Who: Marguerite Blakeney, the Marquis de St Cyr, Percy Blakeney and Anatoly Sergievsky What: Marguerite really needs to stop trying to strangle people who hurt Armand... it never ends well, and then she's back in Lawrence and needs stabilizing before surgery When: 15 May 1792 AND 15 May 2013 Where: Paris, alley in Lawrence, medbay Warnings: Violence Status: Log/Thread | Incomplete
It had been a long two weeks. When Marguerite had first shown up back in Paris, she’d been confused. There was no Pimpernel, for one. Armand was safe but she didn’t have her job at the theatre. She never had. Though it had been easy enough for her to discover what had happened. To realize that, for some reason, she was nothing more than a free woman again. And not only that? St. Cyr was still alive. How that had managed to happen, Marguerite didn’t know. All she knew was that she was at his family’s mercy and that was something she really could not abide.
It wasn’t ideal, and falling back into old patterns was far from what she ever wanted to do, but Marguerite knew the streets. She knew what she needed to do to survive. To take care of Armand. And oh how she had missed her brother. She had been in Lawrence almost a year and it was the longest she had been away from him. Even in this world, he was still her Armand. He wasn’t altered, he was still the brother she had always taken care of. The one who took care of her. But she missed Percy, god she missed him so much. It was one thing to live as a free woman when she wasn’t married, when she was doing all she could for Armand and then finding a way to overcome it, her station, to show the world class didn’t matter and anything was possible. It was another to wish to hold to her vows, to recall the conversation she and Percy had had about her not selling herself, when she had finally explained it to him, and now have to.
Oh, she would try to make it out again. But she didn’t know how long this would last and with the political atmosphere different as well... and St. Cyr and his son.. The son made her skin crawl. And St Cyr made her blood boil.
She had been in Paris for two weeks, making ends meet, spending time with Armand, but then, they had been walking back from a late dinner when they were overpowered and St Cyr with his arrogance and judging eyes. While his men attacked her brother, his son held her back. But that would never be enough. Between Lawrence and what she already knew from surviving the streets before, Marguerite managed to break free of the grasp of her captor and ran towards St Cyr.
“Call them off!”
Eyes ablaze in anger and determination, she tried to fight him, to strangle him, but instead gasped as she felt a blade stab her in the stomach and twist, causing her to cry out in pain.
“Learn your place, whore.”
Dropped beside her unconscious brother, Marguerite went to grasp his hand, blinking repeatedly. She was losing blood. Would she die here? What happened if she died here? They didn’t even know what happened when someone died in Lawrence. But if she died in an alternate version of her life? Then what?
The ground was cold, she knew that much, but something was different. Whimpering as she pushed herself up, Marguerite looked around, clutching her stomach to try and staunch the blood flow.
“Armand...?”
She’d lost him again and the wave of grief that hit from once again being separated from her brother caused her to stumble into a wall, gasping for air. She was back in Lawrence. Which meant her husband was here. She hoped. Unless he had been sent back home in her absence. Unless he had been sent elsewhere...
She needed to find a phone, to call someone. Anyone. She just needed to get help.
These past two weeks had been...trying, to put things lightly. The alternate Marguerite served to confuse Percy greatly. She was Marguerite, but she wasn’t his Marguerite. Which perhaps only made the situation that much more complicated. He had of course done what he could to help her. After the initial bout of her confusion and thinking he was a client, he had explained where she was and what she was in the middle of. Though of course he’d taken his time to explain that and to teach her how to use a computer and so forth.
Quickly, Percy had come to think of the situation as a Marguerite from some other variance of The Scarlet Pimpernel story had been brought here and replaced his wife. Of course, he was hoping this would just be temporary and his Marguerite would return soon enough. So while the two week period may have been trying, he wasn’t going to get worried until more than two weeks passed. He remembered the situation back in December that had gone on for a prolonged period of time then stopped suddenly, and he’d heard of past incidents. Two weeks seemed to be the standard for the Seal craziness to happen.
That day he hadn’t seen the other Marguerite, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. He’d gone out for some fresh air, intending to take a walk, possibly stop for some tea at a café. The path he’d chosen to take brought him across a sight he didn’t expect to see, which was Marguerite on the ground and...bleeding?
“Marguerite!!” He exclaimed rushing over to her. In his panic, he wasn’t initially certain whether this was his wife or the other Marguerite, but in that moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was hurt and in need of a doctor.
She heard his voice, oh thank god, Percy was still here. If she had returned to Lawrence, stabbed and her husband gone, well, she honestly didn’t know how she would respond to that. She was already drained. Physically, mentally, emotionally.. She didn’t know how much more she could take. Losing Armand again was hard, not knowing if he’d survive the lashing he had gotten, that she had seen. To add Percy to that, when she needed him more than ever? Well, it would just be too much.
“Percy....”
It wasn’t a yell or a cry, she was in too much pain for that. So long as she remained upright, so long as she got to him, that was all that mattered. She wouldn’t die, she wouldn’t let herself die and she knew Percy wouldn’t either. But two weeks in a life she had thought long gone, she needed him.
Forcing herself to remain as upright as possible, the actress stumbled towards him, gasping in pain, kissing him desperately when she all but fell into him, managing not to cry in pain and relief.
“I worried I might never see you again....”
She was also dizzy from the pain and blood loss, so she probably did need to get back to the complex. Where was she anyway? How close to the complex, would she need the hospital. Not the things she wanted to deal with at the moment.
When Marguerite kissed him, he knew it was his Marguerite. She was back. He returned the kiss, his arms quickly moving around her to hold her. He had missed her desperately, but he couldn’t think about any of that right now. He needed to get her to a doctor.
“You are with me again, my love, do not worry.” Without further hesitation, Percy pulled off the button up shirt he was wearing, leaving himself in his undershirt. “Here, press this against your wound. I’ll get you to a doctor.” Once Marguerite took his shirt, he picked her up in his arms. Luckily they weren’t overly far from the complex, he could get her to the medbay there in a short amount of time. Turning and moving as quickly as he could while carrying Marguerite, he was only focused on getting her the medical attention she needed.
“Stay with me, it’ll be alright.” Oh he was completely fearful. He wasn’t about to lose her, not when he’d just gotten her back after the past two weeks. But of course he was certain, judging by her wound, her two weeks were much worse than his had been.
It didn’t take overly long before he reached the complex. At least the medbay was on the first floor. He ran in, calling for a help as he did so, alerting whomever was on duty to the incoming emergency. Anatoly was the first to respond and he directed Percy to take Marguerite into the area where they did the surgeries and dealt with the more serious wounds. Percy placed her on the table there, then he moved out of the way enough to let the medical team do their job, but he was still close enough so Marguerite could see him.
Any other day and Marguerite would have joked about him taking his shirt off in the middle of any alley and surely he could wait. But given the present situation? Marguerite instead took the shirt and did as told. She didn't know the details of different rescues, so it was reasonable to think he had dealt with something similar back in France. As for being picked up, all the actress did was bite back a cry of pain, instead hiding her face against his shoulder. Adrenaline was wearing off now that she knew she was safe. Well, relatively speaking.
With the pain and blood loss taking a greater toll now that she didn't have to focus on moving, much of what happened on the way to the complex was a haze, as was the med bay. She was aware of what was going on in that people were working on her. And that she was hooked up once again to an IV drip. And that the pain was receding, which actually worried her as she couldn't tell if it was from the medicine or if it was because she was dying. She didn't like not knowing. It left her uncomfortable. She didn't want to leave Percy like this.
By the time she was no longer enclosed by people, Marguerite had lost track of time and how many times she had faded in and out of consciousness or if she had even been aware of when they had finished. Just that she wasn't as claustrophobic and that she felt very fuzzy, sometimes cold, sometimes not. Moving to sit up, she gasped in pain and decided that perhaps laying down was still the better option if she could feel the pain from that movement.
She was back in Lawrence though, right? She hadn't just hallucinated being reunited with Percy and the med bay as a way to cope on the streets of Paris as she bled out, right? That thought terrified her because it was disturbingly possible.
Anatoly and the other staff worked on Marguerite. They of course didn’t actually start the process until after the bleeding was slowed and the pain medication kicked in. Anatoly was focused on closing the wound. After that he could determine if Marguerite needed a blood transfusion. It was difficult to tell how much she lost, but he would discern that part later. Instead, he kept himself focused on healing what damage he could then and there. Finally after some time had elapsed, he’d finished closing the wound. He would let Marguerite rest for the time being before he went about discerning whether she needed blood or not.
Once the medical team had cleared away from Marguerite and Percy was given the okay to sit with her, he immediately went over to his wife’s side, pulling a chair up to her bedside. Gently, he reached out and took one of her hands in his and gazed at her.
“Just rest, you’ll be alright. You’re safe now.” He smiled gently at her. He hadn’t been far from her side the entire time, and he wasn’t about to leave her now. Even if he was still in his undershirt. He’d been given his shirt back, though it was rather bloodstained, but he set it on the floor by his chair for the time being. Clothing didn’t matter, all that mattered was that Marguerite was alive and back with him now.
Feeling Percy take her hand, Marguerite felt herself calm down some. She was still more or less out of sorts, but the hand did answer her unasked question on if she were truly in Lawrence or not. All signs had pointed to it and she well knew how the Seal could be, but the stress of the past two weeks and blood loss countered the logic.
"Armand isn't, though..."
She probably shouldn't be speaking and her voice was drained, but it was still a fact. Marguerite may be safe now but her brother wasn't. True she was speaking in French at the moment but it was easier to do so while she was recovering. And even though Marguerite couldn't do anything for her brother, she still worried. She couldn't help it. And while Percy hadn't asked what had happened, the one comment could at least give him an idea.
There was no relief in this. Yes, she was thankful to be back in Lawrence with Percy, it wasn't as if she had been home. But Armand was bleeding out in a street, she probably wasn't going to be released from the med bay any time soon. She didn't have to have been conscious during the initial cleaning and closing of the wound to know she undoubtedly would need further treatment and all Marguerite wanted was to sleep in her bed.
The words Marguerite spoke did speak enough for Percy to have an idea of what she’d been through. Of course, he also had a bit of an idea from the other Marguerite, but the fact that his wife had clearly been stabbed and now knowing Armand was probably in a similar situation spoke to what had happened. He had a vivid imagination and could fill in some blanks for himself. Now was definitely not the time to ask about what exactly had happened to her or to Armand. Marguerite was in no shape to talk or even give details of emotionally stressful things. So Percy would wait until Marguerite was better physically. He had been about to say something when Anatoly approached them both again.
“You were lucky to return when you did and to get here as quickly as possible,” he directed his speech to Marguerite, but he was also speaking for Percy’s benefit. Not to mention Percy was probably the more lucid one at the moment. “You lost a lot of blood and we will need to give you a transfusion. I also believe you will need to undergo surgery to repair some of the internal damage. I did what I could for the moment, but before you can go through the surgery, you will need the transfusion.” So Anatoly was more than aware he was using some large words that may not be truly sinking into Marguerite’s mind currently, but at least Percy was there to handle the information.
As they had Marguerite’s blood type on file already, it made it far easier to do the transfusion. Anatoly ordered the blood Marguerite needed and had Rory bring it over and hook it up to Marguerite. Percy watched closely, ensuring to stay out of the way, but was still close to his wife so he could help her if the need arose.
Marguerite recognized surgery. This was all so very familiar to what had happened in December when she’d been stabbed in the shoulder with the drill that was turned on. So the process itself wasn’t all that different. True she was focusing as best she could on staying conscious because she didn’t want to go to sleep, irrationally worried that she’d wake up back in the alley. Or that she just wouldn’t wake up at all, and that despite feeling everything and the sensation of medication, that it actually was a hallucination and she was dying. The mind could do fascinating things when the body was put through a massive shock.
Even so, she did simply nod to show she had followed along.. mostly. Still, it wasn’t exactly ideal and being in the medbay twice for surgery within a six month span was certainly not something she had planned on. As such she simply scrunched up her nose.
“How many times until the luck runs out.”
The comment was muttered in France and caused the actress to wince, the strain of talking getting to her again. She very rarely was pessimistic, it went against the whole live life as though each day were the last, to embrace it all, but even Marguerite knew that it was simply luck that had saved her twice now. And luck? Well, it never lasted, not for this long. And just because she had lucked out once again, who knew what was happening to Armand. Who knew if he had even survived it this time.
Once again she was in Lawrence with no idea how her brother fared and without anyway to help him.
Once the transfusion began, and Anatoly had informed Marguerite and Percy how things would progress, the doctor moved away to give them both some space. That and he didn’t need to be hovering. Marguerite seemed stable enough for the moment. Anatoly would let Simon know he would need to do a surgery once Marguerite was stable. The Russian doctor wasn’t certain the extent of the internal damage, but for the moment stabilizing her was the priority.
Percy heard the muttered comment and he moved back to Marguerite’s side once everything seemed to be fine for the meantime. “I don’t know about you, my dear, but luck seems to come frequently to the fortunate.” He wasn’t being snarky in that moment. Percy well knew how many times both of them had escaped death by sheer luck, both in this world and their own. Still, he had a point. They both were fortunate, fortunate to have each other. Taking his wife’s hand once again, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.
“As long as we are together, we are fortunate.” He knew she would worry about Armand, but what could he truly do about that? Marguerite would worry about her brother as long as he wasn’t here where she could see him with her own eyes. Percy wasn’t about to say her brother would be fine, but he would instead remind her that she had him, and he was not going anywhere.
Snarky or not, Marguerite just shot a look at her husband. She understood what he was trying to do. She understood that he was trying to say that, as they were fortunate, that meant they would have more luck. But what did that say about those who were alone? Those who suffered? What did that say for so many within Lawrence? And what did it say for Armand? Because Percy was right, there was nothing he could do to alleviate any of her concerns about her brother. The world she had found herself in? It didn’t match up with any telling of their lives, which meant she had no way to see if he would survive this lashing.
She was thankful for Percy being there, she knew that he was trying. But being with Armand, or at least a version of her brother had they never moved up, had they remained in their expected life, still, by being with him, it made the worry all the more stronger. The connection had transcended different versions of their lives. And she had seen the medications the other her had kept hidden. She knew what they meant.
“How often were you around her?”
It would seem strange, but Marguerite worried. Because he was saying she had him. He was saying together they were fortunate, and if he became sick because of the other version of herself.... She almost hoped the other her left the complex all together once she realized what was going on, to ensure no one got sick. If she knew herself, she would have, and certainly not stay with a stranger, but until she knew for certain....
Coughing, Marguerite tensed in pain despite the medications. She was still trying to remain conscious but it was getting harder to do so. The adrenaline continued to wear off as the familiarity of this place continued to calm her, even if it were a hallucination.