Off The Record Ch. 19

Hi all :)

This was originally going to be Chapter 18, but I'm glad I included the Valentine's Day chapter just for fun ;)

Hope you enjoy <3

All characters are over 18.

***

Morgan was completely zoned out, drumming her fingertips along the rough wood of the bar top as she waited for her lunch.

She'd been so distracted by thoughts of Harper that she'd decided to leave court at the midday break rather than order in with the rest of her team. She just needed thirty minutes to herself to get her head on straight.

Between Harper's birthday and Valentine's Day, there had been far more questions created in her mind than answers. Some of the things that Harper had said to her--telling her that she was perfect, that she was addicted to her--all of that sounded suspiciously like love without using the word itself.

Granted, Harper had been a little drunk on her birthday, but her tone and her words and that look in her eyes had all been so earnest that it was difficult for Morgan not to accept what she'd been saying at face value.

And the sex that had followed had been so much more intimate than usual. It was all soft sighs and breathy words and gentle lips and hands. Afterward, they'd fallen asleep on Morgan's couch, wrapped up in each other's arms, too exhausted to even make it into bed.

And then Valentine's Day had been so intense. It had been killing Morgan to not acknowledge it, but she was terrified that if she pushed Harper into something she wasn't ready for, that she'd panic and withdraw from her--from them.

They needed to talk.

"Excuse me. Are you Morgan Monroe?"

Morgan froze where she stood at the counter, blinking herself back to reality when she heard her name. She turned around to see a middle-aged man with dark hair that was graying at the temples looking at her. There was something about him that seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place him.

"Yes, I am," she said cautiously. At her confirmation, something flashed across his face. Was that...anger? An uneasiness slithered through her stomach, stealing her appetite from her. "I'm sorry, have we met before?"

The man gave a vicious scoff. "You could say that." His voice dripped with vitriol. He turned around and paced a few stumbling steps, running a jerky hand through his thinning hair. "She doesn't even fucking know who I am," he muttered under his breath.

Morgan's heart dropped into her stomach when the realization hit her. The man addressing her was Nathan Fisher, Jackie Sterling's brother. Upon recognizing him, she was able to easily pull from memory the countless times she'd glanced at him on the victim's side of the courtroom over the course of the trial.

The guilt that had been gnawing at her for the past several weeks rose within her. Of course she knew who he was--she knew all of the family members that had shown up in support of Jackie at the trial. But she'd been distracted just now, and of all the places to run into Nathan, the dive bar down the street from the courthouse had seemed unlikely. He'd simply caught her off guard.

"Mr. Fisher, I'm so incredibly sorry about the loss of your sister." Morgan tried her best to keep her voice even and calm despite the growing feeling that this situation was going to jump quickly from incredibly awkward to potentially dangerous.

"Don't you dare give me that shit," he growled, staggering a step closer to her, effectively pinning her against the bar.

Morgan realized then that he was incredibly drunk, even though it was barely past noon on a weekday. His bloodshot eyes were full of unbridled fury and hatred as he slurred his words, spittle flying from his lips. "How do you sleep at night? Defending that lying asshole."

Another man who seemed to be closer to Morgan's own age came up behind Nathan and grabbed him by the elbow. "Nate, come on man. I think it's time to go." The younger man threw Morgan a look that was half apologetic, half hesitant. He probably hated her too.

But Nate wrenched his arm out of the younger man's grip, beer sloshing messily out of the full bottle in his hand.

"No, I'd like to hear her answer," he said. "How does the bitch sleep at night, resting that pretty little head on her pillow when she knows she's ruining lives? Dragging my parents back into a courtroom in their fucking eighties to relive trauma they've never actually managed to heal from." He slugged his beer and pointed the neck of the bottle at her. "Gaining her fifteen minutes of fame without a second thought as to who she's hurting in the process." He moved closer still.

Morgan took a moment to take stock of her situation. Her back was flush against the countertop, with people to both her left and right. Escape wasn't really an option.

The woman next to her walked away at that exact moment, and she took her chance. Slipping sideways along the bar, she said as sincerely as she could manage, "I'm very sorry for what you and your family are going through. And I'm sorry to have interrupted your afternoon."

Forgetting about her lunch entirely, she turned and speed walked toward the exit.

"Hey, Monroe!" Nate's voice echoed throughout the restaurant.

She knew she should just keep walking, but a twinge of that crippling guilt kept her from simply ignoring the man who was being forced to grieve his sister all over again. She turned to look at him.

All things considered, Morgan would have been impressed with Nathan's aim given his current level of intoxication had the full bottle of beer he'd thrown across the bar not connected solidly with the side of her head.

Searing pain exploded in her skull. She stumbled backward, barely stopping herself from crumpling to the floor. She heard shouts break out across the bar as the sound of glass shattering came from somewhere near her feet. Morgan could feel stray droplets of alcohol splash her legs. Apparently, Nate had managed to get another throw off before he'd been stopped by the other customers, and it had been close.

Unable to see clearly through the blurred vision and nausea that roiled through her stomach, she allowed her back to slide down the wall near the door, trying to make herself as small a target as possible as she forced herself to breathe through the pain.

Morgan felt a hand on her shoulder and she flinched away from the touch from her vulnerable position on the floor.

"Hey," a soft voice said. She managed to crack her eyes open to see the young bartender holding a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. Vaguely, Morgan thought she remembered that his name was Jason. He extended the ice to her and she took it gratefully, scared to feel how big the bump on her head was already.

"The police are here," he said. "Luckily there was a patrol officer nearby when it happened. Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Morgan groaned. "No, thank you. I think I'll be okay."

Jason looked doubtful. "Are you sure? That first bottle he threw was full. The knot on your head is already pretty huge." His eyes flicked up to her hairline.

Morgan was about to reassure him again when a female officer approached her from the direction of the bar. "Hi, there," she said softly. "I'm Officer Gonzalez. I'm going to need to take your statement if you're feeling up to it."

Jason and Officer Gonzalez helped Morgan to her feet. She could stay standing on her own, which was a good sign.

After spending what felt like an excessive amount of time giving her version of events to Officer Gonzalez, Morgan wanted more than anything to just go home and rest.

"Do you want to press charges?" Gonzalez closed her notebook and tucked it into the breast pocket of her uniform.

"No," Morgan said immediately.

"Miss Monroe, I'd strongly recommend that you reconsider. You could have been seriously injured." She hesitated. "And honestly, I think you should still go get checked out at the hospital. The swelling on your head has gotten worse just in the time we've been talking."

Morgan gave the police officer a tired smile. "I'm not pressing charges. He was having a bad day, and his family is going through a lot right now. I was just incredibly unlucky to have run into him this afternoon."

Gonzalez regarded her with a skeptical look. "Alright," she sighed. "We have to detain him at least for the night and he'll be charged with a few misdemeanors at the very least. Here's my card if you change your mind."

"Thank you," Morgan said.

She wandered away to get more witness statements, but Morgan was already out the door and moving toward her car.

She knew that she absolutely shouldn't be driving with a head injury. But the pain had gone from a dull throb to feeling like someone was driving an ice pick into her brain. Officer Gonzalez was right about one thing--she definitely needed to go to the hospital.

Morgan got into her car and put it in drive before she could change her mind.

***

"So, am I good to go?" Morgan breathed through the pounding in her head and gave the nurse her best attempt at a charming smile.

She'd been at the ER for hours, being subjected to every test imaginable. Morgan thought it all seemed a bit overkill.

Annie, a seasoned nurse who Morgan had learned was very no-nonsense, gave her a sharp look over her shoulder.

"Sweetheart, you have a concussion." She turned around and pointed her paperwork at Morgan menacingly. "It's a mild one, but it's still a concussion just the same. And the doctor told me that you drove yourself here." She shook her head disapprovingly. "You'll be fine in a few days, but we can't discharge you until you get someone to come drive you home. Or you can order an Uber, but I highly recommend calling someone you trust to sit with you for the evening, at the very least. Do your parents live in the city? Or a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

Morgan chewed the inside of her cheek. She couldn't call Joel--he was busy with the case and she'd already informed him of what had happened. If she was going to be out of commission for the next few days, she needed him focused. And she really didn't want to leave her car here overnight if she chose to take an Uber. She would need someone to take her to come get it regardless, so she might as well do it tonight.

Maeve was absolutely not an option either--she would blow the whole thing out of proportion. She was probably in surgery anyway.

"I'll figure something out," she mumbled to Annie, who gave a curt nod and left the room again.

She blew out a deep breath, nervous for some reason, as she scrolled through her recents and found Harper's name. Her thumb hesitated for another brief moment before she pressed the call button.

Harper's husky voice answered after the second ring. "I was just thinking about you."

Morgan immediately felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Despite the pain throbbing behind her eyes, she smiled.

"Oh yeah?" She couldn't help but ask. That indescribable warmth that she'd come to associate with Harper spread across her chest, calming her instantly.

"Mmhmm." Harper paused, and Morgan could hear what she thought was typing in the background. She was probably working.

Morgan opened her mouth to speak again, but Harper said, "I was watching a documentary about a crazy case down south and the lead prosecutor really reminded me of you."

"Huh, so she must have been extraordinarily well-dressed and wise beyond her years?" Morgan was stalling, but she just couldn't get the words out. She hated this feeling of helplessness, hated being a burden to people.

"Your humility never ceases to amaze me," Harper laughed. "But yes, she was. So what's up? Why are you calling me in the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday?"

"Um." Morgan squeezed the bridge of her nose. "I have kind of a big favor to ask of you. If you're too busy, please feel free to say no."

"Anything." When Morgan didn't immediately continue, Harper asked, "Are you okay?" Her voice carried an undercurrent of worry, the easygoing, relaxed tone from a minute ago gone.

"I'm fine." Morgan toyed with the sleeve of her jacket. She sighed.

"Morgan." There was an edge of panic now, and it spurred Morgan to finally spit it out, hating herself for stressing Harper out.

"I'm fine," she repeated, as soothingly as she could, "but I'm at the emergency room and I need a ride home."

"What?" Harper's voice was so loud and sharp that Morgan had to pull the phone away from her ear, wincing at her shrill tone.

She heard movement in the background, most likely Harper standing up to get ready to leave. "What happened? Which hospital?" she demanded.

"Skyline," Morgan said weakly. "Harper, you really don't have to--"

"I'm on my way. I should be there in about a half hour."

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut. "Thank you."

True to her word, Harper whipped the curtain of Morgan's room back just about thirty minutes later. Morgan lifted her head from where she had been resting it against the stiff emergency room pillow with her eyes closed.

Even with her panic-stricken expression, she looked as beautiful as ever. There was a red tinge to her cheeks from the wind outside, her hair slightly messy in the most adorable way. The buttons on her coat were fastened crookedly, like she'd left home so quickly she hadn't bothered to make sure it was done properly.

Her gaze swept down Morgan's frame as she walked to the side of the bed, giving her a once over to assess the damage before her eyes widened at the massive lump on her forehead.

"What happened?" She whispered, her hands coming up and hovering on either side of Morgan's face, like she wanted to touch her but didn't want to risk hurting her. She settled for placing gentle fingers on Morgan's chin. She coaxed her face in different directions with slight pressure, examining her thoroughly.

Morgan sighed when Harper's thumb ghosted over the dark red mark that she knew painted her left cheekbone, her souvenir from her face's trip to the wall when the impact of the bottle had jerked her head sideways.

"It turns out that defending a man who the general public thinks murdered his wife doesn't make me very popular," Morgan answered, trying to keep her tone light.

That intense gaze snapped to hers and Morgan's breath caught at the anger that she saw flickering in Harper's narrowed eyes.

"Someone attacked you?" Her voice was low, brimming with tension and rage.

Morgan blinked at her, deciding in that moment that she never wanted to be on the receiving end of that dangerous tone of voice from Harper. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised at her protectiveness. Even when Ryan had simply insulted her with words, Harper had chewed him out without a second thought.

"Yes," Morgan said quietly. Harper exhaled sharply through her nose, jaw clenching. Her eyes moved again to the huge knot on Morgan's head, a frown tilting those perfect lips downward.

Morgan reached out and placed one hand on Harper's cheek, drawing her gaze back to hers. "I'm okay," she said softly. "I caught a stray bottle," she gestured to the bump. She winced at her own downplaying of the truth. "Well, that's not exactly true. The bottle was very clearly intended for me. But it's just a minor concussion."

Harper made an exasperated noise and ran her hands through her hair. "Who did this?" She started pacing in the small space. "And where do they live?"

Morgan laughed softly, but then stopped, wincing as pain lanced through her skull. "He's been arrested. The trial is being postponed for at least a week so I can recover."

Harper came over to her again, an anguished look on her face. Morgan let her fingertips brush along the length of Harper's jawline, indulging in the feel of her.

"Is this your girlfriend?" Annie's gruff voice made them both jump.

Harper gave Morgan a mildly confused, cursory glance before she cleared her throat, backing away from the bed. "I'm her friend."

Annie nodded and made her way further into the room with what Morgan assumed was her discharge paperwork in hand. She turned her attention to Harper.

"I don't know how much she's filled you in, but she has a concussion. Nothing to worry about, but she needs to take it easy tonight, and for most of the weekend. Lots of water, Tylenol for the pain as needed, and nothing strenuous. No driving," Annie gave Morgan a pointed stare, "and screen time needs to be severely limited tonight. Sleep is the best thing for you." She scanned through the paperwork one more time before looking back up at Harper. "Someone really should stay with her tonight. Something tells me she won't follow medical advice and just relax." Both women turned to her, one eyebrow raised on Annie's stern face.

"I'll keep her in line," Harper said, smirking at her.

Just then, the curtain was ripped back violently, and Morgan's heart sank as she registered Maeve striding toward her.

"What the fuck, Morgan?" The stress in her voice was evident. Blue eyes that matched her own raked down her frame, searching for any sign of injury. They narrowed on the swollen lump on her temple.

Morgan grimaced at her tone. Too tired to really give it her all, she threw Annie a half-hearted glare. "Really, Annie? I thought we were friends."

The nurse shrugged shamelessly. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but did you really think you could make it through this emergency room incognito with your last name and those blue eyes?" She gave Morgan a look that said she was silly if she'd really believed that Maeve wouldn't find out she was here.

Immediately upon reaching her, Maeve's hands were at her pulse, checking her heartrate, which had skyrocketed at her sister's unexpected arrival.

And then Morgan was blinking rapidly, blinded by a light that Maeve seemingly pulled out of nowhere. One firm hand came up to hold her jaw steady while she checked her pupils.

Morgan batted her hands away, the overstimulation and the exhaustion of the afternoon getting to her. "I'm fine," she hissed.

Maeve ignored her, grabbing hold of her wrists. "Squeeze my hands."

Morgan pulled out of her grip, glaring at her.

With a huffy breath, Maeve reached for her again. "I swear to god, Morgan, if you don't let me examine you, I will have you strapped to a gurney and admitted."

They stared each other down, Maeve raising one eyebrow in challenge. Morgan blew out a breath, conceding. She had had enough arguments with Maeve to know that she wasn't bluffing, especially not when it came to matters of health.

So, Morgan sat there, the perfect, cooperative patient, while Maeve ran through her unreasonably long checklist of questions and tests, making sure Morgan wasn't actively dying. She had to bite her tongue to stop herself from commenting that they wouldn't have been about to discharge her if it wasn't safe for her to leave.

She had been this fucking close to making her escape without Maeve catching her at the hospital.

Only after Maeve finished her initial triage examination did she pull Morgan into a tight hug, pressing her lips gently to her forehead. She pulled back, her hands coming up to cup her jaw gingerly. "Are you okay?" She asked softly, stroking her thumbs across Morgan's cheekbones, concern etched into her features.

Morgan nodded, her eyes fluttering closed at the familiar and comforting touch of her older sister. "I'm fine," she said. "I promise."

Nodding once and seeming to finally be satisfied with the state of Morgan's physical health, Maeve gave her one more squeeze before backing off.

She glanced at her watch. "I have a surgery scheduled to start in an hour, but it isn't urgent. I can cancel it and take you home."

Morgan's eyes shifted to Harper, who had observed her entire exchange with Maeve silently, and who looked like she was doing her best to blend in with the medical equipment against the wall.

Morgan cleared her throat. "Actually, I already have a ride home."

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