Yvon Leffoy (yvon) wrote in lightning_war, @ 2008-09-15 01:39:00 |
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Current mood: | working |
Midday Tuesday 15 September 1942, at St Mungo's Hospital in Londinium...
Yvon Malfoy had a lot on his mind, but he kept it to himself as he walked into the children’s ward. At least he wasn’t getting winded every ten steps; there were things to be thankful for, even if Miranda Serrano hadn’t come out yet to tell him he’d been wrong about Nicodemo—which meant he probably hadn’t been.
Bilius was lucid; he was sitting up, watching Király’s girlfriend do card tricks for a bunch of the kids, but he was too tired to laugh like the others were. Yvon sympathised. He’d been lucid, too, when he’d been on the cold edge of death—lucid, and calm, and barely able to breathe without tiring. The fact that their illnesses were so different made the whole thing eerier than he cared to think about, but he had to; he couldn’t afford to be distracted.
Yvon waved to the woman, addressing her as she picked up her cards and tucked them into a worn leather pouch. “Lili, right? It’s good of you to play with the children; the staff here is so overworked.”
The roughly-dressed blonde looked up at him and grinned. “It’s a pleasure,” she said. “Almost a sacred duty, even. I like children. People don’t think they matter, but they’re the only people who do.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” said Yvon, “but children are certainly important.” He waved to Bilius, who smiled at him tiredly.
“I’m worried about that one,” said Lili.
“Me too,” said Yvon. “But you know I can’t discuss his case with someone who isn’t his guardian.”
“Of course,” said Lili. “You don’t have to. I can figure it out by myself.” She shrugged. “Have a nice afternoon, Dr Malfoy.”
Yvon watched her go; the children didn’t want her to leave, but she was firm and kind, promising to return later on in the day, extracting promises of her own from them that they would rest and eat and sleep and try to get better. He’d seen her out on the streets the night before, helping with the rescue work, but everyone was keeping late hours on account of the war. Still, he was impressed.
He strolled up to the curtain, doing his best to look nonchalant, and pulled it shut around them. “Hello there,” he said to Bilius. “Your uncle said you’d been asking about me, so I thought I’d stop by to visit, even though I can’t come back to work today. How are you doing?”
Bilius looked up at the healer. This was his friend, Dr Artisson, who had nearly died—and also his enemy, Yvon Malfoy, one of the people his father had told him wanted the Weasleys all gone. He was so confused. “I’m tired,” he whispered warily. “Where’s Mum?”
“I think she went to lunch with your…uncle?” Yvon sat down in a chair next to the bed. “Cousin, maybe. Your guardian, and his wife. I’m not surprised you’re tired; pneumonia takes a lot out of you. I’m sorry you’ve had such a terrible time since I saw you last. But I’m glad you’re back. We’ll get you fixed up.”
“My Dad’s cousin, we call him Uncle,” Bilius said tiredly. He looked at Yvon intently. “He said you were sick too.”
“It’s true,” said Yvon, smiling. “It’s why I’m not allowed to come to work for a while. It was pretty bad. I hate being stuck in bed like this, don’t you?”
Bilius coughed. “I don’t feel good enough to do anything else,” he admitted.
“Neither did I,” said Yvon, gently, “but it was still awful.” He stood up; he didn’t like the distance sitting in the chair created. Then he leaned against the wall. “I know it’s very frightening. You and me, we talked for a while last year. I know you must have some questions for me. It’s all right if you ask me things. Really. Unless you’re too tired, and you’d rather just rest.” He wanted to reach out and touch the boy’s shoulder, but he wasn’t sure that Bilius would let him.
Bilius sighed. “I’m sorry I hit your brother,” he said. He had been thinking about this for what seemed like a long time, and right now it seemed true.
It took Yvon a moment to parse the sentence; his memory of being hit by Marcus was far more vivid than his recollection of what Lucius had told him about their first few days at school together. “Would you like me to tell him so?” Yvon asked cautiously.
“I guess…I should,” Bilius said. “You can if you like.” He shook his head; that seemed so irrelevant now. “Why didn’t you die?”
Yvon sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “My whole family was making blood sacrifices for me, and I didn’t get better. Until someone else, who doesn’t like me at all, did something I don’t understand at all. The rules are strange in the Bois des Malfées, and even we don’t understand them sometimes.” He wondered if there was a way to tell Bilius the truth without exposing Valeria’s secret, but that was too great a risk. He also considered telling Bilius about Alessio, but how to explain that to someone so young? “There was someone who stayed with me. That helped.”
Bilius sighed. “I guess Uncle Isaac doesn’t really count,” he said. He wanted his father. “I feel kind of tired, but I can’t sleep. I don’t think I’m…meant to die. But I don’t really care.”
Lili was watching them. Yvon thought he should tell her to go away, but he had the feeling she was important somehow. “Uncle Isaac counts,” said Yvon, as cheerfully as he knew how. “You’re not old enough to have a lover yet, but Uncle Isaac loves you. That’s what matters. And you should care. You’ve got a whole long life ahead of you. Things are pretty rank right now, but that’ll change.”
“I want my Dad,” Bilius whispered. He knew that this wasn’t possible, but what did that matter? Especially if he was going to die.
“I know,” Yvon said gently, and ruffled his hair gently. “You always will. But he wouldn’t want you to come to him now, with your whole life unfinished.”
“He sure wouldn’t,” Bilius agreed softly. He wondered what Yvon would think if he knew what his father meant him to do.
“So don’t,” said Yvon. “I remember we talked back then about how you didn’t always want the things your Dad wanted, but this, you growing up to have a good long life—it’s something he’d be right about.” At least Yvon hoped so.
Bilius snorted very softly. “He wants me to stay to finish what he started,” he said. “I don’t think I want to. Or can.”
Yvon looked up, and there was Lili, staring at them intently. She was scowling. He glanced back down at Bilius. The boy needed to be moved to a room that could be secured against demonic and ghostly visitations. Lili was a hunter; she wouldn’t look like that if it had been just a dream.
“He didn’t start it and you can’t finish it. Not that way, anyway,” said Yvon. “You don’t want to kill me. Or Lucifer either. If you said you wanted to put some guano in his bed, I’d believe that…but you don’t want to kill him. Killing is ugly. I know. I’ve done more than enough of it.”
Bilius blinked at him. “I don’t want it to go on and on,” he admitted. “I’m really tired. What will happen, if I die?”
Yvon sighed. “The curse will go on, and you won’t be here to help put an end to it. Kat will have to do it all, I suppose.” He knew there were other siblings, but he couldn’t remember their names, and Kat was the one who seemed to have the most Will.
“What does she have to do?” Bilius asked. He didn’t want her to have to fight her whole life, like he might have to.
“We don’t know yet,” said Yvon. “We haven’t had time to figure it out. You can live through this,” he coaxed the boy. “At least long enough to figure it out. And once you figure that out, you won’t be so tired any more. I promise.”
“I don’t really get what I’m meant to do,” Bilius said, a little dazed. “To live. I thought that was up to the doctors. Her.”
It took Yvon a moment to realise that he meant Corinne, who was after all in charge of his case, and not Lili. “If somebody wants to die,” Yvon said gently, “sometimes they just do. And there is nothing we can do about it. It’s terrible, but then, sometimes people who by every right and reason should have died survive, because they want to badly enough. And then sometimes it’s what God wants. I’m never sure.”
“I don’t think God would care much,” said Bilius. “Staying, it doesn’t sound that great, you know. It wasn’t for Dad.”
“God always cares,” said Yvon firmly; children had the right to their faith, and it bothered him to see one who was already doubting at the age of twelve. “And your father made a lot of bad choices. You don’t have to make the same choices.”
“I guess,” Bilius said, and fell silent for a moment. “What do I do instead?”
“Live your own life, for yourself. You can do that, you know. I did it for years.” Yvon sighed. “My birth-mother was a Black, and my father was a Malfoy, and Lady Malfoy was my godmother. I gave up the name Malfoy because there were people Lady Malfoy needed to hide me from, but after a while, I liked living without it. People judged me for my own merits. Eventually, I took it back for my own reasons.”
Bilius smiled softly, feeling dreamy and a little envious. “That’s nice,” he said. “But the curse will follow me anyway. Kat’s a Lovegood now…”
“It followed me too, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” said Yvon. “You don’t have to live like he did. You can let people help you. You can believe me when I say that we don’t want to hurt you. Not me, not my mother…even Luce will forgive you for punching him, if you apologise, or let me tell him you did.” He felt odd, promising on Lucius’ behalf; but he felt confident he could explain it enough to elicit forgiveness, if not liking.
“I suppose,” said Bilius. “I wonder if I know how to be someone else. I don’t even know how to be Dad.”
“Nobody knows how to be who they’re meant to be at thirteen,” said Yvon, and squeezed his shoulder. “And you shouldn’t try to be someone else. He should never have expected that of you.”
“Oh well, if it’s everyone’s problem,” Bilius said vaguely. “I miss flying. I hope they fix my lungs right this time.”
“It is everyone’s problem,” said Yvon firmly. “I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I was thirteen. All I knew was that I wanted to stay with Tante Dracaena and Alessio for a while, because I was so tired and I didn’t want to be the person my mother wanted me to be. I suppose that was my point.” He sighed; the boy was too weak to follow him. “Flying is great! They should fix you up right, if you let them. If you think about flying, and all of the other things you want to do, that you won’t get to do if you die.”
“Flying,” Bilius murmured. “And having friends again.”
“You’ll have friends again,” said Yvon. “Once you’ve decided to live your own life, it’ll be much easier.”
Bilius smiled sleepily. “Thanks for stopping by anyway,” he said. “You can tell your brother I said sorry. I will too, some day.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Yvon. “And so will he. Get some rest. Magistra Allison will take good care of you.”
Bilius nodded. “Is Mum back yet?” he asked.
“I doubt it,” said Yvon. “Do you want them to bring her in when she comes?”
“Yes,” Bilius said. “I haven’t talked to her since before Dad died, did you know?”
“I’ll tell them,” said Yvon, and patted his shoulder. “I’ll be back tomorrow. You’d better be alive to say hello.”
Bilius smiled. “Maybe if I get some sleep,” he said. “Is it cold? Or is that just me?”
Yvon blinked, alarmed. “It’s colder in here than it should be,” he said noncommittally, but he still remembered the unearthly chill he’d felt back at the Manor. “We’ll get you more blankets.” He swallowed. “Bilius, this is very important. Have you heard the voice of anyone who’s dead, even in dreams?”
“Only my Dad,” Bilius said. “I think it was a dream…”
Lili had crossed the floor and was standing right by the bed, her eyes wide. “Right,” said Yvon, and then took Bilius by the shoulders, still gentle, but firm. “Bilius, don’t listen to him. That’s probably not even your dad! It’s probably Erasmus Weasley, and he doesn’t care about you! For all his faults, your dad did care about you, but he was listening to those voices, too. Do you understand me? The man I met last year hit me, but he wouldn’t have abandoned you the way he did! Don’t listen to that voice. Stay here. With us. It’s not your dad.”
“I hope not,” Bilius said breathlessly. “He didn’t sound very happy. I wished he’d gone somewhere better.” He swallowed. “I won’t listen.”
“Don’t,” said Lili.
“Good,” said Yvon firmly, and looked up at her. “You know I won’t lie to you,” he told Bilius. “Salt,” he mouthed at Lili. “Tell the nurses I need Alessio, now!”
“I can’t leave him either,” said Lili, but she opened the curtain and called out into the ward. “Salt and water, you, and you, go get Alessio Zabini! Now!”
“Thank you,” Bilius said to Yvon. “Can you…or someone…make sure my Dad’s all right?”
“I know just the person to take care of that,” Yvon said grimly, thinking of Vilém—Lili was right there, but he knew so little about her, even less than he knew about Király— “but I’m going to have him come and see to you first off, and then your Dad. He’ll fix things, I know he will.”
“Thank you,” Bilius said, and closed his eyes, hoping only darkness would be there for a little while.
Yvon lifted the boy up in his arms and carried him into the treatment room himself, muttering the paternoster just in case the voices were still talking to the boy in his dreams. It made Lili wince, but she followed them, taking the basin of water and the salt that one of the nurses brought to her. “Thank you,” she said, and it occurred to Yvon to wonder why the staff here was obeying her, when she wasn’t even an official volunteer, but he wasn’t too inclined to quibble at reliable help right now.
A moment later Isaac Diggory looked into the room. “Oh!” he said. “Dr Malfoy! We didn’t find him in his room and we thought…” His face became grave as he saw Bilius’ prone form on the examination table.
“He’s haunted,” said Yvon, who was bathing the boy’s head in cool, salted water. “He’s also burning up. I’ve sent for help, I’m not cleared to do anything involving energy work at the moment, but I will if I have to. You haven’t seen Magistra Allison?”
“Haunted?” Isaac asked. “Can his mother and my wife come inside or should we wait out here? I haven’t seen Magistra Allison.”
“Come in,” said Yvon. Lili was still in the room, watching them uncertainly. Isaac brought Alice and Lizzie inside, and Lizzie ran straight to Bilius’ side.
“Don’t,” said Yvon, and took her arm. “Sit down and stay out of our way, please. And salt your windows and doors when you go home. I’ll be sending some friends of mine out your way later, this isn’t entirely a medical problem.”
At that moment, Alessio came to a skidding halt in the door, taking a moment to digest what was going on. It didn’t help terribly much. “What’s happened?” he asked, coming inside.
“You need to stop this fever and clear his lungs,” said Yvon. “We can’t wait for Priscilla to monitor, so I hope she gets here soon!”
Alessio nodded, frowning a little as he looked at Bilius, settling in to do just as he was told. He always imagined he would feel the mucus on his hand like warm mud, but the sensation was always more ghostly, real-but-not-real. Still, he managed somehow to reach past the ends of his fingers and under the skin to do what he needed to do.
Isaac pulled Lizzie away from Yvon. “Here,” he said to her. “Dr Malfoy, do you think…prayer would be useful?” He had no idea what sort of pagan Malfoy was—he only remembered Dracaena had been no Christian—but he was sure that even pagans prayed.
“Prayer is always useful,” said Yvon firmly. “You can help Lili put salt around us,” he said, when he finally noticed what the blond woman was doing, making a circle around them.
Isaac nodded and began to murmur as he and Lizzie took salt and began to distribute it around Bilius. Lizzie did not; she was simply crying. When Lizzie had circled around Bilius and was near Yvon again, she came closer to him and whispered urgently “Haunted, doctor? Haunted by whom?”
“An ancestor of his, I suspect,” said Yvon, and began a cooling charm, followed by another round of his own prayers.
Lili made an annoyed noise and stepped back, away from the circle of salt.
“His father?” Lizzie whispered urgently, and started looking around the room.
“Not his father,” said Yvon, and was grateful to see Corinne standing in the doorway with Priscilla behind her. “Corinne,” he said. “If you’d like to take over the cooling charm on your patient, we’ve got Alessio working on him—like you saw last night. Sorry, I was just talking to him and he decompensated right before my eyes—I had to take over!” He glanced at Lizzie, hoping she wouldn’t blame him for any of this.
“No, it’s all right—” Corinne glanced around the room, trying to take everything in. Priscilla had told her they were going to let Alessio try to heal the boy, but she wasn’t sure why there was a circle of salt on the floor, or why Ilóna Király’s girlfriend was there.
“Go on,” said Priscilla to Corinne, and gave her a little push. Király’s girlfriend opened the circle and closed it after Corinne had taken Yvon’s place and Yvon had gone to sit down. Corinne started the charms Yvon had suggested, hoping that whatever it was Alessio was trying would be effective.
Isaac came over to Lizzie and pulled her back towards Alice. “Elizabeth,” he said. “Let the doctors do their work for now, then we’ll find out more about this.”
Priscilla put her lenses on and sat down to watch.
Yvon watched Alessio, who was deep in concentration, and walked back over to sit with the family. “Not your husband, I don’t think,” he told Lizzie. “Rather, I think, what killed him.” He needed to get another rosary; his hands felt useless with nothing to do.
“Oh,” said Lizzie. “Oh. I had hoped…thought…” She considered it. “Zabini lives,” she hissed. “Doesn’t he?”
“Ercole Zabini is Alessio’s cousin,” Yvon said quietly, praying internally for the strength not to become irritated with the woman; after all, her son was near death. “And driven by something quite like what drove your husband. I can’t hold either of them completely to blame for their actions, not now.”
Lizzie looked at Alessio with no small amount of mistrust, and was about to say something when Isaac laid a hand on her forearm and said with urgency, “Elizabeth, please, pray for your son. There will be time for questions later, I’m sure.”
Alessio was completely oblivious to them all, focused utterly on what he was doing, and even though he could clear the boy’s lungs, finding that little tendril of fighting spirit was harder. That was what he needed more than anything, and for a moment, he had that sensation of being seen and pushed back, pushed away. “No, come on,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head, redoubling his efforts.
Yvon watched him, prayers dying in his mouth, transfixed by the look on Alessio’s face. This was what Alessio needed to do. This. The status of nursing as a profession might well be important, and he wasn’t going to stand in Alessio’s way, but this…was what God had meant him to do. If only Priscilla would see it. He glanced at Priscilla. She was quietly watching the flow of energy moving through Alessio’s body and the boy’s. He had no idea what she was thinking.
Corinne concentrated on keeping her patient’s temperature down, but she was worried. Priscilla wouldn’t have agreed to any experimental treatment if the situation hadn’t been dire, and even though she also wouldn’t have agreed to any experimental treatment that was unlikely to succeed, it was still nerve-wracking to watch.
Bilius was lost in the grey mists above his body, unable to see the people gathered around him. His father’s voice had been calling him, and he had been drifting, because he didn’t want to follow it, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to face the hard road ahead. But the way was broadening now, and seemed a little easier; something or someone was calling him. There was light surrounding him, growing brighter with time. And then his father’s voice stopped entirely, and he heard the angry cry of an owl. He took a step forward on the broader path, and then another. “Where am I going?”
The only voice that answered was the voice of the owl.
Yvon glanced across the room. Lili was sitting in the chair nearest the door and appeared to have fallen dead asleep. He frowned, but she’d only helped, so he didn’t say anything. Then Priscilla got up and walked over to the treatment table. “Come home,” she said firmly to the boy, stepping over the salt and lifting her skirts so as not to disturb it. “Your mother and the rest of your family need you,” she said with authority.
Bilius could hear her voice, though he didn’t recognise it; at first he thought it might be his mother’s voice, but his mother never sounded quite like that. Neither did Annie or Kat. “I want to come home,” he said eventually, and thought about it, and decided it was true. “Is this the right way?”
“Yes,” said Priscilla, and closed her eyes, letting herself rise just a little way out of her body, and held out her hands to him, there in the mists. “Come on.”
“That’s it,” Alessio murmured, a smile starting to form on his face as he felt the boy’s Will grow stronger. That was what he needed, and finally, finally he could sink in and finish his work.
Bilius found it easy to walk in the direction the woman’s voice had come from, and he felt sure his mother couldn’t be far away. His body hurt less than it had before, less than he’d imagined it would. “Mum?” he called out.
“No, but she’s here with me,” said the woman’s voice, and then she stepped out of the mists and took his hands and pulled sharply down. Bilius suddenly found that his eyes were open and he was looking at several people, none of whom he recognised. “Mum?” he asked again, but before he could say anything else, he began to cough hard, almost retching.
Corinne grabbed a basin and held it out for him. “Let it all come up,” she said, “don’t fight it,” she said, as the boy began to cough up the thick mucus that had filled his infected lungs.
Lizzie glanced quickly between Isaac and Yvon. “My son, my boy,” she said. “Please?”
“Not yet,” said Yvon. “He has to get all of that up and out; he can’t do that if you’re holding him.”
“I just want to…” Lizzie began but her explanation faded away and she sat still.
“You can be near him,” Yvon said, “just don’t…”
“I’m sure you could touch him,” Alice put in. “Can’t she?” she asked Yvon. “Just let him cough, though.” She looked at Bilius coughing; it looked dreadful.
Priscilla turned Bilius over briskly. “Let gravity do the work for you,” she told the boy.
“She can,” said Yvon, although there was something about Lizzie’s demeanour that he did not entirely like. She seemed a little haggard and wild-eyed, almost as if she were under demonic oppression herself. Or perhaps she’d been drinking; he had no idea. He just didn’t like it.
“Once that’s over, you’ll feel a lot better, promise,” Alessio told Bilius, rubbing his back as the bloody gouts of mucus came up. “I know it’s disgusting, but better out here than in you.” The boy wasn’t completely well yet, but Alessio could feel the wrongnesses under his skin, and straightening those out was easier now that he seemed to be sure he wanted to live.
Yvon turned to Isaac. “You need to take the mirrors out of his room for a while at home. I have a friend who can take care of some of the hauntings, but even he’ll tell you we have to get to the bottom of the curses, just like Wilkes would.” He supposed that ‘friend’ was not precisely the word he was looking for, but he liked Vilém, and he certainly wasn’t going to refer to Vilém as ‘that patient who always makes passes at me’ in front of the Diggories.
“All right,” said Isaac. “I’d like to know more about this but…this obviously isn’t the right time. Thank you for your help, Doctor,” he said to Alessio. “Is this…that was the crisis?”
“They may have averted it,” Priscilla said delicately, side-stepping the issue of Alessio’s actual title.
“When will we know?” Isaac said uneasily. He could see for himself that Bilius, although coughing copious amounts of mucus and clearly miserable, at least had some colour in his face and life in his eyes.
Yvon sighed heavily. “What Alessio did and is doing will take care of the pneumonia and probably the poliomyelitis as well,” he said, “but not the emotional issues or the curses. I think that was the crisis, but there is definitely a spirit influencing him and he should spend the night here behind strong wards. I don’t think it’s going to be a matter of simply digging up a body and burning it. Not when we’re talking about someone who’s been dead a few hundred years. We need to know what else is going on there.”
Isaac nodded. “That makes sense,” he said. “But…if he’s better, that’s still so much more than we had this morning. Thank you all again.”
“You’re more than welcome,” said Priscilla.
Yvon glanced at Alessio. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, crossing the room to go to his side.
Alessio nodded, smiling. “Fine. More than fine. Almost done.”
“You did well,” Priscilla told him. “I think we’ll keep you.” She made it sound like a joke, but Yvon knew she meant it.
Alessio beamed at them both, shaking his hands as he finished. “Thank you,” he said, to the whole room.
alessio, balm_of_gilead, william_pendry, bydegrees, corinne_camille, diggoryfamily (Alice Townshend Diggory), mary_lw_npcs (Lizzie Lovegood), wind_frolicker and artisson