I know, long time no see. You've all probably forgotten the plot of this, so go back and read it! Hope you enjoy the new instalment, the ideas are flowing, expect another up very soon!
Chapter Eleven
Clarice woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a parched mouth, and the realisation that she was not alone, she struggled to unstick her eyelids and when she did saw Pierre sitting by her bedside looking worried.
"Guurggh" she managed, trying awkwardly to sit up, blinking in the light from the small window which was obviously not her hotel room.
"Clarice!" exclaimed Pierre, looking very relieved "tu revielle!"
"Pierre…water? L'eau?" she gives a dry cough as she successfully leans on one doubtfully stable elbow.
"Yes, of course" he gets up and leaves the room, as Clarice realises that she is wearing one of those hideous hospital gowns with the ties at the back, hiding absolutely nothing. It's Saturday, and with a start Clarice realises that Pierre is not actually on duty today, he has taken the day off to be with his wife who is due to give birth very soon, so why is he here? The sterile white door swings open and Pierre comes back in holding a weak looking plastic cup of water, she accepts it gratefully and drinks it quickly down.
"Pierre, there's nothing wrong with the case is there? They haven't closed it? Am I to be sent back? Is there-"
"Non non!" Pierre smiled tiredly at her "nothing wrong accepting that you were..mugged last night"
"Then why are you here? Isn't it your day off?"
"My wife…" Pierre trailed off looking distracted and worried, Clarice wondered if something had gone wrong. "She is here, I have … told to go, I come here. I'm worried, difficult…labour" he struggled with the English in his distress.
"Oh no. Pierre, I'm sure it will be okay. Sometimes labour is difficult and long, you were probably getting in the way, that's all. I'm sure it'll be fine" as hollow as her words sound to her they seem to bring him some comfort, and she feels desperately sorry for her friend.
"My son, would you like to meet him?"
"He's here?" surprised Clarice wonders who he is with, if not his father.
"With my sister-in-law, mais she wishes to help my wife and cannot with son Jean"
"Uh, sure" it feels like it's totally inappropriate but seeing how keen he is to introduce him to her she's persuaded, she smiles "that would be great but do you mind if I get dressed first?"
"Doctor should check you"
"I don't need a doctor to know I'm fine"
Pierre laughs "No. While I get him?"
"Yes fine, where are my clothes?"
It only takes Clarice a moment to dress and wash her face with cool refreshing water she remakes her bed and stands by the window, remembering her miserable failure the night before and awaiting Jean's arrival with unanticipated pleasure.
Her rooms door squeaks slightly as it opens and then a child's voice proclaims
"Salut!" happily with the blithe innocence only the young sustain.
"Salut" grins Clarice, turning around to stare with interest at the small boy with a cheekily upturned nose, the same gap toothed smile from the photo and a ruffled mop of deep brown hair. Pierre stands behind his jeans clad son with the proud look of a pleased father, his son returns Clarice's piercing gaze with curiosity and then claps his hands, apparently satisfied with what he saw.
"Badge?" he asks in a thick French accent, she discerns what he means though, and removes her heavily engraved FBI badge from her wallet to give to him.
His face lights up "Wow!" he exclaims and shows his father it reverently, Clarice is charmed by his fascination with it, and thinks of all the films that glorify the FBI agent's job to a small child with a big imagination.
The next half an hour sees her doing a lot of miming and acting out of firing scenes or fights she's known, not at all sure his father will approve. Pierre is called away quite soon, to his wife, and entrusts her with his son whose wide eyes drink in every detail of her exciting life as an agent.
When Pierre finally comes back, Jean has gravitated to her lap and in a queer mixture of gestures and French is telling her what he is going to do when he is older. It appears to involve an awful lot of killing the baddies, climbing huge cliffs performing stunts, being a hero, having a whizz whizz car and going to bed when ever he wants.
Pierre has the suppressed look of a man who wants to run whooping through the hospital halls, he tries a strange restrained smile at Clarice and says:
"A little girl! Come see, please?" before turning to his son and informing him gravely that "tu as une petite soeur" as Clarice tries to object.
"This is a private moment, Pierre, I don't want to intrude"
"You won't, Hanna is tired but would like you to see the baby, she knows of you, I talk to her about my work, you looked after Jean" and then he smiles, Jean grabs her hand and she finds herself agreeing.
On the way down the rubber halls to the maternity ward she is appalled and embarrassed, she should slip off really, but Jean's tiny hand in hers evokes maternal feelings that dispose her to be more bending than usual. Upon entering the private room it's too late and she is confronted by a tired pale looking woman who holds in her arms what looks like a bundle of blankets. Jean lets go of her hand and runs towards his
"Mama" who tenderly shows him the wrinkly face of the new-born. Jean is fascinated but informs Clarice that she's really ugly as he leads her up and introduces her (in French) to his mere.
"Hello, would you like to see the baby?"
"I… yes." and Clarice looks at the tiny face, the minute but perfectly formed fingers the wide blue eyes and the creased pink skin, and a pain slices through her, quickly gone but acknowledged. Ever-so gently she reaches out to touch the baby's puckered face, and finds her finger gripped by a fisted hand and she wonders at the startling strength displayed by such a weak looking human miniature.
"She's lovely" Clarice murmurs, sincerely and both parents beam at her, "I really had better go though. Thank you so much for letting me meet her" and gracefully Clarice makes her escape to outside the hospital confines, to rest her head upon the red brick wall and wonder what sadistic god is so cruelly playing with her life.
A/N: This fic will be finished quite soon and I assure you that this chapter was necessary, I trust that you didn't find it too boring! Hope to have time to read all the new ones I've undoubtedly missed, do any of you remember me? ta ta.. whisper.
