The Armor (Prince Harry fanfic #1)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"Isn't that a little bit better?" Harry croaked, voice sore and groggy, in between awake and asleep. He was more focused upon breathing than anything else, but his eyes found her. Through his eyelashes, his pupils were big, staring at her in the bright light. "You look like an angel."

"I'm going to let that go because you've been stabbed, and you're drunk." It didn't help with the bright schoolhouse lights shining upon Lucy. "How are you feeling? I assume not great."

"You would be right." He grunted. "The pain is less."

"Tell me if it gets worse. We don't have a lot of alcohol, but it'll keep you numb." Lucy realized she shouldn't have said too many words and spoken too much, since Harry wouldn't remember that much. It would feel like a dream to him. "I called the charity, and they said they would call your family. I'm just waiting for a call."

"What did the charity say?"

"You know, procedures."

"You're right. I do know procedures. Did they yell at you?"

"They had to yell at someone."

Harry nodded and swallowed. His mind was fuzzy, especially around the edges, where his memories hid. There was something he needed to remember. As much as Harry wanted to defend her, saying she did nothing wrong, he didn't have the energy to do it. It wasn't like Lucy needed it.

"So," Harry coughed, "this is what it feels like."

"Please," she laughed, "you've been stabbed, not shot, and once."

"My apologies." A lazy smile crossed his face, and he was all too happy to mock her. "But, I'll be honest, I don't need to be shot. That sounds like it would hurt." The alcohol was definitely working for him. "I mean, ow." He started to laugh.

Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Lucy," he called, and she looked at him, "you're pretty." His words slurred.

"Thank you."

Harry never would remember this, and he mumbled, "Did people always call you Lucy?"

"No. Why?"

"Because in my mind, I always call you Luce. Can I call you that?"

"You may."

"Yes!" Harry groaned after jumping a little on the table. The pain came back again, and he grimaced. It was enough pain yet that he needed more alcohol, but the wound throbbed. "Did your parents used to call you that? I bet your mother did."

She swallowed. "She did."

Yawning, he shifted on the table, basically shifting in his already crusting blood. "I'm tired, but I'm afraid to sleep." Lucy didn't have anything to say to that. "Will I die?"

"No." Perhaps, it was lie, because Lucy didn't know the future. Perhaps, he would live. She saw him grow weaker by the second, coming down from the drunk high, and soon the pain would return to him. Her eyes wandered over to the bottle, ready to get it for him if he needed it.

Harry stared up at the ceiling. "Are you religious, Lucy?"

"I wouldn't say that I am, no."

"Were you ever?"

"Maybe once."

"What religion, if I may ask?"

"Catholic."

He laughed a little. "You can't be Queen if you're Catholic. It's a law." His fingers curled into the table. "Lucy, I need to tell you something."

"Why don't you tell me when you're better?"

"What if I die?"

"Don't be dramatic. You're going to be fine."

"I still need to tell you."

"You don't need to tell me anything."

"I do." He grabbed her hand. "Please." His eyes met hers, and she had no choice to stay with him. "Please."

Lucy considered what could come next, and it couldn't be too bad. In the end, he wouldn't have remembered, and she could forget. There wasn't anything bad he was going to say, but what secrets did he have to tell her? If he truly believed death was coming for him, what did he have to say before his end?

"What?" she asked.

"Thank you." He laughed.

She waited and that was he was going to say. "For what, exactly?"

Harry relaxed against the table. "Luce, I've never met a girl like you. And you're great." He didn't continue.

"But..." she waited.

His eyes narrowed upon her. "But?"

"There should be a but."

"There isn't," he said. "You're so great and cool, like people would like you better than me. But they wouldn't accept you, even if I declared my love for you." She almost choked on her own spit. "I could scream it from the rooftops, and no one would accept you. I'm so sorry for that." He squeezed her hand. "I want them to, because then we could be together."

The words prickled upon her tongue. Independence strained in her veins.

"I want my life to be with you. I love you."

She forced a smile on her face and leaned down. "Harry, shut up, please." Clearing her throat, she leaned back on the chair, letting his hand fall.

"Are you angry at me, Luce?"

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you always like this when you're drunk?"

"I'm dying."

"You're not!"

Quietness settled over them. Whether Lucy was angry at him or not, Harry settled down. Pain started to rage through him again, upon not being able to be distracted. He grunted. With his metabolism high and his body trying to fight to survive, the alcohol started to leave his system. He started to shake again.

"Luce," he whispered, but Lucy was already up.

She stood behind him and arched his head up, pressing it to her stomach. She uncapped the bottle and slowly started to pour in. With Harry being mostly awake, she was able to see how much he could take. A little bit of alcohol dribbled down the side of his mouth, running down his chin, and then he swallowed. She let him drink some more before taking the alcohol away. She leaned his head back on the ground. Harry breathed deeply.

"Thank you."

"Any time." The cell phone started to buzz within Lucy's pocket. "I'm going to get you some water and some soft food. Stay alive."

"I'll try," he hummed.

Lucy left out the door, getting into the night sky. Soon, upon looking at the sky, she knew it would lighten soon. The sun would start to rise. A new day was coming. And soon, someone would've been here. She unflipped the phone and pressed it to her ear to listen as she was yelled at. The information was given, and Lucy agreed. They hung up.

Anger boiled within Lucy, but she decided to stop. Five... four... three... two... one.... She let the anger go and walked back into the schoolhouse.

Harry was still, and she checked to make sure he was alive. He was alive. Her heels slapped the ground as she paced. Her heart hammered. The royal family had been notified and soon there would be representative to collect Harry.

The military, Lucy was also notified, was on its way, and would be there sooner rather than later, which would give him the best medical attention that they could, which would easily be better than what he had been given. Prince Harry couldn't die; he wasn't allowed.

As for Lucy, this was the end.