Daniella Romero (browneyedwolf) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2017-07-28 20:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | lucien swinton, maggie stanbury |
Who: Maggie and Luce
What: Making sure Luce is alive
Where: The hospital
When: Backdated to 16 July, after this and this
Lucien was an annoying combination of restless and exhausted -- he was anxious (no matter how irrationally) to know Maggie was safe, a worry that kept him awake even if his wounds weren’t aching as the silver slowly leached out of them (assisted by some god awful potion they’d made him swallow). It was taking considerable energy and effort for his body to fight to heal itself, however, and the unexpected surge of adrenaline that’d accompanied the unexpected attack on his person had left him tired in the aftermath.
Malcolm’s hovering had been getting frustrating and the hour late, so he’d sent his aide into the hallway where he was, no doubt, silently blinking as Ian Foster paced and tossed various ridiculous theories around -- he could hear Ian’s low murmuring rise and fall through the door.
He missed the familiar smells of his home, his pack surrounding him, and he could feel the absence of various people as keenly as he could the steady ache of his side and arm -- Maggie was the sharpest, most immediate ache, followed closely by Matthew, Martha, and Kat -- in a sudden burst of sentimentality, he added Peter to the list too; not the bitter Peter who’d left in a cloud, but the one he’d known in his childhood, when life had been simpler. Both his parents and Arthur and Charles were floating around there as well -- the people he’d never stopped missing to begin with.
The demands of his position, the constant need to be responsible and level-headed, could be exhausting under the best of circumstances -- but at the moment, he was finding it all more than a little overwhelming in a way he hadn’t since his parents had died. And that led to another thought -- the notion of whether he and Maggie were indeed a bonded pair, a likelihood he felt in the marrow of his bones. Once they were married and Mated, their lives would be linked -- and his sudden death could be devastating for her. His own mother had died because of such a bond and such a loss, and the thought that he held not just his life in his hands, but possibly Maggie’s as well, was a chilling one.
This drift was decidedly morbid, and did nothing to improve his mood, but he had a feeling he would keep worrying at it until he knew Maggie was safe. So rather than trying to sleep, or attempt futilely to redirect his thoughts to more pleasant diversions, he sighed, and stared at the ceiling, and ached.
Maggie went through the hospital halls at not quite a run. Luce had been attacked and almost killed, could still die, and she wasn’t going to sit at home and wait for news. She had to see him with her own eyes, hear his heartbeat, smell his scent. Nothing else would satisfy her.
It was worse than what happened with Charles. Then she’d been too hurt and traumatized to understand that her husband had been killed, and had her own issues (like being turned into a werewolf, for instance) that occupied a great deal of her time and energy afterwards. Charles had been a treasured friend and companion, but the affection had been purely that of friendship or perhaps siblings instead of romantic. They’d married out of duty and fear of having someone even less compatible chosen for each of them rather than love. Luce however...
Maggie didn’t even want to think about life without Luce at her side, not now after they’d declared their love to each other and planned a life together.
She reached his room and faced down the two wolves outside his door. Maggie might not be the Alpha, nor yet the Alpha’s wife or mate but by God she would see him, and see him now or there would be hell to pay.
He could hear rapid footsteps and a low voice in the hall that made him sit up in bed with a whine at the sudden, unpleasant pull -- it could only be Maggie. His heart began to leap in his chest at the thought, and he swung his legs over to the side of the bed, hissing again as his side protested powerfully. It’d be a long night, but according to the physicians, would be mostly healed by morning -- although he had no doubt they’d be protesting heartily at his not staying abed.
He’d been so worried that something may have happened to her as well, that even the sound of her voice through the door was a blessed relief.
If he wasn’t in the ridiculous hospital gown, and couldn’t quite trust his balance, he would’ve gone out to meet her in the hall -- and as it was, it took considerable effort not to. “Maggie, love,” he called out, “thank God it’s you, come in, come in,” he added, pulling himself to standing.
Brushing past the two wolves, Maggie pushed the door open and stepped through, Hearing his voice, somewhat weak but still clear and coherent, had calmed the worst of her fears, and seeing him standing sent the rest of them flittering away.
“Thank god.” She sighed, pushing the door shut behind her with her foot. “I’d been so worried since Inspector Eden came to tell me the news. I came as soon as I could, darling.” She crossed the rest of the way and threw her arms around him, feeling his heartbeat against her skin and inhaling his scent.
He was alive.
Her arms were strong and sure and real, and he leaned into her embrace, burying his face in her neck with a sigh.
The two of them stood there like that for a good solid minute, swaying a little, before he cupped her dear face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly, followed by a smattering of kisses to her cheeks and forehead.
“It is such a relief to see you, dearest. I thought whoever it was would go after you too,” he said quietly. “I am…” he brushed a stray lock behind her ear. “I am beyond grateful you are safe and whole. I’ll be mostly recovered by morning,” he added, “truly, I’ll be alright, and Maggie, my darling, I am so deeply sorry that you had a moment’s worry. You’ve had more than your share, and I would spare you from any more if I could.”
“All I care about is that you’re alive.” Maggie found herself reluctant to let go of him. “When I heard the news all I could think about was that I might have lost you almost as soon as I’d found you. I couldn’t bear it.”
Life without Luce in it wasn’t worth living. Perhaps that would change in the future once they’d had children. It wasn’t something she ever planned on telling her fiance, but she privately thought Luce’s mother took the coward’s way out instead of doing the hard thing and living for her son. Maybe her perspective would change once they’d actually mated, but she hoped it wouldn’t.
“How badly are you hurt? Truthfully.”
He sat down on the side of the bed, wincing a little, and pulled her hand so he could bring her to closer.
“My side took the worst of it,” he said, raising her hand to kiss her knuckles, “and as the blade was dipped in silver, it’ll take a while longer to heal than it would have. But I’ll be able to walk out on my own steam come tomorrow, and while I’ll ache and be stiff for a little while longer, I’ll be right as rain in a week.” He laughed a little, and winced. “Believe me, I wouldn’t delay our wedding for the world -- and certainly not for this. I’ll be fine, love, I promise.”
He looked up at her, wanting to assure her. “Malcolm was there, and he gave me the time I needed to fight back, and if he hadn’t, I have no doubt Ian would have leapt to my defense, or one of the other party-goers.” He cupped a hand over her jaw. “I fought like the devil,” he said, catching her eyes with his, “because God knows, I had someone worth living for.” He gave their linked hands a squeeze.
A squeeze in return and Maggie kissed his knuckles before letting his hands go. She moved to the chair by the bed and sat down, pensive. “Luce, who wants you dead? This wasn’t some casual thief or hoodlum taking a chance. If the blade was dipped in silver they knew who you were and what you were.”
The thought of someone out there who wanted her darling Luce dead was disturbing to say the least.
“The Night Watch is certainly on the lookout,” he replied. “I have a feeling they’ll insist on providing a bodyguard for the both of us for the near future. And as far as why…” he frowned a little. “I am a public figure, of sorts, and my political positions haven’t always been the most popular among my own kind, but I’m certainly not a powerful mover and shaker by any means -- not like Denby was.”
He thought about possible personal enemies who’d be served by his death, or people he’d regularly butted heads with in the House of Shadows -- someone who’d done particularly badly as a result of some policies, perhaps? But he was drawing a blank. He shook his head. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, and in the meantime, both do what we can to stay as safe as possible.”
Looking over at her, sitting in the chair, he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m utterly at a loss,” he said, quietly, “and that isn’t a particularly comforting thought, I know. The best we can hope for is that they catch him alive, so that we’re able to question him.”
That was a slim chance -- the attack had been quick, and at night, and while Lucien could recognize his smell in an instant, he doubted he got a good glimpse of him in the struggle.
The thought that this would be an ongoing concern was somewhat terrifying -- and he sighed a little as he looked over at his fiancee. “Would it be terribly improper if I asked you to stay here with me tonight?” He asked, wanting her close.
“Perhaps it would be, but I’m not sure I care.” Maggie shrugged a little. “You nearly died tonight, Luce. If it were up to me I’d get a minister in here and say the vows now. If you want me to stay here tonight, I’ll stay.” She didn’t like being apart from him as it was, not now that they finally had allowed themselves to say what their hearts had known for some time.
“Good,” he said, quietly. The uncertainty around her safety and her distance from him had been painful -- and the thought that in a matter of days, he’d no longer have to lay in bed alone -- that he’d have her beside him -- made him quietly aware of just how lonely he’d been, waiting for her to come into his life, almost without being aware of it, a constant, lingering absence of something that now felt fulfilled.
Another series of quick steps in the hallway, and Matthew came bursting through the door, his face white, his expression troubled. Upon seeing Lucien sitting up and looking more or less himself and Maggie beside him, the large man nearly crumpled in relief, and another knot loosened in Lucien’s chest to see his friend.
“Oh, thank Jesus,” Matthew sighed. “I… if I’m interruptin’, I’ll leave you to it,” he said, a little bashfully. “Lord in heaven, it’s good t’ see you both, though.”
Maggie couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out at Matthew's words and she shook her head, smiling. “You're not interrupting Matthew. I would say you came at just the right time.”