Pepper says OW. (notsalt) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-02-04 17:59:00 |
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At around two in the afternoon on Thursday, the Healer on Duty checked Pepper's vitals and gave the go ahead to bring him out of the potion-induced coma he'd been laying in since he'd been brought to St Mungo's. Though it had been incredibly touch and go with the newly turned werewolf for the first few days, his wounds were making great progress in healing themselves up, and the bleeding from his stomach and the bite to his neck had all but stopped. Despite Pepper's take-away diet and penchant for menthol cigarettes and caffeinated beverages, his body had been in top form at the time of the attack, and he'd fought--in his unconscious state--tooth and nail to stay alive, and against the odds given the severity of his neck wound (the wound responsible for his turning). Once it had been determined, for certain, that Pepper was now a werewolf, the papers had been drawn up for the termination of his employment with the hospital, so well as for the removal of his license to practice healing. His case had been reported to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, at the Ministry of Magic, and though St Mungo's themselves would not be responsible for it, at some point that week Bones Laboratories would be served with notice of Pepper's status, with information on the Werewolf Employment Bill. All of this took place amid a flurry of tuts and "oh what a shame"'s, people discussing Pepper's new-found losses with the same tone of voice applied to people who'd suffered serious brain damage and were no longer on a functioning level. And though Pepper came to groggily--brain foggy due to the still copious amounts of pain-killing potions coursing through his body--there was certainly nothing wrong with his brain function, the first words out of his mouth (after focusing on the room and identifying where he was) being, "What the fuck." He was on the CII floor. Serious Bites. But he was in a bed, partially strapped down, rather than passed out on the wooden benches in the staff locker room. A sidelong glance saw his mother fast asleep in the corner of the room, slumped in her chair. He blinked, furrowed his eyebrows, and stared blankly for a moment. "Effie?" he asked as loudly as he could manage, peering around as best as he could with his forehead invisibly bound to the bed, voice not much more than a hoarse whisper. Ruth Pepper twitched in her sleep, but his wife didn't appear from some hidden corner of the room. She had to be somewhere. Coffee. Dinner. The table toward the end of the bed held a collection of potions, salves and pastes. Pepper could read some of the labels, haphazardly scribbled by potioneres on their way out of the hospital's lab; "Blood-replenishing," "Dreamless sleep," "Calming draught," and "Bruise-healing." It took him a few minutes, but eventually the events of Saturday night came back to him. The werewolf, after dinner, running for him and Effie. The thing breathing heavily on top of him, savagely ripping at his skin. Oh, Christ. Realization hit him, and he started to panic. Oh, no, no no. This couldn't be reality. Because if this was real, then there was a very, very strong chance that he. That he was a werewolf. Oh good sweet fuck. Effie wasn't actually in the room. In fact, up until about two minutes prior to his waking up, she hadn't been in the hospital at all. She had hated leaving, even though the healers had told her that it would be all right and when she was gone she always had someone around to keep her company after her miniature break down the first time she tried to leave by herself. But, after being away from the pitch for nearly an entire week and not going to practice, she had been forced to leave to talk with her coach about the game the coming weekend. To play or not to play? Armed with the knowledge of her husband's condition from the healers and knowing that there was no reserve Seeker -- seeing as that had been her job -- she had agreed to play. But damn it all if she wasn't going to work to make it the shortest game in the history of Quidditch. The meeting had gone a little long, filled with some condolences and saying hello to the rest of the team and hearing even more condolences before Effie had finally been able to go back to the hospital to continue her vigil. She was pretty certain that the chair she had been sitting in had a permanent imprint of her body after the past few days, but she wasn't planning on giving it up. Maybe she'd take it home with them. Ha. Once she began to approach Pepper's room, Effie started to slow down her walking to the near point of tiptoeing before she slipped inside. And saw that her husband was most definitely awake. "Oh god, Pepper," she murmured, hesitating at the door for just a moment before telling herself that it was probably okay to approach the bed. She had sat there holding his hand for days while he was out, now should be okay too. So, she did so, her purse being set on the floor as she sat down in the chair she had been living in next to where he was laying. Okay, now what? Swallowing once, she bit down on her lip before saying, "I'm telling myself not to ask you how you're feeling." Pepper stared ahead blankly, not looking at her, eyes focused on a far point of the room, a moving picture of a boat on the sea. His mouth was painfully dry as he attempted to swallow. He didn't address her comment, and it was starting to hurt to breathe. "Am I a werewolf?" Well, fuck. Of all the things she had been preparing herself to have to say to him, how much she had wanted to yell at him and cry at him and tell him how much she loved him, she had never actually figured out how she was going to answer that question. In all actuality, she was sort of hoping that some nameless healer that wasn't married to Pepper would get the luxury of announcing that news. Damn. Swallowing hard, Effie looked away from him and started to twist her fingers in her lap. Damn it. There wasn't any other way to really say it, though, so finally she just nodded once, silently, then paused before saying, "Yeah." The answer, though he'd just... known that it was coming, it hit him like a tidal wave, lungs heavy like they were full of water and he was drowning in the revelation. Chest tight, head suddenly pounding, Pepper couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself. He started to cry. Effie froze. This was something else she had thought could very easily happen, but she hadn't let herself actually think about it. She couldn't. She hadn't wanted to. But now she was sitting there in that goddamn chair with her arse imprinted into the cushion and her husband was laying in a bed and crying because he just found out he was a werewolf. Why had she ever agreed to leave Hogwarts? But, she had to do something. She needed to do something. Reaching over, she tentatively let her hand rest on his. "It's gonna be okay, Pepper," she said quietly, even though she knew that it wasn't going to be just yet. "It will, really." "Oh, G-god," he managed to choke out, tears creeping down along his cheekbones, most caught by the bit of bandage covering the gash on the left side of his face. Three months ago he'd been trying to fight for werewolf rights. Good, sweet Christ. It seemed too horrendously ironic to become exactly what--no, who--he'd been fighting for. "My. My license. My job. Oh fucking fuck, Effie. What the hell am I going to do?" Effie was about two seconds away from crying herself, but instead she took a deep breath to reset herself. This wasn't a good time to lose herself. No, she couldn't lose herself, not right now. Instead, she swallowed hard and lifted herself up from the chair and sat on the edge of Pepper's bed. Pulling the hem of her sleeve over the heel of her hand, she reached up to gently press the bit of fabric against his cheek. "It's going to be all right," she repeated softly, this time looking and sounding much more sure of what she was saying. "We'll figure it out, honey." And then, compelled, because everything just suddenly felt as though all that had happened was his personal responsibility--getting married, arranging the party, ending up mauled--he looked at her apologetically. "I'm. Effie. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I. We. You just, you shouldn't have to--" he choked on his words. "This is not what our marriage should start with." "Hey now," Effie murmured in response, carefully wiping his cheeks dry and then withdrawing her hand to grasp his tightly. It broke her heart to hear him talking like that, even if she had definitely thought time and time again that this was just plain not fair over the past few days. Now, though, she was just happy to see him awake, alive, and relatively in one piece. "You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault, sweetheart." Her free hand came up, every so lightly and gently to cup his cheek, then she continued. "We'll get through this, okay? You and me. We'll be all right." Pepper hiccuped and gave her a sort of half-nod. There was too much to take in, to consider, and to worry about, all in one sitting. He wouldn't be a healer anymore, and likely he wouldn't be able to do anything with the werewolf project except volunteer for the testing (not that, Pepper thought, that would stop him from nosing his way in, providing Jon and Damocles were okay with it). He couldn't make any money. He briefly entertained the image of himself in an apron in their kitchen, relegated to domesticity. He didn't voice that thought, however entertaining, instead taking a deep breath and willing the tears to stop. "I guess you should wake my mum up." Despondent. Tired. "And get the healer. He's going to want to check my reflexes. Motor function." Effie nodded silently, giving a glance toward where her mother-in-law was sitting before pausing. There was so much that she wanted to say to him. Her mind had gone overtime as she waited the past few days for him to either die or get better and now she was having a hard time knowing if she should say any of them. She wanted to tell her how scared she had been, thank him for pushing her out of the way, tell him how brave he was, how proud she was, that she thought he was bloody amazing. In the end, though, she just looked back at her husband for a brief second. Then, leaning in, she brushed a soft kiss on Pepper's forehead and whispered, "I love you." It was probably the most important thing she had to say and the one that she knew he would most likely need to hear. Pepper had needed to hear it, that reassuring tone, those three words that cemented their relationship; the promise that she would be there. Something in all this, at the very least, that had not changed. "I love you, too," he replied quietly, fighting back tears again. Inwardly he called himself a great emotional woman and tried to remind himself that he was far too obnoxious to take this lying down. ... Figuratively, speaking, given the binding charms. Nodding, Effie hovered there next to him for just a brief moment of hesitation. She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry. A few more repeats of the mantra and then she covered it up with one more forehead kiss and then straightened back up. Later, she could cry. Later, when it wasn't just a few minutes after he woke up. Later, maybe, when she was alone. Squeezing his hand once, she forced the smallest of smiles. "I'll go wake your mum up." |