Chapter 2:
Mireille couldn't tear her eyes away from the gun in front of her. Memories of the last time someone had pointed a gun at her head were flashing through her mind. Even while feeling she had lost her main reason for living, she really hadn't wanted her life to end like that, and that day luck had once again proven to be the second-best ally she could ever wish for. An ally who's usefulness could only beaten by Kirika.
Hearing the doorknob turn she picked up the gun and quickly pointed it at the door, replacing it on the bed when she recognized it was her physician who entered. "How are you today, Ms. Fleur?"
"I feel great actually, thank you." She smilingly answered when she heard him say the name he knew her by; for indeed she felt better then she had in the three months since the explosion.
The elderly man returned her smile. "That is wonderful to hear. I would still like to examine you for a moment though and this won't excuse you from your physical therapy session this afternoon." That last part he delivered in a teasing tone and the playful waving of his finger.
"Really? That's just too bad, I was hoping I could spent my time getting totally bored today." She teased back. Both of them knew that without the daily exercises Mireille would have lost her mind out of sheer boredom weeks ago.
As the doctor examined her, the teasing conversation continued. It had surprised Mireille how fast she had learned to like this man. She wasn't someone who cared about people in general and it usually took her a while before she was this at ease with someone. All of this was of course a natural reaction to her job, caring about people got them killed so it was best to not let anyone get that close to her. In this case however, the outgoing personality of the man had managed to get past even her usual armor.
The clinic she now resided in was a place she had discovered several years previously and wouldn't use unless really necessary. Located in the Alps, approximately at the border of France and Switzerland it was in the middle of one of the world's most beautiful sceneries, but this location also made it hard to reach. When she had needed a place to heal after escaping the hospital, she had decided that her current condition had qualified as really necessary and set out to get here.
The original owner of the place had believed the mountain air would be good for the health of his patients and had it built completely with all modern comforts of the time. Although this was over a century ago the clinic had moved along with the times and its high-wealth clientele made sure it had the necessary funding for upgrades. Upon her arrival, she had been exhausted and in an incredible amount of pain. Because of this she had immediately been taken to a room, full of equipment of which she couldn't even guess the use, and been examined. While the doctors in the Parisian hospital had done their best to heal her, the long drive to the clinic had reopened some wounds and aggravated others. Within an hour she had found herself back in surgery, where the doctors had attempted to heal the damage.
It was about 2 weeks after her arrival when she was asked about plastic surgery. Because of the burns that covered most of her back it was deemed more or less necessary and there had been another reason as well. While the type of clientele made certain that discretion was one of the most important qualifications for the clinic's personnel, they had pointed out the many scars that adorned her body. Most, if not all, of these had once been painful reminders of a mistake she had made or a lost battle, which often proved to be the same thing. They had never really bothered her, since she mostly saw them as reminders not to make the same mistakes again.
Now however, the medical community in Paris probably had pictures of them and might even identify her by comparing those to her body. If she planned to one day return to the city of light it would be best if the amount of evidence about her identity was as small and out of date as possible. That decision made, she had undergone another series of surgeries that had covered the existence of these wounds from her body.
The extra time this took didn't really matter to her anyway. It was only after she had awakened after her first surgery here that she had been informed about her worst injuries. She hadn't really noticed in the hospital or even during her trek through Paris after her escape from there, but it had been her legs that had been damaged the most. The lack of any casts and the fact that she couldn't feel any pain from them had fooled her about that.
In hindsight Mireille realized that she should have known they couldn't have come out that good and that because of the morphine she wouldn't have been able to sense any pain, but hindsight was twenty-twenty. When she had hobbled through Paris, she thought the morphine had been the cause of the strange way her legs were behaving and had just gritted her teeth and pushed on. Here however it had been explained to her that a large number of the muscles in her legs had been torn and her insistence on walking on them had only aggravated the condition.
So she had been locked up in this room for three months now, with the only time she spent outside it being the rehab sessions and a couple of excursions of the surrounding landscape. Unfortunately the latter had taken place in a wheelchair, something that she loathed, and had therefore been kept to a bare minimum.
During her musings the doctor had continued the checkup and he now seated himself in a chair next to her bed. "The muscles do indeed seem to be healing well. I believe that within a month or two, you should be able to leave here completely restored."
"That is wonderful!" She exclaimed, her bright mood getting even better.
"Indeed it is, I also believe that it might be good for you to go outside this afternoon."
That wasn't really what she had wanted to hear. "Oh come on, you know how I hate being so helpless, sitting in a wheelchair."
"Indeed I do." For a moment his eyes flickered to the gun still lying exposed on the bed. "However, I believe that if you do not overexert yourself and don't walk for more then a couple of minutes before you sit down again, there might not be any need for a wheelchair."
Mireille could hardly contain her excitement for being allowed to do something that months ago she wouldn't have even bothered to think about. "I can go and walk all by myself? Really?"
"Yes, I would suggest you use a cane though, I'm sure Nanette can provide one for you."
"When can I go outside? My physical therapy is scheduled for two today."
She noticed him try to smother a smile that was threatening on his face, but her mood was so good she didn't really mind. "I think it would be best to go after you've finished. I understand how the therapy will tire you, but that way we can both be certain you won't overdo it. I'll tell Nanette to make sure she gives you the cane when you she is done with you."
He was right about what the therapy would do to her. Before her first session she hadn't believed how hard it would be to do those exercises, but had Nanette not been after her not to give up she wasn't certain she could have finished them. In the end the leaden feeling in her arms had even prevented her from driving the wheelchair back to her room. Nonetheless she replied with complete confidence. "That won't be a problem." Nothing would be able to stop her from setting her first step outside of this building in three months.
"No, I don't think it will. After all, it should have been impossible for you to use your legs when they had been damaged the first time. Yet you walked through a large portion of Paris and thereby managed to aggravate your injuries." Pinning her with a serious look he continued. "I trust you will make certain nothing like that will happen today?"
She really thought it was unfair, it's not like she knew that her legs had been hurt that day, but everyone here still reminded her of how stupid that had been. Somewhere in her mind she had to agree with them of course, even though she didn't have a choice at the time and she would do it again even knowing what the result would be. Therefore she sent a glare back at the man in a silent answer.
He sighed at that. "I know you don't like it when we remind you of that but you must understand how lucky you are that you hadn't done even more damage to your legs. It might have cost you the ability to walk entirely. We have done our best to heal you, and despite our wishes we have even started to care a little for you." Once again his gentle teasing had managed to clear the air between them a little. "We have no wish to see you undo all this work by doing too much too soon. So remember when you go out, you can walk a little but don't forget to take frequent rests."
. . . .
The physical therapy was grueling. Sweat had started to run over her entire body and it caused what little clothing she wore to stick to her body, constricting her movements. Once again wiping her slick hands on her sweats, Mireille looked at her personal slave driver. "Did doctor Guillemin talk to you?"
"About what dear? Do another 20 of those by the way." The last indicating the exercise Mireille had just stopped doing.
Complying with the directions Mireille told her. "Don't be like that! You know what I'm talking about."
Nanette looked at her with an unrepentant grin on her face. "Now, what could you be talking about?" Pretending to ponder her own question for a moment she then answered it. "Of course, I remember. He told me that you would need a harder workout schedule because of your improvements. I have to agree with him there, it would be a shame if you weren't in peak condition by the time you left here."
Mireille turned her best assassin glare on the woman, but that didn't seem to do her any good. "That's not what I meant and you know it." Realizing what she had just been told however she asked. "The therapy is going to be harder?"
"Yes dear. You are doing rather well now on this level, so we'll have to make you work a little harder the rest of the time."
Doing pretty good? She was so tired at the end of these sessions that sometimes the only thing keeping her awake was the stench of her own sweat. Her incredulous look must have been interpreted correctly by the therapist because she answered the unspoken question. "You really are doing very well. I don't think I have ever seen anyone so determined to walk again, it's almost as if you are willing to do anything to make that happen. Before you came here you must have been in great shape, since even on your first session you did more then most after almost a month, despite how severe your wounds were."
There was no way she could see this as anything but praise, so she thanked Nanette for the kind words before once again going back to her original subject. "But tell me, you did speak to the doctor didn't you?"
"Yes dear, he told me how I should arrange a cane for you so that you could go outside for a while today."
"And did you?"
Like her doctor had done hours before, the therapist too had to control her laughter at the eagerness in her voice. And just like then Mireille didn't mind at all, as long as she got what she wanted. "Yes, I have and I'll give it to you once we are done here."
"Thank you, I can't wait to get out."
"I know but that will happen after we're done here. Now do you remember what we did last week?"
With a smile on her face, Mireille listened to the directions given by her therapist as the session continued.
. . . .
She couldn't get the coat closed up right. Her trembling fingers tried to finish the last button on the coat, but it wouldn't go in. Disgusted by her own behavior she tried to calm down. Placing her hands on the wall she leaned forward and tried to distract herself with memories. The drive from Paris to here had been long; she couldn't quite remember how long it had been but were she to guess she would have to say it took at least a day, maybe even two.
At first, the ride had been fairly easy even with the morphine influencing her reactions, there hadn't been that much traffic and she had driven quite a distance before fatigue started to bother her. When she had passed a drive-through she ordered coffee and the vile-tasting drink had kept her awake for a while. Fatigue wasn't to be her problem however. Not long after buying the coffee she had started to notice the first twinges of pain and she realized that it wouldn't be long before the morphine had completely lost its effect.
Stopping the car she had then searched through the first aid kit it contained and taken out all the painkillers it contained. She had then taken as many of them as she dared and hoped that it would be enough to last her until she arrived at the clinic. They hadn't of course, but when next the pain started to reappear she didn't dare to take more of them. The pain continued to steadily grow worse, but she could handle that. She shunted the pain to a part of her brain and just ignored it until it almost seemed like a buzz to her. This was kept up until without really noticing it, the painkillers had completely stopped working. The first time she then shifted her body slightly in order to sit more comfortable, she shrieked from the pain and almost crashed into the car she was passing.
There had been no choice however; she would have to continue the journey without taking any more painkillers. No longer able to ignore the pain she had driven on with only one goal in her mind, to arrive at the clinic as soon as possible. Not knowing how long it would be until the pain became so unbearable her body would shut down to protect itself, she started to disregard every speed limit. On the highways it hadn't been so bad, there the greatest danger had been the police and if necessary she would have dealt with them. In the mountains however, she had no choice but to lower her speed at least a little. The sharp and sudden turns that turned up everywhere required time she didn't really have, but after she had almost driven of the mountainside she had understood that sometimes safety came first after all.
She could still feel her heart beating wildly in her throat from that harrowing experience, but thinking about the drive to the clinic had eased her nerves a little. She was finally able to close the last button on the coat and would have stepped outside if her legs hadn't almost given up on her. Stupid of course, standing there for so long had tired them out. So she had to sit down for a moment before she could go outside, while she didn't like it there was no way around it. Unfortunately her nerves started to play up again. Both Doctor Guillemin and Nanette had promised not to say anything, but she was still anxious for the reaction she would receive.
It took five minutes before she couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing the cane she stood up and set out for the exit. Once outside she paused again, she had really missed the warm feeling of the sun shining down on her face. The fresh mountain air cleared her head and managed to calm her down. Looking around she could see how in the distance the horizon consisted of the snowcapped mountains that surrounded the valley, while all around her there was the influence of the retreating winter on the landscape. The scenery however was only a tiny, unimportant detail in her mind as she was trying to find one special person. The person without whom she would have died in the hospital.
When suddenly she heard a tiny gasp from behind her, she knew she had found who she was looking for and the soft-spoken words that followed the sound only confirmed this. "Mireille, you're walking."
Turning to her partner she could only spread her arms wide and smile. "Surprise?"
---------------------
Post-fic comments: Well, a little over 6.000 words before Kirika spoke her first words in this fic, that's not too bad is it? Like the previous chapter this one was an attempt at a slightly different writing style then I usually use and I'd like to hear if it worked. I realize it isn't exactly fair that none of you know how the cliffhanger ended but don't worry that's why there are more chapters after this one :-)
ParadigmShifter, Anagro and Gracious-Rose, I really appreciate the feedback you gave me (even if it was in the form of bad puns :-)