Rosie Wilson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
forthsofar) wrote2019-11-20 10:05 pm
forthsofar) wrote2019-11-20 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
I'd left him dreaming; a dangerous feat
Most mornings, she and Neil keep, if not the same hours, at least similar ones; close enough that there's sometimes a good-natured battle between them for the bathroom, or that it's easy for one or the other to make an extra few pieces of toast while they're putting together their own breakfast. And when they differ, when Neil's been out late or Rosie's spent the night at Nick's, they know each other well enough not to be concerned. Those quieter mornings can even be nice sometimes, a chance to settle into the day at the very start, to have some time without another person around.
All this to say, if it hadn't been for Beau, she might have simply gone to school and left him.
The dog had parked himself just outside Neil's closed bedroom door, something Rosie could only think of as concern in the low note of his whine. "Come away," she'd said, trying to call him over first with words, then the click of her tongue, then finally by taking hold of his collar and pulling. He resisted it all, settling the weight of his stocky body along the floor in a way that made him nearly immoveable. Finally, she'd tapped on the door, listening for the sound of anything within before she pushed it open. "Neil? I'm not trying to--oh."
This had happened before, but she'd been on the other side of it then. Now, it seemed it was her turn to be the one left behind. In a way, she's almost glad for the recentness of her experience, the way it keeps her fear mostly at bay. After looking up the number for Darrow General, she calls for an ambulance: Yes, someone else who won't wake up, please hurry if you can. As she waits, she sends texts to Sabrina, Nick, Charlie; calls Neil's work and makes up a plausible enough excuse as to why he'll be missing his scheduled shifts today and tomorrow. It's only what she knows he'd done for her, not long at all ago. When the paramedics arrive, Rosie follows them down, riding in the back of the ambulance and holding Neil's limp hand the entire way there. He's booked into a room, has an IV set up for hydration, and though the nurses encourage her to leave, claiming he'll be just fine in a matter of days, all she does is pull a chair over to his bedside and settle in.
Perhaps a bit shamefully, she doesn't think about Harry until just then. For all that he's been a little distant to her--and still she thinks it's awfully rude, the way he sometimes acts the few times he's been over when she's there, almost as though it's she who has no business being in her own flat--Rosie knows Neil cares about him. He deserves to know what's happened. Having brought Neil's phone with her just in case, she taps in his passcode, looking up Harry's number. In the hopes of avoiding confusion, she texts him from her own phone; a few short messages, all in quick succession.
Hello Mr Starks, it's Neil's friend Rosie, he's in hospital (unconscious but othrwise fine), wanted you to know
Room # is 387, have put you on visitor list if you'd like to stop by
Please don't worry, it's something the city does at times, very stupid
All this to say, if it hadn't been for Beau, she might have simply gone to school and left him.
The dog had parked himself just outside Neil's closed bedroom door, something Rosie could only think of as concern in the low note of his whine. "Come away," she'd said, trying to call him over first with words, then the click of her tongue, then finally by taking hold of his collar and pulling. He resisted it all, settling the weight of his stocky body along the floor in a way that made him nearly immoveable. Finally, she'd tapped on the door, listening for the sound of anything within before she pushed it open. "Neil? I'm not trying to--oh."
This had happened before, but she'd been on the other side of it then. Now, it seemed it was her turn to be the one left behind. In a way, she's almost glad for the recentness of her experience, the way it keeps her fear mostly at bay. After looking up the number for Darrow General, she calls for an ambulance: Yes, someone else who won't wake up, please hurry if you can. As she waits, she sends texts to Sabrina, Nick, Charlie; calls Neil's work and makes up a plausible enough excuse as to why he'll be missing his scheduled shifts today and tomorrow. It's only what she knows he'd done for her, not long at all ago. When the paramedics arrive, Rosie follows them down, riding in the back of the ambulance and holding Neil's limp hand the entire way there. He's booked into a room, has an IV set up for hydration, and though the nurses encourage her to leave, claiming he'll be just fine in a matter of days, all she does is pull a chair over to his bedside and settle in.
Perhaps a bit shamefully, she doesn't think about Harry until just then. For all that he's been a little distant to her--and still she thinks it's awfully rude, the way he sometimes acts the few times he's been over when she's there, almost as though it's she who has no business being in her own flat--Rosie knows Neil cares about him. He deserves to know what's happened. Having brought Neil's phone with her just in case, she taps in his passcode, looking up Harry's number. In the hopes of avoiding confusion, she texts him from her own phone; a few short messages, all in quick succession.
Hello Mr Starks, it's Neil's friend Rosie, he's in hospital (unconscious but othrwise fine), wanted you to know
Room # is 387, have put you on visitor list if you'd like to stop by
Please don't worry, it's something the city does at times, very stupid
no subject
"No," Harry says, and it's a moment before he continues. "There was that thing in the summer." That thing. That thing that got Neil abducted - and Rosie too, he knows. Neil still won't talk about it, but Harry knows it was bad.
And Harry? Did he fight, did he help, did he save the boy he claimed to hold so dear? No, Harry had been overcome by a black mood, and had done nothing much except lying in bed, drinking brandy and forgetting to take his pills. He's not proud of it, but he knows he can't really fight it.
no subject
"Of course," she says. "Lots of people got caught up in that. In one way or another."
no subject
"Neil won't talk about it," Harry observes as he watches Neil again. The boy had come back covered in bruises and looking as if he'd been tortured. It bothered Harry a lot that he didn't know what happened. It bothered him that he couldn't kill whoever was to blame for it.
no subject
Rosie glances down at the cup of tea still in her hand, her own memories of those terrifying few weeks filling her head. "I didn't even know until it was all over that he'd been taken too," she says quietly. "Up at the...dungeon, or castle, or whatever that horrible place was, they kept us separate. I was in something like a throne room, or a banquet hall. In a cage."
no subject
Her words get to Harry more than she probably thinks it might. He thinks of Neil in a cage, he thinks of the bruises and the misery he so obviously felt. It had been hard to come out of it. But Neil's misery had somehow cured Harry's black mood - as if he had no time for it any more. The pills might have something to do with it also, but he prefers to think it's Neil's doing.
"Let's not dwell on that, ey?" He suggests. "You all came out alive - thankfully."
no subject
She says it with as much confidence--and no small amount of hope--as she can manage.
no subject
Harry nods thoughtfully. "I hope so."