Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Hi, guys! I've been thinking about this story for a while and I finally had the time to sit down and write it. So, this is the prologue. It's about Jeanne. I know, I don't really care for her either, but she is a person and deserves a chance. Also, as I don't really care for this pairing, the story will not be Tony and Jeanne, just to let you know in advance.
Prologue
When a friend calls to me from the road Robert Frost's A Time to Talk
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed,
And shout from where I am, What is it?
No, not as there is a time to talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
"Oh, this break did not come fast enough!"
Jeanne Benoit chuckled at the nurse by her side. They had just finished a tough shift and both were indeed ready to sit down and relax for a few minutes until they were called in once more. She had been working at Memorial Hospital, which was just outside of Washington, for a few years and was one of the head doctors.
Cara, a small woman in her early sixties, had been a nurse at the hospital for thirty years. She had taken Jeanne under her wing when she first arrived and the two had become friends and talked about everything. But, Jeanne never brought up her past, the years when her life seemed to be out of her control. She had never spoken of him or of how she had been used to get to her father, who stopped speaking to her.
She was about to follow Cara into the cafeteria when she noticed a small girl sitting by herself in a corner. There wasn't a soul in the waiting room so she assumed the child was alone. She told Cara she'd come in a minute and walked over to the little girl.
There was no denying that she was adorable. Her hair was in two pigtails that let the dark curls fall to her shoulders. Her skin was slightly tanned with a few light freckles on her cheeks. She had on a pink t-shirt and a jean skirt with black tights. On her feet were zip up black boots that went to the middle of her shin. She held tightly onto a large stuffed hippo with a spiked dog collar.
"Hello," Jeanne said softly, kneeling down beside her. The girl looked up. Her eyes were light brown with tears threatening to spill. "Are you okay?" Jeanne asked.
The girl didn't speak. Instead her eyes wandered down to the hippo. Jeanne sighed and tried, "I like your hippo."
She seemed to react. She lifted her head, the pigtails swishing. "Thank you," she said with a smile. "Her name is Chaya."
"That's a very pretty name," Jeanne said quietly.
"It means life in Hebrew," she told her with confidence. Then, she leaned forward and whispered in Jeanne's ear, "I am not supposed to talk to strangers."
"That's okay, I work here," Jeanne said, impressed by her speaking skills. She looked to be about four or five but she lacked the heavy lisp that most young children had. Her voice was melodic and high pitch, but sophisticated for a toddler. "Are you here with your mom or dad?"
Tears began to flood her eyes and she tried to push them back. "I am not supposed to cry," she told herself in a harsh tone. She looked up at Jeanne. "I have to be strong for Daddy. Mommy's not usually the one that gets hurt."
Jeanne opened her mouth, but the little girl continued to speak. "Last year, Daddy got hit in the nose by a man who they were trying to get and he is always complaining about how one side of his head is bigger than the other because Grandpa always hits it. When someone's hurt, they usually go to Bethesda, but they came here because it was quicker. I think that means it is bad."
Jeanne nodded, taking in all the information the little girl had told her. Bethesda was the naval hospital in Washington, meaning her parents worked for the navy. The little girl continued with her story and Jeanne felt inclined to listen.
"My aunt brought me here. She picked me up from daycare and she was really quiet. She is not usually quiet. She told me that Mommy was shot and is in surgery. And then, when we walked in, I saw Daddy and he was crying." She sniffled slightly and looked into Jeanne's eyes. "I couldn't stand to see him cry. Do you know what I mean?"
Although she had never seen her father cry, Jeanne nodded her head in agreement. The little girl said something under her breath about her aunt's hippo, Bert, that Jeanne couldn't hear. She was about to ask the little girl what her name was when they heard a sigh of relief.
"Tali!" came the voice. The little girl looked up and Jeanne turned as well. A small, Asian woman walked up to them. "I've been looking all over for you!"
The little girl looked up with innocent eyes. "Really?" she asked with a smirk.
"You're too much like your father," the woman scolded under her breath. Then she turned to Jeanne. "I'm sorry about-"
"Don't say your sorry. It's a sign of weakness," the little girl interrupted.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Anyway, thank you."
Jeanne shrugged. "I didn't really do anything. She did most of the talking."
The smile fading slightly, the Asian woman turned to the little girl. "Come on, Sweetie. Your dad needs to talk to you," she said quietly, holding her hand out for the girl to grab. Instead of holding the woman's hand like most children, the girl stood and walked independently in the direction the woman had come.
Jeanne watched them go, amazed by the little girl's apparent strength and poise. She stood, ready to meet Cara before her break was over, but something caught her eye. She leaned over and lifted the stuffed hippo off the ground, a small smile creeping onto her features. She looked at the hippo before turning back at the door. They were long gone.
Okay, so tell me what you think! I love constructed criticism!
Review!