Tuesday, 19th February, 2013
More waiting. But not quite so hopeless now as it had been before. Piper paced uncomfortably back and forth in the corridor outside the ward where Des' private room was located. She had been there when, miraculously, he had woken up in the early hours of the morning, unceremoniously dismissed by the nurses as a doctor was called to assess his condition and clear him for magical healing. The healer had come to the hospital a few hours later, by which time Piper had been convinced to go home and rest, and after walking with Lyneth and one of the Knights of St Aldwin to the Harker Academy that morning, the young mother had returned to the hospital to find out how the healing had gone. She'd been told that it had gone well, but that Des was sleeping once again, and that they did not want him to be disturbed for the time being. So she was waiting, impatient to see him once more and assure herself that her poisonous curse hadn't done too much damage.
Upon first awakening, Desmond had been groggy, confused, and disoriented. He'd barely been able to keep his eyes open more than a few minutes at first, hardly long enough to assess his own situation, much less remember what had happened. He was somewhat aware of being in a hospital bed, aware of an array of tubes and other equipment monitoring his vitals and keeping him alive, but not aware of much else. It wasn't until the medication started to wear off that he came around again, groggily asking for Piper and being told that she'd been sent home to rest. There had been tests and questions, and other poking and prodding, most of it painful to one degree or another, though he made few complaints, until the healer had finally arrived to mend whatever damage traditional medicine had been unable to heal. He'd asked what had happened, but had been administered more painkillers and told to rest. Everything would become clear soon enough.
Rest he had, unable to do much else, unable to fight the heaviness droop of eyelids that refused to remain open. A few more hours passed while he slept, his body slowly mending the damage that had been done while his mind rested. When he awoke for the third time, he felt tired, sore, and weak, but more awake and alert than before, and feeling only minimal discomfort. As soon as his eyes opened and he was able to move his lips, the first thing he did was to ask again for Piper, needing to see her, needing to know that she was real and not just some figment of his imagination.
And finally, his request was granted. Piper was shown into the private room, pale and nervous, uncertain of what it was she was going to find there. Was he really okay, or were they being kind to hide some deformation or lifelong disability' She paused in the doorway, casting a worried glance to the nurse who encouraged her inside before taking the few steps to Des' bedside almost silently. Lowering herself into the chair there, she reached out a hesitant hand to touch his fingers. "Des" I ....they said you were asking for me."
His eyes were closed when she came in, resting quietly. Though he was no longer drugged into a stupor, it would be a little while before he got his strength back and no longer felt like a wrung out dish rag. He turned his head toward the sound of her voice, smiling a little, gray-blue eyes sliding open to search for her face. He felt her touch his hand, and his fingers curled slowly around hers, as much to comfort her as himself. "Hey," he said, his voice quiet and weak, but unmistakably his.
"Hey." She'd promised herself she would keep it together, but as she looked into his eyes and heard his voice, Piper realised once again just how close she had come to never seeing that slate grey-blue again, or hearing the gentle cadence of his voice as he spoke to her. Tears suddenly bubbled up, bursting out of her as she ducked her head, her free hand scrabbling for the tissues in her bag. "I'm sorry, I ....I'm so sorry."
The smile on his face faded as she burst into tears and ducked her head to search for tissues, one hand still clutching his. He wasn't sure what she was apologizing for; it was him who owed her an apology. Something tugged at his mind, some scrap of memory. He seemed to recall watching her, crying at his bedside while she clung to his hand. She'd said something through her tears. What had it been" "Don't cry, Pip. I'm okay. It's gonna be okay." He wished he could take her in his arms and soothe her, but he could barely lift his head from the pillow just yet. Instead, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if to remind her that he was still there, still alive, and had no intention of leaving.
"But it's not," she whimpered quietly, ruthlessly scrubbing her cheeks dry before blowing her nose with wonderful, if unattractive, practicality. "You almost died. I should have known something was going to happen; it always does, and it's getting worse. I could have lost you forever." Tears threatened once again, before she drew herself together hard. "I'm sorry, I promised myself I wouldn't cry on you, and look at me. I'm such a mess."
"Pippen, please..." He started, not really realizing that he'd just hung a silly nickname on her, one he'd been considering a long time but had yet to use. His heart sank as he watched her, feeling helpless, unable to take her in his arms, unable to stop her tears. "I didn't die. I'm not going to die." Oh, he knew he'd come close, dangerously close, but miraculously, he had lived, in good part because of Lyneth, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around that just yet. He'd think about it later when he had time to think. Right now, the important thing was making Piper understand that this wasn't her fault and that he wasn't giving up that easily. "It's not your fault, Piper. None of this is your fault." He sighed, closing his eyes a moment as if to rest a moment and gather his strength.
"I told you I was poison," she said unhappily, listening as he spoke but barely taking what he said in through her personal cloud of distress and despair. "I don't know what to do. I love you so much, but loving you puts you in danger, it puts you in the firing line of whatever it is that's so determined to keep me on my own. But I can't let go. I won't hurt you like that, and Lynnie ....she'd never forgive me." Her fingers tightened, trembling, on his for a moment as she drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know how to keep you safe."
He drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He felt tired, wrung out, exhausted, but relieved for the moment to be alive. Why couldn't she just be happy to have him back instead of blaming herself for what had happened" There was no curse. It hadn't been her fault. She'd had nothing to do with it. He wasn't sure he could make her understand that without telling her the whole story, and he wasn't sure he had the strength to tell it, or if he could even make sense of it all just yet. "Piper, stop it," he told her, trying to sound as stern as he could, despite the obvious weakness in his voice. "You're not poison and you aren't putting me in danger. This wasn't about you. It was about the case."
It couldn't have been more obvious from her reaction that few people had ever been stern with Piper Davidson in her entire lifetime. For a long moment, she took on the look of a scolded child - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, fright mixed with mild resentment in her expression - before she subsided, lowering her gaze from his with a sense of shame. "I'm sorry," she apologised quietly. "I didn't mean ....it doesn't matter." With a visible effort, she pulled herself together, forcing a smile as her eyes lifted to his once again. "So when do they think you'll be well enough to come home?"
And there she was apologizing again and changing the subject. Why couldn't she just be happy he was alive" Was she going to blame herself for every little thing that ever went wrong" He felt horrible about having to get stern with her, but someone had to. He just wished she'd stop blaming herself for everything and expecting the worst, especially when they had so much to be thankful for. He sighed as she smiled, knowing that smile was forced, more for his sake than from any happiness she was feeling. All of this was his fault. He shouldn't have delayed so long. He'd put her through all this anguish and for what? It was his fault, not hers. He would have shrugged in response, but he lacked the energy. "I don't know. A few days, I suppose."
That was the problem. She was happy, overjoyed, to know he was alive and safe and well on the road to recovery, but with that happiness came the fear that it might not last. That this had been a warning of what would happen to him in the future if she gave him everything she wanted to. She wouldn't be truly happy until he was up and about, home again where she and Lyneth and the faery folk who watched over them could keep him safe from whatever was out to get him. As he sighed, she knew he had caught her out in her forced smile, and with an effort that cost her pains, she relaxed that expression, the force leaving her smile to settle her expression into something relaxed and as genuine as she could make it. "And you're coming home, yes?" she asked softly, choosing to stay on this safe subject for now. "Lyneth's been busily making and remaking the bed for you. She'll be very put out if you don't sleep in it at least once."
More waiting. But not quite so hopeless now as it had been before. Piper paced uncomfortably back and forth in the corridor outside the ward where Des' private room was located. She had been there when, miraculously, he had woken up in the early hours of the morning, unceremoniously dismissed by the nurses as a doctor was called to assess his condition and clear him for magical healing. The healer had come to the hospital a few hours later, by which time Piper had been convinced to go home and rest, and after walking with Lyneth and one of the Knights of St Aldwin to the Harker Academy that morning, the young mother had returned to the hospital to find out how the healing had gone. She'd been told that it had gone well, but that Des was sleeping once again, and that they did not want him to be disturbed for the time being. So she was waiting, impatient to see him once more and assure herself that her poisonous curse hadn't done too much damage.
Upon first awakening, Desmond had been groggy, confused, and disoriented. He'd barely been able to keep his eyes open more than a few minutes at first, hardly long enough to assess his own situation, much less remember what had happened. He was somewhat aware of being in a hospital bed, aware of an array of tubes and other equipment monitoring his vitals and keeping him alive, but not aware of much else. It wasn't until the medication started to wear off that he came around again, groggily asking for Piper and being told that she'd been sent home to rest. There had been tests and questions, and other poking and prodding, most of it painful to one degree or another, though he made few complaints, until the healer had finally arrived to mend whatever damage traditional medicine had been unable to heal. He'd asked what had happened, but had been administered more painkillers and told to rest. Everything would become clear soon enough.
Rest he had, unable to do much else, unable to fight the heaviness droop of eyelids that refused to remain open. A few more hours passed while he slept, his body slowly mending the damage that had been done while his mind rested. When he awoke for the third time, he felt tired, sore, and weak, but more awake and alert than before, and feeling only minimal discomfort. As soon as his eyes opened and he was able to move his lips, the first thing he did was to ask again for Piper, needing to see her, needing to know that she was real and not just some figment of his imagination.
And finally, his request was granted. Piper was shown into the private room, pale and nervous, uncertain of what it was she was going to find there. Was he really okay, or were they being kind to hide some deformation or lifelong disability' She paused in the doorway, casting a worried glance to the nurse who encouraged her inside before taking the few steps to Des' bedside almost silently. Lowering herself into the chair there, she reached out a hesitant hand to touch his fingers. "Des" I ....they said you were asking for me."
His eyes were closed when she came in, resting quietly. Though he was no longer drugged into a stupor, it would be a little while before he got his strength back and no longer felt like a wrung out dish rag. He turned his head toward the sound of her voice, smiling a little, gray-blue eyes sliding open to search for her face. He felt her touch his hand, and his fingers curled slowly around hers, as much to comfort her as himself. "Hey," he said, his voice quiet and weak, but unmistakably his.
"Hey." She'd promised herself she would keep it together, but as she looked into his eyes and heard his voice, Piper realised once again just how close she had come to never seeing that slate grey-blue again, or hearing the gentle cadence of his voice as he spoke to her. Tears suddenly bubbled up, bursting out of her as she ducked her head, her free hand scrabbling for the tissues in her bag. "I'm sorry, I ....I'm so sorry."
The smile on his face faded as she burst into tears and ducked her head to search for tissues, one hand still clutching his. He wasn't sure what she was apologizing for; it was him who owed her an apology. Something tugged at his mind, some scrap of memory. He seemed to recall watching her, crying at his bedside while she clung to his hand. She'd said something through her tears. What had it been" "Don't cry, Pip. I'm okay. It's gonna be okay." He wished he could take her in his arms and soothe her, but he could barely lift his head from the pillow just yet. Instead, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if to remind her that he was still there, still alive, and had no intention of leaving.
"But it's not," she whimpered quietly, ruthlessly scrubbing her cheeks dry before blowing her nose with wonderful, if unattractive, practicality. "You almost died. I should have known something was going to happen; it always does, and it's getting worse. I could have lost you forever." Tears threatened once again, before she drew herself together hard. "I'm sorry, I promised myself I wouldn't cry on you, and look at me. I'm such a mess."
"Pippen, please..." He started, not really realizing that he'd just hung a silly nickname on her, one he'd been considering a long time but had yet to use. His heart sank as he watched her, feeling helpless, unable to take her in his arms, unable to stop her tears. "I didn't die. I'm not going to die." Oh, he knew he'd come close, dangerously close, but miraculously, he had lived, in good part because of Lyneth, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around that just yet. He'd think about it later when he had time to think. Right now, the important thing was making Piper understand that this wasn't her fault and that he wasn't giving up that easily. "It's not your fault, Piper. None of this is your fault." He sighed, closing his eyes a moment as if to rest a moment and gather his strength.
"I told you I was poison," she said unhappily, listening as he spoke but barely taking what he said in through her personal cloud of distress and despair. "I don't know what to do. I love you so much, but loving you puts you in danger, it puts you in the firing line of whatever it is that's so determined to keep me on my own. But I can't let go. I won't hurt you like that, and Lynnie ....she'd never forgive me." Her fingers tightened, trembling, on his for a moment as she drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know how to keep you safe."
He drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He felt tired, wrung out, exhausted, but relieved for the moment to be alive. Why couldn't she just be happy to have him back instead of blaming herself for what had happened" There was no curse. It hadn't been her fault. She'd had nothing to do with it. He wasn't sure he could make her understand that without telling her the whole story, and he wasn't sure he had the strength to tell it, or if he could even make sense of it all just yet. "Piper, stop it," he told her, trying to sound as stern as he could, despite the obvious weakness in his voice. "You're not poison and you aren't putting me in danger. This wasn't about you. It was about the case."
It couldn't have been more obvious from her reaction that few people had ever been stern with Piper Davidson in her entire lifetime. For a long moment, she took on the look of a scolded child - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, fright mixed with mild resentment in her expression - before she subsided, lowering her gaze from his with a sense of shame. "I'm sorry," she apologised quietly. "I didn't mean ....it doesn't matter." With a visible effort, she pulled herself together, forcing a smile as her eyes lifted to his once again. "So when do they think you'll be well enough to come home?"
And there she was apologizing again and changing the subject. Why couldn't she just be happy he was alive" Was she going to blame herself for every little thing that ever went wrong" He felt horrible about having to get stern with her, but someone had to. He just wished she'd stop blaming herself for everything and expecting the worst, especially when they had so much to be thankful for. He sighed as she smiled, knowing that smile was forced, more for his sake than from any happiness she was feeling. All of this was his fault. He shouldn't have delayed so long. He'd put her through all this anguish and for what? It was his fault, not hers. He would have shrugged in response, but he lacked the energy. "I don't know. A few days, I suppose."
That was the problem. She was happy, overjoyed, to know he was alive and safe and well on the road to recovery, but with that happiness came the fear that it might not last. That this had been a warning of what would happen to him in the future if she gave him everything she wanted to. She wouldn't be truly happy until he was up and about, home again where she and Lyneth and the faery folk who watched over them could keep him safe from whatever was out to get him. As he sighed, she knew he had caught her out in her forced smile, and with an effort that cost her pains, she relaxed that expression, the force leaving her smile to settle her expression into something relaxed and as genuine as she could make it. "And you're coming home, yes?" she asked softly, choosing to stay on this safe subject for now. "Lyneth's been busily making and remaking the bed for you. She'll be very put out if you don't sleep in it at least once."