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Araignée du soir, cauchemar (the_widowmaker) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2018-11-26 02:36:00

Who: Mercymaker
What: Random encounters and lunch
When: Early Nov
Status: complete
Rating: PG-13,discussion of accidents and fatalities.



“Merci,” Amelie said, smiling at the young woman. “Saturday, oui? A proper audition.”

The woman gave her an affirmative and Amelie turned away with a little wave. This wasn’t the usual kind of neighborhood she would find herself in, but she went where the talent was. Not everyone was as blessed in their beginnings as she was, and besides, Amelie was ruthless enough to take any advantage she could get.

Even if her clothing and sports car was vastly out of place on a street like this.

It might not have been the perfect neighborhood for France’s rich and elite, but Angela thought that it would, in fact, be an amazing place to start out her clinic. Underserved neighborhoods needed the most help, and if the network was to be believed? Something a little more centrally located would definitely be beneficial.

She’d been scouting out various locations for most of that day, traveling by taxi or bus, and the entire affair was exhausting. This latest one had been the most promising; Four units in an old commercial plaza that could be renovated into offices and labs, though it would take some time. Still, the price was right, and Angela was in high spirits despite her long day when she rounded a corner and ran into someone who looked familiar.

Her eyes flicked over Amelie’s features, and she stopped so short that she nearly toppled over.

It had been at least 6 years since they’d seen each other, and it had been the worst possible circumstances. The weight of them had shaped her career, for better and worse in equal measure. It was hard to process the mixed emotions that welled up in her, and Angela ended up staring at the other woman, locked deep in thought and floundering for words.

Amelie was, of course, used to being looked at and though she usually ignored it or made snide comments, it wasn't usually an attractive woman like this. Picky with her men (none could be Gerard), but a little less so with her women.

"What is it they say? Take a picture, it lasts longer?" Amelie turned to look at her fully and froze.

She'd recognize that face anywhere. It was the face that had delivered the news that had destroyed her life. Conflict raged on Amelie’s face, a variety of emotions that ran the gamut from grief to anger. She’d tried, so hard, to not blame the doctor, but sometimes, she still did.

Mostly, Angela’s face brought her back to that night and she leaned against the wall as the accident ran through her mind again. "Merde."

Gerard hadn't been the first person Angela had proclaimed dead, but his case had been the first time she'd been the doctor to deliver the news. You never forgot the expressions on the faces of those loved ones left behind, and Angela dealt with her own flashback, shoving it off to the back of her mind as best she could. Often times, thinking of it started a chain reaction for her. There had been plenty of lives she couldn't save in the war zones she'd occupied since.

Perhaps joining Doctors Without Borders has been to restore purpose to her life; Or perhaps it had been some form of punishment. Still, there were other times to deal with those thoughts. Right now, her instincts were to tend to the woman who had slumped against the wall. "I... Are you-"

Not alright. She wouldn't be alright. Angela pursed her lips before starting again. "Do you want to get some kafi?"

Absently, Amelie leaned down and rubbed at her knee; though it was long ago healed, it sometimes ached with the weather, or the memories. She'd been doing so good with the latter though, but seeing that face was... a lot different than speaking to someone across a computer screen.

"I think...yes," she said, defaulting to French as her English and German were both failing her.

Amelie couldn't even say exactly why she agreed to that. Surely more exposure to this woman would just dredge up worse memories.

But she was, in a bizarre and painful way, the only connection she had to Gerard.

“I do not know if there is one nearby. The only place I have found that I like is a little ways away.”

Perhaps spending time with Amelie would make it all worse. But Angela wanted to believe that there was something to be said for trying to heal old wounds together. Her eyes were too sharp not to notice the rubbing at the knee, an indication that she wasn't the only one suffering from flashbacks. Surely, a nice comforting cup of coffee would at least chase those away?

"Can you drive, then?" She asked, while offering a hand out in case Amelie needed some support getting to the car. "We can find a local one some other time, but for this, perhaps we choose the location you already prefer."

"Oui." Amelie straightened, ignoring Angela's hand and brushing past her, also ignoring the jolt when their skin came into contact. Her car was as rich on the inside as it was on the outside, furnished in white leather and as sleek as the owner.

She popped the lock for Angela, then pulled on driving gloves as she waited for the doctor to climb in.

It was the kind of jolt Angela rarely felt; Too caught up in her professional life, she hadn't had a lot of time to focus on personal affairs at all. There's been the brief here and there with Thor, but that had been more about much needed letting off steam than anything real.

She brushed it off as she slid into Amelie's very expensive car, feeling suddenly insecure and out of place. Angela hoped her clothes weren't too dirty to be sitting against white leather, and shifted in her seat a bit as she watched Amelie pulled her gloves on. "I suppose those prevent calluses on your fingers?"

Angela arched a brow at that. She'd never known anyone who actually used driving gloves, but Amelie's fingers were perfect.

Amelie wriggled her fingers while looking at them, then said almost sheepishly. “I like how they look.” She cleared her throat, unsure why the question made her feel anxious or why she’d answered honestly.

The car started with a low purr, and she shifted it into gear. Despite the speed and power of the car, she didn’t peel out recklessly. Simply smoothly, if quickly when the opportunity presented itself. “How has your search been? For a clinic.”

"Well..." Angela replied, drawing out the word with an accent suddenly so thick that the w really did sound more like a v.

She gave Amelie a sheepish smile, too, and admitted, "It is a longer search than I thought it would be. Or perhaps I am too picky? But there needs to be room for all kinds of things. A lab, radiology, treatment rooms and exam rooms... and I want there to be more than one doctor, so there must be enough space for all the staffing required. I think I am too ambitious."

It did seem like it would be a lot of room. Amelie considered that for a moment, coming up to a red light and then turning right. “Rooms and walls can be built, non? Start with an empty building, and then design it exactly how you need.”

She looked at her out of the corner of her eye, not a hair out of place and expression neutral.

Angela tilted her head to the side, thinking that over. "The most promising property, I just left. It had been a strip mall, but the businesses died out. I had considered leasing out part of the space and trying to restructure it... Perhaps I should look for empty buildings instead."

Even an old warehouse if it was built well enough, or an office space that had never been finished inside. "I wonder if there are any abandoned properties around here. Things that were never quite completed."

“That might be a good place to start.” They got stuck between two large vehicles, and Amelie gripped the wheel harder than necessary. She glanced at Angela, fully, instead of just peering at her. “I do not know if that would be more or less expensive. But you have my support.”

Why, she couldn’t say. Maybe because Gerard would have wanted it. Maybe because something of Angela was familiar. Like she knew her from somewhere else, and not just a fateful night.

It was difficult to understand why someone whose life had been completely destroyed by Angela's failures would be this supportive. She locked eyes with Amelie, trying to find something to read in them, but as always Amelie's face was completely perfect, neutral, and unmoved.

All of those years of ballet, Angela thought. The woman was probably impossible to play poker with. Angela's lips screwed up a bit, like she was still trying to solve that puzzle as she spoke, "On that network you mentioned a trade to take care of your girls, and I am happy to do that... but I would understand if you were... less than supportive of my efforts."

There was something to be said for altruism. There was also something to be said for knowing when to cut a deal. Amelie regarded her out of the corner of her eye, still gripping the wheel like it would fly out of her hands at any moment.

“I do not know yet, if I am able to forgive you. I know that is unfair. It was not your fault.” She pulled over, having arrived at the cafe, and slowly relaxed her grip. “But you were the one who was there, and I have spent six years blaming and hating myself.”

It wasn't fair, but it was often how these things went. Blaming yourself, and needing to find someone else to blame. Like the person who couldn't save your husband. The person who had to give that news.

Angela looked down at her own hands for a moment, unable to summon up anger over Amelie's words. She had too much empathy for the situation, and spent so long blaming herself that it seemed natural to hear that someone else still placed the blame at her doorstep. "I could not go back to that life. These hands had failed you, and your face was etched on my memory. Better, I thought, to treat patients on the edges of battles. Ones whose family you rarely had to face if it went ill. Lost causes that no one expected to survive. Anything but a life where things were more personal."

“Did you lose that empathy?” Amelie asked, already suspecting the answer as she turned into the cafe and parked. Delicately, she pulled off her gloves a finger at a time. She didn’t have to look at Angela that way, didn’t have to study her face and her eyes. Amelie would be forced to stare at her in a few minutes, anyway.

"Non," Angela replied, her Swiss accent twisting the French just slightly. She shook her head as she did so, solemnly and sadly. "Perhaps it would have been better. Those areas were not... easy to look at. Other doctors in our program have put their empathy aside. But I could not."

And so the last few years had been more like self-enforced punishment.

Amelie said nothing, tapping one long finger on the steering wheel as she gazed out the windshield. She understood that, actually. Self-enforced punishment. She’d been driving. It had been her fault as much as it had been Angela’s fault she couldn’t save him.

Finally, she exhaled through her nose, and looked at her. It was, after all, a pleasant view. “Let's eat, and discuss the details of your clinic.”