but you don't dare cry (open)

[stauncherhearted]

[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.

Comments

[falsify]

Eames arrives not long after Fagin - news travels fast when you know the right people - and Nancy can probably hear the scuffle from her room. A lot of banging, some harsh words and a nurse shouting at them (mostly Eames) to break it up. Normally Eames wouldn't be quite so volatile, but over the last few months his temper has been pretty much constantly on the edge of boiling over. And honestly? Smacking Fagin in the face feels a lot better than Eames thought it would. He should've done it sooner.

After a moment to straighten his clothes up and let Fagin know he'll be by later to talk, Eames comes into the room. He pulls a chair over to sit by her bed and frowns as he tries to assess the damage. The old man's always been possessive of things that are his - truth be told it's a flaw the two of them have in common, though Eames likes to pretend he's above these issues of their kind - it would've been foolish not to see this kind of thing coming. Though he refrains from telling Nancy he warned her Fagin would be mad.

Instead, he brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and presses a thumb to her chin, touch gentle as he tries to direct her gaze up to his. "How bad is it?" He asks, voice soft but serious all the same.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude probably isn't the person that she most would like to find sitting at her bedside at a time like this. They hardly know each other, beyond the rather unpleasant exchange, watching her friend die in her living room and then rise once more as a creature of the undead. At his hand. Though at least he hadn't killed her in the first place. Small blessings. But he's willing to bet that she's probably not a fan at this point, regardless.

Still. Nancy is one of Kenzi's best friends, and Kenzi is his, and thus Nancy is -- to some extent at least. And he needs to know just what sort of mess she has fallen into. Because 'fallen down the stairs' she most certainly has not.

"How do you feel?" he asks, settling himself in something of a pose, as he is wont to do, even in such a place as this.

[occultdisciple]

He doesn't need permission in a public building like that. It's something he knows all too well, but he still knocks on the open door, dressed in a business suit that suggests a bit more of a Victorian fashion sense than most people wear. Still, it's nothing terribly remarkable.

"May I come in?" he asks quietly, offering a bit of a smile.

How he knows... Well. A man has to have his secrets, especially a vampire. But he has connections, and there are a very limited amount of people who he keeps a few sources on specifically. Nancy happens to be one of them. And, well, he's been around long enough to know that when a girl who technically doesn't exist falls down some stairs, that's usually not the entirety of the truth.

[kleptofaeniac]

Kenzi has to wait until after dark to come see her, and only knows about this because one of Fagin's boys bothered to text her since he knew she and Nancy were like sisters. Kenzi has to wonder how long it would have taken for her to find out that Nancy was hurt like this without him. Maybe until Nancy was back at her apartment? Until she could walk around without looking like she was in pain?

"Hey honey."

Kenzi brought flowers; violets to be exact. It's not exactly a flower known for healing physical injuries but her mother used to make poultices from it for cuts and bruises. Granted, they weren't as serious as Nancy's were.

[specifiercity]

Arthur arrives later the same day that Eames texts him. He has a small bouquet of colourful flowers in his hand, which he sets on the table by her bed with a sigh. He's a practical man who doesn't understand the point of flowers, but it's a sentimental thing and it's for her, not for him. Something to look at and to focus on after he leaves, perhaps. For now, he stands behind the chair at her bedside, working his jaw; he's never been good at making people feel better, being reassuring, all of that stuff.

"Hey," is what he settles for.

[acrookedchild]

Abigail doesn't get there as soon as she'd like. There's a lot that needs doing, so, even when she heard about Nancy from Kenzi, she hadn't gotten to go right away. Still, she's intent on making up for that. Even though she doesn't mean for any of the hallway conversation to carry into the room.

"She's a friend of mine, Doctor. I insist. Bill that address."

"Miss Widdowson--"

She breezes past him, ignoring whatever he was about to say, to knock on the open door before stepping in and promptly closing it on him. Then, she turns to give Nancy a bit of a smile. Something almost careful.

"Hey. How're they treating you?"