Chapter 7

Jocelyne was up, showered, and dressed before Seth even made an appearance. She had the dog leashes in hand when he came out of the bedroom. Putting the leashes on the counter, she reached for his painkillers and poured him a glass of water.

"I don't want the heavy stuff," he grumbled. "I'm going to see Frank."

"We're going to see Frank," Jocelyne corrected. "And if you don't take these pills then he's going to see the pain written all over your face."

"It's not that bad-"

She slapped the narcotics into his palm. "Yes, Seth, it is. I'm going to run a bath." Then she stopped. "Merde."

Seth, who was in the process of swallowing his pills, nearly choked. He looked around in confusion. "Where?"

"No, I meant I used up a bunch of hot water. Well, we'll just do the next best thing."

He eyed her warily. "And that is?"

"You take a shower to loosen up the muscles and I'll do some manipulation to try to keep it loose before we get you dressed."

So the doctor was back. It was like last night hadn't happened. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe it had just been a nightmare, because this morning her eyes were clear and her demeanour upbeat. Except he could see the mauve smudges under her eyes which concealer couldn't quite hide.

"If that's what the doctor orders, then I'm not going to argue. Can you take the dogs out while I shower?"

"Sure," she said, reaching for the sling. He could see the moment she realized he was still wearing yesterday's t-shirt. He hoped it was from a visual cue and not an olfactory one. Once she had the sling off, she reached for the t-shirt and Seth let her because she was the one doing the reaching. He was just so scared she would turn skittish again. One look at her reassured him because she was scrutinizing the bruises, poking and prodding-

"Hey, Doc, that hurt." He tried to keep the bite from his voice, but he was pretty sure he hadn't been successful, because it felt like hot pokers were being stuck through his chest.

"I'm taping up your chest, Seth, so bring out the tape when you come."

"Yeah, but it hurts when it comes off," he complained. "It strips off my manly chest hair."

Then she poked him again and he sucked in a breath.

"Does it hurt like that?" Her tone was blithe, but Seth caught a glimpse of humour in her eyes.

"Okay, I'll get the tape. It's just that I want to have some chest hair left when I go to the barbeque tomorrow."

She quirked an eyebrow. "You're planning to put these nasty bruises on display?"

He could see her point, but he knew his family. "If I don't take off the shirt then they'll think that it's even worse than it is. This is a 'glad you're still around' party anyway, so my state of being is hardly relevant."

That eyebrow remained quirked.

"We're an odd bunch, as you'll find out tomorrow. Now, if you don't mind, I really have to go to the bathroom." He had wondered if she might blush at his bluntness, but then he remembered this was a woman who dealt with patients who needed bedpans.

"Just bring the tape." She stood and the two dogs who had been patiently waiting by the door sensed their moment had finally arrived. Seth watched her bend over to attach leashes and appreciated that she looked really good in the new khaki shorts and crimson silk tank top. She was also wearing the new running shoes, although he could see the sandals next to the door. She gave him a quick wave and then was out the door with his two mutts.

Only now that she was gone did Seth let out a stream of curses, each bluer than the next. He actually felt worse than any other day so far. He could only hope the pain pills did kick in, although that would mean he was bound to sleep the entire trip into Vancouver and he would bet his last dime Jocelyne had never driven to Vancouver before. The actual trip wasn't that complicated, but he still didn't like her doing new things if he didn't have a clear head. He wasn't really worried about Ray's SUV - it was just a hunk of metal. No, he was concerned about the woman behind the wheel. Of course she drove around Montréal and those drivers were legendary while the infrastructure was crumbling. No, if the good doctor could handle Montréal then she could handle his city.

It took three tries to undo the button of his fly and Seth began to wonder if he shouldn't just be wearing a tracksuit. Still, he was a stubborn man who loved his jeans, so that was the end of that debate.

The spray was hot, but Seth knew from experience he had very little time to enjoy. He took scant moments to wash his hair and spent the rest of the time letting the warmth seep into his muscles. He ventured a light rotation and cringed. He still felt like a weak kitten and it was driving him nuts. He was a physically active man who didn't take well to sitting all day. At least he was getting out of the house today.

While the spray was still warm, he turned off the shower, not willing to risk getting a blast of cold. The new house was going to have a huge water tank, he thought. The well had already been drilled and he'd chosen the spot for the back-up one also. Vancouver might be wet for a good portion of the year, but it could go months in the summer with little or no rain. He had been hoping to lay the foundation in the next few weeks, but that was on hold. At the rate he was going, the entire summer would be gone and he would have accomplished nothing.

Disgustedly, Seth used the towel to dry himself off. Frank was lying in a hospital bed with multiple serious injuries and here Seth was, feeling sorry for himself. Still, he would do anything to trade places with his partner. Once he was dry enough, he tugged his jeans back on. He managed to get the fly up, but the button was beyond his dexterity at the moment. He ran his comb through his hair and figured he looked about as pretty as he was going to. What he didn't do was look too closely at the bruises. Too close for comfort. He knew his family would fuss over him tomorrow, but he figured that was their right.

He opened the bathroom door, taking a moment to let the colder air roll over him.

"Seth?"

"Yes."

"Charley won't eat his food. He keeps eating Mac's."

Seth rounded the corner and watched as Jocelyne tried to steer Charley towards his own bowl. She had the most delectable tush, he thought, even as he marshalled the thought.

"Yeah, I meant to tell you about that. On Monday I'll take Charley's food down to Zeph because he refuses to eat it. Just wait until the first bowl is empty then refill it."

She looked at him with skepticism in her expression, but then she shrugged and watched as the dogs each took their turn. "There's a symphony to this," she said, just a touch of awe in her voice.

Seth grinned. "It's like they've been doing it forever." He held up the tape. "I'm ready when you are."

For the first time, she really looked at him.

And he really looked at her.

Her expression hit him straight in the chest and skittered downwards.

Desire.

The doc probably didn't even recognize it, but Seth sure did. She was lusting after him. Well, his body anyway. There was no mistaking what he was seeing, even if she wouldn't - or couldn't - admit it.

Seeming to regain her composure, she reached for the tape. "If you think you can stand, then I'll sit on a chair and wrap you."

"That would be fine," he said, following her to the table and watching her as she sat. He got a whiff of that elusive scent of hers which reminded him of a spring meadow. She didn't wear body cologne. He knew that because he'd studied all of her products. So it had to be her shampoo, he figured. He inhaled just a little bit deeper, letting the scent wash over him.

She sat then began the probing and prodding again.

Just a doctor, he reminded himself. Just a doctor.

No good, he realized. When she reached for the tape, he stepped back. "I'm fine the way I am, Doc. Just give me a couple of minutes to get dressed and then you can help me back into the sling."

She looked up, completely baffled. "Didn't you hear what I said? You're not going to heal if you don't let me tape your ribs. Your stupid obsession with chest hair is a bit juvenile."

Please, he thought, please let her maintain eye contact while he backed out of the room.

No such luck.

"Oh," she said.

"Yeah, oh," he replied.

"It's just-"

"I'm going-"

Their eyes met.

"I was just going to say that it's a normal physical reaction," Jocelyne said. "I'm confused, but I understand."

His brow knit in puzzlement. "What is confusing about it? It's an erection."

"I know that," she said, a tinge of exasperation in her voice. "I just don't understand the why."

Damn but the woman was dense.

"It's because of you, Doc. It happens just about every time you touch me."

"But I'm a doctor," she protested.

"And I'm a man," he said. "Broken and busted in some parts, but fully functioning in others."

She blinked. "You're attracted to me?"

"No, I just kiss every woman I meet, of course I'm attracted to you." This time it was his voice which was tinged with exasperation.

She took a deep breath. "I'm used to autonomic bodily reactions. I mean men with spinal cord injuries can get spontaneous erections and even ejaculate."

"Your point, Doc?"

"Only that I'm trying to say I can deal with it." She swallowed. "On a professional level."

Message received, he thought. Loud and clear.

So he stepped back into her sphere and let her lay hands on him again. He wanted to curse his body, but he also was able to acknowledge he was only human. It was simply a moment of weakness, he told himself.

Then he admitted the truth. What he really wanted was to lay the doc across the kitchen table and feast on her. He wanted to press himself to her and have her cling to him. He wanted to show her what passion and pleasure really were, because something told him she had no idea.

"All done."

Her words were blessed relief.

"Now you sit while I work on your shoulder."

Okay, maybe not so much.

Still, he did as he was bade and traded places with her. This time, her fingers were gentle and soothing. "I'm feeling some improvement here," she said. "I want you to ice it while I'm driving to Vancouver because what I'm doing is going to inflame it."

That wasn't the only thing that was inflamed, he thought sardonically. It had to be her scent, he told himself. There must be some kind of aphrodisiac in the damn shampoo.

"We're almost there," Jocelyne said to Seth.

She was at a red light, so she looked over at him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Whatever for?"

"I should have stayed awake. I mean you're driving in a strange city-"

"Oh, shut up."

He did just that.

"Sorry, that was rude of me. What I was trying to say was that with GPS, I've done just fine. Amazing invention, that."

Suddenly, he was thunderstruck. "Where the hell is your car?" He looked over at her and watched the blood drain from her face.

"I...uh..."

Her hands began to shake and Seth cursed his stupidity. It was a question that could have waited for a more opportune moment.

"Pull over." He was looking ahead. "Here, pull over."

She complied, pulling onto the side of the street and jamming the transmission into park. With the engine still running, she leapt from the truck.

Seth cut the engine and cursed himself again. Why had he not thought of this before now? She had been driving a car with Québécois plates. That had to be her own car. So where the hell was it now?

He could see her in the rear view mirror. She would walk twenty paces back, turn, and then come back. Swivel, then walk another twenty paces. How long was she going to keep doing that? Was he supposed to get out and confront her? He was just about to start fiddling with his seatbelt when she slipped into the truck and closed the door.

"I gave it away."

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I gave it away - for parts, I mean. I took it to a junkyard and told the guy it had to disappear like I did. I paid him the rest of my savings to make the car go away."

"You paid some guy to take away an eighty thousand dollar sports car? And you think he just did it?"

She shrugged. "He said the parts would be worth something and the rest would wind up in a junk heap. He stripped the car overnight and the next day I went and watched him crush the car. He was madder than hell, but he did it."

He had to give her props for ingenuity. He let a minute elapse. "Are you okay to drive?"

Her hand was steady as she reached for the keys. "Yes, thank you for your concern. We're about six kilometres from the hospital, right?"

"That's about right. We'll need to take a left into the parking garage."

She nodded and started the engine.

Seth didn't say another word.

Nerves were beginning to set in when they walked into the entrance of the hospital. Every hospital smelled both the same and different, Jocelyne reflected. She knew which part of the hospital she was in just by the smell. That copper smell was the one she associated with the trauma rooms and the OR. The smell of death sometimes permeated her space, but she fought it as much as she could.

This hospital had a slightly astringent smell. As soon as they were in the front door, she swiped her hand under the waterless sanitizer. Seth seemed surprised, but then he did the same thing.

"He's on the fourth floor."

"Okay." Her voice was amazingly calm. But Seth must have sensed the disquiet, because he took her hand while they waited for the elevator.

"Aside from Sheila, I don't know who will be here. Everyone takes a shift, you know? We try to be here, but unobtrusively. If the family needs something, they only have to ask. That will probably end in a day or two."

"Yes, I've seen this before."

Seth clucked his tongue. "Yeah, I forget sometimes. This is your milieu."

Not anymore, she thought, as she stepped into the elevator. The ride was all too quick and then they were out. Seth kept a hold of her hand as they approached the desk. Seth was about to speak when they heard his name being called.

They turned and Jocelyne's breath caught. The man approaching them wasn't classically handsome, but he was striking. Black hair and eyes of almost the same colour. He had prominent cheekbones and a chiselled jaw. A sculptor would love him, she thought. He was several inches taller than Seth which meant he had about half-a-foot over her. And he was scrutinizing her as much as she was scrutinizing him. Fair's fair, she told herself.

His gaze finally broke from hers and he eyed Seth. "Good to see you. You okay?"

"I could say it was just a scratch, but we both know it was a bit more than that." He paused, seeming to recover himself. "Colton Pritchard, this is Jocelyne. She's the lady who saved Frank's life."

Was he never going to give that up?

Still, she held out her hand. "I just helped. It was a team effort."

He took her hand and eyed her. Several beats passed before he released her hand. "Well, it's very nice to meet you, Jocelyne. Or should I say, enchantée?"

She didn't miss that he had used the French pronunciation of her name. He was good, this one. She hadn't uttered more than a few words and he already had her pinned.

"And I'm sorry, I didn't catch your last name."

Oh, this was a man to watch out for.

Seth was about to speak, when she said, "Baldwin. Jocelyne Baldwin."

A brow rose, but the enigmatic Colton didn't say anything else.

"So which room is Frank's?"

Seth's question seemed to break whatever was arcing between Colton and herself.

"Down the hall, number 421. The Sergeant is there as well. I was just on my way out. I hope to see you back at the detachment soon." He turned to Jocelyne. "It was nice to meet you, Jocelyne. Or is it Doctor Baldwin?"

Jocelyne felt a cold shard of ice pierce her chest. "Jocelyne is just fine. We're all friends here, yes?"

Colton inclined his head, was about to say something, then clearly thought better of it. He nodded and then left.

"I have to go."

She was already planning her escape when Seth reached out and placed his hand around her waist. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"Shush, Jocelyne, just relax."

She tried to tame her galloping heart, but found that she couldn't. "He knows," she whispered frantically.

"He doesn't know anything. He's a cop, Jocelyne, nothing more than that. It was conjecture which was undoubtedly brought on by your heroic actions." He was rubbing his hand up and down her back. "Why don't you just tell me who you're running from? I can protect you, Doc. Let me protect you."

If only life were that easy, she thought, as she pulled away from his embrace. She was only mildly stunned to find she had turned to him in her moment of despair. "You can't protect me, Seth, and I'm bad news for you. You're only going to regret letting me in."

"Never," he said. "Now, take a deep breath. Colton's...well, he's Colton. He's suspicious of everyone. He works sex crimes which means he feels everyone's word is suspect." He chuckled. "Wait until you meet his partner. She is the polar opposite."

"I don't think it would be advisable for me to meet any more cops, if that's okay with you. Cops make me nervous."

He was looking at her, his face inscrutable. "Just two more, okay? Gregory and Frank. Then I'll leave it be."

"Okay," she said. At least one of them would be unable to evaluate her.

When Seth reached for her hand, she let him take it. He gave it a gentle squeeze and they walked towards the end of the corridor. There were two people talking just outside of room 421.

"Greg?"

The man looked up, his face breaking into a grin. He was at least fifty, with salt and pepper cropped hair and deep blue eyes. He looked like a man who laughed a lot, Jocelyne thought.

The woman was also about fifty and there were streaks of grey in her light brown hair. She had almond-shaped eyes and a tentative smile. A smile that was tight with fatigue, but still managed to be welcoming. It was the smile of a weary loved one and it was a look Jocelyne was well-familiar with.

"Sheila, this is Jocelyne."

Jocelyne thought she had been prepared for every possible reaction, but she was still surprised when she had the wind knocked out of her as the petite woman threw her arms around her. For such a little package, she sure packed a wallop.

She looked helplessly at Seth who just shrugged, a small smile curling his mouth. Oh, he had known exactly how Sheila was going to react. And he had known that if he'd tried to warn her then she would have refused to come. It wasn't that she hadn't been hugged before - grateful family members sometimes did that. It was just that when she was in scrubs and her lab coat, she was prepared for the families' gratitude. This...was unexpected.

Glancing over at Greg, she saw only a glint in his eye. She wasn't sure if she read an emotion there, but in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Cop's eyes, she reflected, yet softer than Colton's.

Finally, Sheila loosened her grasp and Jocelyne took a deeper breath.

"Jocelyne, this is my boss, Sergeant Gregory Wilder."

"It's nice to meet you."

Too-seeing eyes danced. "No, the pleasure is all ours. Your reputation precedes you." He turned to Seth. "Frank was asleep last I checked, why don't we go see how he is?"

Before she could raise a single objection, the men were gone.

Sheila pulled away and dug some tissues from the pocket of her pants. "I'm sorry," she said, dabbing at her eyes. "It's just...well, even though we weren't together, I always knew he was there, you know? But to almost lose him like that without...resolving things? Oh, you probably don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

Jocelyne put an arm around the still-shaking woman and guided her to a pair of chairs. "I get the drift, Sheila. I understand about making sure you've made your peace with someone."

"It's only because of you that I've got this chance. You know, all those years as a cop's wife, and I never worried about him. I would just pray every night and I knew God would keep him safe." She flung her hands up. "Then one day I stopped praying and look what happened."

Used to grieving families saying odd things, Jocelyne simply murmured a few words of understanding. Raised a Catholic, she understood the importance of prayer. As a surgeon, however, she had found few comforts in those prayers. Her skills were either going to save someone or they weren't. God played no part in that equation.

"It was nice of you to come," Sheila said. "I know Frank wants to meet you."

"How is he?"

Sheila looked a little bewildered. "You know doctors come and go, all saying that time will tell. No one wants to give us a prognosis."

"That's because each injury is different just like every recovery is unique. Frank is healthy, so that's in his favour. The trauma was serious, but, in time, he could return to many of his normal activities."

Sheila nodded. "That's what the doctors are saying. Frank, though, he wants to know when he can get back to the job. No one wants to tell him it will never happen. It won't, will it?"

Here, Jocelyne knew she would have to tread carefully.

"The mind might be willing, but sometimes the body can't heal back to where it was before. Frank will have to learn to live with his new life. There's bound to be anger, frustration, and even depression, but know that this is normal. You just have to be willing to stand by him."

If that was even the plan. Jocelyne had promised to keep Seth's confidence and so she would.

"I'll stand by him," Sheila asserted. "I just don't know if he wants me to."

"Maybe it's too soon to make such big decisions. Trauma has a huge impact and sometimes only time helps makes things clear."

Sheila shook her head. "I know none of his other ex-wives came because they never loved him. I never considered not coming."

"Which makes you a good woman in a crisis," Jocelyne said, all the while hoping Seth and Greg would come back.

As if he had heard her silent request, Greg walked out. "He's groggy, but he knows you're here. He wants to speak to you."

Jocelyne nodded, relinquishing her seat and pleased when Greg took it. He put an arm around Sheila and the woman sagged into the embrace. Then Jocelyne took a fortifying breath and stepped into what was at once known and yet unknown.

"Frank, she's here." Seth watched his friend's eyes flicker and focus, then the lids drifted shut.

"Look, Seth-"

At her voice, Frank seemed to snap to attention. He looked directly at Jocelyne. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Seth could see how much she wanted to fight. Her every look was miserably uncomfortable. Still, she put on a smile and took Frank's hand. "You are most welcome. There are a lot of good people who care about you."

Frank nodded. "Seth says you're good people."

"Seth is a little biased, I think."

That made Frank laugh, which in turn made him cough. His eyes drifted shut.

"Seth, we need to leave him."

Again, at her voice, Frank's eyes snapped open. "Treat her good, Seth. And you treat him good. Seth's good people too." Then his lids shut.

This time, Seth stepped back, wanting to stay, but knowing it was time to leave. He reached for Jocelyne and her hand was there, conveying strength and support. Hand in hand, they left the room.

Greg was alone in the corridor. "I sent Sheila to get a couple of cups of coffee."

Seth didn't miss the look of gratitude on Jocelyne's face. Obviously she'd had as much of Sheila as she could handle.

"So tell me, Jocelyne, is this one behaving?"

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Seth is obdurate and obnoxious, but he is getting better. It will be a few weeks yet before he can move that arm and weeks more before he'll be ready to return to his cruiser, catching speeders."

Greg laughed. "I hope we tore up your ticket."

Seth grinned. "I never got a chance to write one. I would have probably tossed it in the garbage anyway, considering."

Greg's smile didn't diminish. "I know you're tired of hearing it, but damn we appreciate what you did. Frank's got a few good years left, eh?"

"Yes, he does." Jocelyne finally looked comfortable with the gratitude, Seth thought.

"We're going to be heading out. Give our regards to Sheila."

Greg tipped an imaginary hat. "We'll do. Take as much time as you need, Seth. No sense coming back too early."

With that, Seth and Jocelyne headed out. They said nothing until they were at the elevators.

"Is he really going to be okay? He looked awful. I mean, really bad."

"Internal injuries are just as serious as the ones on the outside. I didn't check his chart, but it looks like he's going to need another surgery."

"How the hell could you tell that just by looking at him?"

She grinned. Actually grinned. "I was able to tell by his colour. He's jaundiced which tells me his liver function hasn't returned to normal. They may have to go in and try to repair the damage."

"Shouldn't they have done that the first time?"

"It's not that simple. You prioritize and the abdominal injuries would have killed him where as there are a few other treatments for liver damage."

"But he's going to be okay, right?"

She gave him a long look. "Nothing's a certainty, Seth, and you know it. He's your friend and your partner, I get that. Even if I was his doctor and had his chart, I still couldn't make a guarantee. I also don't give odds, so don't even consider asking me about that."

He frowned, slightly annoyed she had seen the question in his eyes. Instead of speaking, he squeezed her hand, hoping to convey his own gratitude that she had come with him.

"You're welcome," she whispered and he grinned.

They were still holding hands when they got to the SUV. "It seems a shame to come all the way to Vancouver and not do something," he said. "Because this is your first trip, right Doc?"

She gave him a look which should have put him in his place, but it also answered his question. Nope, the good doctor had never been as far as Vancouver. So what had made her stop just an hour short? Why Mission City?

"Regardless of the length of the visit, Constable, I'm taking you home. You're already exhausted and labouring under some delusion that you'll be able to handle your entire family tomorrow. The doctor says you need rest." She opened his door and waited for him to get in. "Don't think I'm not aware that you overdid it yesterday, Seth. You need to take this seriously if you're going to recover. My preference would be that you stay home tomorrow, but I know what your family means to you. The compromise is we go straight home now and if you don't sleep in the truck now you sleep once we get home."

She closed the door and rounded the hood.

She had no idea how much he loved the way she said 'home' in her lilting French accent. It wasn't her home yet, but he was ever hopeful she might consider staying. At least for now.

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