Oh, I'm sorry," she faked, staring innocently at the pair in the room. "Am I interrupting something?"
Aurendel snatched at her glasses, shoving them roughly back onto her face. "Not at all." She straightened herself and pulled at her hair, flipping it back over her shoulders with a tug. "Just having lunch."
"Oh, okay." Diane looked into Harry's eyes, seeing only mild irritation at having had his fun spoilt, but no anger, no hatred.
No recognition.
That should make me happy... shouldn't it?
"Are you," Aurendel started with a little stammer, "are you... family?"
Diane shook her head a little, stepping fully into the room. "I'm a police officer. I... work with Detective Denby and I thought maybe I could... um..."
"Help him remember some stuff?" Aurendel supplied helpfully, hopping down from her perch and collecting the untouched luncheon.
"Yeah," Diane answered, grateful for not having to tell the whole lie herself. "Um... you can leave the tray... if you want."
Aurendel looked at the food, then to Harry. "Will you eat it?"
He nodded, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere now.
Aurendel set the tray back down. "Okay... but I'm coming back to make sure."
Harry focused on her with a grin. "Please."
The petite woman giggled a little, trying to cover it with her hand and a throat clearing, taking her leave in a quick trot and closing the door behind her. Faintly, Diane could hear the sound of excited laughter chirp and fade away down the hall. And then they were alone. Diane was alone in a room with a living, breathing Harry Denby.
And he didn't know her from Eve.
Continued in Part 5.
