Talk Less: "Troublemakers," 13x01

George heard a voice from backstage over the top of Katherine Talbot ask, "What are you doing there?" and then the stage exploded outward into the audience. He turned to Henry.

Henry had a frozen look of shock on his face and had gone suddenly pale. George was acutely aware of what had happened the last time a bomb went off in Henry's vicinity. Now's not the time, friend, he thought, and shook his partner. "Henry, make sure everybody gets out," George ordered him, giving his partner a hard shove to snap him out of it.

Henry blinked and shook his head to clear it. From that point forward, he was all business, and George moved to do the same. He ran up the aisle to where Dr. Ogden was knelt down next to Katherine Talbot. The force of the blast had sent her into the front row, and she was lying on her side, breathing heavily.

"Dr. Talbot, are you quite all right?" Julia was asking her. George reached for her wrist and pressed two fingers to her radial artery. Her heart was racing, but that was to be expected, he supposed.

Then he heard a panicked voice from the front of the stage. "Oh, Lord!"

His own pulse began to race. The voice belonged to Effie. He'd seen her come in, but had lost her in the shuffle as people ran from the room in terror. He looked back, saw Effie knelt down on the steps of the stage next to a body. Oh, God. He looked down at Dr. Talbot, torn.

She looked up at him. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Go and see if she's okay," she gasped out, and George complied, leaving Dr. Talbot on the floor and rushing to the stage. The woman on the ground was Clara Brett Martin, and Julia was instructing Effie on how to apply pressure to the wound in her chest, red blossoming under her fingers.

George froze. Vague sensations of hands holding him down, bright lights, pain in his upper chest…

"George, we need an ambulance right away!" Julia's voice interrupted his morbid thoughts and with one last glance at Effie, who, under her hat, was as pale as Henry had been, and then spun on his heel to locate an ambulance.

"Where's Julia, is she all right?" Detective Murdoch was trying to keep a professional demeanor, but George could see it in his friend's face that he was worried.

"Sir, yes. Ah, her and Dr. Talbot are already off to the hospital-" he saw Murdoch's posture drop in relief, "-they're tending to Miss Martin." Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Effie sitting on a chair in the front of the room. She was sitting primly, her hands folded in her lap, but he could see it in her eyes…

"How's her condition?" Inspector Brackenreid asked, and George forced himself to pay attention.

"She's alive. Beyond that, I don't know."

Effie's hands, pressed against Miss Martin's chest, visibly shaking.

"All right. Where was Dr. Talbot standing?" Murdoch asked.

George glanced around. "Right about here, I suppose," he said.

Dr. Talbot getting pushed off the stage from the shockwave of the explosion, almost into the front row of chairs.

"So quite a ways from the explosion." Murdoch was in full-on investigative mode, and normally, George would be on board with that, but right now, all he could think about was Effie and the look on her face and the terror in her voice. It was hard to stay engaged in the conversation.

"Sir, perhaps somebody meant to fling it," he suggested, wanting to get this out of the way quickly so he could check on Effie. "I mean, wait until Dr. Talbot was mid-bluster and then-" He made an overhand throwing motion.

"It exploded early," Murdoch finished the thought. "Perhaps he wasn't very experienced."

Brackenreid raised an eyebrow. "Explosives is not the field to learn on the job," he said.

George looked to front row. Effie was looking up at him. She'd been crying, or was crying, it was hard to tell. George couldn't take it anymore. "Sirs," he interrupted. "Do you mind if I have a word with Miss Newsome?" he asked. I've told you everything I know, anyway.

"Of course," Murdoch nodded to him.

George took off at a jog, sliding into the chair next to Effie as he pulled his handkerchief from his pocket. "Hey," he whispered. "Let's take care of this, shall we?" He took her hand gently in his, rubbed at the red spots still left on her hands that she hadn't been able to get off in the washroom. Her fingers latched around his, white-knuckled, and she wouldn't look at him.

"Let's get some air," George suggested. He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. He put a hand on her back and let her hold his hand as they made their way out the side door of the hall and out into street. George led her to a bench and sat her down. "There. Much better," he said.

Effie still refused to meet his eye, and George lifted her chin with a finger. "Effie."

"Sh-she was bleeding," Effie stammered. "I-I could feel her heart beating under my fingers. It was so-so faint, and I was pushing down so hard I thought I might-"

"It's no easy thing," George said quietly. "Having somebody else's life in your hands," he added, when her face narrowed in confusion. "Effie, you probably saved her life," he told her. He shook his head. "No, scratch that, you did save her life. Drs. Ogden and Talbot will take care of her."

Effie looked at him, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks. "I don't know how you do it, George," she breathed.

George reached up, brushed a tear away with his thumb. "Well, welcome to a day in the life of the Toronto Constabulary," he said wryly.

"Please don't joke," Effie whispered.

He winced. "I didn't mean to make light of it," he apologized. George, you ought to know better, remember how it felt when people tried to make light of the last explosion you were involved with? "It-it's just the truth." He grasped her hands again. "I go out every day not knowing what's waiting for me: a-a mad bomber, or a sequential killer or...or flying pigs…"

She looked at him, and George held a hand up. "I swear it to you," he affirmed. "Anyway," he continued, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, "it's not something that becomes routine by any means. I've been close to the worst," he said. He felt her shiver and he slid a hand around her waist, not caring that they were in public or if anyone saw. "Talking helps," he told her. "A-and I can tell you that if you ever need somebody to talk to about this, well," here he smiled at her, "Let's just say I can relate. Better than you think."

Effie nodded. "But not right now," she said, shifting so she could rest her head on his shoulder.

"No," George agreed, shifting back against the bench. "No, not right now."

A/N: The stuff with George's book was cute and all but it would've been nice to see a bit more of him helping Effie deal with something that was clearly traumatic for her, it would've made for a great moment, I think.