Choking On Sapphires

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Alfie had kept his word so far. Every time Genevieve would open her eyes to escape the mixture of horror and fantasy that kept circling in her subconscious in her sleep he would be there.

When the memories of what had happened would become less fuzzy, would creep into her dreams, he'd be there holding her hands as she fought out of the drug-induced slumber she felt held prisoner in to keep her from hurting herself. She'd make unsettling noises during her fits. Feet kicking and arms twitching and flailing as her face pained and winced, eyes rolling under their purple lids in the misshaped sockets for the violence she was reliving.

Sometimes the dreams would be pleasant though. An escape to another timeline where none of this had happened. She'd make hums of approval in her sleep, nuzzling into her pillow and it would make Alfie sigh with relief. She deserved some respite from this reality he thought, and he was happy she could find it. If she stirred his hand would always find hers. Even on the rare occasion, he'd be able to fall asleep, back aching and twisted in the chair by her bed he'd keep hold of her as if someone could steal her away without him knowing again. When she would wake from her pleasant dreams he'd be there with his ruffled hair and haggard face, a soft glance she'd meet as he'd stroke her swollen hands. She liked to touch his face in these tender moments they shared. The back of her hand, the knuckle of a finger lightly against his scaled features and wiry beard. She'd give him an affectionate smile, one he'd seen in the mornings before her eyes would close again, him placing her hand back onto the bed as it started to slowly lower when she fell back into her peaceful distraction.

Within a few days with no seizures or signs of internal bleeding, she's given the go-ahead to be released. Instructions for her care are given to each Alfie, Claire, and Aggie as they were life-threateningly important. She was out of immediate harm from some things, but plenty could still go wrong. Alfie schedules home visits with the doctor ahead of time and even has Ollie hear the orders for her medicine. He was taking no chances at anyone that would be near her not knowing what the fuck they were doing.

With the state of her still being so very fragile, still multicolored from injuries and barely breathing without pain, although the morphine did help that part, she couldn't exactly walk out on crutches for her twisted ankle. Alfie commandingly insists on being the one to handle her. She did admittedly respond best to him. He has her taken out of the hospital by a back entrance via wheelchair. He wanted all the details of her situation to remain a secret for now. No one that didn't already know, needed to know how bad it was. He didn't want word getting out to the community they were a part of, her students, here children at the home. He wanted to keep that ideal version of her alive and well, as he still had faith she would return to it one day.

Despite the fog she found herself in, she tried to keep her head up as they drove out of town. There was a distinct smell to the air and as they were on their way out of the city, the swirls of smoke could be seen in the rear view mirror.

He sees her focusing, her nose twitching like a rabbit. She raises her hand, a single finger pointed behind them with a subtle tilt of her head in question as she could still not speak.

"The smoke?" He asks.

She moves the pointed finger up and down as an indicator for her answer of yes so she didn't have to nod.

"That was me, love." He says with a noisy exhale, turning her head from it gently. "I had everything he owned burnt down and everyone in it killed." He has no remorse and a fling of hunger for the day left in his eyes. "Seems me 'n Tommy's men burnt down near half of fuckin London. For you, love. No one is gonna mess wif a Solomons. 'Bout time us Jews started remindin' these goyim what we're capable of. Didn't survive this fuckin long through slavery and oppression to lay down on the cusp of birth of fuckin' Nazi's." He shakes his head, brow low and lips tight as his mind only thinks of more things to worry about. He closes his eyes before turning back to her and kisses her forehead. "I'd set the whole fuckin' world ablaze for ya love. If I had to have ya live on a fuckin' island somewhere to escape the flames yeah? Nuffin else but you and ours matters now, eh? Now you lay your head down darlin' and have ya little lie down and I'll keep ya steady 'til we get ya home, yeah?" He offers, having her place her head on his shoulder, his large hand cradling it and her hip like a baby in his arms. He rests his cheek against her hair and breaths her in, keeping his lips to her when he'd inevitably get emotional with her in his arms all small and helpless now. With the lack of sleep and the strain of the events of the past few days, he'd been a mess. He'd been moody, even more so than usual. He'd neglected himself entirely. Not eating or sleeping of his own doing, always thinking, always worrying. It was starting to take more of a toll on him than he would admit to himself. But he was blinded by his compulsion to protect his love. Following the advice to be delicate with her the best he could.