meaghan mccormack is a wrecking ball of love. (secretheart) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-07-18 04:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! [1979-07] july, dedalus diggle, meaghan dearborn (née mccormack) |
whom Meaghan McCormack and Dedalus Diggle
when 18 July 1979, Late Night
where Meaghan's flat in Marylebone
rating Swearing
synopsis Dedalus goes to comfort Meg after hearing of Benjy's death.
Dedalus closed his journal and rubbed his temples. Instead of taking it along with him, he shut it inside his bedside table and promised himself he wouldn't look at it until tomorrow afternoon, after some of the chaos could subside. There was a point when one needed to detach themselves from such things, and Dedalus had certainly reached it.
He was excited to see Meaghan's face, despite everything that was going on in their lives. He apparated outside her door, feeling nervous and somewhat unprepared, and knocked firmly three times.
"It's me."
It had taken every ounce of reserve left in her exhausted body to not allow herself a temper tantrum, though she wanted to overturn furniture and light things on fire and smash windows. She had never, never in her life hated someone without a sensible reason as much as she hated this stupid chit of a girl, who seemed to make Meaghan's very blood boil within her veins. If she had been more rational, she would have seen that it was simply easier to concentrate on her hatred of Mary than of her grief for Benjy. Benjy. Her friend, who she had trusted and loved, was gone. He would never have another hour, never have another day. She would never see his face or hear his voice again. She had never told him how important he was to her.
Foolishly, she had set her journal aside when she had read the news and instead stood in her bedroom, staring dumbly at the extra roll of gauze she held in her hand that he had sent along last week when she had been hurt. Benjy, the first to respond. He had helped her immensely, and now this was what she had left of him. She had carried it around with her for the last few hours, as if it were something more, a token of affection or a lock of hair. She was finding comfort in gauze.
She had asked Dedalus over because he seemed the most soothing of her friends, the perfect counter-point to her cynicism, her anger, her wildness. Moving to the door, she had her hand on the knob before she remembered. Trust is a luxury no one can afford. "Dedalus? What ever seems to be the hurry?" She asked, keep her voice neutral as she prompted him to give the passphrase.
Dedalus cleared his throat, leaned further into the door and responded as clearly as he could manage: "I fear I left my cauldron on the fire," he said, waiting for her to invite him inside now that she knew it was safe. It was a bit chilly out, after all, and in the faint light of the street lamps, he felt a bit uncomfortable.
She opened the door swiftly, glad to have remembered to take the proper precautions despite her agitation. "Come in, don't freeze out there." She stepped back to let him in, her eyes rimmed red in her place face, hair dishevelled into a tangled black cloud. If he had been excited to see her face, this probably was a big let down.
"Meaghan," he grinned at her weakly, stepping inside and outstretching his hand in a greeting that seemed excessively formal considering what they've been through together.
"It's good to see you."
That's what she liked about Dedalus. No matter what happened she could count on him to be excessively polite, formal, safe, and considerate. She took his hand for the briefest of moments, and then found herself, much to her disgrace, with her arms around him as she sobbed quietly into his chest. He could be as excessively formal as he'd like, but she would always be recklessly emotional.
Dedalus appeared to be taken off his guard, but after tensing up a little, he relaxed and wrapped an arm around her waist.
"I don't mind if you cry, Meaghan. Sometimes it's good to cry, or that's what my mother always used to say. It's good to let go," he said.
It took a few minutes for her tears to subside and her body to stop shaking, but when she did, after a few shuddering breaths, she managed to pull away enough to wipe her eyes and force a small smile for him. "You're too good to me, Dedalus."
He returned her smile, and had to fight to keep himself from becoming emotional. He wondered briefly why he hadn't cried about Benjy's death -- evidently, it had something to do with him still being in denial that it even happened. They'd lost so many people. It wasn't fair.
"Don't be silly," he used his free hand to ruffle her hair, while the other guided her out of her entranceway. "I know you probably don't want me talking about him, but if we remember him and keep him in our hearts, he'll remain with us forever."
She hid a wince as his hand pressed against the wound at her waist, which, though dressed and well-cared for still stubbornly refused to heal properly. Cursed flames had a way of leaving burns that lingered far longer than you would have liked, and this one would surely leave a scar. Still, she allowed him to guide her through her sitting room where she had put the couch (a rather unexpected gift) that he had given her. "I have gauze. I have gauze to remember him by." She held up the hand that still clutched the pathetic little roll as if it were a lifeline.
"That's all you'll need, Meaghan. Admittedly, I was never terribly close with Benjy, but from what I did know, he was quite a lovely fellow," Dedalus didn't seem to notice her wince. He wasn't as perceptive as he should have been.
As they sat, Dedalus reached over and pinched her nose. "No matter what, and no matter where he is, I'm certain he misses you."
She wrinkled her nose at that, startled. She knew she was younger than Dedalus but hadn't thought he saw her as...quite young enough to warrant a nose-tweaking. "I'm just so....angry."
"No one's expecting you not to be. I'm angry, too, but it's different. We must turn our anger into something productive. It's part of why we've come together to form this organisation." Dedalus was running out of positive things to tell her. He was close to choking up himself, and taking into account their current circumstances, the future of the Order didn't seem as bright as he would have liked it to be.
She let out a long, slow sigh, thinking on the Order and how they had dealt with these crises. "I think, when these things happen, some are newly affirmed in their mission, some become embittered, and some prove absolutely useless no matter what." She just hadn't figured out which one would be her, yet.
"I think you might be right about that," Dedalus nodded, massaging his chin. "Everyone is going to react differently. I know it isn't completely fair to blame people for the way they react, but in these instances, it's simply our job to try and stay focused."
She sighed, leaning her head back against the couch and putting her legs up on the table in front of her. She looked so completely wane and vulnerable, as if all the spark that drove her for so long had faded away. "You can blame people if they act like complete morons." She pointed out, and there was no doubt as to whom she referred.
Dedalus had to smile at that. Mary never failed to add to everyone's frustrations; it was a constant. And though there were many occasions where he felt she was being treated unfairly, it was difficult for him to linger on her side.
"I hope you don't think I'm a moron for defending a possible moron," he looked down at his shiny black shoes. "But please. Let's not allow the subject drift into that direction. I see you're enjoying my housewarming gift."
"No, I just think you're too good to be wasting your time like that, taking a bullet for a girl who has done nothing to deserve it." She said, then let the subject drop.
Running her hand along the arm of the couch, she smiled. "Yes, immensely. It's very comfortable."
"I spent a lot of time picking it out, you know," Dedalus tried to lounge in the relaxed sort of position Meaghan was, but as he began to get cozy, his foot collided with the low coffee table in front of them, and the sound was loud enough to startle. He jumped. His stomach stirred. His nerves were finally starting to get the best of him.
"---oh, dear! Sorry."
She jumped to her feet at the sound, her whole body tense. Seemingly bred specifically by her mother for her defensive skills, it was hard to turn them off in the real world, and so she had been ready in that moment to take on any Death Eater who tried to invade her home.
Chest rising and falling rapidly with her startled breathing, she looked at Dedalus, wand still in hand. "It's...it's fine."
"Sorry again," he said apologetically, inwardly cursing himself for ruining the quiet, comforting mood their conversation had created. After what appeared to be a very long pause, wherein their thoughts were allowed to settle again, Dedalus cleared his throat to make another attempt at words that didn't have anything to do with Mary.
"Anyway, Meaghan. If you need to yell or cry or shout, I'll be here to listen to you for as long as you need me to be."
The temporary respite from her sadness gone, she visibly slumped over with the rushing return of her emotions. Sighing, she rubbed the heels of her palms against her already red eyes, letting the waves of despair wash over her until she felt numb again.
"I don't feel anything, Dedalus. I've shut down."
"And you'll start back up again. You won't feel like this forever," Dedalus decided to resign to sitting like he usually did; posture impeccable, hands clasped together in his lap. "I don't think I've ever experienced losses like these, so I won't pretend like I know how to deal with them. But as I've already stated, Benjy and everyone else would want you to eventually continue on."
She smoothed her fingers across her forehead, trying to soothe the tension headace she felt building behind her eyes, the pressure enough to make her feel like her head was going to explode. "I can't tonight. There will be no continuing on tonight. I'm tired right through my fucking bones."
"I'm not asking for it to happen tonight. Tonight, you're allowed to grieve. You're allowed to be angry. But in a few weeks, you'll need to turn your sadness into something productive," Dedalus felt like reaching over to give her another hug, but he just as well felt a little awkward -- too awkward to take that sort of initiative. As he watched her, every part of him wished that none of this had ever happened.
She nodded mutely, wishing that she could muster the energy, the will, to just get it all out and scream and cry and rage against the unfairness of it all--but she was silent. With another sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the couch, trying to force herself to feel something.
The pressure of forcing her emotions away was making her sick, and she pressed her hand to her stomach as she felt the bile churn there, rising in her throat and threatening to shame her by making herself sick all over her friend. Her eyes snapping open, she shot him a look of pure embarrassment before running to the toilet, miserable retching sounds intermingled with sobs following in her wake.
"Great galloping hippopotamuses!" Dedalus exclaimed under his breath, as a painful twinge of worry immobilized him for a moment. As soon as he recovered, Dedalus hopped to his feet to follow her into the bathroom. He snatched a towel off the sink, waited for her to finish and got down on his knees beside her, brushing her hair out of the way.
The fact that she had just vomited didn't seem to phase him, and he used the towel to wipe her tears away.
After she had emptied the entirety of her digestive system into the toilet, she spent a long moment with her head down, trying to recover herself as she hiccuped from the strain and the crying. Her face was flushed with exertion and embarrassment as she looked up at him, gladly accepting the towel but hiding most of her face behind it. His tenderness soothed her, and when he wiped her tears she felt comfort.
"You know, I said I was all right with crying, but this?" He put his hand on her shoulder, as he made a rather feeble attempt at getting her to smile at him. Whether or not it would work was beside at the point. Spontaneously, he pushed all his reservations aside to grab her and pull her into a tight hug.
She barely had time to process his joke when he pulled her into his arms, and she found herself completely taken aback. Despite the fact that she felt disgusting and wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment, she was comforted. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she found herself resting her head on his shoulder again, needing to know that someone cared about her enough to let her cry.
He kept his arms curled around her. Dedalus had never been a very sturdy man to lean on, but hoped the warmth he provided her was adequate.