A long night of sitting in a hospital chair, when she wasnt pacing around and wandering, had led to a rather stiff back and neck. Bridget stared floor and sighed. The doctor had thrown her out of the ward for a bit while he checked on his patients and shed been sent into the hall. She glanced around again, biting on her lip as she thought. She needed to find her friends and check on them since…well…she had time right now--she finally decided to start at the nurses desk. They would know. Mavelle was the first name she thought of and so that was who she asked for. The woman at the nurse’s desk directed Bridget to room 118 on the second floor. Before Bridget could leave, the woman leaned forward and spoke under her breath. “Be careful with her….” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but simply shook her head and went back to her paperwork. Mavelle was propped up on her bed, staring at the mock Sian’s blade, and Sian’s real blade, both of which lay on her lap. The mock blade was uncannily close to the real thing, even down to a couple of nicks and scratches, but in truth Sian’s proper blade was inimitable. Sian and Purvis, both of them gone to some madman who thought he could control the world. Sian, who was her sister and her friend, and someone she had thought, though she knew it was foolish, was near invincible. Sian, who had taken her around St. Louis and shown her everything(Albeit against her will.), who had brought her to dinners with Lady Alex and introduced her to Viola. Sian, who had been through so much to destroy it all. Purvis, that little dorky King’s man who had become her friend, who had kept her from death more than once, and kept her from losing her calm in the most intense of situations. Purvis, who loved a little Glass Knife, who laughed readily and who seemed to be able to pull something lighthearted out of nearly any situation. Purvis, who took the sword of the clockwork Sian and vowed along with Mavelle to bring it all down. Soroush was dead, but was that enough? Mavelle shuddered and gripped the hilts of the blades, one in each hand. She gritted her teeth as a mild throbbing started up in her right arm- she had elbowed the nurse who had tried to take them from her, and apparently it had caused her more pain than she originally thought. They were all she had left of the two of them, she’d be damned if she let anyone take them from her. With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall behind her, trying to breathe easy. But how could she? How could she breathe easy when so many people she cared about breathed no more? It felt like a vise was closing around her chest at an agonizingly slow rate, and not because of her wounds. As the nurse directed her to Mavelles room Bridget gave her an odd look. Then she nodded. Dont worry...I know Mavelle. She wont harm me. She trusted Mavelle on that--even with their history she trusted her completely. She made her way up the stairs and to the second floor. Finding the right door she hesitated and then knocked against it. Mavelle? Its me....Bridget. She spoke softly. Mavelle blinked slowly, her hollow gaze fixing on the door. Bridget…? What was Bridget of all people doing here? Mavelle hesitated- She wasn’t sure if she wanted to see her. After all, Mavelle had more or less been the cause of Bridget’s loss of limb(Or so she had come to blame herself for it.) because she couldn’t get there in time to stop the clockwork man. She had been the one to make the decision to give her the mechanical hand, and Mavelle caught her looking at it oddly sometimes. Just the thought of it made her cringe. Her voice weak from lack of use, she croaked “Enter.” Bridget opened the door only when she heard Mavelles voice. She paused in the doorway and gave the girl a tired smile. Mavelle looked...more than exhausted. She looked dead inside. Bridget knew that she really didnt look much better... After a moment she came into the room and sat down in the chair by Mavelles bed. That was all shed been doing since they landed it seemed--sitting in chairs by beds. That was the cost for escaping the temples with only bumps and bruises. She glanced at the swords that Mavelle cradled and her face fell. Her swords? She asked softly, a reverent note entering her voice. Mavelle felt her throat close and found she could only nod and even that she barely managed. She wanted to tell Bridget everything, she wanted to give up and let her walls come down and tell her friend everything. But Mavelle knew that she couldn’t. Bridget would carry that piece of metal her entire life, and so Mavelle would carry the weight of the decision- in this case, being a disgraced friend. She watched Bridget passively, noting that the ragged look that everyone had taken away from Eisenberg manifested itself differently in each person. For Bridget it was a noticeable lack of herself, looking worried and restless despite whatever face she tried to put on. Once the silence had dragged on a little too long, Mavelle found herself speaking again, “How-“ Her voice cracked and broke. She cleared her throat, “How’s Dirk?” Bridget tugged on the fingers of her flesh hand, wishing she had her glove on. Her scars stared out at her, white stripes on her skin. She ran her fake fingers over them. There was too much to say....and theyd never started to talk so now it felt almost too late. Since Larkhill things had been building...and now...it was a huge hill between them. But the question, a desperate bid for conversation, told Bridget that Mavelle wanted her there. Mavelle never made small talk so....to try....it meant that Mavelle wanted...maybe even needed her there. Hes fine I believe--the doctor is checking on him now and they well...threw me out of the ward. Just because he is my patient. She muttered the last sentence and rolled her eyes. Shed patched him up after the first round of dolls, shed helped him patch up his hand after he cut his pinkie off (and she still couldnt believe that he did that) and well....now...some doctor had taken over her job and sent her to sit in a hall..... Mavelle gave a fraction of a nod. A fierce awkwardness burned in her chest, but she remained still and passive. It was all she could do to keep herself from cracking any more. “I’m sorry.” The word was more dead air than the silence was. She gripped the swords a little tighter, then exhaled slowly without inhaling, making herself feel a tiny bit lightheaded. “I’m glad,” She paused, the awkwardness finally coming out in her words, “I’m glad that you…found him.” Bridget looked down at her lap, swallowing convulsively. She...she could still remember the hollow, dead feeling that settled into her stomach when Dirk realized that only six people could fit into the elevator and he pushed her in and didnt come himself. She had thought he was dead until she heard Casey on the radiant and learned who all was with her. But she wouldnt believe it until he found her on the Lantern....and even now... She pulled up a bit of a smile for Mavelle, Me too. And you have Elijah...hes still in St. Louis. Hell be overjoyed to know that you are fine. Mavelle’s gaze flickered, as if it were attempting to harden but couldn’t quite manage it. She knew she’d struck a cord and regretted it immensely. She started to apologize, to try and to make it better. But what could she say? Bridget’s smile was like a dagger to her heart. Elijah… A slight gasp escaped her, unbidden. He would have been worried sick. The poor boy always wanted to protect her- which was completely absurd, considering he was very physically unassuming and a pacifist to boot. The mere thought of her in the slightest danger made him anxious, this must have been torture. Mavelle bit her lip and looked down, trying to calm herself down. She’d told Viola to tell him she was fine. She’d have a chance to explain when she was better. Hopefully he’d understand…. Bridget realized that she must have said something wrong and leaned over to place a hand on Mavelles shoulder. You can always send him a telegram you know... She paused. What you did was for him as much as anyone-if wed not defeated that mad-man well.... She shuddered quickly. Soroush would have destroyed the whole world. Mavelle stiffened at Bridget’s touch, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to think about that. It made her heart ache to even think about approaching that thought. She blocked it, searching quickly for something that wouldn’t hurt so much to talk about. But what was left? The truth was not much. Finally, she settled on something that had perhaps been left alone for too long. And it was only barely less painful. “I’m sorry…” She started weakly, forcing herself to look up at Bridget. “For your arm.” Her voice cracked and she cursed herself. She cursed how weak she was getting. Bridgets eyes widened and then she reached over and impulsively hugged Mavelle for a moment before letting go. For a moment she had sounded like Quince...and the thought of the roommate that had become her sister tightened her heart for a moment. Dont be sorry Mavelle. She spoke quickly, almost shocked by her honestly. She had known this conversation was coming...and shed always told herself that shed tell Mavelle this...but she never thought that she would mean it. Only...she did. Really...dont be sorry. It was...it was for the best. She swallowed. I had already lost the arm and with only one I...I wouldnt have been able to come here...and do what I did. She wouldnt have been able to save the lives that she had...she would focus on that. The fake arm had let her save Dirk, Casey and her baby, Padre, Matthew, Felix. With only one hand she would have been no good at all. Mavelle nearly missed the hug, but she managed to awkwardly hug Bridget back to the best of her ability what with her wounds. She stared blankly at Bridget when she had finished speaking, almost unable to comprehend what she was saying. It was…okay? But, how? She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times and found she was at a loss. Bridget smiled a bit, Dont make that face Mavelle. It is a...hard adjustment to make but...it was needed. I am not angry at you--I never was. She promised her. Shocked...stunned...maybe horrified...but angry at you? Never! She promised. Mavelle started to speak, her voice coming out like a sickly frog, “Why…” it sounded like she started to say ‘not’, but lost the strength halfway through. Her face was slack, her mouth slightly open as she looked at this person that she had called her friend, and who since Lark Hill she had thought would never forgive her. Was it really that easy? Because... Bridget paused as she tried to think of a good reason herself. Finally she spoke. You didnt do it maliciously. She spoke softly. You really thought you were doing the right thing...and you....thought you were doing what was best. She looked down at her lap. It was kindness on your part that made you act--and you didnt know that I hadnt woken up really. She closed her eyes. Even now all she could remember was blinding, blinding pain when the Captain grabbed her arm...and then waking up in a hospital bed. Everything else was a blur. Mavelle looked Bridget over, and then slowly, wordlessly, she pulled her into a hug. There was no other explanation other than that she couldn’t find the words. Any words at all. It was as if she had never known a word of English, let alone been fluent in French at one point. Even if Bridget forgave her, Mavelle wasn’t sure she forgave herself. The whole thing could have been avoided if she’d just been that much quicker, if she’d acted on her instincts sooner… She tightened her grip on Bridget, inhaling sharply and holding her breath. Not yet. She couldn’t let herself go yet. Bridget rubbed at her back gently. Its all alright Mavelle---I -promise-. She smiled a bit through watery eyes. Mavelle managed a nod, pulling away and trying to get herself to smile. She pulled off an awkward half-smile, then gestured to the door. “I won’t keep you. You should go back to Dirk…” She said softly, one hand still on Bridget’s shoulder. “If you’ll be alright, that is?” She tilted her head as she looked at her….friend. Bridget stood up rather reluctantly. I should....the doctor should be done by now. She tilted her head and then smiled faintly. Ill be fine...in time. She brushed a curl back behind her ear. Nothing heals quickly...but in time it will.... Where those words for Mavelles benefit or for hers? She reached over and placed a hand on Mavelles shoulder though, squeezing it quickly. For what its worth Mavelle--you did everything that you could. You were a hero. She smiled once more and then turned to head back downstairs to the main ward again. Mavelle watched her go in stunned silence. As the door closed behind Bridget, a muffled sound escaped her lips, caught halfway between surprise and grief. A hero?
Posted on: Fri, 17 Oct 2014 06:41:14 +0000
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