Edgar is a sparkling sight (bonesie) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-07-30 13:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1980/07 july, edgar bones |
30 July 1980
Who: Edgar and Evander Bones
What: Edgar misses his babies :(
When: Thursday, mid-afternoon
Where: Edgar & Calypso's bedroom
Rating: PG at most, because Ed is an emo kid
Status: Completed narrative.
Edgar was tired of being in bed. He was sick of being immobile and useless and of feeling so bleeding alone with no one to keep him company (in what felt like endless spurts, when Calypso was with the children) except for Elliot's sleeping form on the floor beside the bed; with nothing to keep himself occupied except for his journal and the wireless radio that had been set on the end-table. He wanted to go outside. He wanted to play with Elliot rather than just allowing his fingers to loosely graze her head and back. He could barely even reach for Godric's sake. He was tired of the wallpaper and the ceiling and of the furniture. He wanted to do more than just hold Calypso's hand when she was with him. He wanted to feel her growing pregnant belly, to hold her, to kiss her with more passion than he could put into fleeting pecks hello and good-bye. He wanted to hug his children. He wanted to see his children. He felt so lethargic and unmotivated and upset with himself for what had happened. For his oversight. For his underestimation. For deserving what he had received at Bellatrix and Sirius' wands. For trying, and failing, to be anything resembling a hero.
Edgar was tired of himself.
He knew he was capable of being a better, stronger man than he had shown himself to be. Ed knew that he was a better friend--better family--than he had been to Fabian, though his pride would allow no apology (and deep down he knew that this was all right, that Fabian very often applied the same practices to arguments, and that generally the two of them eventually said 'fuck it' to themselves and got over it). Most of all, Edgar knew that as a member of the Order, there was so much more he could be doing, so much more of a positive impact he could be making, rather than just ignoring the majority of what was happening in the journals and leaving them all to their own arguments, insecurities with the Order, and problems with one another. He couldn't bring himself to speak reason, or to try and play peacekeeper.
The door creaked open as Edgar lay ignoring his journal and staring at the ceiling again, letting the fact that he was by himself embrace the more self-depreciating aspects of his personality. He perked up, expecting Calypso, but could not see anyone from where he was lying. The dog was still on the floor, so it wasn't her, not that she knew how to turn doorknobs anyhow.
"Daddy?" came a small, tentative, worried sounding voice. It was Evander.
"Ev, Daddy is still sick," Edgar said, wanting nothing more than to tell his son to come in the room and climb into the bed with him. He hadn't seen him since before leaving to meet Sirius. "Where's Mummy?"
"Penny fell," the little boy replied after a moment, standing in the crack of the open door, not coming any farther into the room. "She's crying. Mummy is making her feel better. I want... I wanted to see if you were better."
"Not yet," Edgar said sadly.
"Can I come in?" Evander asked, and Ed say the door open just a slight more. "Please? I miss you. You've been sick for a real long time." The unwanted abnormal hung in the air, along with the unanswered questions. What happened, Daddy? Who are the strange people in the house, Daddy? When are you going to be better, Daddy?
Against his better judgment--his wanted to hold his child outweighing his concern as to whether or not Evander could handle the state his father was in--Edgar said, "Yes."
Evander approached the bed slowly, Elliot sitting up on the floor, tongue lolling, wagging her tail lightly at the sight of him. "Hey buddy," Edgar said. His face wasn't bandaged, but the mostly healed scar of what Sirius had done was prominent, and Ed's hair had had to be cut to fix the whole thing, and the burns that had made their way, seemingly, everywhere. His arms were still considerably bandaged.
Evander, momentarily, looked afraid. "Daddy..." he all but whispered, eyes wide. "You're not sick, you're hurt. Did you fall, like Penny?"
"Not quite," Edgar replied, smiling slightly. "But I'll be all better soon. I'll be able to get out of bed and play again."
Evander seemed to be trying to take in what he was seeing. He was handling it fairly well, all things considered, and for a three-year-old who had never really seen anything like it before in his life. "Can I... um. Can I come up, Daddy? Can we listen to, to... to the radio?"
Ed very nearly started crying right there. "Of course, buddy. I can't pull you up, though. Can you climb up on Mummy's side? I'll turn the wireless on."
The little boy nodded and moved around to the other side of the bed, climbing up and sitting close to his father as Ed used his wand to turn the radio on (awkwardly). He had healed enough that he was comfortable holding out his right arm so that Evander could come closer if he wanted to; he did, hugging into Ed was an obvious amount of glee at being permitted. He wasn't rough, able to understand that bandages meant owies. Edgar wrapped his arm around his son, chest heavy with emotion, forcing himself not to cry.
The wireless droned on, about what Edgar didn't know, unable to concentrate on anything but the child he was holding. "I love you, Daddy," Evander said, voice muffled as his head was slightly buried against the material of the pajama shirt Edgar was wearing. "Please don't get hurt anymore."
"I love you, too, Ev," Edgar replied, unable to stop his eyes from welling up then, feeling like an absolute emotional sod, but figuring that when children were involved, it was more than justifiable. "And I'll try."
That seemed to be enough for Evander, who snuggled just a little bit closer. They lay there quietly for some time, not listening to the wireless, before they both fell asleep.