Mein Hertz, chapter 6 - Mein Hertz
Title: Mein Hertz
Fandom: Houdini & Doyle
Chapter: 6/?
Author: SiriuslyLupin
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, mild language, parenthood/children, violence
Summary: As Houdini and Adelaide await word on Doyle's condition, the master illusionist tries his best to keep up appearances. After all, it wouldn't do for the world's greatest performer to break down, but he's lost so much in such a short amount of time. What happens when it quickly grows to be too much? [A missing moment from The Pall of LaPier.]
Word count: 36,818 and counting
Author’s note: We finally have the titular chapter!
Mein Hertz
Chapter 6 - Mein Hertz
“What do you mean?” Doyle asked, slowly turning his head to watch Harry more closely. “What problem?”
Harry didn’t reply right away. He simply stared out the window for a while longer before giving Doyle a sideways look. “If I tell you something in confidence, can you promise it will stay between us?”
“Of course.”
“Because she’d kill me if she knew I was talking about this with you.”
“About what?”
“When we were at Falcroft Manor,” Harry admitted, “I kissed her. That night right before you came to get us to investigate the source of the red mud.”
“I’m not stupid,” Doyle said around a soft laugh. “I knew something had happened. I pretended not to notice in the interest of saving the two you further embarrassment. I also pretended not to overhear your conversation in the basement.”
“The problem is,” Harry replied, “I still really want to kiss her again. And it’s making me crazy that I can’t. Every time I’m near her, things are growing incredibly more awkward, because it’s just about all I can think about.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t want you to?”
“You said you overheard our hushed conversation in the basement,” Harry told him. “She said ‘good’ when I told her it wouldn’t happen again.”
“What else was she supposed to say?”
Harry blinked at him. “What?”
“Perhaps she said it,” Doyle suggested, “because she thought she was supposed to. Don’t get me wrong, but you sort of made it sound like it had all been a mistake. She was obviously already embarrassed and didn’t want to make the situation worse, so she simply agreed with you that that would be for the best. But are you sure that’s how she really feels?”
“But why would she lie?” Harry sounded completely baffled.
“I know you’re used to getting what you want,” Doyle said. “You’re used to women falling at your feet, but Adelaide is probably quite a bit different than a lot of the women you’ve been involved with. Certainly much more different than Korzha at any rate.”
“Hey,” Harry cried, “don’t mock her!”
“I didn’t!” Doyle argued. “I simply said she’s different. You can’t deny that much.”
“All right,” Harry said. “I suppose I can’t.”
“And I wouldn’t say Adelaide is lying,” Doyle said, getting back to the topic at hand before they spent too much time on the intricacies of Harry’s women. “Not exactly. She’s probably just going along with you on it for the simple fact that she doesn’t want to cause more problems between the two of you.”
“Did she tell you this?”
“No,” Doyle said, “I’m just supposing. That’s all. But what if she did feel that way? It’s not outside the realm of possibility, is it?”
“Come on, Doyle,” Harry said. He began pacing the room again, making his way closer to the window. There he placed his hands on his hips, staring out at the grassy courtyard that spread out beneath Doyle’s room. “She’s strong, and refined, and proper, and under what circumstances would she ever want someone like me? I’m loud, and uncouth, and…everything she isn’t.”
Doyle considered this, tilting his head back and forth in thought. “They do say opposites attract. Just like that electromagnet and that chair in Adelaide’s room at Falcroft Manor. Even through a wooden floor.” When Harry didn’t reply to this, Doyle suggested, “Why don’t you ask her? Maybe she wants it just as much as you do, and she’s just too afraid to say so.”
Harry grimaced, turning back to face Doyle again. “I don’t know. I thought she made it pretty clear that she didn’t want it to happen again. What if she gets angry at me for being presumptuous enough to even suggest such a thing?”
“Then I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” Doyle said. “You’ve done a lot of worse things than that in front of her. Believe me. There’s no harm in asking, and you won’t know until you do. Perhaps this will help to clear the air between you. Anyone can see the strain that it’s obviously put on the two of you.”
Shaking his head, Harry repeated, “I don’t know. What if it only makes things weirder between us? What if she doesn’t want it? Then it’ll only serve to make her feel more awkward around me knowing that I do.”
“Things are already weird and awkward between you,” Doyle pointed out. “You can’t possibly make things much worse, can you?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Harry said, “believe me. Especially where I’m concerned.”
“You?” Doyle asked incredulously. “The great Harry Houdini? You mean, everything you touch doesn’t turn to gold?”
“I know,” Harry admitted. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Doyle said. “But the way I see it, you can ask her now and be done with it, or you can let this absolutely consume the two of you.”
“Well, I can’t possibly ask her about it now!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Do you have any idea how insensitive it would seem to spring this on her right after she shot and killed her own husband?”
Doyle stared at him for a very long time, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk. “You know, when you first met her, you wouldn’t have hesitated to do something so tasteless.”
Harry was silent for a moment as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet, subdued. “I care about her. As hard as that is to believe. It isn’t about just wanting to go to bed with her anymore. I want something more with her and…I don’t know if that’s still even a possibility at this point.”
Doyle tilted his head back and forth in thought. “I imagine it is. She just admitted she cared about you, after all.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “as a friend. That doesn’t mean she wants anything more. You’re my friend too, you know. That doesn’t mean I ever considered the possibility of going to bed with you, sorry to say.”
“Somehow I think I’ll get over it,” Doyle commented dryly. “But still, the two of you kissed.” Doyle squinted his eyes in thought and considered this before he added, “Adelaide isn’t the type to do things like that on a whim. Especially with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded.
Doyle simply stared at him.
“Yeah, okay,” Harry muttered. “And she is incredibly strong. That’s part of what I like about her, but that doesn’t mean she’s infallible. People make mistakes - do things sometimes that they realize, in hindsight, were a bad idea. Believe me, I know. Once she kissed me, I think it was then that she realized she probably shouldn’t have. It was a product of the moment.”
“Why?” Doyle asked. His voice was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be prying into the matter at all. In the end, however, it was Harry who had brought it up, so Doyle pressed on. “What were you two talking about before it happened?”
Harry took a deep breath before whispering, “My mother.” He opened and closed his mouth several times before adding, “I was emotional. She was comforting me.”
“Oh,” Doyle said, then quickly added, “still, that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she’s content to let you believe that, because she was so embarrassed by your reaction. I agree that it would probably be prudent to wait a while, but ask her.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up,” Harry mused. “’Hey, Addy, I was wondering how you really felt when you kissed me.’”
“You can always disguise it as another Truth Trade,” Doyle suggested.
Harry appeared scandalized. “I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing.”
“Why not?” Doyle asked smugly. “You were the one that came up with that brilliant idea in the first place.”
“I told you,” Harry said around a sigh. “Things are different now. It’s been a long time since I initiated a Truth Trade. If I bring it up now, she’ll just assume I’m trying to be forward again.”
“And when has that ever stopped you?”
Harry shrugged, and it was a long time before he let his shoulders drop back down into a relaxed position. “It does now,” Harry told him. “I have absolutely no hope of anything ever happening with her if I keep doing things like that.” Houdini considered this for a very long time, but then he snorted in laughter and shook his head.
“What?” Doyle asked him.
“Who would have thought?” Harry said. “Here I am, a master magician and showman, confiding my feelings to you of all people. How did we ever end up here?”
“It started when I got shot, I believe,” Doyle said. Just then, he shifted in his bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. He grimaced in pain, his hand going instinctively to the right side of his abdomen where his bullet wound was.
“You just lie still!” Harry scolded, hurrying over to Doyle’s bed. “You were only shot twenty-four hours ago.” He pressed a gentle hand to Doyle’s shoulder, trying to keep him from moving any farther.
“It was mostly numbed by the morphine they gave me,” Doyle said, trying to catch his breath from the bolt of pain that was still coursing through him. “That was, until I moved like that. I sort of forgot it must still hurt that much.” Doyle grumbled then, muttering something intelligible. He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing at it harshly.
“What?” Harry asked in concern. “Should I fetch the doctor?”
“Why, Harry,” Doyle said, dropping his hand to stare at the man over his bed. “Is that concern I detect on your part?”
“Yes!” Harry cried, waving his hands around in emphasis. “How many best friends do you think I have? What, do you think I go to the store and pick a new one up when I run out?” But then Harry suddenly crossed his arms over his chest when he caught the complacent expression on Doyle’s face. “Oh, we already admitted this to each other,” Harry said. “Don’t act so full of yourself because I’m being so honest about it now.”
“I know,” Doyle sighed. Even though he tried to cover it up, and despite the fact that he was suddenly in an inordinate amount of pain, it was a clear sign of contentment. “And no, I don’t need the doctor. I’m fine. At least as well as I can be right now.”
Harry didn’t miss the clear note of sadness in his voice. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I know I’m doing extremely well for someone with my injuries,” Doyle admitted. “I’m awake and I’m lucid, which is a huge improvement over where I was just a few short hours ago. I know that. And this is a bullet wound. It’s going to take time to recover, but…it’s going to be ages until I can get home. It’s going to be ages before I’ll be able to see my kids again.” Doyle’s hand was back up to his face again, rubbing his eyes, as if he was trying to massage away all the horrible thoughts he was having. “I hate the thought of them being all alone with Vera for God knows how long.”
“You trust her with them though,” Harry pointed out. “She wouldn’t be there now if you didn’t.”
“Of course I do,” Doyle admitted. “They’ll be fine with her. I have absolutely no doubt about that. But…” Doyle broke off, a wry smile forming on his lips. He stared down at his other hand, which was currently lightly pressing against his side, against his bullet wound. “I’m remembering all sorts of things now as the time passes. You talked about that too when I was unconscious,” Doyle said, raising his eyes to Harry again. “About how my children need me and how I can’t leave them alone. Even though they are taken care of now, I still need to be with them. Now it’s going to be forever until I can be. Who knows how long I’ll be in hospital for, and it’ll probably be even longer than that until they give me the okay to travel. What are they going to do without me for such a long time?”
Harry considered this for a moment before he asked, “Have they ever been to the States before?”
“No!” Doyle exclaimed. He dropped his hand from his face, giving Harry a firm glare. “They have their school and they have their friends. And they’re home. You can’t upset their entire lives to bring them here for an unspecified amount of time. I won’t have them living in a hotel room for months.”
“I can get them a suite,” Harry offered. “Vera too. Even nicer than the one I keep in London. They’d love it. It would be like a vacation. I can get them a private tutor too so you wouldn’t have to worry about them missing any school.”
Doyle opened his mouth to reply, but then he shut it again almost immediately. He closed his eyes, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw Doyle’s bottom lip give the tiniest quiver. A moment later, however, it was gone, and Doyle was looking at him rather firmly again.
“I appreciate the offer, Harry,” Doyle said quietly, softly. “You’ll never even know how grateful I am that you’d offer so much to me and to my children, no questions asked.”
“You’re my best friend,” Harry reiterated again, unnecessarily. It seemed that now they’d admitted something so personal to each other, Harry rather enjoyed repeating it. He reveled in the fact that he was able to call someone his best friend. As he’d already said, it wasn’t something that came along every day, and he’d almost missed the chance to tell Doyle that entirely. Harry wasn’t about to let an opportunity like that go again.
“Besides, I have the money,” Harry went on. “Who else am I going to spend it on now that Ma’s gone? And your children are the most important things in the world to you. I know that. If I can help to make your time here a little bit easier, I’ll do it.”
An expression passed over Doyle’s face. It was somewhere between one of sadness and one gratefulness. “Thank you for the offer, Harry. You really don’t know how much that means to me. But as I told you, I don’t want to disrupt their lives for such a long period of time. They need to be at home.”
“They need to be with you,” Harry pointed out.
“Be that as it may,” Doyle said, “they need to be with their mother too.” He gave Harry a pointed look. “Their place is with her. As it stands, Touie is still in much more dire straits than I am. I want them to be there in case anything happens to her while I’m gone. I’d never forgive myself if the unthinkable happens to her, and they weren’t there to say goodbye to her.”
Harry couldn’t exactly argue with that. For a brief moment, he blinked several times, trying desperately to keep the tears he felt forming there at bay. “You’re right,” he agreed, nodding. “I wouldn’t want them to miss that either.” Harry ran a hand over his face before he changed the subject.
“But you don’t have to worry about anything else, you know,” Harry said. “I was actually planning on coming back to New York with Ma for a while anyway, so this isn’t completely unplanned. Once you are released from the hospital, I’ll get you that suite I told you about and I’ll make sure you have the best nursemaids money can buy. They’ll take care of you until you can fully get back on your feet. And I’m going to stay here with you until you are able to travel back to England.”
“Harry-“ Doyle tried to protest, but Harry cut him off.
“I insist,” Harry said firmly.
“But you have shows in Europe,” Doyle said. “Despite the fact that you were planning on coming here, I know that wouldn’t have been for a while yet. You have performances set up for weeks.”
“Eh,” Harry muttered, waving his hand in the air. “They’ll survive without me. I’ll give everyone with a ticket a refund or give them free tickets to the encore performance of their choosing. I’ll make it up to them, but that’s not really important to me right now. What’s important to me is you and making sure you’re taken care of and getting better. For the foreseeable future, my place is here. With you.”
“Harry-“ Doyle attempted to argue again, but Harry wasn’t having any of it.
“Let me do this,” Harry pleaded. “Please. This is what’s right for me right now. It’s what I want to do. It’s what I need to do. Europe will still be there when I get back, and I’ll worry about it then. But right now, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. You’re my family, and I always take care of my family.” Harry stared at him.
Doyle finally nodded, then said, “All right. If it’s what you want to do…then I’d be very happy to have you by my side while I recover.” Doyle paused, then decided to add something so their conversation didn’t seem too emotional. “If anything, your constant loud mouth will be the biggest motivation I would ever need to get better.”
“Exactly.”
Silence then fell among the two men, during which Doyle watched Harry for a very long time. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Harry.”
“No need to thank me,” Harry said. “You’re not putting me out or inconveniencing me in any way, and I don’t want you to think you are, okay? This is what I need to do. This is what’s right for me. Is to be with you.”
“Thank you nonetheless,” Doyle reiterated. “You know, it’s not every day you come across a friend who would put their entire life on hold for you. So when you are lucky enough to find one, you don’t let them go unappreciated.”
“And you don’t let them go not knowing how important they are to you,” Harry interjected. He was currently staring down at his shoes, trying not to let the embarrassment of the situation get to him. This was what he wanted, he kept reminding himself, and now that he had it, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity be lost to him again.
“I spent an inordinate amount of time in the waiting room yesterday,” Harry admitted, “wishing and hoping that I wouldn’t lose you too. That you wouldn’t die before I had a chance to tell you how much you meant to me.” When Harry finally looked up again to meet Doyle’s eyes, it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as he was expecting it to be. “Now that I’ve told, this is my way of showing you as well. Until you are back on your feet, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as possible. If there’s anything at all that you want or need, Arthur, I want you to ask, because if it’s at all in my power, I’ll do it or get it for you. All right?”
Doyle squirmed slightly in his bed. “That might be difficult for me. I’m hardly the demanding type, and I spend most of my time looking after the children and Touie - I’m used to doing all of that.”
“Well, you can’t right now,” Harry reminded him. “You’re not going to be able to for a while, but I’m going to make sure that you don’t want for anything in the meantime. Okay? I want you to try. Because if I know you, you won’t say anything out of the interest of not wanting to bother or inconvenience me. You’ll be in desperate need of the toilet, but you won’t say anything, because you’ll be mortally embarrassed of such a thing.”
“Yes, I would be!” Doyle exclaimed. “And with good reason!”
They were only talking about the situation, and Harry could already see bright patches of red standing out on Doyle’s cheeks. At least it was good that he was getting some of his color back, Harry decided, even if it was at the expense of the other man’s dignity.
“Men don’t help men with that sort of thing,” Doyle muttered, making a face.
“Tough luck,” Harry insisted.
“You said you were going to hire me some nice nursemaids to help with those things,” Doyle reminded him.
“And I will,” Harry replied, “but until I can get them lined up, and in the case they’re not available, you’ve got me. Besides, you wouldn’t want to rob me of the chance to do these things myself and embarrass the hell out of you in the process, would you? It’s win win.” Harry wiggled his eyebrows at the other man.
“Harry, for God’s sake!”
“You just admitted that I’m your best friend,” Harry said, his tone turning serious again. “If you can’t let your best friend help you to the toilet, who can you trust with that sort of thing?”
“A nursemaid,” Doyle mumbled. “One who’s trained for that sort of thing and has seen it all before.”
“So you’d rather have a complete stranger see you naked than your best friend,” Harry concluded. “That makes perfect sense.”
Doyle rolled his eyes. “I never should have admitted such a thing to you. You’re never going to let me hear the end of it, are you?”
“Nope,” Harry said proudly, smirking and taking the opportunity to puff his chest out again. “But Arthur? You honestly don’t need to feel bad, or guilty, or embarrassed for asking me for anything,” Harry stressed. “Please know that. Whether it’s food, or a change of clothes, or books to read, or a pen and paper to write with, or yes, even help getting to the toilet - anything you need is yours. All you have to do is ask me for it. All right? I promise I won’t think any less of you for it.”
“You promise?” Doyle asked uncertainly.
“Yes.”
“You won’t make fun of me for needing help to the loo?”
Harry held up his hand, his thumb and index finger a small distance apart. “Maybe just a little.”
“Harry!”
Harry only grinned boldly in response to this, but then his expression suddenly changed. He hung his head a moment later and admitted, “You wouldn’t believe how afraid I was of never having that kind of exchange with you again.” Harry looked up at Doyle from under his eyelashes before he said, “You know, my mother had a saying. When I was little, any time she was looking for me, or my brothers, or sister, she would call, ‘Wo is mein Hertz?’ It means, ‘Where is my heart?’ And when she found us, she would smile, and hug us, and say, ‘Es ist mein Hertz!’”
“’There is my heart,’” Doyle supplied the translation.
“Yes,” Harry replied quietly. “And last night, I have to admit that I felt a little bit like her. I kept thinking that to myself - ‘Wo is mein Hertz?’ - and I was hoping that…I’d be able to find it. That I wouldn’t lose you forever.” Swallowing hard, Harry looked down at his hands where he was wringing them at the thought. Finally looking up at Doyle again, he said, “Because I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you. I think…I just might have crawled into my bed and never come out, because I can’t imagine going on without you. You and Adelaide have become like a lifeline to me. I told you how much you kept me going on after Ma died, and…I think I would have been destroyed if you had died too.”
“Harry…” Doyle began at the other man’s words, but then sucked in a sudden gulp of air that almost sounded like a sob. He raised his hand to his mouth, apparently trying to hold in any other cries that threatened to escape. When he was seemingly reassured that the sensation had passed, he patted the mattress next to him. “Come sit down.”
Not moving from his spot, Harry only stared at the older man. He slowly raised an eyebrow.
“Would you humor me for a moment?” Doyle asked, feigning annoyance. “We’re being honest here and that’s what I’m attempting to do.”
Harry sighed heavily, as if Doyle was inconveniencing him greatly. Finally, however, he moved from his place and as gently as he could, he lowered himself to the mattress, trying not to jostle Doyle too much.
“You keep talking about how much I’ve done for you since we’ve met,” Doyle began. “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve done for me as well. I keep thinking about that time in the carriage when we were investigating Martin Upton. That was when I first told you that Touie has tuberculosis and has been unresponsive, and it had been such a long time since I confided that in anyone. Not since it happened, and then, it was out of necessity. I had to tell our family and friends what had happened - explain it all to them. And then…I didn’t speak about it since. Apart from answering the occasional question on her progress…it was almost as if it didn’t happen. And a part of me liked it that way. But…it’s nice having people in my life that I feel safe confiding that in. You’ll never know how much it meant to me having you come to the hospital that day she woke up.”
“I would have been there too when she fell unconscious again if I could have,” Harry said.
“I know,” Doyle replied, “and I’m glad you were finally getting some rest after nearly dying!” His voice grew sharply louder on the last few words.
Harry scoffed at this, diverting his eyes from Doyle. “I didn’t almost die.”
“Harry,” Doyle said flatly, “I was there. I was with you in the hospital after you had a seizure. I saw you passing out in Downey’s tent, because your fever was ridiculously high. In case you’re forgetting, I’m a doctor. I told you that your brain would shut down if your temperature kept going up, and you almost did get to that point.” When Harry still didn’t acknowledge this or look back to his friend, Doyle added, “Look, I know you’re never going to stop attempting death-defying stunts. It’s what you do, and I could never ask you to stop. But I do wish you’d stop being so blasé about your health. Whether you want to admit it or not, you did almost die, and I think you know it.”
After a moment of silence, Doyle reached out and laid a hand on Harry’s arm. This finally got his attention, and he turned his head to face Doyle again.
“Hey,” Harry said nonchalantly, “I’m not going anywhere for a long time, Doc.”
“Harry,” Doyle said firmly. “You’re important to me, okay? As much as you’d like to believe it, you’re not invincible, and I don’t want to see you taking careless and unnecessary risks. Just as it terrified you to see me get shot, it scared me to death to see you lying in that hospital bed, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. It frightens me to think about what’ll happen the next time you refuse to properly take care of yourself. Because I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you either.”
Without a word, Harry simply laid his free hand across the one Doyle had on his arm. Neither of them said anything more, and they didn’t have to.
To be continued…
Fandom: Houdini & Doyle
Chapter: 6/?
Author: SiriuslyLupin
Rating: PG
Warnings: angst, mild language, parenthood/children, violence
Summary: As Houdini and Adelaide await word on Doyle's condition, the master illusionist tries his best to keep up appearances. After all, it wouldn't do for the world's greatest performer to break down, but he's lost so much in such a short amount of time. What happens when it quickly grows to be too much? [A missing moment from The Pall of LaPier.]
Word count: 36,818 and counting
Author’s note: We finally have the titular chapter!
Mein Hertz
Chapter 6 - Mein Hertz
“What do you mean?” Doyle asked, slowly turning his head to watch Harry more closely. “What problem?”
Harry didn’t reply right away. He simply stared out the window for a while longer before giving Doyle a sideways look. “If I tell you something in confidence, can you promise it will stay between us?”
“Of course.”
“Because she’d kill me if she knew I was talking about this with you.”
“About what?”
“When we were at Falcroft Manor,” Harry admitted, “I kissed her. That night right before you came to get us to investigate the source of the red mud.”
“I’m not stupid,” Doyle said around a soft laugh. “I knew something had happened. I pretended not to notice in the interest of saving the two you further embarrassment. I also pretended not to overhear your conversation in the basement.”
“The problem is,” Harry replied, “I still really want to kiss her again. And it’s making me crazy that I can’t. Every time I’m near her, things are growing incredibly more awkward, because it’s just about all I can think about.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t want you to?”
“You said you overheard our hushed conversation in the basement,” Harry told him. “She said ‘good’ when I told her it wouldn’t happen again.”
“What else was she supposed to say?”
Harry blinked at him. “What?”
“Perhaps she said it,” Doyle suggested, “because she thought she was supposed to. Don’t get me wrong, but you sort of made it sound like it had all been a mistake. She was obviously already embarrassed and didn’t want to make the situation worse, so she simply agreed with you that that would be for the best. But are you sure that’s how she really feels?”
“But why would she lie?” Harry sounded completely baffled.
“I know you’re used to getting what you want,” Doyle said. “You’re used to women falling at your feet, but Adelaide is probably quite a bit different than a lot of the women you’ve been involved with. Certainly much more different than Korzha at any rate.”
“Hey,” Harry cried, “don’t mock her!”
“I didn’t!” Doyle argued. “I simply said she’s different. You can’t deny that much.”
“All right,” Harry said. “I suppose I can’t.”
“And I wouldn’t say Adelaide is lying,” Doyle said, getting back to the topic at hand before they spent too much time on the intricacies of Harry’s women. “Not exactly. She’s probably just going along with you on it for the simple fact that she doesn’t want to cause more problems between the two of you.”
“Did she tell you this?”
“No,” Doyle said, “I’m just supposing. That’s all. But what if she did feel that way? It’s not outside the realm of possibility, is it?”
“Come on, Doyle,” Harry said. He began pacing the room again, making his way closer to the window. There he placed his hands on his hips, staring out at the grassy courtyard that spread out beneath Doyle’s room. “She’s strong, and refined, and proper, and under what circumstances would she ever want someone like me? I’m loud, and uncouth, and…everything she isn’t.”
Doyle considered this, tilting his head back and forth in thought. “They do say opposites attract. Just like that electromagnet and that chair in Adelaide’s room at Falcroft Manor. Even through a wooden floor.” When Harry didn’t reply to this, Doyle suggested, “Why don’t you ask her? Maybe she wants it just as much as you do, and she’s just too afraid to say so.”
Harry grimaced, turning back to face Doyle again. “I don’t know. I thought she made it pretty clear that she didn’t want it to happen again. What if she gets angry at me for being presumptuous enough to even suggest such a thing?”
“Then I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” Doyle said. “You’ve done a lot of worse things than that in front of her. Believe me. There’s no harm in asking, and you won’t know until you do. Perhaps this will help to clear the air between you. Anyone can see the strain that it’s obviously put on the two of you.”
Shaking his head, Harry repeated, “I don’t know. What if it only makes things weirder between us? What if she doesn’t want it? Then it’ll only serve to make her feel more awkward around me knowing that I do.”
“Things are already weird and awkward between you,” Doyle pointed out. “You can’t possibly make things much worse, can you?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Harry said, “believe me. Especially where I’m concerned.”
“You?” Doyle asked incredulously. “The great Harry Houdini? You mean, everything you touch doesn’t turn to gold?”
“I know,” Harry admitted. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” Doyle said. “But the way I see it, you can ask her now and be done with it, or you can let this absolutely consume the two of you.”
“Well, I can’t possibly ask her about it now!” Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Do you have any idea how insensitive it would seem to spring this on her right after she shot and killed her own husband?”
Doyle stared at him for a very long time, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk. “You know, when you first met her, you wouldn’t have hesitated to do something so tasteless.”
Harry was silent for a moment as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet, subdued. “I care about her. As hard as that is to believe. It isn’t about just wanting to go to bed with her anymore. I want something more with her and…I don’t know if that’s still even a possibility at this point.”
Doyle tilted his head back and forth in thought. “I imagine it is. She just admitted she cared about you, after all.”
“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “as a friend. That doesn’t mean she wants anything more. You’re my friend too, you know. That doesn’t mean I ever considered the possibility of going to bed with you, sorry to say.”
“Somehow I think I’ll get over it,” Doyle commented dryly. “But still, the two of you kissed.” Doyle squinted his eyes in thought and considered this before he added, “Adelaide isn’t the type to do things like that on a whim. Especially with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry demanded.
Doyle simply stared at him.
“Yeah, okay,” Harry muttered. “And she is incredibly strong. That’s part of what I like about her, but that doesn’t mean she’s infallible. People make mistakes - do things sometimes that they realize, in hindsight, were a bad idea. Believe me, I know. Once she kissed me, I think it was then that she realized she probably shouldn’t have. It was a product of the moment.”
“Why?” Doyle asked. His voice was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should be prying into the matter at all. In the end, however, it was Harry who had brought it up, so Doyle pressed on. “What were you two talking about before it happened?”
Harry took a deep breath before whispering, “My mother.” He opened and closed his mouth several times before adding, “I was emotional. She was comforting me.”
“Oh,” Doyle said, then quickly added, “still, that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she’s content to let you believe that, because she was so embarrassed by your reaction. I agree that it would probably be prudent to wait a while, but ask her.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to bring it up,” Harry mused. “’Hey, Addy, I was wondering how you really felt when you kissed me.’”
“You can always disguise it as another Truth Trade,” Doyle suggested.
Harry appeared scandalized. “I can’t believe you would suggest such a thing.”
“Why not?” Doyle asked smugly. “You were the one that came up with that brilliant idea in the first place.”
“I told you,” Harry said around a sigh. “Things are different now. It’s been a long time since I initiated a Truth Trade. If I bring it up now, she’ll just assume I’m trying to be forward again.”
“And when has that ever stopped you?”
Harry shrugged, and it was a long time before he let his shoulders drop back down into a relaxed position. “It does now,” Harry told him. “I have absolutely no hope of anything ever happening with her if I keep doing things like that.” Houdini considered this for a very long time, but then he snorted in laughter and shook his head.
“What?” Doyle asked him.
“Who would have thought?” Harry said. “Here I am, a master magician and showman, confiding my feelings to you of all people. How did we ever end up here?”
“It started when I got shot, I believe,” Doyle said. Just then, he shifted in his bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. He grimaced in pain, his hand going instinctively to the right side of his abdomen where his bullet wound was.
“You just lie still!” Harry scolded, hurrying over to Doyle’s bed. “You were only shot twenty-four hours ago.” He pressed a gentle hand to Doyle’s shoulder, trying to keep him from moving any farther.
“It was mostly numbed by the morphine they gave me,” Doyle said, trying to catch his breath from the bolt of pain that was still coursing through him. “That was, until I moved like that. I sort of forgot it must still hurt that much.” Doyle grumbled then, muttering something intelligible. He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing at it harshly.
“What?” Harry asked in concern. “Should I fetch the doctor?”
“Why, Harry,” Doyle said, dropping his hand to stare at the man over his bed. “Is that concern I detect on your part?”
“Yes!” Harry cried, waving his hands around in emphasis. “How many best friends do you think I have? What, do you think I go to the store and pick a new one up when I run out?” But then Harry suddenly crossed his arms over his chest when he caught the complacent expression on Doyle’s face. “Oh, we already admitted this to each other,” Harry said. “Don’t act so full of yourself because I’m being so honest about it now.”
“I know,” Doyle sighed. Even though he tried to cover it up, and despite the fact that he was suddenly in an inordinate amount of pain, it was a clear sign of contentment. “And no, I don’t need the doctor. I’m fine. At least as well as I can be right now.”
Harry didn’t miss the clear note of sadness in his voice. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I know I’m doing extremely well for someone with my injuries,” Doyle admitted. “I’m awake and I’m lucid, which is a huge improvement over where I was just a few short hours ago. I know that. And this is a bullet wound. It’s going to take time to recover, but…it’s going to be ages until I can get home. It’s going to be ages before I’ll be able to see my kids again.” Doyle’s hand was back up to his face again, rubbing his eyes, as if he was trying to massage away all the horrible thoughts he was having. “I hate the thought of them being all alone with Vera for God knows how long.”
“You trust her with them though,” Harry pointed out. “She wouldn’t be there now if you didn’t.”
“Of course I do,” Doyle admitted. “They’ll be fine with her. I have absolutely no doubt about that. But…” Doyle broke off, a wry smile forming on his lips. He stared down at his other hand, which was currently lightly pressing against his side, against his bullet wound. “I’m remembering all sorts of things now as the time passes. You talked about that too when I was unconscious,” Doyle said, raising his eyes to Harry again. “About how my children need me and how I can’t leave them alone. Even though they are taken care of now, I still need to be with them. Now it’s going to be forever until I can be. Who knows how long I’ll be in hospital for, and it’ll probably be even longer than that until they give me the okay to travel. What are they going to do without me for such a long time?”
Harry considered this for a moment before he asked, “Have they ever been to the States before?”
“No!” Doyle exclaimed. He dropped his hand from his face, giving Harry a firm glare. “They have their school and they have their friends. And they’re home. You can’t upset their entire lives to bring them here for an unspecified amount of time. I won’t have them living in a hotel room for months.”
“I can get them a suite,” Harry offered. “Vera too. Even nicer than the one I keep in London. They’d love it. It would be like a vacation. I can get them a private tutor too so you wouldn’t have to worry about them missing any school.”
Doyle opened his mouth to reply, but then he shut it again almost immediately. He closed his eyes, and if Harry wasn’t mistaken, he thought he saw Doyle’s bottom lip give the tiniest quiver. A moment later, however, it was gone, and Doyle was looking at him rather firmly again.
“I appreciate the offer, Harry,” Doyle said quietly, softly. “You’ll never even know how grateful I am that you’d offer so much to me and to my children, no questions asked.”
“You’re my best friend,” Harry reiterated again, unnecessarily. It seemed that now they’d admitted something so personal to each other, Harry rather enjoyed repeating it. He reveled in the fact that he was able to call someone his best friend. As he’d already said, it wasn’t something that came along every day, and he’d almost missed the chance to tell Doyle that entirely. Harry wasn’t about to let an opportunity like that go again.
“Besides, I have the money,” Harry went on. “Who else am I going to spend it on now that Ma’s gone? And your children are the most important things in the world to you. I know that. If I can help to make your time here a little bit easier, I’ll do it.”
An expression passed over Doyle’s face. It was somewhere between one of sadness and one gratefulness. “Thank you for the offer, Harry. You really don’t know how much that means to me. But as I told you, I don’t want to disrupt their lives for such a long period of time. They need to be at home.”
“They need to be with you,” Harry pointed out.
“Be that as it may,” Doyle said, “they need to be with their mother too.” He gave Harry a pointed look. “Their place is with her. As it stands, Touie is still in much more dire straits than I am. I want them to be there in case anything happens to her while I’m gone. I’d never forgive myself if the unthinkable happens to her, and they weren’t there to say goodbye to her.”
Harry couldn’t exactly argue with that. For a brief moment, he blinked several times, trying desperately to keep the tears he felt forming there at bay. “You’re right,” he agreed, nodding. “I wouldn’t want them to miss that either.” Harry ran a hand over his face before he changed the subject.
“But you don’t have to worry about anything else, you know,” Harry said. “I was actually planning on coming back to New York with Ma for a while anyway, so this isn’t completely unplanned. Once you are released from the hospital, I’ll get you that suite I told you about and I’ll make sure you have the best nursemaids money can buy. They’ll take care of you until you can fully get back on your feet. And I’m going to stay here with you until you are able to travel back to England.”
“Harry-“ Doyle tried to protest, but Harry cut him off.
“I insist,” Harry said firmly.
“But you have shows in Europe,” Doyle said. “Despite the fact that you were planning on coming here, I know that wouldn’t have been for a while yet. You have performances set up for weeks.”
“Eh,” Harry muttered, waving his hand in the air. “They’ll survive without me. I’ll give everyone with a ticket a refund or give them free tickets to the encore performance of their choosing. I’ll make it up to them, but that’s not really important to me right now. What’s important to me is you and making sure you’re taken care of and getting better. For the foreseeable future, my place is here. With you.”
“Harry-“ Doyle attempted to argue again, but Harry wasn’t having any of it.
“Let me do this,” Harry pleaded. “Please. This is what’s right for me right now. It’s what I want to do. It’s what I need to do. Europe will still be there when I get back, and I’ll worry about it then. But right now, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. You’re my family, and I always take care of my family.” Harry stared at him.
Doyle finally nodded, then said, “All right. If it’s what you want to do…then I’d be very happy to have you by my side while I recover.” Doyle paused, then decided to add something so their conversation didn’t seem too emotional. “If anything, your constant loud mouth will be the biggest motivation I would ever need to get better.”
“Exactly.”
Silence then fell among the two men, during which Doyle watched Harry for a very long time. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Harry.”
“No need to thank me,” Harry said. “You’re not putting me out or inconveniencing me in any way, and I don’t want you to think you are, okay? This is what I need to do. This is what’s right for me. Is to be with you.”
“Thank you nonetheless,” Doyle reiterated. “You know, it’s not every day you come across a friend who would put their entire life on hold for you. So when you are lucky enough to find one, you don’t let them go unappreciated.”
“And you don’t let them go not knowing how important they are to you,” Harry interjected. He was currently staring down at his shoes, trying not to let the embarrassment of the situation get to him. This was what he wanted, he kept reminding himself, and now that he had it, he wasn’t about to let the opportunity be lost to him again.
“I spent an inordinate amount of time in the waiting room yesterday,” Harry admitted, “wishing and hoping that I wouldn’t lose you too. That you wouldn’t die before I had a chance to tell you how much you meant to me.” When Harry finally looked up again to meet Doyle’s eyes, it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as he was expecting it to be. “Now that I’ve told, this is my way of showing you as well. Until you are back on your feet, I’m going to do everything in my power to make you as comfortable as possible. If there’s anything at all that you want or need, Arthur, I want you to ask, because if it’s at all in my power, I’ll do it or get it for you. All right?”
Doyle squirmed slightly in his bed. “That might be difficult for me. I’m hardly the demanding type, and I spend most of my time looking after the children and Touie - I’m used to doing all of that.”
“Well, you can’t right now,” Harry reminded him. “You’re not going to be able to for a while, but I’m going to make sure that you don’t want for anything in the meantime. Okay? I want you to try. Because if I know you, you won’t say anything out of the interest of not wanting to bother or inconvenience me. You’ll be in desperate need of the toilet, but you won’t say anything, because you’ll be mortally embarrassed of such a thing.”
“Yes, I would be!” Doyle exclaimed. “And with good reason!”
They were only talking about the situation, and Harry could already see bright patches of red standing out on Doyle’s cheeks. At least it was good that he was getting some of his color back, Harry decided, even if it was at the expense of the other man’s dignity.
“Men don’t help men with that sort of thing,” Doyle muttered, making a face.
“Tough luck,” Harry insisted.
“You said you were going to hire me some nice nursemaids to help with those things,” Doyle reminded him.
“And I will,” Harry replied, “but until I can get them lined up, and in the case they’re not available, you’ve got me. Besides, you wouldn’t want to rob me of the chance to do these things myself and embarrass the hell out of you in the process, would you? It’s win win.” Harry wiggled his eyebrows at the other man.
“Harry, for God’s sake!”
“You just admitted that I’m your best friend,” Harry said, his tone turning serious again. “If you can’t let your best friend help you to the toilet, who can you trust with that sort of thing?”
“A nursemaid,” Doyle mumbled. “One who’s trained for that sort of thing and has seen it all before.”
“So you’d rather have a complete stranger see you naked than your best friend,” Harry concluded. “That makes perfect sense.”
Doyle rolled his eyes. “I never should have admitted such a thing to you. You’re never going to let me hear the end of it, are you?”
“Nope,” Harry said proudly, smirking and taking the opportunity to puff his chest out again. “But Arthur? You honestly don’t need to feel bad, or guilty, or embarrassed for asking me for anything,” Harry stressed. “Please know that. Whether it’s food, or a change of clothes, or books to read, or a pen and paper to write with, or yes, even help getting to the toilet - anything you need is yours. All you have to do is ask me for it. All right? I promise I won’t think any less of you for it.”
“You promise?” Doyle asked uncertainly.
“Yes.”
“You won’t make fun of me for needing help to the loo?”
Harry held up his hand, his thumb and index finger a small distance apart. “Maybe just a little.”
“Harry!”
Harry only grinned boldly in response to this, but then his expression suddenly changed. He hung his head a moment later and admitted, “You wouldn’t believe how afraid I was of never having that kind of exchange with you again.” Harry looked up at Doyle from under his eyelashes before he said, “You know, my mother had a saying. When I was little, any time she was looking for me, or my brothers, or sister, she would call, ‘Wo is mein Hertz?’ It means, ‘Where is my heart?’ And when she found us, she would smile, and hug us, and say, ‘Es ist mein Hertz!’”
“’There is my heart,’” Doyle supplied the translation.
“Yes,” Harry replied quietly. “And last night, I have to admit that I felt a little bit like her. I kept thinking that to myself - ‘Wo is mein Hertz?’ - and I was hoping that…I’d be able to find it. That I wouldn’t lose you forever.” Swallowing hard, Harry looked down at his hands where he was wringing them at the thought. Finally looking up at Doyle again, he said, “Because I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you. I think…I just might have crawled into my bed and never come out, because I can’t imagine going on without you. You and Adelaide have become like a lifeline to me. I told you how much you kept me going on after Ma died, and…I think I would have been destroyed if you had died too.”
“Harry…” Doyle began at the other man’s words, but then sucked in a sudden gulp of air that almost sounded like a sob. He raised his hand to his mouth, apparently trying to hold in any other cries that threatened to escape. When he was seemingly reassured that the sensation had passed, he patted the mattress next to him. “Come sit down.”
Not moving from his spot, Harry only stared at the older man. He slowly raised an eyebrow.
“Would you humor me for a moment?” Doyle asked, feigning annoyance. “We’re being honest here and that’s what I’m attempting to do.”
Harry sighed heavily, as if Doyle was inconveniencing him greatly. Finally, however, he moved from his place and as gently as he could, he lowered himself to the mattress, trying not to jostle Doyle too much.
“You keep talking about how much I’ve done for you since we’ve met,” Doyle began. “I don’t think you realize how much you’ve done for me as well. I keep thinking about that time in the carriage when we were investigating Martin Upton. That was when I first told you that Touie has tuberculosis and has been unresponsive, and it had been such a long time since I confided that in anyone. Not since it happened, and then, it was out of necessity. I had to tell our family and friends what had happened - explain it all to them. And then…I didn’t speak about it since. Apart from answering the occasional question on her progress…it was almost as if it didn’t happen. And a part of me liked it that way. But…it’s nice having people in my life that I feel safe confiding that in. You’ll never know how much it meant to me having you come to the hospital that day she woke up.”
“I would have been there too when she fell unconscious again if I could have,” Harry said.
“I know,” Doyle replied, “and I’m glad you were finally getting some rest after nearly dying!” His voice grew sharply louder on the last few words.
Harry scoffed at this, diverting his eyes from Doyle. “I didn’t almost die.”
“Harry,” Doyle said flatly, “I was there. I was with you in the hospital after you had a seizure. I saw you passing out in Downey’s tent, because your fever was ridiculously high. In case you’re forgetting, I’m a doctor. I told you that your brain would shut down if your temperature kept going up, and you almost did get to that point.” When Harry still didn’t acknowledge this or look back to his friend, Doyle added, “Look, I know you’re never going to stop attempting death-defying stunts. It’s what you do, and I could never ask you to stop. But I do wish you’d stop being so blasé about your health. Whether you want to admit it or not, you did almost die, and I think you know it.”
After a moment of silence, Doyle reached out and laid a hand on Harry’s arm. This finally got his attention, and he turned his head to face Doyle again.
“Hey,” Harry said nonchalantly, “I’m not going anywhere for a long time, Doc.”
“Harry,” Doyle said firmly. “You’re important to me, okay? As much as you’d like to believe it, you’re not invincible, and I don’t want to see you taking careless and unnecessary risks. Just as it terrified you to see me get shot, it scared me to death to see you lying in that hospital bed, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. It frightens me to think about what’ll happen the next time you refuse to properly take care of yourself. Because I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you either.”
Without a word, Harry simply laid his free hand across the one Doyle had on his arm. Neither of them said anything more, and they didn’t have to.
To be continued…