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undergrounds2016-02-13 11:08 am
stauncherhearted) wrote in undergrounds2016-02-13 11:08 am
Entry tags:
but you don't dare cry (open)
[Forward-dated to February 27th]
---
They said she fell down the stairs, that she'd hit her head on one of the steps and been knocked out. It was the explanation the hospital had been given, and for the most part, her injuries were consistent. Fresh bruises and scrapes, ice on the steps, and a broken wrist. Even with drugs in her system, Nancy knew better than to argue and explain that, no, she hadn't fallen down the stairs, but a thousand-year-old fae had gotten more than angry with her.
The nurses would have checked her into psychiatric, and she had no intentions of going there.
The truth was far more unbelievable then the lie that the boys' had come up with when they brought her to Accident and Emergency. They'd left her, and Nancy didn't blame them, because like her, most of them didn't legally exist, and what kid wants to stick around in A&E while waiting for her to wake-up? They could have gotten in trouble for bringing her, if she wasn't so sure that it had been Fagin himself to order her into A&E. He was always protecting his investments, even when he was landing a blow across the back of her head.
After all, how dare she reject his protection? He was an old man who loved her dearly, and he'd told her that. He loved her, cared for her like a father (no father would ever do the things you did to me!- come now, Nancy, my dear, that's no way to talk!) and would do anything for her. Anything, including violence.
He always claimed her cared, and god damn if she didn't believe him most of the time. Fagin was, as she'd told Norrell, all she had. He'd raised her, but he'd taken her from her mother in order to do that. But he was still the man who raised her. There was a level of loyalty there that she could't remove, no matter what. Maybe some day, but that day wasn't today. Or even next week. Hell, maybe it would never come.
By the time Nancy's awake, they've got her wrist in a cast, and already bandaged up some of the worst of her injuries, stitching up the gash in her skull from where she'd 'hit a step'. They'd done blood work, noticing the high levels of alcohol, which certainly explained falling down a whole flight of stairs, and the low-levels of iron, low red blood cell count. Anemic, they'd called her, and immediately got her on various medications and IVs.
By the time anyone from outside of Fagin's gang knows she's in the hospital, he's already visited, apologized ad-nauseam. But she has to know that she can't just throw out his care like that, because it's not how it works. She's still his. But if she'd rather have a new lord take care of her… I can protect you, Nancy. You don't know Eames like I do, my dear, he's up to no good, power-hungry and he'll kill you when you're no longer of use to him. I didn't want to hurt you, but you see, my dear? He wasn't there for you. But who took you to the hospital, hmm? as if they hadn't been at each other's throats just hours before. As if she hadn't lunged at him, and he hadn't thrown her across the room with the wave of his hand.
As if he hadn't threatened to kill her, to prove how little Eames could do to protect her. Besides, I'm your father, Nancy my dear, he'd said, stroking her hair out of her eyes with a gnarled hand and a surprisingly gentle touch. that's something no magic, no fae, can touch. Everyone knows who you are, that you're my girl. If you don't want my protection, then you don't have it. But remember that, when he's run out of use for you, my dear. But don't forget your father, your old friend Fagin. The boys, think of them, my dear. You'll be back, I know you will. Once you learn, of course, of course, that no protection means no help. Get well soon, Nance. He'd pressed his wrinkled lips to her forehead and left her without another word. He was up to something, but with the drugs in her system, she could hardly think of what it was.
All she could really think of, when she laid her head back on the sterile, white pillow, was that February needed to be over, and that March couldn't possibly be any worse.
---
They said she fell down the stairs, that she'd hit her head on one of the steps and been knocked out. It was the explanation the hospital had been given, and for the most part, her injuries were consistent. Fresh bruises and scrapes, ice on the steps, and a broken wrist. Even with drugs in her system, Nancy knew better than to argue and explain that, no, she hadn't fallen down the stairs, but a thousand-year-old fae had gotten more than angry with her.
The nurses would have checked her into psychiatric, and she had no intentions of going there.
The truth was far more unbelievable then the lie that the boys' had come up with when they brought her to Accident and Emergency. They'd left her, and Nancy didn't blame them, because like her, most of them didn't legally exist, and what kid wants to stick around in A&E while waiting for her to wake-up? They could have gotten in trouble for bringing her, if she wasn't so sure that it had been Fagin himself to order her into A&E. He was always protecting his investments, even when he was landing a blow across the back of her head.
After all, how dare she reject his protection? He was an old man who loved her dearly, and he'd told her that. He loved her, cared for her like a father (no father would ever do the things you did to me!- come now, Nancy, my dear, that's no way to talk!) and would do anything for her. Anything, including violence.
He always claimed her cared, and god damn if she didn't believe him most of the time. Fagin was, as she'd told Norrell, all she had. He'd raised her, but he'd taken her from her mother in order to do that. But he was still the man who raised her. There was a level of loyalty there that she could't remove, no matter what. Maybe some day, but that day wasn't today. Or even next week. Hell, maybe it would never come.
By the time Nancy's awake, they've got her wrist in a cast, and already bandaged up some of the worst of her injuries, stitching up the gash in her skull from where she'd 'hit a step'. They'd done blood work, noticing the high levels of alcohol, which certainly explained falling down a whole flight of stairs, and the low-levels of iron, low red blood cell count. Anemic, they'd called her, and immediately got her on various medications and IVs.
By the time anyone from outside of Fagin's gang knows she's in the hospital, he's already visited, apologized ad-nauseam. But she has to know that she can't just throw out his care like that, because it's not how it works. She's still his. But if she'd rather have a new lord take care of her… I can protect you, Nancy. You don't know Eames like I do, my dear, he's up to no good, power-hungry and he'll kill you when you're no longer of use to him. I didn't want to hurt you, but you see, my dear? He wasn't there for you. But who took you to the hospital, hmm? as if they hadn't been at each other's throats just hours before. As if she hadn't lunged at him, and he hadn't thrown her across the room with the wave of his hand.
As if he hadn't threatened to kill her, to prove how little Eames could do to protect her. Besides, I'm your father, Nancy my dear, he'd said, stroking her hair out of her eyes with a gnarled hand and a surprisingly gentle touch. that's something no magic, no fae, can touch. Everyone knows who you are, that you're my girl. If you don't want my protection, then you don't have it. But remember that, when he's run out of use for you, my dear. But don't forget your father, your old friend Fagin. The boys, think of them, my dear. You'll be back, I know you will. Once you learn, of course, of course, that no protection means no help. Get well soon, Nance. He'd pressed his wrinkled lips to her forehead and left her without another word. He was up to something, but with the drugs in her system, she could hardly think of what it was.
All she could really think of, when she laid her head back on the sterile, white pillow, was that February needed to be over, and that March couldn't possibly be any worse.
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"Guess everyone knows I'm in here. Who told you?" Her money was on Charley.
Her smile was pathetic as she took in her best friend. "You didn't sneak any gin in those flowers, did you?" She could use a drink, medications be damned. She won't mention that she wouldn't have told Kenzi, Kenzi or anyone really. She didn't need people worrying over her.
Still, she reached out her other arm for a soft hug. "Hey, thanks for coming."
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The smile Kenzi returned was equally sad. They were certainly a pair weren't they? At least Nancy was still there for her. At least she was there for Nancy still. Kenzi would have gladly traded anything to still be here.
Kenzi went in quickly for the hug, making sure to stop herself from breathing in as she did just in case she lost it being so close to someone's neck like this.
She'd like to think her self-control was pretty good for a newborn but she'd eaten before coming just to be safe.
"Don't be silly. Someone has to sneak you contraband."
Kenzi reaches into her purse for a flask of gin. It's habit at this point in her life, to always have some alcohol on her. And she thought it'd be nice to let Nancy have some of her favorite.
"Hide it under your mattress. They won't find it there."
She'd been in and out of hospitals when she was still living with her folks.
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Nancy returned the hug, turning her head away slightly so that Kenzi wouldn't get hungry. It was a small relief they'd already taken down her blood bag. Sorry, Kenzi. No afternoon snacks for you. Or evening snacks. Whatever snack time it was.
"Oh my gosh, you didn't!" She reaches for the gin, and smiles, uncapping it and taking a nice long drink. "Oh thank god. Even Eames wouldn't bring me any." Because fae could be super unreasonable, and she wasn't going to ask Fagin to bring her some. He'd poison it at this point. Tamper with it so she was stuck with him.
"Don't need to tell me twice. Seriously, Kenz, you're a saint." Capping the gin, she reached back with her good hand and sandwiched it between the headboard and the mattress. She'd rather be drunk than high any day of the week.
"How've you been holding up?" She needed to, now that she thought about it, speak with Lord Coward again. He'd gone through the same thing Kenzi did, going from witch to vampire, and she thought that maybe he'd have a thing or two to say on the subject.
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Who cares how it might react with the morphine? They drank like fish, it was basically their norm. Well. Used to be her norm.
"Sleeping upside down now. It'd be pretty weird if I couldn't turn into a bat."
Joking was how she processed things. Kept herself from losing her mind.
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"weird, I thought you'd be more of a coffin fan."
Nancy, too, could joke, even if it made her feel uneasy. Kenzi was a vampire. And it was all her fault. Really, she'd just rather drink and forget it all.
"I've got a friend I think you should meet. He's real great." He's the police commissioner.
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Kenzi likes the back and forth they have, but there's something she can't get off her mind... and as great of an actress Kenzi is she's shit at hiding her feelings from her closest friend.
"Ooo, really. A 'friend' huh?"
She winks and nudges the air instead of Nancy - it'd be better not to injure her while she's visiting.
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"Shut up,' she tells her, because that's the way it goes. "He's a client of mine, actually." She glances towards the door and then back at Kenzi. "Lord Colin Coward." The police commissioner. If you haven't learned yet, he's a vampire.
She'll let that sink in before continuing on. Because that's big news on like, 12 levels.
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Her eyes do widen a bit at the name drop. She's heard of this guy. "Lord Coward?"
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"Police commissioner. Very important sort." For the last sentence she put on her best Upper Class Twit accent. She wasn't sure however, if she should tell Kenzi what she hopped they spoke about, or simply keep it a secret until she met Coward. But it had to be delicious information that he was a vampire and regularly feeding off of Nancy.
Especially as prostitution of any sort, and pretty much everything Kenzi did, were illegal.
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Kenzi snickers at her 'uppercrust' accent. It's amazingly snobbish, and one of her favorites.
"Lookit you gettin' the po-po in your pocket."
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Leave it to Kenzi to be extremely blunt about what she's pretty much done. Po-po in her pocket. "Just Lord Coward," she explains. "Too bad my approach with him didn't work on Norrell." She shudders at the memory. She'd already told Kenzi about the kidnapping by his manservant, the questions about Fagin. Maybe she should have turned him in when she'd had the chance.
Maybe.
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"Eaugh. Hate that guy."
He'd cost her one too many good paychecks.
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"Anyway, I'll have you know I've never slept with Coward. So don't think that of him." She did want to protect his reputation, after all.
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Kenzi might sound reluctant, but her short smile betrays that attitude as she reaches up to Nancy's forehead to brush away any hair that may have fallen in her face.
"I'll come back tomorrow and curl your hair, kay-kay?"
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"And I'll take you for drinks when I get out if you wash my hair for me." Her usual curls hung limply around her pallid face.
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Kenzi dug through her purse for a ponytail holder and a strip of cloth for a headband as she sat closer to Nancy's head so she could gather her pretty hair into a nice loose bun at the crown of her head and take whatever fell out and put it back with the strip.
"There. Now you're perfect."
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Seriously, she's just so pleased with it that she can't even refuse to accept the complement. Instead, she blinks and smiles fondly up at her best friend. She's not even surprised she has cloth in her purse. Not at all. "Thank you, Kenzi. I love you."
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For a moment, Kenzi doesn't think about being careful and goes in for a hug that she tries to make gentle so she doesn't aggravate Nancy's injuries further.
She's a little proud of herself that she doesn't instantly try to chomp down for a snack and backs away with a little bit of a watery smile.
"Love you too."
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"Good. I'll be out of here soon, with any luck. Then things'll get back to normal." Their new normal.
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Kenzi scoffs theatrically and rolls her eyes.
"Since when were we normal?"
She liked being a weirdo!
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She takes pride in being a weirdo and damnit - Nancy should to.
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