Dorcas is torn to pieces (certaindoom) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-06-15 19:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1980/06 june, dorcas meadowes, edgar bones |
Who: Ed and Dorcas
When: Monday morning
Where: Dig's house
What: Dorcas isn't dead, yay! Round two!
Rating: Low
Status: Completed log
Waking up the second time was at least somewhat less agonising than the first. Actually no, the pain was about the same, but at least this time she knew there was a vial of pain relief potion on her night stand and she wasn't completely fucking confused about everything. That was something? With a groan through clenched teeth, she reached for one of the vials Pepper had left for her and quickly downed the contents before collapsing back on the bed. Fucking hell. At some point it had to get better, right?
After a minute or two of just staring at the ceiling and with her stuffed dragon (that she was really absurdly grateful to Fabian for bringing) clutched in her arm, she finally reached for her journal. At least the DictaQuill made writing to people a hell of a lot easier, although it didn't help with reading comprehension which seemed to be the bigger issue at the moment. She tried to read Edgar's post about the Order again but there were just too many words on the parchment and she wasn't any more successful in actually understanding what he was saying than she'd been the night before. Fuck it, she'd get there eventually, she decided and instead skimmed down to see if he'd responded to her odd little greeting. God, it killed her to see how worried he'd been, a fact that was so very evident from his spilled ink and barrage of questions and of course she wanted him to come see her.
With just about everyone else, save perhaps Sirius and Fabian to a lesser degree, she felt some compulsion to put on a brave face, to crack jokes about her condition and show little in the way of emotion beyond a desire for revenge. With Ed, she just couldn't. Vulnerable honesty was what she gave him. She was frustrated and in unholy amounts of pain and god, she just needed her best friend.
The minute Dorcas replied to say he could come see her, Ed was on his feet. He'd gotten considerably more mobile in the last two days, and had managed to stop using the cane entirely. He could stand a little straighter without wanting to punch holes in walls with gritted teeth, and his bulky, odd-looking bandages had been replaced with smaller, far less obnoxious ones. He could even use his left eye again, though it and his jaw were still wrapped up. The other injuries on his chest and stomach were covered by his clothing.
He had been going out of his mind with worry over her, have used his post earlier in the day as a means of distracting himself from thinking about either having to cope with life without her, or how he and Fabian were going to kill Bellatrix and Rodolphus and how fucking satisfying it was going to be. He wanted Dorcas involved the same as James and Sirius, but knew he would have to hold back mentioning it to her until it was one hundred per cent clear that the was going to completely recover.
He knocked lightly on the closed door to her room before turning the knob and opening it slowly. "Dorcas?" he questioned quietly, in case she had fallen asleep between now and when they had exchanged words in his journal.
Oh god. Dorcas had seen something of the number that'd been done on all of them (aside from her own problems) when Fabian had come to see her the night before with his own marks from where he'd been fucking whipped and the burnt handprints on his arms but there was something about seeing Ed all bandaged and bruised that completely undid her. Actually she wasn't sure if it was dismay at seeing Ed hurt, or just relief at seeing him again but either way, she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth as her eyes started to water. And she'd been doing so well at not crying too.
"Ed. Oh god, Ed," she replied softly as she lifted her free hand (the other still clutching Herbert) and held it out to him. She wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him and never let him go but god, she could still barely even move and she hated it. Oh fuck not crying. It was definitely relief that overwhelmed her, she decided as tears ran down her cheeks and she struggled awkwardly to slide up the bed so she could prop herself up on her pillows. Through clenched teeth and a grimace of pain she managed all of a few inches of progress before giving up.
Edgar had a tentatively smile on when he entered the room, but it was replaced by a frown at the sight of her crying, and at the knot in his own throat. He had cried himself, the night Stu had told him that Dorcas may or may not wake up, and he had cried when Calypso had warded him the children's paintings, and now he couldn't really stop himself from tearing up again. There were very, very few people who had ever seen this side of Ed, limited to Dorcas and his wife. Outside of that, Edgar didn't show those sorts of emotions. His father had made it clear when Edgar was a child that men didn't cry. Men were strong. Men held everything together.
Ed had never been particularly great at holding things together much as he liked to pretend the opposite.
He shuffled across the room and perched himself uncomfortably before leaning forward and embracing her carefully. They were both in a pretty awkward state for hugs, but Ed didn't really care at that much at the moment. He'd done the same when Cally had come to see him after he'd waken up. And once he held on, Ed didn't want to let go.
God it hurt. Even through the numbing fog of the pain potion, moving and having her stomach touching anything sent a fresh wave of agony tearing through her body but fuck if she cared. She just clung to him as tightly as she could possibly manage (which wasn't very, but not for lack of trying) and buried her face in his shoulder as she started full on sobbing. (Also not helping with the pain.)
"I thought I was going to die," she whispered, giving voice to that horrible, horrible thought for the first time since she had woken up. "I thought... I think I wanted to." The battle came rushing back into her mind from whatever periphery she had shoved it off into and she saw it all in painfully vivid clarity. The Death Eater, the werewolf, the village burning... No, whatever strength of composure she had been managing was gone and she was left with nothing but raw emotion. And Ed. Who she refused to release no matter how much it hurt.
"It's okay," Edgar said softly, tears running down his cheeks though he managed to hold his own enough not to mirror Dorcas' sobs. He could share the sentiment partially--it was how he'd felt waking up in the middle of Dig removing the shard from his stomach, with that burning nearly incomprehensible pain. He had wanted nothing more than to die, then. Now the healing injury was burning again, but in a way that was telling him 'hey! Sit up! Stop hugging!', and something he continued to ignore. "You're okay now, and they're fixing everything. You're going to be back on your feet in no time."
Dorcas nodded slowly against Ed's shoulder and then slowly and reluctantly released him, only when the pain became more than the comfort from his embrace, and that really was saying something. She dragged the back of her hand across her cheeks and offered him a weak smile. From the sound of it she wasn't going to be back on her feet nearly as quickly as she would have liked as she really wasn't a person who was remotely cut out for bed rest, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice in the matter. At the moment, however, she was more concerned for Ed as she finally took in his injuries beyond the initial shock of seeing him so heavily bandaged. "Are you going to be... okay? Your eye..."
"My eye is fine. A shard just caught me really close," he said, gesturing to where the bandage went over the corner of his eye. "My jaw was not particularly nice, but it all looked much worse when I had the heavy bandages on, trust me. My chest and stomach look a disgusting. Stomach bleeding nearly killed me, apparently. But it's healing. It doesn't stretch or hurt as much as it did at first. My back is murder though. I smashed into what felt like twenty solid surfaces. You don't look so bad. I guess it's all internal, and your leg?"
"I... haven't looked," she admitted as she reached for Edgar's hand so she could grasp it tightly with her own. "Dig had to... put my intestines back inside me," she said, grimacing at the thought. "Pepper said something about getting them rearranged or resettled or... I don't know. Just that I'm not allowed solid foods. Which wouldn't be such a problem if I didn't really want a steak right now. The bites are... I don't know. Just that there are side-effects," she explained vaguely.
"I remember learning about stuff like that during Defense, back in school," Edgar said. "It's kind of weird, but it could definitely be worse. And Dig is apparently a miracle worker. Getting quidditch injuries fixed are one thing, but having mirror shard yanked out of your stomach and having your intestines put back inside of you? We're lucky to be alive."
"That's what people keep saying," she replied, somewhat absently as she squeezed Edgar's hand tighter as if looking for some kind of reassurance that he was still there. "Pepper said it'd scar, but that's not..." she trailed off, shrugging. "It's the rest of it I'm not so sure about. The part where I may or may not turn into a human cannibal at some point? It varies he says. Helpful, really." Okay, well now she was just being dramatic, but she kind of felt entitled at this point.
"Well I suppose where werewolves are concerned, Pepper knows what he's talking about," Edgar said, returning her squeeze as he raised one eyebrow and smiled slightly at her dramatics. "If craving raw meat is the worst of it, well. It could be a whole hell of a lot worse." He was quiet for a moment before starting to talk again. "Calypso and I were having dinner. She couldn't leave, and ended up fighting with us. Bellatrix tried to kill her to bait me. Thus my many holes. I conjured a mirror between us and the killing curse."
"Oh god," Dorcas replied, her eyes widening in horror. "Is she... Calypso's okay? Pepper told me everyone who was injured but I was... well I kinda stopped paying attention after he said you and Fabian were both hurt. Fuck. I don't even know what's worse. That the Minister's wife is running around casting the killing curse or that I'm not even fucking surprised about it anymore. That woman, Greyback and the sadistic fucker who keeps trying to kill me all need to be killed," she declared with a startling amount of vehemence.
"I more than agree," Ed replied a little darkly, but stopped himself from blurting out about his and Fabian's plan. He needed to talk to James and Sirius first anyway, and Dorcas needed to be able to walk again, at the very least. "Calypso's fine and the baby is fine. Just our mums are driving her bats fussing since I'm not at home. And I took most of the rough stuff anyway, trying to protect her. She's not a duelist. Yet. She's part of the Order now but I suppose that was more understand than anything." Edgar still wasn't sure how he felt about the idea. He and Calypso had long since agreed that, despite them both being asked to joined originally, one of them would always have to be safe, for the children. Now it seemed like an impossible task. They needed to be able to protect themselves, each other, and Evander and Penelope. There didn't seem to even be a choice anymore.
Dorcas had, admittedly, in all of the insanity, completely forgotten about the fact that Calypso was pregnant and her already pale face somehow managed to go yet another shade whiter at Ed's reminder. "God. I'm just glad she's okay. And that you'll be okay and... what a fucking mess," she sighed, reaching up to run a hand through her tangled and matted hair. Ew. But she also knew that Ed had his reservations about having his wife in the Order and she frowned, looking up at him (and growing increasingly annoyed with being stuck in the same damn position all the time.) "Are you okay with that? Really? Cally in the Order, I mean."
"Not particularly," Edgar admitted, but he shrugged. "But I would rather her training with us and able to protect herself than to be caught in that position again. It was fucking frightening. I was in such a panic the entire time." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have more than a few reservations about her being pregnant again, however. I think we'll keep it quiet as long as we can."
"She could train with us without..." she began, but stopped before she finished the thought. The rest of the Order wasn't likely to be so okay with that and really it wasn't very fair to Calypso either. Not that being in the Order had done much for her own ability to defend herself but pointing that out probably fell into the category of 'not helpful.' "Yeah. Probably better if it doesn't get out," she said quietly. "Not if they're already targeting her and I still can't get over how fucked up that is. But we'll keep her safe. We all will. That's why we started with the Order, wasn't it? At least part of it anyway." Never mind the fact that Dorcas keeping anyone safe at the moment was pretty fucking laughable, but she meant well.
"I think so. It's all a bit fuzzy at the moment," Ed said quietly. "And they're going to definitely target us now, and our families, the ones of us who weren't wearing masks. Me, Calypso, you, Sirius, James, Lily. That's a frightening thought."
"Well they were already after Sirius and me," she pointed out, frowning a bit. "I fought the same bastard who attacked us at my flat, by the way. Did I tell you that? Ugh. He's the one who..." she said, gesturing towards her stomach. "And they already knew you from Millicent Bagnold's, didn't they? The others I don't know, but I can't imagine they aren't after James and Lily on principle. But you're right, I know. They're going to be pissed off and out for blood since they didn't manage to kill us this time. I just don't even know what to do about it besides try to kill them before they kill us first. And this is what we've fucking come to."
"Unfortunately, yes," Edgar agreed. "I'm tired of this. I'm tired of constantly thinking about it and worrying about it and planning it and just generally sick of not knowing what's coming. It's less like winning a war and more like counting down to the end of our lives. I didn't think that this was the future we were planning for."
"Do you think we'll make it?" she asked softly as she held onto Edgar's hand for dear life and looked up to meet his eyes with her own. "To see the end of the war." For all that Sirius insisted that there would be no dying, that they would survive this and stay safe, Dorcas, frankly, had her doubts. It wasn't that she was particularly fatalistic. (Usually, anyway, as she certainly did have her moments.) But something about seeing how hopelessly outmatched they'd been at Hogsmeade was not doing wonders for her confidence. Not to mention the almost dying part. That too.
"I don't know," he answered quietly. It was certainly something he'd thought about before. It scared him. For all his bravado when he was talking to Dumbledore, Edgar wanted to live to be an old man. He wanted to see his babies grow. He wanted to make his mark and keep going. "I hope so. But we can't be certain. Especially not after what happened."
It was honest, and Dorcas appreciated that. She didn't really think she'd have much of an appreciation for reassurances that everything was going to be just fine right about now anyway. Not that it made her feel any better, except for some fleeting thought that at least Edgar was sharing her own thoughts on the matter. "I'm not sure... if I'm more worried that I'm going to die soon or that I'll live to be a hundred and twenty and the Death Eaters will still be in charge. I think I'd almost prefer the first," she admitted.
Edgar was quiet for another moment, before replying somberly, "Me too. We need to stop talking about this, Dorkface. It's way too depressing a conversation for two people who are very much alive despite the odds to be having."
"Yeah," she agreed and while she would not so easily be drawn out of her thoroughly morose mood, she did at least manage a slight snort of amusement at Ed's use of her nickname. Well okay, she could at least make an effort. "How about the fact that we'll be a hundred and twenty and sitting on your front porch - because I probably still won't actually have a place of my own - and showing off our battle scars to your great grandkids?"
"If I get up to ninety, screw it, I'm going to be the next Dumbledore," Edgar said, and couldn't help but grin. "I'll wear obnoxious purple velvet robes, grow a massive beard and be borderline creepy in my mysteriousness. It'll be ace, trust me. You can be my McGonagall. You need to learn to turn into a cat. Get on that."
And that brought a genuine smile to Dorcas's face as she shook her head. "Haven't you learnt by now that I shouldn't be asked to transfigure anything?" she teased. "Especially not myself. I'll end up with three legs and a tail. Oh, but I could charm myself whiskers? But that might just be weird. And don't forget the Muggle candy. I always liked that part but I'm a big fan of lemon sherberts."
"Having whiskers growing out of your face for no apparent reason might be a little weird," Edgar admitted, laughing at the mental image. "And trust me, I'll have so many sherberts they'll be spilling out of my pockets and I'll be constantly insisting that everyone take one. Hey. Hey you! Have a candy! They are a delectable treat!"
"You'll be the terror of Muggle mums everywhere," she teased. "You know they warn their kids about the likes of you. Creepy old men, luring their kids with candy. Especially with the beard and robes." She fidgeted slightly on the bed, feeling too restless and drifting to hold still any more. "Help me sit up a bit? Or I might just fall asleep on you and I've had enough of that for a while."
Edgar leaned forward gingerly and helped Dorcas find a comfortable sitting position. His stomach still stung when he put too much pressure on it and after moving upward again he made an uncomfortable face. "This is bollocks," he said, readjusting his body. "Now I know how Cally must've felt every time she had to bend over when she was pregnant."
Dorcas immediately felt bad as she saw Ed's face, realising that moving around hurt him almost as much as it hurt her and she had been largely too fixated on her own problems to notice. "Thanks. And sorry. And god, we make quite the pair, don't we? I'm thinking I'd still take pregnant over gaping wounds though. And you know how I feel about pregnant."
"Yes, I remember your reaction when I told you Calypso was pregnant with Evander," Edgar said, grinning at the recollection. "You made a face. A really screwed up, distorted one that made you look like one of Slughorn's jowls."
"I still say it's weird. The whole get fat and have something growing inside of you thing. It's not natural!" Okay, so never mind that it was exactly that. Dorcas was prone to more than a few funny notions about things. Although that did make her wonder if anything had happened... Nah, she didn't really want to know anyway. Not right now. "And I did not look like Slughorn! You take that back!"
"You did then. Just like one of his flabby, wobbling cheeks," Edgar insisted with a teasing tone, grinning broadly now. "I was, quite honestly, terrified. And for the sake of pointing out the obvious, pregnancy is about as natural as it gets."
Even if she could not bring herself to laugh (and was quite certain it would be an exceedingly painful experience at this point) there was something reassuringly normal about sitting and bantering with Ed that both calmed her and distracted her from the... unpleasant thoughts lurking around the edge of her mind. "Just because it's natural doesn't mean it's natural," she replied, not caring that the statement did not make the slightest bit of sense. "And you shouldn't be terrified, you're good at this responsible shite. Now if I ever got pregnant, then you should be terrified."
"I'm good at responsible shite? Uh. Thank you, I think," Edgar replied, laughing. "And if you had a kid I'd take it from you. And give it to Amelia or something. So she can make sure it's excellent with paperwork and getting people in trouble instead of being the kid who needs help getting out of it."
Dorcas made a face at that. Mostly joking but she still wasn't that thrilled with the idea. Amelia was like the anti-Dorcas. "You want to make my kid boring!" she complained. "Nah, if I ever have a kid, I'm just going to bring it over to visit its Uncle Ed and then forget it in a closet or something. But no handing it off to Amelia! That's cheating! And you're the good kind of responsible anyway. The mostly unstuffy kind."
"You're too kind," Ed said dryly, but he was smiling. "We should do something. Think I could summon the wireless from here? I think they have radio soaps on in the afternoon. That'd be a good laugh. Count Von Doomburger and his torrid love affair with his wife's best friend's cousin's auntie?"
"That sounds dangerous," she replied, an amused smirk tugging at her lips. "Watch, I'm going to survive a Death Eater attack only to be bludgeoned to death by a flying wireless. Then wouldn't you feel bad? But yeah, for the sake of entertainment I think I can put my life in your hands. So long as you don't mind if I fall asleep on you."
"I think I can live with that," Ed replied, getting to his feet and opening the door so that the wireless wouldn't destroy Dig's house (hopefully) when Edgar summoned it. He did so and it came up the stairs and through the door at a reasonable enough speed for Ed to catch it without being completely bowled over. "Okay," he said, setting the station and then moving to help Dorcas scoot over so he could lie down relatively comfortably beside her.
Dorcas clenched her teeth and made a face as she moved but having Ed lying in the bed with her was worth the pain she felt and it at least faded into a dull ache once she had resettled. She tilted her head to rest against Ed's shoulder and closed her eyes as the voices on the wireless began arguing over the paternity of some poor woman who may or may not have been sleeping with her own brother. "I... this is completely absurd," she murmured sleepily although her amusement was still evident in her voice.
"You're not kidding," Edgar answered, shifting slightly for the sake of his bandages, getting an arm just above Dorcas' head. "I'm not going to lie, these are my guilty pleasure in the afternoon. I turn them on in my study. They're terribly addictive."
"I think you need a hobby," she teased, although she knew Ed did far more than most with his days. Certainly more than she ever managed, although she suspected at some point the unemployed life of leisure might grow old. Not that she would be returning to work any time soon. A slight frown crossed her face as she thought of that, but it did not last long. Instead, between the wireless, her (relatively) comfortable position curled against Ed and the sheer exhaustion of her body trying to heal itself, she quickly drifted off to sleep.