She stared out the window into the cold, gray winter morning hugging herself to keep warm. Her hair was ragged and hung down about her face. She knew without looking that she was pale. She'd lost weight too. No longer did her curves look full, like they belonged. They made her look ill proportioned and they looked out of place on her sickly frame. There was a knock on the door and she responded with a dull "Come in" without turning from the window.
A handsome man, about nineteen entered. His skin was a dark, revealing his Indian blood. He had dark curly hair and dark brown eyes. He had ridiculously long lashes as well. Dark half moons beneath his eyes betrayed his exhaustion and he looked weary.
He was slender but had the strength of ten men, she knew. He leaned against the door frame, resting his head against the wood, as if it was the only thing solid in his constantly shifting world.
She attempted a smile. He looked down and then back up at her, concern in his face. He was studying her with an air of someone who wouldn't know quite what to do in his situation. But she still saw his unwavering loyalty, and something else she couldn't identify in the depths of his eyes.
She sniffed, burying the ache of tears building up in her throat. She knew that she was such a burden to him. She wished she could give him what he needed from her. But the feelings weren't there right now…they were broken. Weaving her fingers together she looked at the slender bone thin appendages for a long time before looking up at him and speaking.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, as if that would fix everything. Her lip began to tremble. She bit it hard, tasted blood, and buried her face in her hands to keep him from seeing her fall apart.
He was kneeling in front of her in a second, wrapping comforting arms around her. He whispered to her in a calming voice, saying that it would be alright and it wasn't her fault. She shook her head against his shoulder, tears pouring freely now.
"It…is my…f-fault," she wailed pressing her face into his shoulder. "He's…gone…horrible…all my fault."
"Meraa mitra yahaan aaiye," he murmured in Hindi, saying the words he'd whispered to her so long ago in comfort. Come here, my friend.
She leaned into him completely for support. He grabbed her up in his arms, holding her against him, before standing and sitting on the edge of her bed with her in his lap. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and wrapped her arms around his neck. Gently, in a rich melodic voice, he sang to her in Hindi an old childrens rhyme.
She relaxed, her sobs reduced to hiccups. He gently stroked the still soft strands of her golden red hair. He sighed when he felt her relax completely against him, her breath even. Her face looked troubled, her brow furrowed and her lips in a slight frown. He knew that nightmares haunted her sometimes still. He laid her out on the bed, covering her with a blanket.
He sat watching her. After a few minutes he heard a knock on the door and listened as a maid opened it up. Voices floated up the stairs but were to soft for him to hear what was said. The soft clicking of feet coming up the stairs announced the arrival of the guests.
Utterly unable to think of who it might be, he stood and waited. Two young women, around the ages of seventeen and eighteen appeared in the door way. Good friends of hers, he remembered suddenly. They'd all gone to Spence Academy together and had stayed close after wards.
One was tall, slender and beautiful. She had white blonde hair and grey eyes that now surveyed the young woman lying on the bed sadly, but at any other time would've been twinkling with mischief and adventure. The other woman was a bit pudgy with mouse brown hair caught up modestly and watery brown eyes. She was rather plain under close inspection but had an inner beauty that shone through to cover this very well.
The blond spoke first, in a smoky voice. "How is she? Last time we came to call she wouldn't even speak," she said hoarsely, removing her hat and hanging it up on a hat rack to her left.
The other spoke next, demure and soft. "She kept bursting out in tears. Nothing we said could console her."
He spoke, nodding. "She's doing better but not by much. Thomas has left for work already. He left a bit of laudanum but I'm scared to give it to her. You remember what happened to her father. I'm scared that addiction might run in her family."
The blonde spoke again. "A very grounded and appropriate thing to be frightened about." She patted him on the shoulder. "It'll be alright. She'll come out of it soon."
The quiet one spoke, a little more strongly this time. "You should get some rest. We know that this…incident has affected you too. Go to bed. We'll watch her."
He nodded, grateful and slipped out of the room. The blond walked over to the bed, her blue gown rustling as she moved. The other stayed just inside the door, considering the sick woman with wet eyes.
"Oh whatever are we to do about her? She's obliviously grieving. You'd think that she'd be able to get over it quicker, seeing as how she's already been through this type of thing with her mother. " she croaked fighting back tears.
The blonde nodded, looking suddenly cross. "Well, I suppose that if you're father had died, you'd be a bit hysterical as well, hmm?" she snapped.
"Well I haven't got a father to cry over, now have I? Nor a mother. I'm an orphan or have you forgotten?" the other snapped back.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap," she sighed. "I just don't know what to do. I always have the answers. But here I'm bloody lost."
The other woman blushed a bit upon hearing the curse word. "I think we're all a bit lost on how to handle the situation. Look at her. Poor dear, she's heartbroken. None of us really understand what she's going through."
The blond nodded to the doorway, where he'd just left. "He does. He lost his father and mother when he was six. And then his brother later on. He has no family at all. At least she's still got her brother."
"I suppose your right. But it was a bit of different circumstances don't you thing? I only wish she could see past it and realize he understands. I wish she would become hope again. She needs it. We need it."
"Yes. But we're hear. To offer her strength," the blond pointed to herself and then to the brunette. "And song. Your voice does wonders for her you know. Just as soothing as any drug."
The other nodded, beaming a bit. "So there is something we can do for her after all."
"Yes, there is always something."
The blond returned to stroking the sleeping woman's hair. "Poor Gemma. If only we had the magic to heal her. But only she holds the magic. Isn't that right Ann?" Longing echoed in her voice.
"Yes, Fee. And she has something else. She's hope. She's only temporarily…misplaced it."
The blond, Felicity, nodded. "But she has something we don't to help her get it back."
"What's that?" replied Ann, the mousy girl.
"She has Kartik. And he has a great love."
Ann sighed. "How terribly romantic."
"Yes," murmured Felicity. "Yes. I suppose it is."