Doctor's Orders

48. TLC Part 1

I did my best to be compassionate towards Harry when he was tense or stressed out. I did everything I could to help him to relax in the small amount of time he actually had at home. Massages, hot baths, soothing music, good food, funny movies. While my techniques proved helpful, the effects weren't long-lasting. Harry was getting burned out and it tore at my heart. 

Only a week before Christmas came the big meeting with the pediatric ER committee, the one where Harry was supposed to present his ideas, and hopefully his proposal about re-structuring the pediatric emergency department, even though Durand shut it down. I had convinced him to present it anyway. At the very worst, it might get him kicked off the committee. It wouldn't cost him his job, I knew that much. I didn't know, however, if it would jeopardize his chance to be the pediatric ER director. 

It was after midnight when I heard Harry come home from the meeting. He was fumbling around in the kitchen for quite some time. Thinking he would be coming to bed soon, I waited patiently, but when he failed to show up after twenty minutes, I went to find him. There he sat, by his computer, booze in hand, just staring at his proposal. 

"Harry," I said somewhat sharply. He glanced over his shoulder and then back at the computer without saying a word. I walked over to him and took the glass out of his hand. 

"Ellie!" He snapped. "Now's not the time!" He jerked the glass out of my hand, spilling the rest of the liquor.

"Bullshit!" I countered. "It's never a good time for you to get wasted. You know what? I don't really care about what happened in that meeting. Whatever Durand does shouldn't make you fall down in defeat. You've handled stress before, why is this any different?"

"Because it is, Ellie!" He stood up and I knew where he was headed, to wherever his hidden stash of alcohol was. 

I raced to the kitchen ahead of him. "Where is it?" I demanded. "Where are you hiding it?" I began throwing doors open in the kitchen, in the pantry, and by the bar, thinking it would be the last place I would find alcohol since we emptied everything that was there. But in the far back of the lowest cabinet, there was a lone bottle of brandy, half gone.

"Ellie," he said in a warning tone. He took a step closer, reaching for the bottle. 

"No! I'm not letting you do this to yourself," I said, unscrewing the top. 

I had the bottle poised over the sink, ready to let it flow when Harry begged, "Please don't." 

I felt sick for him, sick for the fact that he was this far gone. "I'm sorry, babe," I said, and let it pour down the drain.

He threw his glass into the sink with a crash and stormed off to the bathroom. I turned and leaned on the counter, putting my head in my hands, tears splashing down on the counter top. What was I going to do? I knew how this worked. I couldn't free Harry from his addiction, not even with all the tender loving care in the world. He had to be willing to seek help, but he was proud and stubborn. 

I didn't even bother to clean up the broken glass in the sink. I just went back to our bedroom, ready to climb in and wait for Harry to be done with his shower. But as I approached the bathroom, I changed my mind, stripping off my night clothes. As much as I wanted to avoid him and let him wallow in his own mess, I sensed that he needed me right now, more than he was willing to admit.

He stood quietly in the dual streams of water, head down, eyes closed. The walk-in shower had plenty of room so that I could step in behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I leaned my face against his back, water splattering off my eyelashes and dripping off my nose. He just stood silently, and I could hear his heart beating from where I rested. 

"Can we talk about this?" I asked carefully.

"Nothing to talk about," he muttered. 

I moved my hands up and down over his chest and abdomen, trying to soothe him and to communicate that I was there to help. "Come on, babe," I urged. "Talk to me." 

He shook his head slowly. Then he pulled out of my grasp enough to turn and face me. His head still hung low, eyes closed. I could look up at his face, but it broke my heart. 

"What happened that's so terrible? What could she have possibly done to set you off like this?"

His eyes remained closed, but I discerned a tear squeezing out from the corner of his eye. "She took it." 

"Took what, babe?" 

"Durand stole my fucking idea and passed it off as her own," he said bitterly. "She couldn't even look me in the eye, fucking bitch!" 

"Oh, Harry!" I gushed, placing my hands on his cheeks. "NO! She can't do that! That was your idea! You put in the time and effort to talk to Children's Hospital and to customize the plan for CMI. There's got to be someone you can talk to." 

He shook his head and sat down on the shower bench. "She's high on control," he muttered. "She'll do anything she can to look good." 

"No," I said firmly. "You're not going to let her walk all over you." I couldn't help but think that this was Logan's influence, that she was the reason he seemed to be accepting this without question. I'd never seen him give up so easily.

"I don't know how, Ell," he said, his voice cracking. 

I wrapped my arms around his waist, looking up at him, trying to give him as much skin to skin contact as I could, as it was healing, therapeutic. "Babe, listen to me," I said, my chin resting on his chest. "You have all those files on your computer, you can easily prove you had the idea first. You have your own sketches of the layout. Do you have any records of your conversations with the folks at Children's Hospital? Or the name of the person you spoke to?"

He nodded, still looking forlorn. "That's possible," he admitted. "I just hate that she took it away so easily. I was so naive and this woman came and took it from me like candy from a baby. God, I just feel so stupid." 

"You had no idea she would pull something like that, Harry. You have a good and trusting heart. I imagine that you expected her to be professional and honest, like any decent human being. Why the hell was she put on that committee anyway?" 

"I don't know. From what I heard, she asked to join, and she pretty much gets whatever she wants."

"Maybe she wants you," I commented.

He gave me a disgusted look and mumbled, "Ew."

"No," I replied, laughing along with him. "She wants your youth, your creativity, your expertise. Maybe she wanted to get close so she could pick your brain. I mean, who knows? The point is that you have to take action on this."

He nodded, looking at least partially convinced. 

"You, Dr. Styles, are going to walk in there tomorrow and show that bitch who's boss!" 

"God, I love you!" He said with a breathy laugh. 

"I love you, too," I said, pulling him down to me for a long overdue kiss. "Now, how about I show you another way to relieve stress?"

* * * * *

Another extended chapter will follow this one, a more mature chapter, if you're interested in reading. If not, you can skip straight to the next chapter and not miss a thing.