Matthew seems to cheer up, if ever so slightly, when he wakes up to see Mary by his side the next morning.
He smiles at her, his eyes a pale blue, slightly red-rimmed. "You must have woken up early to get here by now?"
"I woke up at 5:30," Mary acquiesces. "It wouldn't be my normal time but I'm on anything but a normal sleep schedule right now, so I can't bring myself to mind. I assure you, I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow last night."
Matthew nods. "Good."
"And how about you? How did you sleep?"
He shrugs and pushes himself to sit up against the pillows. "The good thing about being so exhausted all the time is that sometimes I'm too tired to even have nightmares, and last night was one of those nights. So, all in all, pretty good I'd say."
"Good," Mary replies, imitating him. She throws a glance over to Isobel, who is still asleep in the armchair in the corner of the room. "When is Dr. Warren coming for the x-ray?"
"I don't know," Matthew says. "No one tells me anything."
"No one tells me anything, either," Mary says.
There is a slight shine in Matthew's eyes that tells her that maybe he's humored.
"So they should get you up and walking soon?" Mary asks. She knows perfectly well the answer to this, as she has tried her best to investigate the plan for Matthew's recovery throughly, despite occasionally being kept in the dark. However, she wants to hear it from Matthew's lips, and she wants to encourage him if she can.
"That's the plan, anyway," he says, pressing his lips together. "Not sure how it'll work out, though."
"You'll get there," Mary says. "The doctors know what they're doing... at least in terms of the physical things."
Matthew rolls his eyes. "No one knows how to deal with the mental issues though."
"Medical science will get there," Mary says. "It's certainly not there for now, but at least you know that. You don't have to take their opinions seriously. You know yourself better than they know you."
He sighs. "It's just... they should know what they're doing, they're medical professionals. And yet no one is helpful at all. Dr. Carter was able to diagnose it, but he was just telling me something I already knew. And Clarkson has been useless with it, and Warren has been especially useless... I just wish someone knew how to help."
"I wish they did too, but for now, everyone is doing their best. And your mother and I are doing our best, too."
"I know you are," he replies genuinely, taking her hand in his and rubbing his thumb on it. "Despite everything, you're still here. And somehow..." his voice trails off as he glances to Isobel in the corner, still asleep. He lowers his voice and grins like a naughty child, "somehow, you love me."
"That has always been true, and it hasn't changed," Mary says.
"If only it didn't take us years to realize it."
The examination of Matthew's leg is an arduous process, or at least it seems to be for Matthew, and he is on the verge of snapping at Dr. Warren several times. Mary remembers the story Matthew told her about the officer he hated so, and she stays close to him throughout most of the process, hoping that her presence will help him stay here, and not fall back to France.
Dr. Warren takes Matthew into an examination room, removes the splint, and carefully examines the wound for what seems like forever. Thankfully, the bullet wound seems to be fully healed; there is little risk of infection now, which is a relief to Mary and Isobel. He massages the leg, feeling all the muscles and tendons, and putting Matthew in no small amount of pain. Then he takes an x-ray of the leg. The actual taking of the x-ray is fast, but Dr. Warren leaves to develop the picture in the darkroom, leaving Matthew to sit anxiously for an hour.
"It's alright, Matthew," Isobel says, noticing how he is worrying the wood of the chair he sits in with his fingers. "Everything will be alright. Is there something you need?"
He purses his lips. "Distraction."
Isobel sighs, her mind wandering to what could possibly distract her struggling son.
"I'm going to go into town soon," Mary says. She hardly thinks about how brave of an action this is; even up here in rural Scotland, people seem to know about the scandal. And yet, she is perfectly happy to keep her word, if this makes Matthew feel better for a moment. "There's a lovely little bookshop near the post office, is there anything you want me to pick up?"
Matthew looks at her, his bright blue eyes intent, before attempting a smile. "I noticed Shrimpie's library doesn't have Persuasion, and that's one I've been wanting to reread."
"Really? You've never struck me as an Austen person. Aren't you a little more intellectual than that?"
"You're saying Austen isn't intellectual? Considering how intelligent she makes her characters, especially her female characters, I should think her quite the intellectual."
It brings Mary such joy to see him like this. "Perhaps, and yet she seems to reflect the ideals of her era with rose colored glasses. Everything works out perfectly for the girl who marries rich and yet somehow for love."
"She's quite subversive of those values, though, if you look closely. Most other authors of that time would hardly dream of having a female protagonist with agency, and yet there they are. Lizzie Bennet, Anne Elliot..."
Mary is excited about this conversation. She leans forward in her seat, closer to Matthew, her eyes wide. "But still, a major theme of her novels seems to be that somehow if you marry rich and for love, your life will be all perfect. But then again, most of her protagonists managed that."
"All but Anne Elliot, that is," Matthew says. "Persuasion is a different animal, I think."
There is nothing she loves more than this; intelligent discussions with him, an argument for the sake of discussion. This is the old Matthew, back again, intelligent and measured in his arguments, brilliant and persuasive. And she loves it. "How so?" she asks. She just wants to hear him talk about this more.
"Anne ended up with Wentworth, her love, but they were not guaranteed happiness at the end. He was still below her, a middle class man with nothing to his name but a captaincy and service in the navy. Who knew if people would accept her with him, if people would care now that her position was lowered? She wasn't getting the best of both love and money when she married him. She was only marrying for love. And who knows how it turned out after that?"
"I'd like to think they were very happy," Mary combats.
"But who knows for sure if life works out that way?"
"I'd hope that after seven years of pining after each other, a couple would be reasonably sure that they can weather any storms that may come their way."
Matthew gazes at her, his eyes soft, and lets a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose that is a reasonable hope."
Isobel watched them interact curiously. She can't quite decipher the meaning under what they are saying, but she knows there is something between them aside from the literary banter. And yet she can't worry too much about it, because it has been a long time since she has seen Matthew this engaged in a conversation. This is her son she remembers from before the war, who would sit in his room and read books rather than go to a dinner party, who would rather talk about fictional characters than cricket, who likes to point out the qualities of under appreciated authors in a defensive way. She has missed this Matthew, and it is nice to see him back in some small form.
"Of course, the storms may not have been so severe for Wentworth. After all, he somehow came back from war in a blaze of glory, and not as a broken man..." Matthew continues, and both Isobel and Mary can see that his mood has taken a sudden turn for the worse.
Mary reaches out to touch his hand. "War was different then, or at least the perceptions of it were. And who could expect Austen to accurately depict the struggles of a man back from the fighting?"
"She seemed to know plenty about romance and marriage though, despite never marrying," Matthew replies.
"That's true. In fact, the situation of Anne and Wentworth is strikingly familiar. A middle class man completely and honestly in love with a woman who is considered above him, who is told by a meddling relative that he isn't good enough for her, so they break apart... The man goes to war, anguished over the rejection, but comes back a hero. The woman realizes that she has loved him the whole time, but fears it is too late, fears that he has moved on. She tries to move on also. And yet nothing works, she is still desperately in love with him."
He frowns. "But would Anne really have stayed with Wentworth if he had come back from war broken, rather than a richer hero who was slightly more acceptable to her family?"
Mary's gaze is so full of love, although Matthew isn't looking at her, but at his lap. "I think so," Mary says, "if personal experience is anything to go off of."
Isobel draws in a sharp breath, hoping neither notices. She knows now, she sees it. Really, she has known it for a long time, that they are utterly in love, but she thought they didn't know it. But they have finally figured it out, it seems.
That is a good thing, especially for Matthew.
They sit in silence for a while, thinking over what has been said. Matthew hangs on to every positive word of their conversation, hoping not to fall back into despair again, as he is wont to do.
Dr. Warren comes in, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the waiting trio. "The x-rays have developed," he says. "Captain Crawley, would you rather I speak to you alone, or would you prefer to have your mother and cousin with you?"
Matthew flinches at the use of his military title; it brings back too many bad memories. However, he manages to get out, "I'd like them to stay."
"Alright," Dr. Warren says, taking a seat next to Isobel, across from Matthew. "Well, the good news is, your leg has healed some. Most of the torn muscles have healed, and the femur... it's healed to at least look like a femur now, which is much better than it was originally. That said, the patellar tendon was nearly completely torn, and most of what has healed is scar tissue, so you will have some difficulty bending and straightening your leg, and it will always be quite a bit weaker than your other leg. I think we should get you up and walking soon though, so you don't lose more muscle in your injured leg. I'll start you on a therapy regimen tomorrow, and you'll probably have to come back here for physical therapy a few times a week."
Matthew nods, looking a little bit overwhelmed. "But I should be able to walk?"
"Yes, you should. It won't be the same as it was before, and you may have a significant limp, but you'll be mobile at least."
It was about what they had expected, but Mary is still concerned that this news will be hard on Matthew.
She gazes at him, trying to meet his eyes, but he will not meet hers. He stares at his leg in front of him, frowning.
"There's more good news though; we'll want to keep you here tomorrow and the next day so we can start you on a therapy regimen and make sure that everything is as it should be, but then you should be able to go home."
His mouth works to whisper 'home'. And the slightest hint of a smile spreads across his face.
Scotland, in a way, is his home. It isn't, of course, not really, but wherever Mary is always feels like home.
He gains the strength to look up and her, and meet her eyes. "I'll be very glad to go home," he says.
Dr. Warren pats his shoulder. "Good. And may I ask, how has this little shellshock business been coming along?"
Matthew immediately tenses, and it takes all of Mary's strength to not jump to her feet in anger. Instead, she silently fumes. But she will not say anything; she does not want to reveal something that Matthew does not want the doctor to know.
"I'm doing alright," he says, and Mary and Isobel both know it is a blatant lie. "I've slept through the night, and I have ...something to keep me going." His voice shakes even as he says this, but perhaps, in a way he's telling the truth. He's just leaving out the fuller truth, not mentioning the horrible things that have resulted from his shellshock.
"Very good," Dr. Warren says. "I knew you'd get over it."
Matthew presses his lips together, clearly hurt by the doctor's careless words. "Yes... get over it..."
Mary is glaring daggers at the doctor, but only behind his back. He is wrong, so wrong, about Matthew, about everything going on with Matthew's mind, and about Matthew's strength. Part of her is desperate to set Dr. Warren to rights on what has been going on, but she knows that isn't what Matthew wants. And she knows that if she were to tell the doctor about the suicide attempt, the results would be disastrous for Matthew.
So she keeps it in, but she gets up from her chair and puts a hand of Matthew's shoulder, squeezing it, willing him to stay strong.
Dr. Warren doesn't seem to notice the uncomfortable tension in the room. "I'll come by tomorrow to bring you to Dr. Robinson. He got trained a year or so ago in some of the techniques of physical therapy and then got sent up here to help with recuperating soldiers here. He's very good, I believe you'll like him."
Matthew is tempted to roll his eyes, but he does not. Instead, he nods, says, "Thank you, doctor," in a very polite, stilted manner, and turns to Mary, clearly upset.
"I hate him," Matthew says, his voice cold.
Isobel shakes her head and reaches out to her son. "Matthew, you don't..."
"I hate him," Matthew repeats again. "I hate him and his self righteous idea that anyone suffering from shellshock is just weak, and his positivity that certainly he doesn't even believe because he doesn't do a very good job of pretending, and..." he is starting to break down, his voice catching in his throat, "mostly I hate how much hate I have in my heart now."
"Oh Matthew," Mary sighs. "You don't."
"I just have this ...anger, that I don't know how to handle, and it's all I can do to not explode sometimes, and I hate it! I hate it! I hate the war and how it killed the man I once was and broke this world apart and crippled me and how it killed so many men, so many good men, and it broke so man more! How could something like that be justified! I hate it!" he shouts, his voice getting higher and higher.
Mary tries to calm him, but in some way, she thinks it may be good for him to let this out. "You're not wrong to feel that way," she says. "Your life has been torn apart by the war and I agree, and I think most people do, that it was utterly senseless and too many good men died and were broken for nothing."
"I know I'm not wrong to feel that way, but I'm certainly not reacting in the right way, am I? Not in the socially acceptable way, at least," he says. He is very measured, but there is such fear behind his eyes. "But I can't control it... I can't control anything."
He is slipping, Mary knows, and as much as she doesn't want him to, she is glad that he is at least aware of it, that he is working to control his emotions even if he can't yet. It is a step in the right direction.
But at some point, she has to let him fall.
His eyes gets blurry, the hospital examination room falling away as brown mud fills his field of vision. He shivers; he is back here.
But he is sitting, in the middle of no man's land, a sitting duck waiting to be shot at. He can't move; he is bound in my something solid, and his leg is heavy, so heavy. Panic fills his chest. There is nowhere he can go, and there is... Mary. She can't be here, they'll kill her too! They can kill him, the world would hardly be the lesser for it, but if they kill her...
He reaches for her, but she is too far. He sees the bullet, and it's as if it were in slow motion. It barrels toward her and yet it crawls. And there is nothing he can do. He screams but he has no voice.
She is so far away and yet the blood splatters on his face, in cruel irony.
"Matthew," Mary and Isobel are both saying, shaking his shoulders as he will not lift his glazed eyes to look at them. He is somewhere else, and it is terrifying.
"I can't..." his mouth manages to say. "I can't...save you."
"You don't need to save us," Mary whispers. "You've done enough, just come back home."
He fights her comforting hand, trying to pull away from the chair he is sitting in. "No, no, no!" he shouts.
Mary is very grateful that Dr. Warren is nowhere to be seen, but fear still settles into her chest. He hasn't had a flashback, not one like this, since his leg got infected.
She gets down on her knees in front of him, stares into his bright but unseeing eyes, and cups her hands around her face. "Matthew. Matthew. Look at me. Look at me."
He blinks, and he is back in the room again, although still frenzied and afraid. "Mary, you're..." he begins, shuddering.
"I'm here," she says. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He shakes his head, looking almost a small, timid child.
"Let's get you back to your room, then, and you can rest."
I wish I could update more often, but life has been kind of crazy lately and probably will remain so until summer. But don't worry, I'm doing my best to update consistency! Thanks to everyone who has been reading, your support means so much to me. As always, reviews are golden and inspiring to a writer!