A Target's Love

14

Elizabeth groaned and blinked. Ugh, that hurts. Wait, why the hell did blinking hurt so much all of a sudden? Sometimes situations need to be dealt with as they came and pain ignored. This--apparently--was one of those times. She opened her eyes and just let it all in. 

White walls. . .blindingly white walls that hurt her eyes all the more. Shiny stuff. Glass. Lots of glass. Damn, who was the decorator? She turned her sore body slightly as she tried to make sense of her surroundings.

"Hold on, son, sleeping beauty is awake."

"Finally! I was just starting to think I'd have to take her to the hospital."

Hospital? Elizabeth sprang up from the horizontal position she was in. She immediately realized her mistake when her head pounded and the room spun. Her vision started to go black again. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to ease the pain.

"Whoa, there, easy," Javier spoke softly, catching her before she could fall and hit the arm of the sofa.

Elizabeth allowed herself to be pushed back down gently and stared up at the faces of the two men above her. One showed intense relief, and the other, intense boredom. She guessed that nothing really stressed the older Quinton out. After a few seconds, he disappeared from her view.

"You'd better start telling her what's going on before she starts asking questions," William Quinton spoke from somewhere across the room.

"Alright, alright, I'm gonna tell her--with no interruptions from you, of course." A disgruntled Javier replied, also disappearing from view.

William Quinton grunted, and the rustling of paper greeted her ears. Tell her what? She tried to sit up but found that all of her wincing attempts were in vain.

"Let me help you there," Javier said, moving to her side once more.

"No, no, no." She protested. "I'm fine, really. I can do it."

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, Javier thought, moving to give her some room. It was best to let her find out for herself that, in her present condition, she needed to let someone help her. After several moments, he went to her side again and leaned over.

"Ready to admit defeat and let me help you?" He winked playfully.

She sighed. "Fine. But I want a pillow behind my back so it doesn't hurt so damn much."

"Whatever you say, your highness," Javier moved away again. He returned a few moments later with one of Mrs. Quinton's fluffiest pillows and helped her sit up. He placed the pillow firmly behind her back as she sighed shakily.

"How are you feeling, Ms. Rosheuvel?" William Quinton asked from behind his evening newspaper. He'd never gotten around to finishing it.

"Please, it's Elizabeth. And I'm fine, thank you."

Javier glared at paper. "Father, if you're gonna talk to her, at least be polite and put away the damn paper."

The paper moved to reveal raised eyebrows. "Watch your tone, son."

Javier sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Nobody reads the newspaper at midnight. Weirdo."

"Well, thanks to you and your psycho women, I haven't had much time for reading, now have I?" William now glared at his son.

"Listen, you're in on this whether you like it or not. So pay some damn attention." Javier intoned.

"I said watch it," William repeated, his voice hard.

Javier bristled. He'd had a long night. "You know what, I'm sick of you t--"

"Hey, hey!" Elizabeth yelled, holding up both hands and commanding the attention of both men. They turned to glare at her. "Could we maybe dial the testosterone down just a smidge? I'm still here, remember?"