adifferentlife: (what?)
Sybil Crawley ([personal profile] adifferentlife) wrote2014-06-23 08:36 pm

Home Plot - Part 3

There had been little sleep for Sybil that night, unable to stop her mind from racing. Each word that was spoken at dinner played over in her head, followed quickly by her stilted conversation with Henri and then the one with her sister. When the maid comes to wake her she's already up and dressed, sitting at her dressing table and counting the minutes until she can go down for breakfast and then to the hospital.

Breakfast was a rushed affair as well, nodding and answering when asked a question and grateful that Mary was still abed. When she excuses herself she declines the offer of a ride into the village, wanting the walk to clear her head. This is her home, and yet she feels out of place. Has she changed so much? Will they be here forever, and will she have to find a way to make this her life again? These are the things that she wonders on the way to the hospital, thoughts that deserve more time than she has to dedicate to them. There's a transport there which means a morning of blood and sweat as they take in patients and get them clean and settled.

Sybil rushes toward Henri, barely making eye contact as she hurries to help him settle a patient. "Good morning."
jaimemieux: (pic#7178222)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-06-24 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
“Syb- Alors, I mean Lady S-“ Combeferre realized abruptly that Doctor Clarkson was staring hard at him from across the room, and finally settled upon a murmured, “Miss Crawley,” before returning to the matter at hand.

Good God, had he ever been so-tongue tied? Combeferre had only a few too-brief hours of sleep behind him as well, having stayed up half the night, staring at the low ceiling of the inn where he had found lodgings, as though there, amongst the stains and grit, he might find the answers he sought. Who was he in this strange place? Not Henri Combeferre, medical student and radical, nor even Henri Combeferre, French teacher, scientist, and lover of Miss Sybil Crawley. Instead, he was an amalgamation of things, none of them quite him: military doctor, stranded Frenchman, poor dinner guest, friendless foreigner. The Irishman, Branson, who had driven him home, had called him bold for what he had said at dinner the night before, but he only felt foolish now. Foolish, and a little afraid. What would he do if he lost Sybil in this strange place? If he found himself truly alone?

Thankfully, there was enough work around the hospital to keep both of them busy late into the morning, and Henri and Sybil exchanged only polite words and professional questions as the hours passed. It was midday when, suddenly, the found themselves alone. Henri was washing his hands in a basin and turned, only to find her standing there.

“Sybil.”

Only a handful of hours had passed, but he felt like he hadn’t called her by her Christian name in ages.
jaimemieux: (Default)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-06-28 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Combeferre held Sybil tightly, and for a few moments, he worries fell away. If they had each other, then surely nothing else could matter. But dread settled in his stomach too quickly for him to grasp firmly onto that hope, and when he pulled away, his expression was grave.

He swallowed. “Sybil, last night…” But what could he say? He wasn’t sorry for what he said, though he wished he hadn’t upset Sybil so. He was worried about her, but a bit hurt as well, though perhaps he had no right to be. “If God were truly just, the earth would have swallowed me whole,” he finally said with a touch of a smile. That, at least, was true.
jaimemieux: (As we observe the stars)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-07-12 07:11 pm (UTC)(link)
“They are your family. I would not expect…” But he trailed off, shaking his head. The truth was, he was a little disappointed in Sybil, though he dared not admit as such. He had no right to demand, somehow, that she choose him over her own blood.

He nodded a little. “I hope there was no more trouble for you after I left?"
jaimemieux: (As we observe the stars)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-07-19 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Combeferre nodded, chewing on his lip. "I suppose that's reasonable enough. And no one has questioned my story here." Who would believe the truth, anyway? Whatever tale they concocted to explain their presence here, it would sound more likely than the reality.

He hesitated. "Sybil, some of the men who arrived today... Their burns come from gas, I understand?" Though he did not blame a single family, no matter how privileged, for this war that he only vaguely understood, what he had seen today, the pain and suffering, had brought last night's opulence into stark relief. The hospital was well-equipped, but still morphine ran low, and beds were increasingly few.

Henri took a breath. He did not want to bring his disagreement with Sybil's family into their discussion again, and if he continued with these thoughts, they would surely lead in that direction.
jaimemieux: (Default)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-07-21 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Combeferre looked away, for a moment unable to hide his own pain and regret at all he had seen here. “I have read, of course,” he said softly. “I have heard about the suffering of this war. But seeing it is another matter.” He looked at Sybil hesitantly. “Have you seen other hospitals?”
jaimemieux: (We must not be selfish)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-07-22 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
“Evil men exist in the world. And worse yet, many good men will do evil things, if the circumstances are right. But I would not have guessed-“ Though he knew they should keep their distance on the off-chance that someone came upon them, Henri reached for her then, wrapping her in a fierce embrace, hating to see that pain in her eyes. “I didn’t know,” he had to admit. “But there were a lot of things I didn’t know.”
jaimemieux: (Why not wait for dawn?)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-07-27 03:19 am (UTC)(link)
“Here there are barriers that I let myself forget.” Combeferre exhaled softly. There were things of which he would rather not speak, but if they were to be blessed with so few opportunities to see each other in private, when else could he do it? “Sybil, if we are to find ourselves here permanently, I fear our situation becomes… precarious. I do not wish to lose you.” The last he added swiftly, almost stumbling over his words.
jaimemieux: (Default)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-08-03 04:05 am (UTC)(link)
“Branson.” Combeferre had met a number of people in the last wild twenty-four hours, and had forgotten many of their names as swiftly as he had been told them. But Tom Branson had stuck, if only because he had seen in the man a kindred spirit of sorts. He had even wondered if he might seek the man out, cultivate at least one friendship in this strange world that seemed right and familiar. “I- I think I met him,” he said after an uncomfortable silence.
jaimemieux: (To be free)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-08-15 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
“Of course. Of course we are.” Henri clasped Sybil’s hands fiercely and brought them to his lips. What a fool he was, riddled with petty jealousies, when he might lose the woman he loved entirely. But it was easy to be jealous, even for a sensible mind, when his fear of losing her had never felt so fierce.

He had thought before of marrying Sybil - had thought about it quite a bit, in fact. But in Darrow, the idea had been as idyllic and easy to contemplate as their nights spent together. Here, it overwhelmed him. “I would marry you in an instant, you must know that. But such would only compound our troubles, pull us apart more swiftly. I have nothing-“ Henri took a breath, straightening. “I will not always have nothing. I will find a way for us, I promise you that."
jaimemieux: (To be free)

[personal profile] jaimemieux 2014-08-18 03:17 am (UTC)(link)
“More than anything,” Henri assured her quickly. “I love you so. I am-“ Damn it all, he was doing this all wrong. He did not want to hurt her, and God only knew how desperately he wanted her by his side, but they had to think sensibly. “We can work, yes, but Sybil- I must have something besides a room at an inn and a patron who is already halfway to regretting his kindness to me. I fear Doctor Clarkson will turn me out eventually, and then what?” He took a breath. “I only need some time to get my affairs in order. Please understand, Sybil."