Going Home
by LZClotho
ᄅ 1999
Chapter 21
Four gendarmes returned with Jean in the lead. Janice looked up to see all of them circling her and then finally, climbing through the debris toward her and Melinda.
"Has she woken up, ma'am'selle?" Jean's tone was formal as well as in French, when Janice knew full well how excellently he spoke English.
She answered in kind. "Non, monsieur." She looked back into the brunette's calm, motionless face.
The four men reached for her and she squirmed back, tugging Melinda with her. Effectively surrounded she could not go far.
The entire situation however upset the precarious balance of the wood, and Janice felt the rubble collapse again beneath her. She squeezed a tighter hold on Melinda as they both fell into a well created by the wood beams. She braced her shoulders, but the fall only stopped when her back and rear were atop the pavement.
Her hips and legs felt bruised by the fall. She ignored that for now. She checked Melinda's face for any sign of waking or additional pain stress. What were bruises compared to Melinda's injuries? With a squeak, The woodpile around them swayed precariously, threatening to topple. With a yelp she attempted to cover both herself and Melinda's face. A few scraps tumbled down on top of them. While a few were deflected by the officers, Janice felt one or two strike her arms and she batted them aside.
Then there was silence. She remained still for long moments more, waiting for her heart to slow down. Under her hands, she felt Melinda's body and clung to that knowledge. That they were here, together, if not altogether safe. But her panic would not go away. Long day, she guessed, realizing that only that morning she and Melinda had been on a boat they thought could take them home.
One gendarme put a hand on her right shoulder and sought to calm her fears. "Mademoiselle, please. We will move your friend. But we cannot safely move you both."
Green eyes pulled away from his earnest light eyes and sought Jean's familiar brown. The lieutenant's jaw was firm, but he nodded. So far he had not lied to her.
So she relaxed her grip and felt other hands replace hers around Melinda's body as she was lifted free first, caught up in a cradle hold by one officer.
"Merci," she murmured as he used his stronger legs to move over the debris.
"Everything will be all right," he replied. "Sit here." He settled her gently against the building wall some distance from the accident.
Janice heard an alarm bleeting and coming closer and though she did not tear her gaze from where the men worked, she recognized the arrival of a medical van. Jean must have called for help.
The men stood in a formation around Melinda. One pair linked arms under her shoulders, supporting her head. The other pair slid their arms gingerly under her thighs and lower back.
Jean started the count, directing a steady lift and move. The doctor—at least she assumed by the bag he carried-picked up the directions.
Janice did not realize she had been holding her breath until Melinda's body was lowered to the ground. She felt her nostrils flare in a relieved breath. The exchange between Jean and the doctor was no more than a buzz to the blonde. She tried to stand but found her legs would not support her. Sagging against the wall, she called, "Jean." Her voice was barely a whisper and she tried again. "Lieutenant Boutre."
The gendarme looked up from Mel's prone figure and motioned to one of his compatriots to fetch Janice to him. With the young officer's help, Janice made her way to the doctor's side. "Will she be all right?"
"The doctor says she must wake up before he can make a diagnosis." The doctor nodded affirmatively at the gendarmes words though his eyes remained on his patient. He had his hand gently gripping her wrist. He nodded in steady time to something and finally nodded abruptly.
"It is very weak, but she has a pulse," he announced, to no one in particular, though Janice felt giddy relief at the news and sagged against the man supporting her.
Finally she pushed off and bent near Melinda's head. "I'm her friend," she told the doctor. "What do you need to do now?"
"I must take her to the hospital where I can observe her more easily." He gestured to his bag. "I cannot do that here."
"I understand. In your opinion is it safe to move her?"
He sat back on his heels and studied Melinda briefly from head to foot. "We can do nothing here. We must move her." He focused on the gash on Melinda's head as well as a spreading red stain on her side. "I cannot say what is broken, or not."
Janice took a deep breath and nodded. She stepped back and let the doctor direct the men lifting Melinda once again, and moving her to the back of the medical van.
She started to climb into the van after him. A firm grip on her arm made her look back. Boutre looked up at her. "I have to go, Jean," she said firmly.
He thought for a moment then nodded. "I will come visit you. After I have made my report to the captain."
She had to know. "What will you tell him?"
"Three of my men and I had to clear up an accident at the docks." He waved away one of his men who had come up to speak with him. More quietly he added, "I will speak with you at the hospital before I say anything more."
Janice reached out and squeezed his hand, giving him a thankful smile. Pulling herself into the van, she sat on the floor as the doors were closed.
She felt the engine start and the motion of the van drew her eyes to Melinda's face.
"Your friend will be all right," the doctor said, as he carefully settled Melinda's head between pillows on the steel frame bed nailed to the van floor.
"Why hasn't she woken up?" Janice asked.
"The head injury, it is a strange thing. Some people do not feel anything at all, all normal very quickly. Others..." Discomfited by his own words he trailed off. He looked at her steadily and moved over to her. "Now. Let me see to your injuries."
Janice looked up at him and frowned. "I'm all right," she said confused. She lifted her hands, and moved her arms. Then she felt a pull in her left shoulder. Looking down, she noticed the blood trickling down the arm.
"It is the shock. You were hurt, but concerned for your friend. So," he chuckled lightly, gathering up a cloth to clear away the blood. "Your body did not bother you with its own troubles."
Janice gritted her teeth against the stinging pain accompanied by the doctor's effort to clean her wounds. She leaned back as he found a tear in her pants and located the source of her inability to stand easily earlier. A wooden board must have jammed into her thigh during the woodpile's collapse. He dug what splintered pieces he could from the gash. The alcohol he poured into it to cleanse it made Janice's eyes water fiercely. Closing her eyes she felt the tugs and pulls as he firmly wrapped the leg in a temporary bandage.
"I will dress it better when we get to the hospital," he said quietly. The van made a turn and both Janice and the doctor were thrown to the right.
She caught herself quickly and then fell back and grasped Melinda's unmoving hand. "Hang in there," she told the woman. "We'll be out of here soon."
Looking up to see the doctor's eyes on her, she inquired, "How much further?"
"One more turn," he answered, just as the van took it. "Then we will be helped out."
Janice waited through the short time it took the medical van to pull to a stop and the doors to open. Then she watched hawk-like as Melinda was removed from the van first and carried inside on a wheeled bed. Leaning on the doctor's arm, she followed.
Concerned for Melinda, she pushed the doctor toward the door ahead of her. "I can make it on my own. Please see to Mel."
Nodding his acceptance of her decision, the doctor hurriedly followed his worst condition patient inside.
An older woman, in nursing whites, walked calmly up to her. "Mademoiselle," she gestured. "Please come with me. I will have another doctor look at your leg."
Casting a glance over her shoulder where Melinda and the doctor had disappeared, Janice turned with a sigh and followed the nurse, feeling the stabbing pain caused by each step. Please, God, she looked ceilingward for a split moment. Please let Mel be all right.
Chapter 22
The first thing she felt was cold. Then the natural reaction of shivering alerted Melinda to the unpleasant pain. It radiated from the left side of her head, causing a buzzing in her ears that in turn seemed to rattle her teeth. God, that hurt. She concentrated on stopping the shivers.
A faint deep voice echoed somewhere in front of her face. "She seems to be coming around," it said in French, particularly a dialect heard only in the French region on the border between France and Spain. Well, Melinda, she silently applauded herself. It looks like your brains are intact.
Though her body apparently was not. Scared to open her eyes and make the damage real by looking at it, Melinda cracked her lids only a sliver, identifying that the area was well-lit.
Okay, not on the pier anymore. She felt the pain as her chest rose and fell on a deep, breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks in reaction.
A large finger gently brushed the damp skin. "Come on, open your eyes," the voice spoke again, this time in English to her.
She worked her eyes open, catching a painful brightness just off to the left. With a "no" she was certain came out more like a groan, Melinda closed her eyes again. The man standing over her seemed to understand though. Next she heard him tell someone to turn off the light.
In the silence she heard the padding steps of someone walking away and the click of the light switch.
"All right now. Try again." Something soft was pressed firmly to the left side of her head. Amazingly that reduced the ache and she more readily opened her eyes.
She looked up into the older face of a man as details became more solid in the lower light. She searched his rugged square jaw and pale brown eyes for some sense of familiarity and came up blank. She must have managed to create a furrow in her brow because he introduced himself.
"I am Doctor Lupineau. You have been brought to my hospital." He nodded to her. "Now you. Can you tell me your name?"
Melinda rolled her head slightly as she tried to nod. A bolt of pain, fast as lightning, shot down from her head to her lower back, and she stopped moving, a moan escaping between her compressed lips. "Ow," she murmured.
"Try again," he insisted with a pleasant smile. Melinda realized then that she must have a bad head injury and rather than being nosy, he was using the questions as a way to assess how badly she was hurt. All right. Talk then. Gingerly she moved her jaw, feeling a strain in her head, but not much more if she kept herself perfectly still.
Then she spoke carefully. "Melinda. I speak French."
"Magnifique!" His smile broadened in triumph. He switched to French. "Very nice to meet you, Melinda."
"That is my name, right?"
"According to the woman who accompanied you, yes."
She smiled then. "Good."
"Why?"
"I thought my mind was okay, but my head hurts so much..."
"Ah, I see. So you feared amnesia." He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "I thought I was the doctor here."
The laugh caught her unexpectedly, jolting her midsection and hurting not only her ribs but also her stomach. The laugh trailed off. "Where is my friend now?"
"She is in another room in the hospital."
"How long have I been here?"
"It has been nearly four hours since you were hurt."
She closed her eyes against a memory flashing before her eyes of falling into the stacked crates at the wharves. She felt an echo of hitting the broken wood and of other pieces crashing down on top of her. She tried to move her arm, and found it stiff and uncooperative. As she turned her head
to look at it, she saw out of the corner of her eye, the doctor's assistant as he went to turn on the examining room light once more. She winced only slightly at the light's intrusion.
"Your head injury was what we feared most," Lupineau was saying. "But yes, you did break your right arm, and we have had to wrap your ribs, though none appear to have broken."
She moved slowly, bracing herself on her right elbow, and rolled so she could look down at her body. She saw the bandages around her stomach and saw the tatters remains of her blouse over her chest and shoulders. Her own pants, ripped off at the knees covered her and a thin blue hospital blanket lay over her lower legs. Lifting it she saw that she sported only a few scratches and bruises.
She shifted the left one under the covers and was gratified to feel a quick response, though there were rough spots on the skin irritated by the sheet. "My legs were just scratched, it seems."
Lupineau nodded. "Would you like to try and sit up? It might help with your head now."
At her slow nod, both Lupineau and his assistant reached behind her back and shoulders, gradually pushing her up. She let her left leg fall off the side of the table, followed soon by her right, which protested when the muscle pulled against her injured side. "I really did it this time," she murmured.
"Mademoiselle," the assistant offered. "you do this often?"
She had been in the midst of her efforts to settle herself on the table edge. She paused and leveled blue eyes, which were hazy but clearing quickly, on him. "I don't make a habit of it, no." Since he had asked in French, she answered him in kind.
"You speak excellently. You are American, non?"
"Yes, but I am a... translator," she answered, keeping it simple. "What is your name?"
The doctor released her arm and stepped back. "Your head aches still?" he asked.
"Just a little."
"I will have aspirin brought to you," he said.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I have other patients now that you have awakened."
"Oh. Right. I'm sorry. Thank you for treating me." She shifted her weight from one arm to the other briefly and raised her broken arm to offer a wave.
He smiled. "It was my pleasure."
Alone with the doctor's help, Melinda sat on the edge of the table caught in the growing spell of silence. But she needed to find out where Janice was, if the gendarme had arrested her for the Lob Lolly captain's murder, and if she was all right. She had a vague notion of the blonde hugging her and then more crashing as the crate pile collapsed further.
"Could I go find my friend?" she asked the physician's assistant. He fixed her with a hard considering studious look. "We should finish dressing your wounds."
"I'd really like to get up and move around a bit. I'm a little shaky still, but movement should help." She leveled her blue eyes to his and blinked. Gently she brushed her nose and confirmed her missing spectacles. "Could I have my glasses." She offered him a bright smile. Running a hand through her hair, she made a face at the mess. She could do nothing where the bandage was taped, but... "And, is there someplace I can get this wood dust out of my hair?"
Caught by that smile he nodded quickly. "Oh, yes. Certainly." He quickly searched the surrounding tabletops and brought them to her. "Here you are." He looked around again as she put on the glasses. The process was a little awkward with only one hand that could reach her nose. "A nurse can help you with your hair. It is probably good to change the bandages anyway."
He offered her his arm from elbow to hand and stiffened the muscles as she leaned on it. Thankful she was taller than average, Melinda felt her feet touch the floor before she would have needed to jump.
"Then I'd like to find Janice." Steadying herself on her legs proved a little more difficult than she had imagined. Not because her legs were injured, but because she couldn't straighten over her injured middle. She sighed carefully, feeling the muscles and skin pull taut and then relax. "God, why can't anything be simple." With her left hand bracing herself on the young man's frame, Melinda gestured with her immobile right arm. "Let's go."
Janice laid with her head resting on her wrists, her pant leg ripped open to the bottom of her rear. Eyes closed she could feel every pull on the tendons and muscles as the nurse cleaned her thigh wound. Tears had stopped awhile ago, and now she just felt her face constantly wincing as each bit of wood was removed. "Got it all yet?" she asked, trying for casual.
They had been at this for the last two hours. She had not been seen right away because her injuries were not life-threatening; but once she sat down she had been unable to get up again to check on Melinda's progress.
The wait without word, and without seeing the brunette was beginning to make her chest ache for an entirely different reason than the bruises from having Mel fall on her when the wood shifted.
She winced as the nurse pulled more at the injury. "Could we take a break?" She had been lying on this damn table without moving. Her kidneys were protesting the fact that she hadn't been able to shift her position that long.
"Almost done, I think," the nurse replied. She was the same woman who had helped her after the doctor went to tend Melinda.
There was another sharp tug on the back of her thigh, followed by a pinch and Janice took a deep breath, looking over her shoulder. Her thigh was wrapped tightly with a thick bandage. "Wood really makes a mess, hmm?"
The nurse looked at her with an expression of disbelief. "You are a very interesting woman to make jokes," she remarked, though she gestured that Janice could now get up.
As Janice moved through the stiffness and ripped off the pant leg covering the bandage, she offered, "I've had bulletwounds in worse places... but not by much." She tested her weight on her leg and satisfied she wouldn't fall over, she stepped away from the table.
A male voice interrupted. "Excuse moi?"
Janice dusted her blonde hair back from her face with a tired hand and looked up at the doorway. "Lieutenant Boutre," she acknowledged the man now standing in the doorway.
"I have brought someone so that we can have a conversation," he said carefully, looking sideways at the nurse.
Janice accepted the unspoken request for privacy. "Could you leave us alone?"
Gathering up some of the used gauze and towels, the nurse nodded and left them alone.
"Did you have a chance to check out the boat?" she asked him without preamble.
"Your accident happened before we could," he answered. "You were very lucky we were down at the docks." He gestured at her thigh. "How is your friend?"
"I haven't seen her since we came in." Janice shook her head. "I'm sorry you didn't get onto the boat. It's probably left port by now."
"It has not."
"Good. Are you sending out another inspection team?"
"There is no need."
Janice's brow creased in confusion. "I don't understand."
"We have known about the Lob Lolly since her last visit here," he answered. He ducked his head away from the fulsome glare she delivered. "It is not that we did not ... Hold on," he said finally, stumbling to explain. "I'll be right back."
Janice waited while Jean was gone; her mind filled with questions. She sorted through them and came up with the most important one to ask. When Jean reappeared at the doorway, she was ready. "If you knew about them, why didn't you do something before now?"
"They benefit the Resistance with their supplies."
"But they carry high grade explosives. And also bargain for secrets. Secrets against the Resistance," she pointed out.
Jean stepped back and his captain stepped inside. "This is Captain Louis Renault."
She looked at the shorter, thicker man and examined his face, trying to take his measure. "The Resistance may benefit by their supplies, but they give information about the same things to your enemies."
Crossing his hands behind his back, Renault studied his feet for a long moment. "I am in a very difficult position, Miss Covington." She raised an eyebrow at Jean. "Yes, my lieutenant has told me of your day in Casablanca."
He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "As I was saying. It is difficult here, with the Reich breathing down our shirts, and yet our brothers meet also to form a Resistance under our noses. To be a good man to my country, I put my life and that of my men in danger. Or I can tell both sides that I will do nothing."
"Bristol came to us committed to the Resistance, but my ambivalence... It... made him angry."
"So he started selling his knowledge to the Germans?" Janice shook her head. "Incredible!"
"Bristol was not a simple man. At times rigidly loyal to the noble cause. Other times wrapped up in a need for money." Jean Boutre shook his head. "I don't entirely understand why he would enlist you to make his communications meeting for him. Or his supply requests. The merchants would give him all, and more. Whatever he requested."
Janice opened her mouth to say something. But another voice made the explanation she was seeking.
"It wasn't money, Lieutenant. It was acceptance." Janice looked toward the door and a grin spread across her face.
Melinda, looking as battle-weary as she herself felt, leaned on the doorjamb, one arm in a heavy splint and bandage, her other hand wrapped white-knuckled around the doorknob.
Blue eyes felt hungrily into green. "He wanted acceptance, acknowledgment of his heroism. It was as simple, and as complicated as that."
Janice moved to the woman's side and squeezed her hand. "It didn't matter what side gave him that. If they did, for that time, he gave them his loyalty." She looked to Boutre and Renault. "And because money was usually involved, he appeared to be a greedy blood-sucker."
Jean nodded. "It makes sense now." He turned to his captain. "What should we do about his ship?"
"Who was the man's first mate?"
Janice supplied, "Virgil Turandot."
"Turandot can be talked to, I'm sure of it," Boutre said. "I've heard him around town. Definitely pro-French."
"So we're just going to turn the ship over to the service of the French Resistance?" Melinda asked. "Bristol or not, the crew was responsible for a man's death, Captain?" She appealed to the French officer's sense of law and order.
Renault remained silent for a long time. However when he finally answered she could see no way to refute him. "If I bring them in, I would have to bring in your friend here. Murder conviction would put her away for a dozen years. Even a self-defense conviction would hamper your journey by several months." Refute him, or argue it, and Janice, in a bid at being fair, would have to go to jail as well.
The brunette looked to Janice for a long moment. An ache started low in her chest and rose higher the longer she remained standing. "Well, Janice?" she said, with a rush of air as she lowered herself abruptly into a chair. "Do we stay? Or go?"
Janice leveled her green eyes on Jean Boutre. "What's the next chance we have to get out of Casablanca?"
Boutre looked at his captain. "There might be a plane the day after tomorrow headed for the States. A few other passengers are expected soon."
Janice looked to Melinda. "We'll need our things out of the Lob Lolly warehouse."
"You are not mad, Janice?" Jean looked at her with uncertainty. The blonde didn't want to just let the crew of the Lob Lolly go about its business as some sort of double- or triple-agents. But she didn't want to spend the next six months to sixty years sitting in a jail cell for committing an act of self-defense. "No. I guess not."
"Then all we need is a place to stay for a couple days," Melinda summarized with a sigh of relief. "Normal would be nice for a change." She hugged Janice to her with her good arm and smiled. She sucked in a breath and caught the slightly antiseptic scent of Janice's skin, from all the cleaner used in her wounds. Still the feel of them together, both safe and whole, well mostly, left her almost giddy with relief. She smiled against the woman's waist, since Janice stood right next to her chair.
Jean chuckled. To Janice he said, "You have a very amusing life, Miss Covington."
"No. Just amusing company, Lieutenant," Janice replied, giving Melinda's hand a squeeze.
"I will send an unmarked car for you both," Renault concluded. "They will take you to rooms I will arrange in a hotel. It is the least we can do for your troubles."
"Thank you, Captain," Melinda replied. The two women remained lightly entwined as they watched the officers leave.
Finally alone with Melinda, Janice looked down into the open blue eyes. "I'm so glad you finally woke up." Crouching was out of the question, and sitting down was also going to be difficult, so she leaned forward, bracing herself on Melinda's shoulders, careful of the broken right arm. "You really had me worried, Mel. I'm glad you're going to be all right."
"Thanks, Janice. I don't remember much."
"Be glad you don't. It was not an experience I wish to repeat." The blonde looked over the brunette. "How can you be related to Xena and still be such a complete klutz?"
The brunette's cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "I seem to remember someone..." She broke off, squeezing her arms around Janice's waist. "Stopping without warning and grabbing my hand."
"Startled you?" Janice remembered back to that moment, with a steady warm feeling sliding up her back, when she realized it was Melinda and she reached back to grasp the woman's hand in a reassuring hold. "I didn't mean it."
"Well I guess we're even. Looks like some of the crates fell on you too."
Janice chuckled and hugged Melinda. "I guess so." Impulsively she bent her head down. But the quick reassuring peck on the cheek didn't materialize. Instead she captured Mel's lips in a lingering kiss. Hearts full of worry, relief, giddy joy, and the newest edge of passion, kept them clinging long after the kiss finally concluded. "God, Mel," she murmured, breathing in the soft scent of the brunette's hair, which had been washed clean of the blood that had bathed her face earlier. Gingerly she kissed the spot on the bandage where the board had struck hardest. "Next time you intend to check out for an hour. Check with me first."
"I'm sorry I scared you," Melinda replied, tugging Janice's chin down so she could look into the green eyes shadowed by the memories of her earlier terror. She brushed away a tear that escaped. She kissed Janice lightly and then pulled back.
Janice caught herself suddenly yawning. She realized the tears were a combination of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. "It's been a long day."
Melinda gestured for Janice to help her up. The blonde offered an arm and between the two, they were standing side by side shortly. "Let's go," she directed with a flourish.
The two women moved slowly, but determined to push through their injuries, to the front waiting room to watch for the promised car. Janice tried to sit next to Melinda after helping the brunette take a seat, but found the chairs too hard against her bandaged thigh.
Melinda looked from the hard wood chair to her own lap and gestured. "Would you like to try here?"
"I could hurt you," she answered from her place leaning back against the window. "Besides it wouldn't look right."
"Do you really care how it looks?" came back the reply in a soft lilt. Janice swallowed. "Really? Over comfort?"
"All right, but if I'm too heavy, you tell me right away. Understand?" Janice lowered herself carefully to Melinda's lap.
Adjusting her position Mel felt the blonde sliding away. So she grabbed with her good arm around the woman's waist, resting her chin on Janice's shoulder. The slight stretch ease an ache in her back and she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.
Janice's head tilted against hers slowly and her eyes closed as well.
