Fifty Shades of Him (h.s. au)

XXXI

"Mom, I'm fine," I say, her overbearing gestures causing Harry to be unsettled. He's so upset about what happened.

"Look at you. You have burns and your ankle is the size of an orange," she says, my lips pursing. Harry leaves the room and my mother sits down with me, her arms still wrapped around me.

"Don't let it get to you. It's all an accident and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," I say, her hand running through my hair.

"But look at you. You're hurt," she says, my body moving off the couch. I grab the crutches and crutch down the hallway of the apartment Harry has rented until he decides what to do housing wise.

"Mother, I'm fine. It's nothing compared to what could have happened," I say, her body walking to the door.

"I just need to make sure one of my children is safe. It's you," she reminds me, my head nodding. We hug before she walks out the door, her blonde hair cascading as she walks out of the apartment.

My hands crutch my body into the kitchen, Harry leaning against the counter. He turns to look at me and I smile, trying to ease the slightly tense muscles. The one thing he always does is blame my injuries on himself.

"Don't let it bother you. Please," I say, running my hand along his arm.

"She made it seem like it's my fault."

His words are harsh but he grabs my medicine, rubbing the ointment on my burns.

"But it's not. Neither of us knew what was going to happen," I explain again, his eyebrows forming a 'v'.

"Reagan, do you have any idea how much it pains me to see you get hurt by these people?" he asks, looking me straight in the eye. Upon parting my lips to speak, they close for I shake my head instead.

"It hurts me so much because I'm watching the only person I genuinely care about...get hurt in the hands of someone who shouldn't hurt you. I'm not protecting you," he mumbles, lifting me to sit on the counter. Before he can walk away, my hands grab his soft cheeks and his pouted lips part.

"Harry, you're protecting me better than anyone. You are a strong man and you know what you want. I'm so secure and happy around you; never feeling like this before. But please, stop blaming everything on yourself. It's not your fault this happened and nothing ever is. You're the hero," I tell him, his eyes closing as he looks down.

"I don't understand why you feel this way," I say, his hands resting on my thighs.

"Because I've never fought for something I cared about before. This time I am."

The silence covers us and he lifts the leg of my sweatpants up to my knee, running his fingers over my left shin. The soft fingers incinerate my leg with a beautiful touch, my eyes loving every ounce of consideration he's displaying on my body.

"Can you come to bed with me?" I ask, his dress clothes still on his body. He's been working way too much lately and never sleeps. It's worrying me.

"Reagan..." he sighs, my head nodding. I understand but I'm left slightly disappointed. It's as if I'm a reminder of something he hates the most: me getting hurt. The thought always enters my mind that he finds me repulsive now that I have burns and other injuries inflicted onto my body.

Crutching my way down the hall, I push the door open and close it behind me. I enter the closet and change into different sweats slowly. It would seem that I struggle with the injuries.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I take the pain killer and crawl into bed. Sleep overcomes me in minutes.

Harry isn't in the apartment when I wake up. No note or anything is left behind and I take it he's gone into work. There is quiet in the house and I grab my laptop, typing through the new draft of the manuscript sent in yesterday. I go through two icepacks and more ointment today than I have in the three days out of the hospital.