That rainy afternoon, Treves intercepted Saoirse almost in a hurry so she wouldn't enter the London. Frowning, she waited before asking anything. That couldn't be good.
"Saoirse, we have to talk."
She had a bad feeling about this...
"Is he all right? Did something terrible happen to him?"
"That's what we're gonna talk about."
Saoirse stopped on her tracks.
"Is he dead? My God, he is dead, isn't he?"
Treves gave her a look full of concern and pity.
"No, Saoirse. He is not. He's fine. At least, physically."
"What do you mean, "physically"?" Treves realized what she was about to do and held her arm, gently.
"He doesn't want to see you. I'm sorry."
Saoirse couldn't hide her bewilderement.
"Excuse me? I wanna hear that from him!"
"He asked me to tell you that himself."
"Oh, is that so? Did he care to say why? Or was it way too overwhelming for his delicate senses?"
"He decided that was enough for you to know."
"Oh, indeed? How considerate of him!"
"Saoirse, please. You know he loves you. Respect his wishes. I'm sure he'll call you when the time is right. For him. All right?"
"All right? All right my ass," she thought, but felt like talking it out loudly. If John thought he'd keep her in the dark, oh he was sorely mistaken!
Saoirse turned around to leave, while the doctor started distracting himself with his schedule and Mothershead's ill-humor.
Then, she passed by them running like mad, not even glancing behind. She heard several people calling "Hey, girl!", "Saoirse!" and "get back here!".
There was no time to give them the finger. Perhaps later.
She didn't even deign on knocking on John's door. That if he was still there. What if he was really dead and the doctor couldn't work up the courage to tell her?
But she had no time to argue with her own mind. She burst into his room and there he was, calmly reading on his armchair.
She was so infuriated and indignant that all she could utter was a useless sentence. Or more than one.
"What the hell, John! I-I thought you were dead! And here you are, curling up with a good book??"
He looked as surprised as she did. Maybe more.
"I was so scared!" she started crumbling, like she never had. "Why on Earth would you do that to me??"
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, Saoirse. But I think we shouldn't see each other anymore."
"What? Why?"
She was screeching and holding back tears. He was feeling horrible.
"It's better this way."
"Excuse me? Where's that coming from? I think I deserve better than this! And why aren't you even looking at me?? What's wrong?"
"I don't want to tell you. I want you to leave. Please."
She gave an exasperated sigh.
"God damn it, John! You were normal yesterday before I left!"
"I've never been "normal", Saoirse."
"Fuck it! Have it your way. I'll find out. Don't think you can pretend nothing happened this time!"
She slammed the door, fuming, and crossed paths with Nora, who was on her way to John's room.
"Not so fast, little rat," Saoirse said, grabbing the nurse's arm none too gently. "What happened here while I was away? Ye'd better just tell me, then I won't have to find a way to rip it out of ye."
The Red was scary and angry, if her accent getting thicker was any indication. Nora felt like she was staring at Cathubodua herself. Except the nurse didn't know this detail, she could only feel the Red's powerful presence.
"I am no rat," said the Nurse, pulling her arm away, roughly, "And it was Sonny Jim. Sonny Jim happened," replied the brunette.
"Sonny Jim? The night porter?"
"You know him?" Nora asked, surprised.
"I threw him out of me bar twice for indecent exposure. He's a very disturbed person. It's no wonder John was not himself! Gosh, I wonder what he did to him..."
Then Nora realized... That woman loved him! Perhaps even more than she did. Saoirse seemed to be hurting as much as John was, if not more. Nora knew the Red was about to risk her own integrity for a man. Not even the nurse could do that, no matter how much in love she fancied herself to be. Saoirse's display of loyalty was something only soulmates could have towards one another.
"Thank you, Nurse. I'll find him."
"Call me "Nora". And make him see hell, Red. Good luck."
"Thank you," she smiled, amused. "I'll do my best, but please, call me Saoirse," the Red gave Nora an accomplice smile that was reflected upon the other's face.
YOU ARE READING
And She Moved Through the Fair
ChickLitJohn Merrick finally found solace in the London Hospital. But did he really? Somewhere in Whitechapel, somewhere not very far from him, someone craves that something - or somebody - will bring some comfort to her sorrowful heart... A fanfic fit for...