We, Charles and I, have included in our regular routines to visit the park a few times a week. Usually he insists on bringing some old bread and we spend part of the time there feeding the ducks, although he claims I'm impatient and feed them too large pieces which they might choke on. But no ducks have complained so far - or died for that matter.
We still bring the wheelchair, but leave it parked for longer and longer as he manages increasingly well with crutches only. Most days it feels like a small progress is done. Sometimes he can still experience pain in his legs and sometimes he still has nightmares, but overall there are more steps forwards than backwards. One of these days in the park, we walk down one of the small winding paths and we are both in the midst of a laughter after me telling about that Nan got caught in the local store trying to nick candy, but claimed she just wanted to taste before buying and got away with it. Unexpectedly we are interrupted.
"Molly?"
Startled, I feel like I must have jumped half a meter up in the air at the sound of the familiar voice which I did not expect here, but strangely enough my feet are rooted to the ground.
"Smurf?! What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same. I'm out for a jog, decided for another tour than usual for change of scenery."
His gaze at Charles is suspicious and far from friendly, and it is not that strange considering he thinks I work for an old crippled man. Even if he had been the least interested in my job, I would not have told him about Charles progress as it would have been difficult to explain without setting him straight about the age-misunderstanding.
"Mr. James, this is my boyfriend Sm... Dylan. Dylan, this is Mr. James, who I work for as you know."
"It's Captain James, actually" says Charles.
Why did he have to say that? He will just make things worse. I let go of his elbow which I was holding, take a step away from him to put some distance between us, but glance at him sideways. His jaw is clenched, he looks a bit tense. For some reason he does not seem to like Smurf. And Smurf certainly does not like him, which is understandable. Here he has been thinking I'm spending my days with an old sickly man and here is Charles. Even when he leans on the crutches he is towering over Smurf, so much taller and more well-built than he is, his perfectly chiseled features a mocking contrast to Smurf's pretty common ones.
"Captain James!" Smurf spits the words out with disdain. "So, this is who you are working for?"
"I have told you that."
"You have told me you work for a crippled man in wheelchair."
"Crippled was your word."
I shouldn't have said that, I know it will only provoke him further.
"You know what I mean! You have been fucking economical with the truth, haven't you?!"
I'm not sure what to say to that, because the truth is that I have not been exactly truthful. He continues;
"He's not old! And I don't see any wheelchair?!"
"It's over there." I nod in the direction where it stands, deserted.
"He can fucking walk Molly! It seems like he doesn't need a wheelchair. So why does he need you?"
He says it with an alarmingly calm, icy voice but I can see that he is furious. His face is tense and white, his ears red and that is never a good sign.
"You don't have to talk like I'm not here."
If possible, Charles deep voice is even calmer an icier than Smurf's. "And, actually, I do need her. I can only walk short distances still and I can't drive. She drives me back and f..."
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A Suitable Companion
FanfictionCaptain Charles James is wheel-chair bound after an accident during a military training exercise and reluctantly seeks assistance. Molly Dawes is a bit lost in life and despite that she is not looking for a job she suddenly finds herself employed by...