Gaius 'no more Mister Nice Gaius' Travers (excelsior) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-04-22 19:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1980-04] april, gaius travers, josephine pepper (née savage) |
Wednesday, 22 April 1980.
Who: Jo and Gaius.
When: 22 April 1980.
Where: The St Mungo's Rehabilitation Centre.
What: A discussion.
Rating: PG.
Status: COMPLETE.
It had been several weeks since the official opening of the rehabilitation centre and Gaius had been growing both steadily bored and discouraged by the lack of activity. They'd hired all of these Healers to help them, but up until a few days ago they hadn't had a single patient. Fortunately, Mr Lestrange had supplied them with something to which they could dedicate their focus. He'd been looking forward to the opportunity to put their theories and plans into action, and now that he had the opportunity, he'd been finding it surprisingly simple, as though it came both easily and naturally to him. If anything, the only difficult thing had been keeping everything a secret, particularly from his eldest sister, with whom he'd have liked to share a laugh over the things he'd learned in the last few days. They'd been taking good care of the subject, all things considered, and even now, when Gaius entered her room to speak with her, he brought a tray of food -- he'd even knocked beforehand, in spite of the fact that nothing Jo could have said would have kept him out. Setting the tray on the end of her bed, he moved to sit in a chair to face her. He'd rolled up his sleeves and loosened the tie at the neck of his robes, hoping to give the impression that their conversation was casual and familiar in spite of the dull room in which she was currently being held. That would change soon, though, when Gaius decided that she had earned the right to decide how her room was to be decorated. Until then, they still had progress to make. "How are you feeling today?" He leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, and looked directly at her. He had his wand in his pocket for the sake of protection, though he hoped that he wouldn't need to use it. Anywhere, as opposed to Rodolphus Lestrange's 'torture boudoir' was preferable to Jo. And though the room was awash with neutrality, she could appreciate the soft sheets and warm quilts. And her shackle-less state. Jo wondered when the terror would arrive. The Healers had, for the most part, entirely healed her body of that which Rodolphus and Atticus had wrought upon her. There was little scarring, little pain and most of all ... little for her brain to engage in. When Gaius knocked, she didn't answer. She knew he could come in anyway and there would be no way she could withstand him. It was no matter because he typically brought food: good, nutritious food that reminded her of her mother's cooking when she was a girl in France. She drew her knees up to her chest and gave him a half-hearted smile. "Fine. I'm healed. Bored as hell." With a nod, Gaius glanced up at the harsh light at the top of the room -- it was probably doing nothing for his complexion. Maybe they would have to change that. He couldn't win anyone over if he looked scary or like an inferi of some sort. But regardless, they'd already discussed many of the details of her past and some of the ways in which previous events had led her here and with as much progress as they'd made already, he was confident that they were on the right track. He'd probably be more than willing to talk about his past too if he'd been locked in a room for days with nothing to do. "I'm sorry we have to do this," he said, looking up through his eyebrows at her. "But it is for your own good." She wasn't entirely convinced of the truth of his words - my own good? - but the fight in her had faded into the stark white walls. She didn't know if it was day or night, spring or fall. Deprived of all but the basest of senses that Gaius brought her when he entered her little sanctum. A deep breath. Beneath the food he brought, she could scent his aftershave. And if she squinted, she could imagine the tiny indentation on the flat plane of his jaw as perhaps, the moment when he nicked himself. Did he curse? She didn't know. "Your apologies," she said slowly, finally leaning forward to regard the food in greater earnest, "are hollow. They would not be so if I had a choice of what I was to do or where I was to be." Pause. She looked at him quickly. "Not that I'm complaining." With a good amount of skepticism, Gaius watched her as she inspected her food. It was among his worst fears, for the time being, that she was simply manipulating him to counter his own manipulation. He couldn't have been the only one who could make people believe he was being earnest or that he really gave a damn what happened to her, when in reality, he'd have liked little more than to see some one like her spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban. Because of her sort, the people that he respected had spent weeks and months, in some cases, in that prison. Considering that their lives were worth far more than hers, the injustice did not sit well with him, but he had to do his best to hide that contempt or he'd have never been able to convince her of his trustworthiness. "You had your choice once," he said, feigning a rueful expression. "You must understand how badly you have hurt people -- hurt yourself. What a burden it must be to live with the knowledge that you've caused so many such pain." Her brow rose as she swallowed down an arch reply with a biscuit. She hurt Rodolphus Lestrange; he deserved pain. He deserved death. This Healer wasn't going to get her to admit that she hurt him. "I've certainly hurt some people. I've certainly caused people some pain. But they've caused me just as much." Fighting to keep his expression even, Gaius leaned forward even further and reached out to touch her arm. Emoting was so much easier when one had physical contact with their subject. He had to think fast and come up with something that would get under her skin. "My mother," he began, attempting to hold her gaze. "She is dead because of all this -- because of one of your people. She'll never get to see her children married or be here for when grandchildren are born." He finally looked away, as though he were truly upset. "It does not have to be this way." Her lips drew into a thin line as he spoke, imagining a quiet woman with whom Gaius read or shared breakfast. The woman became her mother, Gaius became herself, her brother sitting next to them, her father in the room reading the paper. Her eyes drifted down to his hand on her arm. "How," she whispered, "just how should it be?" "Do you not think that it would be worthwhile to pursue a society at peace?" He looked back at her. "Half the reason such wars begin and continue is the desire for revenge and retaliation. All we want is to put a stop to it. Why fight others with magical blood if not simply to protect that which we have worked so hard to establish? We are no more terrorists than you. We have families, goals, fears that I am willing to believe are very similar to yours. We are truly not so different." She shrugged. "It's nice to hear someone finally acknowledge that. Now just get your fellows to get up and proclaim it, then your war is going to be over." "I am sorry to have to tell you this," he said, removing his hand from her arm and folding his in front of him. He straightened up a bit but still managed to keep his expression soft in spite of the frustration lurking behind it. "The war will not be over until they have been stopped once and for all. Were I in your position under their government, I would be in Azkaban and not a single one of them would think twice about putting me there. But there is where our differences lie -- we have built an alternative to Azaban, which is why you are here and not there. We believe that we can help people, or at least try as much as we are capable before we condemn them to a life of torture. All lives our valuable to us, regardless of how misled and consumed by propaganda. We are not the enemy. We are simply trying to make things better." She stopped chewing as she listened to him, honestly shocked to hear anything but hatespeech out of a Purist's mouth. She gave him a brief smile. "Don't underestimate their intelligence, Healer Travers. If your superiors spoke as tolerantly as you, there would be no war. They are not as barbaric as you would like to think." "My superiors are angry because they've had their houses burned down, belongings stolen and ruined, names and reputations slandered and family members lost both by death and affiliation with vigilantes who do far more harm than good. Do you not say angry, hateful things about us for what has been done to you?" He shook his head as if answering his own rhetorical question. "Their hatred comes from anger -- from the pain of loss." Perhaps it was the sensory deprivation or, she shuddered to think, a sudden understanding of what this man said to her. There were no free thinkers; there was no free media; she, herself, was a bird in a cage. And so with that, she bowed her head and placed the biscuit back on the plate. "What do you want me to do about it?" "We can put a stop to this, one-by-one," he said, pulling his chair closer to her. She seemed more resigned than combaant now, which was enough encouragement for Gaius to discuss the next phase of his plans. "I have an idea and I'd like to know what you think of it, being that it should be your choice, to some extent, what happens to you here. We would like to give you your journal back -- or, rather, a new journal, since we are hoping that you will start fresh from here. You will not be able to speak privately with anyone, but your family must still be worried about you, since you can imagine that they are not very inclined to believe us, even if we tell them what happened to you. "Would you be interested? Perhaps you could share your experiences with everyone as well." He was reaching the point that with which he was growing familiar nowadays -- even he might have believed the things coming from his mouth, had he been on the receiving end. "It is up to each of us to put a stop to this war by reaching out to those whose ignorance blinds them to the possibility of peace. We'd like your help." She wasn't even sure if her friends - for her family was far beyond her reach - would want her at this point. "I tri -- " cutting off, ashamed, she nodded carefully. "I will do as you ask, I don't want anyone else to die." "Nor do I," he answered. From his robes' pocket, he drew a small journal and a quill, which he set beside her on the bed. He still had doubts as to whether or not she would be able to handle this, but he had to give her some privilege soon, since he feared that if he did not, he might lose her attention. Perhaps those with whom she had aligned herself in the past would aid in this process by making her feel alienated, but even if they didn't, he was sure that she would be thinking about things differently regardless. "I am trusting you with this responsibility. Please do not take advantage of my confidence in you." Of course she wouldn't ward; of course she couldn't, without a wand. And she was doubly sure that they had very likely tagged it in much the same way it was tagged when she was an Auror. But a small smile - she couldn't help it - blossomed over her lips. This was her life-preserver. She could assure the people that cared about her (did they still?) that she wasn't dead. That she was long from it. A nod. "Will you bring me flowers, too?" Pause. "Just flowers. I need something to look at. I had a kitten." Gaius paused and looked around the room -- it certainly could use some flowers. "Yes," he answered. "Some flowers would certainly liven up the place." He offered her a smile as he rose to his feet and crossed the room to the door. He paused in the doorway, and turned to her once more. "Please don't get too distracted to eat." A lop-sided smile materialised on her face in response to his acquiescence to her requests. "Thanks," was soft, effusive. "I'll eat." Pause. "Really, thank you. I didn't want to die." "I doubt that there are many out there who do," he said. "I am pleased that I have been able to help you." He lingered there for a moment longer, before nodding and leaving, closing and sealing the door behind him. Once he was out of sight, the smile on his face vanished, being replaced with a drawn expression of seriousness. Contrary to what he'd told her, she didn't have his trust or anything close to it. She was still just a Mudblood as far as he was concerned and he would be keeping a close eye on her. |