Halden frowned over at her. She was confused, and was shaking uncontrollably. He looked around for Cat. "Where are you?" he muttered.
"I'm right here," Cat's voice sounded from several different places. It did not sound remotely happy. "She is right there. I'm leaving." Halden shook his head and looked around. The other doctors were both congratulating Reynald and trying to get near enough to Faith to question her. She looked at each of them, but said nothing. Something flickered across her face when she saw Halden, as well as Reynald, but both were unidentifiable.
Faith was so confused. What was happening? One moment, she had been in her cell. Now, she was here, surrounded by people. There was... what was his name? Halden. He had said that he didn't think she was insane. But why not? She had been seeing things; hearing things... they were all in her head. Come to think of it, what exactly had it been? She didn't exactly remember. A child's fantasy, nothing more. Just something innocent gone terribly wrong. There was no reason to think that something hadn't been wrong.
Her shoulder hurt, and she rubbed it, startled to find a small star of scar tissue. When had she been hurt??? Her gaze slowly travelled to Reynald, and a spasm of hatred flickered across her face. Why had she hated him again? Oh, right. He was a greedy, intolerable bastard. Her hand went to her side, and she looked down when she felt nothing there. But what had she expected to feel? She was in the asylum uniform, in a cot, with the only thing near being her blanket. She felt weak, sore, and strangely, extremely tired. She didn't even notice Halden coming closer, while all of the others swarmed around Reynald.
"Faith?" he asked softly.
"What just happened? Why can't I remember anything... why is my chest bleeding?"
"I can't say just yet," he whispered. "But if I can find a way to get to you before your return check here, then we'll figure everything out."
"I don't know how," she whispered. "Am I going home? Is it finished?"
"Yes, you are. The doctors are going to run some tests, and then you're going home. The workers are just adding the last coat of paint to it," he whispered back. "It took awhile to build."
"I'll move back in as soon as I'm out... though, I don't quite know when that'll be."
"You'll stay here for about two weeks while they observe you, then once you're deemed cured, you can go."
"Have you got any advice?"
"Yes. If you hear any voices for these next two weeks, ignore them. If you hear them in your sleep, wake up. Talk to people. Make small talk with the nurses; gossip, if you must."
"I'm sure as hell not going to chit-chat with Emelia," she whispered furiously. He nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You don't need to. Just be pleasant with those that you previously ignored."
She hesitated, and took his arm. "Help me stand," she whispered. She felt safe like that, holding him for just a moment. Then he helped to get her to her feet, and she swayed dizzily. He caught her, and for that split second it seemed to her that there were no other people in the room. He steadied her and she half hung on his arm as she worked to stand. The other doctors stopped talking to Reynald and immediately crowded around her. Reynald was a little angry at the sudden departure of attention, and his ire was only aroused further when he saw that Halden was partially in the centre of it. He rolled his eyes, and clapped his hands for attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid that the patient is in need of rest. I am certain that you shall see her when she is rested, but for now, she will be escorted to the Observation Ward."
He reached towards them, to take Faith, but she only tightened her grip on Halden's arm. "I know where it is," Halden told him. "I can escort her." Reynald stared at him for a long moment, but finally nodded reluctantly, malice in his eyes.
"Fine. Get going, before she collapses."
Faith raised an eyebrow at him and turned away. They took it slowly, and Halden helped her. "Where is it?" he asked.
"I have no idea." She admitted. "No-one ever goes there. Lucy knows, though."
"Let's go ask her then," he said, and they went to find the nurse's office.
Six months later, Faith felt as though nothing had ever been wrong. She had forgotten to call up Halden - she was so busy catching up on society, friends... everything that she had missed the last seven years. There was still something that she had put off doing, though. She was afraid of the reminders that it carried.
Finally, she went up to Florence Cemetery and paid her respects to her family, especially Jeremy. On Jeremy's grave, she laid a photograph of them after he'd won a sports tournament of some sort. Photos were all she had now, she thought bitterly. On her mother's went a photograph of the two of them dressing up in fancy clothes, looking like princesses. On her father's she laid another photo, of her when she was a baby. He had her up on his shoulders.
"Charming little memories," a deep, elegant voice sounded from a few feet away. She looked behind her, and saw a gentleman standing there casually. He was about six feet tall, and she shielded her eyes from the sun's glare as she looked up to face him. He had dark hair worn slicked back, which fell to his neck. He had a fair, though golden complexion, and a goatee. His suit was expensive, as was the overcoat that he held in his arms. His eyes. They were golden brown but cold and they seemed to pierce her soul, as if they knew everything about her; as though they could see into her mind. They almost scared her. The scar on her shoulder stung, and she slowly brought a hand to it. Without ever leaving her face, his eyes followed the motion of her hand.
"Is there something you want, sir?" she asked. His eyes took on a slightly warmer look.
"I only wanted to check up on you. It has been quite a while." She was confused.
"Do I know you?"
"Better than you think," was the smug reply.
"How? I don't think that I've ever seen you before."
"Oh, you have." He grinned, and something in the back of her mind sparked. But it was brief, fleeting, and she didn't know why. She stood.
"I'm sorry, but I have a doctor's appointment I have to go t-"
"Don't." His tone of voice was abrupt, forceful. She turned to face him.
"Why not, sir? Besides, it isn't really your decision as to what appointments I choose to and not to keep!"
He stared stonily at her, and she grew nervous. He seemed to know a lot about her. But... how? And she barely knew him, but he suddenly seemed awfully dangerous. "Yes... you honour your appointments, don't you? Much like you honoured the one with your good friend Halden?"
She froze. "Halden..." she murmured. " I'd completely forgotten him."
"Of course you have. That's why you're here."
"At the cemetery?" She asked disbelievingly. His eyes rolled up in unmistakable annoyance.
"No, Faith. Here, in your world." She stared blankly.
"My world?"
"I shall see you again soon," he said suddenly, looking at the darkening sky.
"What? No, no! First you come here, telling me that I can't go somewhere; the next thing you're saying that you have to go?"
"Missing me already?" It sounded almost like a sadistic purr. She raised an eyebrow.
"Believe me, whoever you are, I was perfectly happy before I met you... and I certainly shan't be missing you. I never did."
He stepped back, giving a short bow from the shoulders. "Farewell, friend. I shall be seeing you again."
"Wonderful," she groaned, and stepped back.
"Perhaps when I do, I can tell you what really happened."
She whirled around, but he was gone. "Wait!" she yelled, and ran to the crest of the hill that she could have sworn that he'd been on. There was nothing in any direction. Confused, she looked up, half expecting to see him there. Instead, she saw the moon, out fairly early. It was a thin, grinning sliver in the sky. She grinned back, more out of habit than any really happy feeling. Then it winked out, and she jumped back several feet. She almost missed her footing and caught herself as she was beginning to fall in a natural, familiar movement. It was rather disturbing as far as she was concerned, because when she started to fall, she usually wound up completing the manoeuvre, instead of halting herself halfway.
"I think I'm going insane," she muttered. "...Again."
She checked her watch. 6:00 PM. Her appointment had been at 5:30. She was late, though as it was with Reynald, she failed to see many misfortunes there. Maybe a talk with Halden would be a little better... if he was still in London. If he wasn't, then she really couldn't do anything but stomp her feet and curse. Or bash a few heads in with a croquet mallet. WHAT?! She stopped mid-stride. For a moment, she had actually felt the weight of a mallet, the impact of it hitting a skull with a crack that was disturbingly familiar. She shut her eyes, somehow believing that if she shut them, then she could shut out the sound. Instead she was greeted with a grin, full of decaying, sharp teeth and bloody marks around the mouth.
She left, quickly and silently, almost running, but not quite. In all honesty, she was about ready to bolt and she almost did, until she reached her home and collapsed on her bed. After she had finished with that episode, she went about collecting herself, gathering her thoughts, asking why the memories had disturbed her so. Memories? No, visions. Imaginings. Dreams. Hallucinations. Feeling a little better after a half an hour, she checked the clock. 6:00? No, it was that time when she had just thought about the mal- better not go there again.
She checked her watch. 6:00. But... no, it made sense. Her watch had probably stopped, that was all, perhaps that morning. But... no, it couldn't have. She'd been wearing it all day, she'd checked the time about ten times before going to the cemetery. She looked back up at the mantle clock. 6:02. Down at her watch. 6:02. Then jumped and suddenly stared back up at the mantle clock. There had been a cat there, she was positive of it. And the clock's hands had been spinning so fast... and the second hand had been going the wrong way, and it had been spinning and the other hands were spinning, and...
"Get a hold on yourself," she muttered sharply, giving herself a sharp rap on the side of the head. It was almost funny, she decided. But if it was so funny, then why did she need convincing of it? "Yeah... That's it, you're cracking up," she groaned.
"I'm right here," Cat's voice sounded from several different places. It did not sound remotely happy. "She is right there. I'm leaving." Halden shook his head and looked around. The other doctors were both congratulating Reynald and trying to get near enough to Faith to question her. She looked at each of them, but said nothing. Something flickered across her face when she saw Halden, as well as Reynald, but both were unidentifiable.
Faith was so confused. What was happening? One moment, she had been in her cell. Now, she was here, surrounded by people. There was... what was his name? Halden. He had said that he didn't think she was insane. But why not? She had been seeing things; hearing things... they were all in her head. Come to think of it, what exactly had it been? She didn't exactly remember. A child's fantasy, nothing more. Just something innocent gone terribly wrong. There was no reason to think that something hadn't been wrong.
Her shoulder hurt, and she rubbed it, startled to find a small star of scar tissue. When had she been hurt??? Her gaze slowly travelled to Reynald, and a spasm of hatred flickered across her face. Why had she hated him again? Oh, right. He was a greedy, intolerable bastard. Her hand went to her side, and she looked down when she felt nothing there. But what had she expected to feel? She was in the asylum uniform, in a cot, with the only thing near being her blanket. She felt weak, sore, and strangely, extremely tired. She didn't even notice Halden coming closer, while all of the others swarmed around Reynald.
"Faith?" he asked softly.
"What just happened? Why can't I remember anything... why is my chest bleeding?"
"I can't say just yet," he whispered. "But if I can find a way to get to you before your return check here, then we'll figure everything out."
"I don't know how," she whispered. "Am I going home? Is it finished?"
"Yes, you are. The doctors are going to run some tests, and then you're going home. The workers are just adding the last coat of paint to it," he whispered back. "It took awhile to build."
"I'll move back in as soon as I'm out... though, I don't quite know when that'll be."
"You'll stay here for about two weeks while they observe you, then once you're deemed cured, you can go."
"Have you got any advice?"
"Yes. If you hear any voices for these next two weeks, ignore them. If you hear them in your sleep, wake up. Talk to people. Make small talk with the nurses; gossip, if you must."
"I'm sure as hell not going to chit-chat with Emelia," she whispered furiously. He nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You don't need to. Just be pleasant with those that you previously ignored."
She hesitated, and took his arm. "Help me stand," she whispered. She felt safe like that, holding him for just a moment. Then he helped to get her to her feet, and she swayed dizzily. He caught her, and for that split second it seemed to her that there were no other people in the room. He steadied her and she half hung on his arm as she worked to stand. The other doctors stopped talking to Reynald and immediately crowded around her. Reynald was a little angry at the sudden departure of attention, and his ire was only aroused further when he saw that Halden was partially in the centre of it. He rolled his eyes, and clapped his hands for attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid that the patient is in need of rest. I am certain that you shall see her when she is rested, but for now, she will be escorted to the Observation Ward."
He reached towards them, to take Faith, but she only tightened her grip on Halden's arm. "I know where it is," Halden told him. "I can escort her." Reynald stared at him for a long moment, but finally nodded reluctantly, malice in his eyes.
"Fine. Get going, before she collapses."
Faith raised an eyebrow at him and turned away. They took it slowly, and Halden helped her. "Where is it?" he asked.
"I have no idea." She admitted. "No-one ever goes there. Lucy knows, though."
"Let's go ask her then," he said, and they went to find the nurse's office.
Six months later, Faith felt as though nothing had ever been wrong. She had forgotten to call up Halden - she was so busy catching up on society, friends... everything that she had missed the last seven years. There was still something that she had put off doing, though. She was afraid of the reminders that it carried.
Finally, she went up to Florence Cemetery and paid her respects to her family, especially Jeremy. On Jeremy's grave, she laid a photograph of them after he'd won a sports tournament of some sort. Photos were all she had now, she thought bitterly. On her mother's went a photograph of the two of them dressing up in fancy clothes, looking like princesses. On her father's she laid another photo, of her when she was a baby. He had her up on his shoulders.
"Charming little memories," a deep, elegant voice sounded from a few feet away. She looked behind her, and saw a gentleman standing there casually. He was about six feet tall, and she shielded her eyes from the sun's glare as she looked up to face him. He had dark hair worn slicked back, which fell to his neck. He had a fair, though golden complexion, and a goatee. His suit was expensive, as was the overcoat that he held in his arms. His eyes. They were golden brown but cold and they seemed to pierce her soul, as if they knew everything about her; as though they could see into her mind. They almost scared her. The scar on her shoulder stung, and she slowly brought a hand to it. Without ever leaving her face, his eyes followed the motion of her hand.
"Is there something you want, sir?" she asked. His eyes took on a slightly warmer look.
"I only wanted to check up on you. It has been quite a while." She was confused.
"Do I know you?"
"Better than you think," was the smug reply.
"How? I don't think that I've ever seen you before."
"Oh, you have." He grinned, and something in the back of her mind sparked. But it was brief, fleeting, and she didn't know why. She stood.
"I'm sorry, but I have a doctor's appointment I have to go t-"
"Don't." His tone of voice was abrupt, forceful. She turned to face him.
"Why not, sir? Besides, it isn't really your decision as to what appointments I choose to and not to keep!"
He stared stonily at her, and she grew nervous. He seemed to know a lot about her. But... how? And she barely knew him, but he suddenly seemed awfully dangerous. "Yes... you honour your appointments, don't you? Much like you honoured the one with your good friend Halden?"
She froze. "Halden..." she murmured. " I'd completely forgotten him."
"Of course you have. That's why you're here."
"At the cemetery?" She asked disbelievingly. His eyes rolled up in unmistakable annoyance.
"No, Faith. Here, in your world." She stared blankly.
"My world?"
"I shall see you again soon," he said suddenly, looking at the darkening sky.
"What? No, no! First you come here, telling me that I can't go somewhere; the next thing you're saying that you have to go?"
"Missing me already?" It sounded almost like a sadistic purr. She raised an eyebrow.
"Believe me, whoever you are, I was perfectly happy before I met you... and I certainly shan't be missing you. I never did."
He stepped back, giving a short bow from the shoulders. "Farewell, friend. I shall be seeing you again."
"Wonderful," she groaned, and stepped back.
"Perhaps when I do, I can tell you what really happened."
She whirled around, but he was gone. "Wait!" she yelled, and ran to the crest of the hill that she could have sworn that he'd been on. There was nothing in any direction. Confused, she looked up, half expecting to see him there. Instead, she saw the moon, out fairly early. It was a thin, grinning sliver in the sky. She grinned back, more out of habit than any really happy feeling. Then it winked out, and she jumped back several feet. She almost missed her footing and caught herself as she was beginning to fall in a natural, familiar movement. It was rather disturbing as far as she was concerned, because when she started to fall, she usually wound up completing the manoeuvre, instead of halting herself halfway.
"I think I'm going insane," she muttered. "...Again."
She checked her watch. 6:00 PM. Her appointment had been at 5:30. She was late, though as it was with Reynald, she failed to see many misfortunes there. Maybe a talk with Halden would be a little better... if he was still in London. If he wasn't, then she really couldn't do anything but stomp her feet and curse. Or bash a few heads in with a croquet mallet. WHAT?! She stopped mid-stride. For a moment, she had actually felt the weight of a mallet, the impact of it hitting a skull with a crack that was disturbingly familiar. She shut her eyes, somehow believing that if she shut them, then she could shut out the sound. Instead she was greeted with a grin, full of decaying, sharp teeth and bloody marks around the mouth.
She left, quickly and silently, almost running, but not quite. In all honesty, she was about ready to bolt and she almost did, until she reached her home and collapsed on her bed. After she had finished with that episode, she went about collecting herself, gathering her thoughts, asking why the memories had disturbed her so. Memories? No, visions. Imaginings. Dreams. Hallucinations. Feeling a little better after a half an hour, she checked the clock. 6:00? No, it was that time when she had just thought about the mal- better not go there again.
She checked her watch. 6:00. But... no, it made sense. Her watch had probably stopped, that was all, perhaps that morning. But... no, it couldn't have. She'd been wearing it all day, she'd checked the time about ten times before going to the cemetery. She looked back up at the mantle clock. 6:02. Down at her watch. 6:02. Then jumped and suddenly stared back up at the mantle clock. There had been a cat there, she was positive of it. And the clock's hands had been spinning so fast... and the second hand had been going the wrong way, and it had been spinning and the other hands were spinning, and...
"Get a hold on yourself," she muttered sharply, giving herself a sharp rap on the side of the head. It was almost funny, she decided. But if it was so funny, then why did she need convincing of it? "Yeah... That's it, you're cracking up," she groaned.