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ways_infirmary2016-01-08 01:46 pm
merryeccentricities) wrote in ways_infirmary2016-01-08 01:46 pm
Infirmary thread for Valjean
Since his conversation with Javert, Joly's half-expected to see Monsieur Fauchelevent come into the Infirmary.
Maybe he hadn't expected everyone else who showed up along with M. Fauchelevent, but that's all right, it's a big infirmary.
((OOC: Infirmary thread for Valjean and his family.))
Maybe he hadn't expected everyone else who showed up along with M. Fauchelevent, but that's all right, it's a big infirmary.
((OOC: Infirmary thread for Valjean and his family.))
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She means it to be light, teasing, as if everything were normal, as if she could push away some of the awfulness of today; it comes out uncertain instead.
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Joly reaches out to press Marius' shoulder again, and keeps the contact, for what little stability or comfort it might offer against whatever terrible news has his friend so troubled. When Cosette says she doesn't understand, he nods in agreement with her. "I don't know what news has come to you; but here, whatever sort of trouble has found you, you've no need to hide it, you're with friends."
He meets Cosette's eyes. "And we'll do whatever we can for you, all of you, here. You're quite right about your father, Madame, I know. I've seen it; he is a hero, a wonderful man. " She seems strangely worried that he believe it; well, he does.
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He turns towards Cosette. He cannot explain everything in detail with Joly here, but he can get close enough. After all, it doesn't matter of Joly knows of his stupid ideas-- they aren't true, not at all.
"I knew of your father's past. He told me after we were married and swore me to secrecy. And I-- I took it all amiss." He ducks his head, ashamed, but forces himself to look up to meet her gaze again. "I thought-- I thought he had killed the spy, the inspector, Javert. I thought he had stolen the money that was your dowry-- it was for this reason I refused to spend it. It was for this reason I-- I made it plain through certain-- certain signs that perhaps he should not continue to see you."
He can't go on, can't look at her any longer. He clasps his hands together in his lap to try and stop their shaking and stares at them.
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The coffee cup in her hands feels unreal: solid, warm, somewhere very far away.
"But--"
It's just blankly bewildered.
"But how could you think that? Of him? Why did you -- why did neither of you say? I could have told you he would never do such a thing."
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Joly, still with one hand on Marius' shoulder, is no more enlightened than he was a moment ago.One fact stands out with an especial lack of clarity. "But-- Javert is alive. He has been --not as I am, truly alive, free to return to Paris. He and your father have associated here very often. Why would Monsieur Fauchelevent tell you otherwise?"
Some secret between them? Does it have to do with the spying?
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To Cosette, he says, "I swore not to tell."
It comes out faintly, weakly, and he knows it is no excuse at all. "He had hidden his past, I did not think you would know any more of it than I. I-- I hoped to protect you from the knowledge of it. If he had truly done the wicked things I thought of him. But he did not!" He must be absolutely clear on this point. "The man is a saint, a wonder-- he saved my life, and I have done this to him!" He looks to Cosette again. "To you. He-- he may have died, and you never have seen him, and the fault would have been all mine."
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She wants to scream, or burst into tears, or run out into her own safe garden, or make angry demands, and she can't do any of them here in front of M. Joly. She sets her coffee cup down on the desk with hands that are just beginning to tremble, and presses her clasped hands to her mouth, and bows her head so her ringlets fall forward and hide her face a little.
"He protected me from it," she whispers, staring at the strange tiled floor. "And you protected me too, and so I knew nothing whatsoever. I told him over and over again that he was welcome, so many times. But he only smiled. He only called me Madame. I knew nothing at all."
She won't cry again. She won't, she won't.
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..Marius doesn't seem to be about to comfort his own wife, and Joly can't very well sit there while a visitor to his Infirmary is in distress alone.
He quietly collects a few tissues and hands them to Cosette, lightly touching her shoulder with his free hand. "Whatever's passed--it's past--" he almost calls her Madame, but that might be the wrong thing to say right now "and you'll soon have your father awake and well again to ask whatever you like. "
He looks to Marius for any guidance on what to say next--yes? no? -- and receiving none, suggests " if there's anyone here either of you would like to have with you, any friends you or your father have here, who you'd like me to call, I can do that for you."
If he weren't the doctor in attendance, he'd feel horribly intrusive even doing this much--but he is that , and they're here for help, so he feels no compunction in offering anything he can of it.
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She ought to be bright and cheerful for him. She ought to be bright and cheerful for everyone, for all of them. But she can't manage it right now, after everything today has brought her.
She wants to run out of the room, and she wants to fling herself down on her father's bed, and she wants Marius to hold her close, all at once. She swallows, and presses her clasped hands hard to her mouth for a moment more, trying to steady herself.
"I know," she says, to both of them. She unclenches her fingers with a small and deliberate effort, so she can reach out to her husband, with a hand that only trembles a little. Then she can look up at Joly, pale and as composed as she can be right now, and find more words.
"My -- my mother is here. She should know. I can, I can send her a note, or find her -- I don't want to be in the way, monsieur, I know you have important work to do here, but my father shouldn't wake up alone. I don't want him to be alone."
And afraid, she doesn't add, because it's still too horribly strange a thought. Her father is never afraid; he's a rock of strength and certainty. All of that is clearly untrue now, but it feels like some kind of betrayal to say so out loud.
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"What may I do? I shall send a message to her-- how may that be done?"
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"Don't worry, I can do that. We send a note with the rats--er, they're the servants here. You'll see. And of course, we won't leave your father here alone." This is in answer to Cosette's commendable determination to stay with her father. "I'll be here all night, and then there's the next shift; and I'm happy to make up a bed for you, if you like, and we can order in something to eat, even. There is nothing more important to do here right now than seeing your father and yourselves well." That is completely true.
And Poor Mme. Pontmercy is obviously so worried about taking care of everyone else, and of course she is, but... "If you have any questions at all I might answer, or there's anything I can do to make your father or yourselves more comfortable here, please let me know. Remember it's my job to make sure you're all well, here." He smiles a little as he says the last, but really, it is Joly's job, not Marius' , not his wife's. If Marius were here alone, he would go farther, say don't be ridiculous, we get to worry about you here and not the other way around, tease him for trying to be too brave in the circumstances. But Marius isn't alone, and Joly isn't nearly familiar enough with Mme. Pontmercy to know how best to address her beyond friendly politeness.
So for now he heads back to the desk to write a note. "I'll just send for your mother, Mme. Pontmercy-- it's Madame Fantine here, isn't it?"
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She doesn't want a bed in the infirmary. She's not ill; she doesn't want to sleep here, out in a public place, if she doesn't have to. Ought she to?
"I don't think I need a bed here, monsieur, though I thank you very much for the kind offer. Only -- if he wakes and I'm not here, please, could you send for me right away? You, or the nurse looking after him?"
Joly has nearly finished his note, so of course it's only now that Cosette remembers, "Oh, but -- monsieur, thank you, but my mother -- she only reads a little..."
Cosette has been helping her a little, and Fantine has been working on her own, but still.
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Joly considers. "Can she read her own name? --Or one of the rats might take you to her, if you'd rather go yourself." Some people don't like hanging out in the hospital, for some wacky reason. "Of course we'll send for you if he wakes; we'll send immediately."
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Cosette is immediately staunch -- not because an inability to read is anything so uncommon in her day, nor anything to be ashamed of. But it says something about her mother's likely origins. A daughter of the bourgeois would know her letters, even if she didn't have much education. She doesn't want either of the men here to think the slightest ill of her mother. Not at all, not ever, and most of all not today.
"But... But yes, perhaps it would be best if I went to her? Then I could answer any questions she might have, too."
She says this with an uncertain glance at Marius -- does he think so? Will he be all right with this? (Will he consider a rat sufficient chaperone? She should be delighted to have her husband meet her mother, and soon she will be, but right now all she wants is privacy with one or the other of them, to weep and be held and to let go for a little while, and if she has to introduce one loved one to the other, and explain matters, she won't be able to relax in the least.)
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"Yes, of course," Marius says. He stands to offer her his arm. "I shall take you to her." ...Not that he knows where she is.
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She can hardly tell him to stay here and let her go on alone. So she rises, and takes his arm.
(It's hard to not just rest her head against his shoulder, no matter how upset she is at what he did. She may yet, in the privacy of the corridor, if no one's around.)
"I know I've thanked you so many times you must be sick of it," she says to Joly earnestly, "but I must say it again. Thank you for your help -- thank you, monsieur. You've been a true friend to all of us, and truly kind."
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"Thank you," Marius echoes with no less earnestness. "We-- we shall speak more very soon, I am sure."
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Joly smiles at both of them. "I'm so glad I can. Someday, Madame, perhaps, you'll let me tell you about the friend your father has been to all of us, and you'll know something of how glad." He reaches out to press Marius' shoulder one more time. "--and your husband, too. We'll all talk soon." That's a promise, if Marius wants one.
And then they're gone,hopefully to find Fantine, and Joly is free to focus on his single patient again-- and make a few quick calls to his dearest friends, letting them know one more dear visitor is in Milliways.
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"You will have to show me the way, I'm afraid," he says bashfully once they've gotten a bit farther from the infirmary door.
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For an instant, there's a sharp, bitter thought: there, you can see how it feels. She squelches the thought before it's fully formed, with a reflexive surge of shame.
Instead, she rests her head against his shoulder as they walk. Even after everything, the comfort in that is nearly overwhelming.
"I don't know how to explain half of it, because I've never understood it myself. But I promise you I'll tell you everything in a little while. Everything I know about Milliways. Is that all right? Can you manage all this strangeness until then?"
Please say you can, Marius. She feels terrible for asking him to meet dead friends and all the bizarreness of Milliways without the slightest clarification, but she also can't bear the thought of pulling together an explanation now, and facing all the questions he has a perfect right to ask, after everything today has already held.
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Here in her pocket is the key to her Milliways room. She didn't keep a key to her father's house with her -- it never occurred to her that she might need it unexpectedly -- but Milliways shows up at the strangest times, after all. She passes it over to Marius, and tells him the room number, which is stamped on the key too.
"You see how these doors all have the numbers. That is mine, so of course it's yours as well. I'll go there as soon as I'm done speaking with Mother."
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He wants to offer to wait-- surely she shouldn't wander these halls by herself? But it's plain she doesn't want that, and she indisputably knows the customs of this place far better than he does.
He reaches for her hand and, as there is no one in sight, kisses it.
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She lifts their joined hands to press his hand to her pale cheek. "My Marius. I do love you."
After a moment, she smiles at him again, a little more composedly. "I'll see you in just a little while."
And her mother's room is just there. She'll just let herself in; she has a key. If Fantine isn't there, she'll... well, she'll figure the next step out from there. (But she might spend a few minutes letting her self-control fall in private, first.)