John (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fundamentally) wrote2014-11-13 08:05 pm
fundamentally) wrote2014-11-13 08:05 pm
Effie
6 October
They'd patched him up at the hospital and seen to a bit of blood but there was no real need to keep him so they'd sent him off with a sack of bandages and a bottle of narcotics. He was high from a shot when he'd called Effie who had come right away. Oh, she was all a-flutter, fussing over him and going on, but he was a bit too high to follow along. It was all right, he assured her. It wasn't even until they were secure in his flat and he was putting on pyjamas that the truth had come out. That there had been a man with a knife who had robbed him. That a kindly soul had helped. That he had bled a rather copious amount. And that he was sure it hurt, he just didn't care.
"Will you have a lie down with me?" he asked, weary of all of it. He caught her hands and pulled her toward the bedroom. "I don't want to muss your wig but I am truly tired, Effie darling."
They'd patched him up at the hospital and seen to a bit of blood but there was no real need to keep him so they'd sent him off with a sack of bandages and a bottle of narcotics. He was high from a shot when he'd called Effie who had come right away. Oh, she was all a-flutter, fussing over him and going on, but he was a bit too high to follow along. It was all right, he assured her. It wasn't even until they were secure in his flat and he was putting on pyjamas that the truth had come out. That there had been a man with a knife who had robbed him. That a kindly soul had helped. That he had bled a rather copious amount. And that he was sure it hurt, he just didn't care.
"Will you have a lie down with me?" he asked, weary of all of it. He caught her hands and pulled her toward the bedroom. "I don't want to muss your wig but I am truly tired, Effie darling."
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He's gasping but he hears and clutches her hand, pressing it hard to his chest. Sense comes back to him and he looks to her, his eyes wild and wide.
"I'm so terribly sorry," he says weakly. "Did I scare you? Oh, dear..."
And then without thinking his hand slides away from hers to touch his bandage and then the rest of his stomach to see if he's alright.
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She strokes his hair off his forehead and grabs his hand again. He's shaking and she doesn't need him hurting himself accidentally. It's more important for him to calm down first. She can deal with any bleeding once she gets him to relax. It's odd how easily this all comes back to her, how she barely even needs to think to know what steps she should take. So much practice. Too much.
"Breathe, sweetie. Just breathe." Her voice is soothing and she makes her touch as gentle as possible. "Close your eyes for a minute, ok? I'll take care of you. I'm right here and I'll take care of you."
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Her voice is soothing in a way nothing in his life has ever been. He listens and obeys, laying back and closing his eyes. Her touch is soothing and her voice is like a balm.
"I had the most terrible dream," he admits. "It was terrible. I...I don't want to die, Effie. Today was so frightening. I've never experienced anything like it..."
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"You're alive, John. You're alive and you're safe here with me. And I'm going to keep you safe now, alright?" She kisses the hand she's holding and then kisses his forehead before letting him go so she can lift his shirt and check the damage. She can see blood through the bandage but it still looks contained which is a relief. She doesn't think he's reopened the wound. "I'm going to change the dressing and get you a pill for the pain. I'm not going to leave the room. Will you be ok for a minute, sweetie? Just a minute, I promise."
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"Of course. Of course," he assures her, but the moment she's off the bed he's propping himself up so he can see her. She's such a vision in her slip, her hair hanging down, uncoiffed and natural. He would never think by looking that she has such strength but she is the strongest person he's ever met.
"You're so good to me," he said, moving a little and then hissing as his wound throbs and stings. He thinks that it may hurt worse now than it had in the alley.
"Do you know that literally nothing like this has ever happened to me? My life has been wholly unremarkable. And I like it that way. I'd go so far to say you, you, are the most exciting thing to happen to me, Effie. Well you and now this."
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She hands him the pills and then the glass of water, waits for him to swallow before putting the glass on the nightstand and climbing back into bed next to him. With the cool washcloth she cleans his forehead, his neck, his chest. That always seemed to help Haymitch leave the nightmares behind, she hopes it will do the same for John.
"This isn't the kind of excitement I want for you, sweetie. I prefer it when I'm what's most remarkable." She means the words to lighten the mood but it's certainly not her best effort. Not when everything is so close to the surface.
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He manages a small laugh at that. The pills hit his stomach and do nothing initially, but that gives him time to look at her. To reach out to touch her.
"You're quite good at this. It's as if you've done it before," he says, a lucid moment before the medication kicks in making him observant. "Because of the games, hmm?"
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So she stays there and she concentrates on his bandages. Carefully undoing the wrapping and breathing a sigh of relief when she sees the row of neat stitches still intact. As primitive as the medical care here is at least the doctors were able to do this much right.
"Yes," she says finally. Cleaning what she can as gingerly as she can before putting the new bandage on. "The games...the medical care in the Capitol was exceptional. Never so much as a scar. But they could always remember."
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John knows who she's talking about. He knows without asking. Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch. The only survivors. All the rest of them that she escorted died, he knows that much of her life in Panem, though she doesn't always tell him everything. He knows that and he accepts it. What she does say is sometimes terrible and horrifying.
He takes a guess that she's not talking of the children, though he's sure she's nursed their fears as well.
"Haymitch?" he asks. "Tell me, Effie. Tell me about it."
Because whatever nightmares the old drunk had were likely ten hundred thousand times worse than his tonight.
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"He was sixteen during his games, did I tell you that? I can't remember." She keeps her hands busy with cleaning and bandaging while she talks. It always helps when she can distract herself with something useful. "He was so handsome. I was...I must have been twelve at the time and I remember watching him on television. Strong and brave and it was a quarter quell that year. Twice as many tributes. No one believed he could win, not coming from District 12, not when there were so many tributes, but I did. I wanted him to win. I had such a crush."
She can't help but smile as she finishes taping the clean bandage and lowers his shirt back down. It's small but it's real. The need to keep doing something is still so intense so she starts organizing all the supplies back in their box, avoiding John's eyes. "I'd never met him in person before I was assigned to District 12, though. If I hadn't known who he was I don't know that I would have recognized him."
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The pills are starting to kick in, he can feel the warmth and the dizzy, airy sensation. But he forces himself to pay attention.
"Twice as many tributes means he had to kill twice as many people," he says. That's what he takes away. And he's sure Haymitch didn't kill them all...they all killed one another, after all, but so many. So many children. So much death.
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"Yes. It was..." She can't even begin to find a word adequate so she stops trying. "He won but he was hurt. Badly. I didn't know that at the time, I was just a child and that isn't something the game makers would have wanted the audience to see. They'd fixed him up as good as new for the crowning ceremony. But he always remembered it. When he would wake up in the middle of the night I could see how he'd move as though the wound was still there. None of them ever forget, you see?"
She puts a hand over his heart, strokes his chest. Tries to smile for him. "I could never take the nightmares away, but I could be there when he woke. He needed someone to be there and he...he had no one else."
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"And you loved him. You love him," he says softly, all the edges of the world dulled. All the harsh truths a little easier to handle. He's not jealous- how could he be jealous? That's not how they operate. No, he loved his boyfriend and his girlfriend and still loved them today, but now he loved Effie and she loved him. That doesn't negate what she had with Haymitch.
"For what it's worth- I'm sorry. I'm sorry you know what to do because that means your life has been hard. It's been hard, Effie, and my only wish for you is happiness. Real happiness..."
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"Please don't be sorry, John. Please don't." She surprised at how clear her voice is given what she's feeling. "I was part of the games. I helped to make them happen, I gave him those nightmares. Whatever I did for Haymitch -- or Peeta or Katniss, or any of them -- it could never have made up for that. But yes, I loved him. Maybe I still do. I don't know if I understood what that meant before, but I think what I feel for him is love."
She leans down and kisses John softly on the lips, seeing the dazed, drugged look in his eyes and knowing he won't be awake for much longer. "I don't think I have ever been a good person, John. But I think I've always tried to make things better. As much as I could. And that's what I can do for you now. I'll try and make this better."
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What she says breaks over him and makes his eyes sting and throat close up a bit. He kisses her softly, but finds his hands reaching for her. Pulling her close. It's not sex, it's contact. It's the sensual act of touching her, holding her.
"You make everything better," he assures her. "I was so afraid of everything before I met you, Effie. And I still...I can still barely make a choice. But you make me strong and you make me brave and I love you ever so much," he mumbles against her mouth, the words slow enough to make it obvious that the drugs have taken full effect.
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"I love you too, John. And I've got you now. You were so brave and you were strong and now I've got you." She curls herself around him as much as she can without touching his right side. Makes sure he's comfortable before laying her head down beside his. "Just sleep so it won't hurt anymore. I'll be right here."
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"That's a rather good idea," he says, eyes already closed. He holds her in return, as best as he can, and the drugs and the exhuastion allow sleep to claim him. It's a dead sleep, a blind sleep. No dreams, no fears. He sleeps in the comfort of the curve of her breast and the smell of her hair, assured that tomorrow will be a better day.