((Charlie continued from Life, After A Fashion))
They were allowing and encouraging Charlie to have light exercise now, which was a significant upgrade from being forced to spend all day in bed. Unfortunately, she barely made it out of her room and down the stairs before she found herself leaning heavily on the banister and panting for air. Her stomach hurt, the slowly healing wound aching, pulsing in time to her accelerated heartbeat. Her legs felt weak and tremulous, sweat already beading on her brow. This shouldn't be so difficult. She shouldn't be in this place, trying to recover and seeing her own body fail on her. Surely she hadn't spent long enough in that hospital bed that her legs stopped working. She'd not needed babysitting to do her business, even if it'd taken longer than she would have liked. This was just a couple corridors and a staircase, that wasn't such a big deal. When did she get so damn weak?
Charlie grimaced, clenching the pager they'd given her in one fist. She didn't need to call for help just because she was tired. She shouldn't even be tired but she could still do this on her own, she wasn't a child. She glanced behind her, took a breath, one step.
The ache returned and redoubled and Charlie closed her eyes, hissing through her teeth, the sound rising in pitch until it became a growl. A couple of seconds later, something else entered into the noise, pain, almost a sob--Charlie cut it off the second she heard that. No, she wasn't going to let herself get upset, sure as hell not cry over some fucking stairs.
Just... take them one at a time. One at a time. She took another step, her face twisted in pain.
Road to Recovery
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MurderWeasel
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((Mina Mashall continued from Life, After A Fashion))
Mina had ducked around a corner the second she'd realized who was coming out of the bathroom. Fortunately, she'd been quick, and had managed to escape detection. Now all she had to do was wait until Charlie cleared out and then she could be on her own way without fear of another unanticipated encounter.
Mina was both relieved and terrified to realize that Charlie was becoming mobile again. It had been an inevitability—well, she had told herself that there was no other option, that there was no way someone like Charlie could ever become forever dependent on others—but it still felt too soon somehow. Mina had gotten used to having run of the place, and now she would have to keep one eye open at all times, be ready to dip out of any room or hallway or stroll to the other side of the garden while rendering herself temporarily deaf at the drop of a hat. Her own freedom would be more limited, and that made her a little anxious.
She was feeling that right now, even. Charlie seemed to be taking an awfully long time to climb the staircase, and then the girl let out this sound between a growl and a howl, and it didn't sound like she'd gotten much of anywhere at all.
It sounded like she was hurting.
That sound settled over Mina and sank into her, and she took a few quick, soft steps closer and leaned around the corner like she was a spy, or like she was still back in the halls of National Summit trying to avoid detection from some teacher's pet or wannabe officer—heck, maybe Charlie herself—while en route to some new mission of mischief. It was good she was good at being subtle, too, because Charlie was standing there looking horrible, looking pained, and as Mina ducked back she felt this twisting guilt. She wasn't supposed to see this. No, more, she didn't deserve to see Charlie struggling.
She didn't deserve to see Charlie at all. She'd left Charlie to die.
She had to go. She had to turn around and head back the other way, walk a lap or something and put this out of her mind. It was better for Charlie, anyways. The girl probably would not want to be seen as she was. It would be awkward and difficult to disentangle afterwards, to go back to her strict regime of Charlie-avoidance. She could duck into the bathroom herself. Fifteen minutes would surely be enough time.
Mina took a step in that direction, away from the stairs.
And yet, a part of her cried out to her to turn around and walk back around the corner and offer her arm to Charlie and help her up the goddamned staircase. Wasn't that the better thing to do, to offer that little moment of kindness and dignity? It wasn't about Mina at all, even. It wasn't about what she wanted, or deserved. It was about someone hurting and frustrated in a way she could hear and feel and relate to, and if it was anyone else, if it was Kass or Buddy or Yvonne, Mina wouldn't have spared it a second thought.
She turned back around.
She could see it in her mind's eye. She would take just a handful of steps. She would act like she had just happened to be coming down the corridor. She would smile a little, but not too much, and offer her arm, and it would be easy. She would say, "Need a hand?" and then if Charlie said yes they would walk together to the top of the stairs and then Mina would make her excuses and take off, after maybe just a moment or two of chatting.
It would be so, so easy.
But Mina knew what the right thing to do was. She knew what sort of door she would be opening. She turned again, let common sense prevail just like she always did, packed those doubts and impulses away and slammed the top of the box.
And yet, just this once, she couldn't quite get the lid closed.
She was scared.
She smiled a little, but not too much, and offered her arm.
"Need a hand?"
Mina had ducked around a corner the second she'd realized who was coming out of the bathroom. Fortunately, she'd been quick, and had managed to escape detection. Now all she had to do was wait until Charlie cleared out and then she could be on her own way without fear of another unanticipated encounter.
Mina was both relieved and terrified to realize that Charlie was becoming mobile again. It had been an inevitability—well, she had told herself that there was no other option, that there was no way someone like Charlie could ever become forever dependent on others—but it still felt too soon somehow. Mina had gotten used to having run of the place, and now she would have to keep one eye open at all times, be ready to dip out of any room or hallway or stroll to the other side of the garden while rendering herself temporarily deaf at the drop of a hat. Her own freedom would be more limited, and that made her a little anxious.
She was feeling that right now, even. Charlie seemed to be taking an awfully long time to climb the staircase, and then the girl let out this sound between a growl and a howl, and it didn't sound like she'd gotten much of anywhere at all.
It sounded like she was hurting.
That sound settled over Mina and sank into her, and she took a few quick, soft steps closer and leaned around the corner like she was a spy, or like she was still back in the halls of National Summit trying to avoid detection from some teacher's pet or wannabe officer—heck, maybe Charlie herself—while en route to some new mission of mischief. It was good she was good at being subtle, too, because Charlie was standing there looking horrible, looking pained, and as Mina ducked back she felt this twisting guilt. She wasn't supposed to see this. No, more, she didn't deserve to see Charlie struggling.
She didn't deserve to see Charlie at all. She'd left Charlie to die.
She had to go. She had to turn around and head back the other way, walk a lap or something and put this out of her mind. It was better for Charlie, anyways. The girl probably would not want to be seen as she was. It would be awkward and difficult to disentangle afterwards, to go back to her strict regime of Charlie-avoidance. She could duck into the bathroom herself. Fifteen minutes would surely be enough time.
Mina took a step in that direction, away from the stairs.
And yet, a part of her cried out to her to turn around and walk back around the corner and offer her arm to Charlie and help her up the goddamned staircase. Wasn't that the better thing to do, to offer that little moment of kindness and dignity? It wasn't about Mina at all, even. It wasn't about what she wanted, or deserved. It was about someone hurting and frustrated in a way she could hear and feel and relate to, and if it was anyone else, if it was Kass or Buddy or Yvonne, Mina wouldn't have spared it a second thought.
She turned back around.
She could see it in her mind's eye. She would take just a handful of steps. She would act like she had just happened to be coming down the corridor. She would smile a little, but not too much, and offer her arm, and it would be easy. She would say, "Need a hand?" and then if Charlie said yes they would walk together to the top of the stairs and then Mina would make her excuses and take off, after maybe just a moment or two of chatting.
It would be so, so easy.
But Mina knew what the right thing to do was. She knew what sort of door she would be opening. She turned again, let common sense prevail just like she always did, packed those doubts and impulses away and slammed the top of the box.
And yet, just this once, she couldn't quite get the lid closed.
She was scared.
She smiled a little, but not too much, and offered her arm.
"Need a hand?"
Charlie wrapped her arm around the banister, clutching it in a death grip. She screwed her eyes up even harder, lips soundlessly moving. She could feel the sweat running down her face, clammy and sickly.
Another step—her foot thumped against the lip of the stair, failing to crest it.
Another step—she, couldn't, raise her leg, high enough.
Another.
Step.
She...she couldn't do it.
Her legs weren't listening to her. The muscle quivered as she tried to bring it up, holding in place, but no higher, not enough for another step.
Charlie didn't even have enough in her to swear.
There was movement, then sound, and then...
Then Mina Mashall.
Charlie opened her eyes, swallowed.
She didn't look at Mina. She didn't want her to see the tears.
"...Yeah."
Another step—her foot thumped against the lip of the stair, failing to crest it.
Another step—she, couldn't, raise her leg, high enough.
Another.
Step.
She...she couldn't do it.
Her legs weren't listening to her. The muscle quivered as she tried to bring it up, holding in place, but no higher, not enough for another step.
Charlie didn't even have enough in her to swear.
There was movement, then sound, and then...
Then Mina Mashall.
Charlie opened her eyes, swallowed.
She didn't look at Mina. She didn't want her to see the tears.
"...Yeah."
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MurderWeasel
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It wasn't quite to script.
Oh, the sentiment was the same one Mina had played out in her head. She'd thought Charlie might well say yes. It would be harder to deal with than a flat rejection, but if she'd expected to be rebuffed she wouldn't have even bothered with the attempt. Let it be clear, she was only here because Charlie needed her. Anything less, and Mina would've been halfway across the building by this point, nerves and anger and a sickening feeling writhing inside her somehow more than they were now. But what she hadn't expected was for Charlie to sound like she needed help. She'd thought the mask would be stronger.
Mina brought her forearm closer for Charlie to grip and did her level best to act like things were playing out exactly how she'd expected. That was right, wasn't it? That was respecting Charlie's personal autonomy, and the sanctity of her private feelings, and also it didn't open doors Mina wasn't entirely sure she could shove back closed again.
Her gaze was fixed on the staircase ahead of them. It really was kind of steep, wasn't it? Each white tiled step had a little of this non-slip sandpaper type coating that had always struck Mina as sort of pointless, like who had trouble walking up stairs? Now she was just mad that there wasn't an elevator nearby, even though she was pretty sure there was one somewhere in the building. What about the ADA? she thought, and then realized that didn't apply here.
Those moments came often, and every time one hit she felt more empty than excited.
"There's a bunch of stairs here, huh?" Mina said, and then felt like an idiot. Better to have just stayed silent.
She took one step, slow, ready to let Charlie dictate their pace, assuming she didn't change her mind and shake Mina off.
Oh, the sentiment was the same one Mina had played out in her head. She'd thought Charlie might well say yes. It would be harder to deal with than a flat rejection, but if she'd expected to be rebuffed she wouldn't have even bothered with the attempt. Let it be clear, she was only here because Charlie needed her. Anything less, and Mina would've been halfway across the building by this point, nerves and anger and a sickening feeling writhing inside her somehow more than they were now. But what she hadn't expected was for Charlie to sound like she needed help. She'd thought the mask would be stronger.
Mina brought her forearm closer for Charlie to grip and did her level best to act like things were playing out exactly how she'd expected. That was right, wasn't it? That was respecting Charlie's personal autonomy, and the sanctity of her private feelings, and also it didn't open doors Mina wasn't entirely sure she could shove back closed again.
Her gaze was fixed on the staircase ahead of them. It really was kind of steep, wasn't it? Each white tiled step had a little of this non-slip sandpaper type coating that had always struck Mina as sort of pointless, like who had trouble walking up stairs? Now she was just mad that there wasn't an elevator nearby, even though she was pretty sure there was one somewhere in the building. What about the ADA? she thought, and then realized that didn't apply here.
Those moments came often, and every time one hit she felt more empty than excited.
"There's a bunch of stairs here, huh?" Mina said, and then felt like an idiot. Better to have just stayed silent.
She took one step, slow, ready to let Charlie dictate their pace, assuming she didn't change her mind and shake Mina off.
She continued to avoid looking in Mina's direction, and it was only when a light touch brushed Charlie's arm that she realised her erstwhile classmate was reaching out to her. Though she told herself that there was no reason to be bothered, what she told herself and the flip-flop of her stomach had little in common. Not looking at Mina was childish. Crying was childish. What would her father--
Her eyes welled up further. She faked a cough, brought her arm up to her face, and attempted to disguise a rubbing of the tears as a shielding of the mouth. She doubted she was convincing.
As she took Mina's arm, Charlie began to look in her direction, but stopped halfway. She faced forward. Out of the edges of her view, she could see Mina standing there. Looking. Watching. Was she judging? Was she gloating? Charlie could almost imagine the self-satisfied little smirk on her face at the idea of seeing Charles Cade Jr. brought low. Mina was right. Charlie was wrong. They both had their lives exclusively due to the heroics of a third party, a third party Charlie had barely questioned as anything less than the enemy. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Charlie had felt it rattling around her mouth, dry and choking, lodging in her throat. Surely there was some ulterior motive? Surely it was aimed at undermining her country.
Her country.
That was... that was far too much to unpack at this moment. Not when she still had those godforsaken stairs ahead of her.
"Yeah," she answered Mina, more to say something than because the response held any value.
Charlie took a step, leaning heavily on Mina, perhaps more heavily than she expected. More heavily than Charlie wanted. Her foot wobbled in the air, her legs trembled. She crested the first step, put her foot down, nearly overbalanced.
She exhaled, shuddering. She did not look up to see how many more to go.
Her eyes welled up further. She faked a cough, brought her arm up to her face, and attempted to disguise a rubbing of the tears as a shielding of the mouth. She doubted she was convincing.
As she took Mina's arm, Charlie began to look in her direction, but stopped halfway. She faced forward. Out of the edges of her view, she could see Mina standing there. Looking. Watching. Was she judging? Was she gloating? Charlie could almost imagine the self-satisfied little smirk on her face at the idea of seeing Charles Cade Jr. brought low. Mina was right. Charlie was wrong. They both had their lives exclusively due to the heroics of a third party, a third party Charlie had barely questioned as anything less than the enemy. It was a bitter pill to swallow, and Charlie had felt it rattling around her mouth, dry and choking, lodging in her throat. Surely there was some ulterior motive? Surely it was aimed at undermining her country.
Her country.
That was... that was far too much to unpack at this moment. Not when she still had those godforsaken stairs ahead of her.
"Yeah," she answered Mina, more to say something than because the response held any value.
Charlie took a step, leaning heavily on Mina, perhaps more heavily than she expected. More heavily than Charlie wanted. Her foot wobbled in the air, her legs trembled. She crested the first step, put her foot down, nearly overbalanced.
She exhaled, shuddering. She did not look up to see how many more to go.
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MurderWeasel
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That first step was the longest.
It felt, for a time, like they would never make it. Mina had watched Charlie mustering her energy for it, probably observing less surreptitiously than she'd intended, and she'd seen the pain and conflict, and it had been disturbing. Once again, what threw her was that she was able to find confirmation of what she knew was there, because that was different from what she'd come to anticipate.
It wasn't unexpected for Charlie to be feeling this way. No doubt the girl was gripped by an indescribable cocktail of hurt and fear and frustration, and probably no small part of blame. After all, here was Mina, rolling up to lend a hand when it was easy. When it was a staircase, no problem, she was right there. When it was their lives on the line, though?
She was there right up until she wasn't.
Maybe she'd been wrong to do this. Maybe it felt like she was rubbing it in. Mina was fundamentally unhurt. Charlie was, it was clear, not doing as well yet even as Mina had initially surmised. Wasn't that just like Charlie, refusing to stay put when anyone reasonable wouldn't leave bed? And wasn't it also just like her to overstep, to get into trouble but power through regardless?
Mina was sure that Charlie would've made it up these stairs on her own eventually, even if it took all night. Even if she had to crawl, even if it tore all her wounds open again and set her recovery back by weeks. Charlie was strong like that, able to commit. Mina had never been able to commit to anything in her life except self-destruction, and she hadn't even managed that very well in the end, now had she?
Mina's gaze was fixed ahead, now that the two of them were moving, but out of the corner of her eye she kept watch over Charlie, and she paid attention to their interlinked arms, vigilant for any sign of a waver, for any hint that Charlie might fall. She wouldn't, she couldn't, but if she did then Mina would be there to hold her up, because then at least this one single thing wouldn't be her fault.
One step, and then another.
It felt, for a time, like they would never make it. Mina had watched Charlie mustering her energy for it, probably observing less surreptitiously than she'd intended, and she'd seen the pain and conflict, and it had been disturbing. Once again, what threw her was that she was able to find confirmation of what she knew was there, because that was different from what she'd come to anticipate.
It wasn't unexpected for Charlie to be feeling this way. No doubt the girl was gripped by an indescribable cocktail of hurt and fear and frustration, and probably no small part of blame. After all, here was Mina, rolling up to lend a hand when it was easy. When it was a staircase, no problem, she was right there. When it was their lives on the line, though?
She was there right up until she wasn't.
Maybe she'd been wrong to do this. Maybe it felt like she was rubbing it in. Mina was fundamentally unhurt. Charlie was, it was clear, not doing as well yet even as Mina had initially surmised. Wasn't that just like Charlie, refusing to stay put when anyone reasonable wouldn't leave bed? And wasn't it also just like her to overstep, to get into trouble but power through regardless?
Mina was sure that Charlie would've made it up these stairs on her own eventually, even if it took all night. Even if she had to crawl, even if it tore all her wounds open again and set her recovery back by weeks. Charlie was strong like that, able to commit. Mina had never been able to commit to anything in her life except self-destruction, and she hadn't even managed that very well in the end, now had she?
Mina's gaze was fixed ahead, now that the two of them were moving, but out of the corner of her eye she kept watch over Charlie, and she paid attention to their interlinked arms, vigilant for any sign of a waver, for any hint that Charlie might fall. She wouldn't, she couldn't, but if she did then Mina would be there to hold her up, because then at least this one single thing wouldn't be her fault.
One step, and then another.