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darker_london2010-05-24 03:38 am
suave-thomas.livejournal.com) wrote in darker_london2010-05-24 03:38 am
Entry tags:
Oh goodness me (Thomas, Mary, Spectre)
The kids were in bed, James snuggled up to Katya because he was, in his own words, 'keeping her safe'. When Thomas was assured that they were both safe, he went to get sustenance for his spouses and then he joined them in the room they were staying in. He found them both curled up on the bed, talking quietly to each other about simple, happy things. They all knew what was about to come and it wasn't happy at all. "Hi," Thomas said with a grin and when they both turned and smiled at him, he felt his heart melt into happy goo for the hundredth time that day. "I brought a late dinner."
"Oooh!" Spectre leaned forward with interest and when Thomas deposited the food on the bed, he immediately started rifling through the bag to see what was inside. "Hungry, baby?" Thomas asked with a grin.
"I just might have a healthy appetite, yes?" Spectre replied, pulling out a bag of chips. "Oh, Thomas, I am going to make a colossal mess..."
Thomas snorted and he leaned down to kiss Spectre's hair. "I think that's allowed, babe. What about you, Mary?" Thomas said, turning to his wife. "Food?"
Mary shook her head and Thomas thought he had never seen her look so disturbed. The truth was that the only times she ever looked that horrible nowadays, was when Thomas was missing. And he wasn't exactly able to see her face then. "I'm fine," Mary said, despite looking entirely the opposite. "But you have some," and she invited no argument. Not that Thomas would have put up much of one. He was hungry. He would eat.
Their commentary during dinner was light and easy. They were waiting and they all knew it. Mary wanted her husband and friend fed and fed well. Only then would she regale them with the story of her life, and indeed her death.
When the food had been eaten and the refuse cleared away, Thomas moved up into the bed so he could sit between his spouses. Spectre immediately curled up at his husband's side, but Mary stayed back. Just enough so they could both face her and she, them. Then, finally, she started to speak.
"When I said I died of the plague, I wasn't lying," she began. "I was...being slightly cagey with the truth." Mary looked momentarily guilty, but Thomas reached out to take her hand and she found new strength in knowing he didn't hold it against her that she hadn't explained. Their time together lately was stunted anyway. She couldn't touch on every single one of her nearly four hundred years if she tried, but she could explain her first death. "I was a nurse, that you know. I attended to the victims of plague mostly to assist them in their dying. I worked with a doctor named Henry. I had no idea what he..." Mary stopped and collected herself and it was fascinating to watch. She hardly flinched even though she was clearly going through turmoil. She paused for a moment. Her expression lightened. She continued.
"Henry actually did try to cure our patients. I know because when I finally fell ill, he actually tried to cure me as well. It was only when he knew nothing more could be done...he would take our patients and do things to them. The rest of us were told the patients had died and who would argue with that? He would take them away, and...I don't know what he did to all of them because it's always different. I fell ill and when it was obvious I would die, he took me too. That is what I mean when I say I didn't lie. I did die because I had the plague. If I hadn't fallen ill, he never would have taken me. But I did, and he did.
"His house was large and well away from London. I woke up in it, too sick to move. There were others there too. Sister who were dying. He killed one in front of the other to see if she would react, even through her sickness. She did, of course. With me, he stopped treating my symptoms, which was bad enough. And then he brought me one of my patients. A young boy I had tried so hard to save. He was only twelve. And he told the boy that if he killed me, he would live. I can't remember why, though there was a whole story to it. Henry assumed that the boy would try to kill me, but I would end up killing him. To save myself. I didn't. I lay there and when it was clear I was going to let the boy kill me, Henry stopped us. He became fascinated with me. With my refusal to save my own miserable life. I had mere days left anyway, but he understood the basics of human nature. Most of us, when faced with a choice like that, despite the circumstances, will choose to live and I didn't."
Thomas licked his lips and then he saw Mary look up at him. They were thinking the same thing. That he and Mary were cut from the same cloth, and when faced with the choice to die for someone else, or to let someone die for them, they were some of the few who chose to die. It was little wonder they understood each other so well.
Mary continued. "He grew bored of his game eventually, especially when he stopped them before the final even every time. He started punishing me when I wouldn't defend myself. And, finally, he...started to hurt me. I need not go into details, but I finally died of blood loss. And it is my educated assumption that had I not succumbed to his tortures then, I would have died from the disease the next day. Henry sent my dying body back to be burned with all the rest of them. A nurse I knew happened to be there when I died. My spirit joined with her and when Henry saw her the next day, he knewagain. Not now!
"You'd better be," Mary replied, being uncharacteristically firm with him. She did not usually tell him what to do, but he understood why she was in this instance. Understood and wholeheartedly concurred. "And you too," she added, looking over Thomas' form to Spectre.
"Oh believe me, I look over my shoulder when I go out to check the post," Spectre whispered hastily. "I am not taking any chances."
"Good."
"Mary," Thomas said quietly. "Do...do you need to tell us...do you want to tell us more?"
After a moment, Mary shook her head. "Another time, perhaps," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Not tonight. Tonight, we have a daughter who is doing very well and a son who wants nothing more than to take care of his new sister. Tonight we have a lot to be grateful for, and I think that is where our heads should be."
Above all things, his Mary was wise and wonderful. And so, taking her words at face value, Thomas accepted them. Talk resumed around normal things like kids and schools and happy drawings, and they left the past out of it, lurking as it did, in the shadows to be discussed tomorrow, next week, next month. On another gloomy Sunday when necessity brought it to the forefront. Today, it was too easy to leave behind.
"Oooh!" Spectre leaned forward with interest and when Thomas deposited the food on the bed, he immediately started rifling through the bag to see what was inside. "Hungry, baby?" Thomas asked with a grin.
"I just might have a healthy appetite, yes?" Spectre replied, pulling out a bag of chips. "Oh, Thomas, I am going to make a colossal mess..."
Thomas snorted and he leaned down to kiss Spectre's hair. "I think that's allowed, babe. What about you, Mary?" Thomas said, turning to his wife. "Food?"
Mary shook her head and Thomas thought he had never seen her look so disturbed. The truth was that the only times she ever looked that horrible nowadays, was when Thomas was missing. And he wasn't exactly able to see her face then. "I'm fine," Mary said, despite looking entirely the opposite. "But you have some," and she invited no argument. Not that Thomas would have put up much of one. He was hungry. He would eat.
Their commentary during dinner was light and easy. They were waiting and they all knew it. Mary wanted her husband and friend fed and fed well. Only then would she regale them with the story of her life, and indeed her death.
When the food had been eaten and the refuse cleared away, Thomas moved up into the bed so he could sit between his spouses. Spectre immediately curled up at his husband's side, but Mary stayed back. Just enough so they could both face her and she, them. Then, finally, she started to speak.
"When I said I died of the plague, I wasn't lying," she began. "I was...being slightly cagey with the truth." Mary looked momentarily guilty, but Thomas reached out to take her hand and she found new strength in knowing he didn't hold it against her that she hadn't explained. Their time together lately was stunted anyway. She couldn't touch on every single one of her nearly four hundred years if she tried, but she could explain her first death. "I was a nurse, that you know. I attended to the victims of plague mostly to assist them in their dying. I worked with a doctor named Henry. I had no idea what he..." Mary stopped and collected herself and it was fascinating to watch. She hardly flinched even though she was clearly going through turmoil. She paused for a moment. Her expression lightened. She continued.
"Henry actually did try to cure our patients. I know because when I finally fell ill, he actually tried to cure me as well. It was only when he knew nothing more could be done...he would take our patients and do things to them. The rest of us were told the patients had died and who would argue with that? He would take them away, and...I don't know what he did to all of them because it's always different. I fell ill and when it was obvious I would die, he took me too. That is what I mean when I say I didn't lie. I did die because I had the plague. If I hadn't fallen ill, he never would have taken me. But I did, and he did.
"His house was large and well away from London. I woke up in it, too sick to move. There were others there too. Sister who were dying. He killed one in front of the other to see if she would react, even through her sickness. She did, of course. With me, he stopped treating my symptoms, which was bad enough. And then he brought me one of my patients. A young boy I had tried so hard to save. He was only twelve. And he told the boy that if he killed me, he would live. I can't remember why, though there was a whole story to it. Henry assumed that the boy would try to kill me, but I would end up killing him. To save myself. I didn't. I lay there and when it was clear I was going to let the boy kill me, Henry stopped us. He became fascinated with me. With my refusal to save my own miserable life. I had mere days left anyway, but he understood the basics of human nature. Most of us, when faced with a choice like that, despite the circumstances, will choose to live and I didn't."
Thomas licked his lips and then he saw Mary look up at him. They were thinking the same thing. That he and Mary were cut from the same cloth, and when faced with the choice to die for someone else, or to let someone die for them, they were some of the few who chose to die. It was little wonder they understood each other so well.
Mary continued. "He grew bored of his game eventually, especially when he stopped them before the final even every time. He started punishing me when I wouldn't defend myself. And, finally, he...started to hurt me. I need not go into details, but I finally died of blood loss. And it is my educated assumption that had I not succumbed to his tortures then, I would have died from the disease the next day. Henry sent my dying body back to be burned with all the rest of them. A nurse I knew happened to be there when I died. My spirit joined with her and when Henry saw her the next day, he knewagain. Not now!
"You'd better be," Mary replied, being uncharacteristically firm with him. She did not usually tell him what to do, but he understood why she was in this instance. Understood and wholeheartedly concurred. "And you too," she added, looking over Thomas' form to Spectre.
"Oh believe me, I look over my shoulder when I go out to check the post," Spectre whispered hastily. "I am not taking any chances."
"Good."
"Mary," Thomas said quietly. "Do...do you need to tell us...do you want to tell us more?"
After a moment, Mary shook her head. "Another time, perhaps," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Not tonight. Tonight, we have a daughter who is doing very well and a son who wants nothing more than to take care of his new sister. Tonight we have a lot to be grateful for, and I think that is where our heads should be."
Above all things, his Mary was wise and wonderful. And so, taking her words at face value, Thomas accepted them. Talk resumed around normal things like kids and schools and happy drawings, and they left the past out of it, lurking as it did, in the shadows to be discussed tomorrow, next week, next month. On another gloomy Sunday when necessity brought it to the forefront. Today, it was too easy to leave behind.