Chapter 5: New Assignment
As the hours passed, the frenzied evening at the hospital melted into a slow, quiet morning. The healers had done all they could for Mr. Graves, and once he was stable enough, they finally left him to rest.
Iris was the only member of the Investigative Team to stay at the hospital all night. She was surprised that no one called her back to headquarters to report. Maybe they were being sensitive towards her because Percival was her ex-partner. Either way, she was grateful.
When the healers finally allowed her to enter Mr. Graves's room, Iris took up the chair next to his bed and sat there watching over him, quiet and intent, like a dragon guarding an egg. She'd all but forgotten her pervious desires to sleep.
The afternoon came quickly, bringing more foot traffic and, of course, visitors. Soon, reporters from the New York Ghost would start to weasel their way into the halls, sneak past the nurses, and try to snap a photo or get a quote from a loose-lipped Auror. The day would only get more exhausting and, no doubt, more frustrating.
Percival's first, unexpected, visitors were Tina and Queenie Goldstein. The two sisters walked through the open door of his hospital room, the younger one, Queenie, carrying a modest but pretty bouquet of pink flowers.
Percival was still asleep, tucked in a small, cleanly, bed with white sheets. The gaslights were dimmed and the curtains were drawn so he could rest soundly. Small white bandages dotted his face and his left eye only showed a light smattering of bruises from where it had been swollen shut- it seemed to be healing up nicely. His hands, however, were covered in angry red scars, his fingers set in a myriad of wooden splints. The wounds looked as fresh as they had when the team first found him.
Iris looked unusually careworn, her worried eyes fixed on the floor in front of her.
"Hello, Miss Faeborn," greeted Tina, gently. "We've come to visit Mr. Graves."
Iris blinked away her troubled expression and pushed herself out of her chair, finding some difficulty after sitting for so many hours. "Of course, let me give you the room. I was about to leave."
Queenie and Tina could tell leaving hadn't even crossed the platinum-haired witch's mind but neither said anything.
Having gathered her coat, Iris glanced over at the sleeping Percival and hesitated a moment.
"Oh honey, he'll be alright. We'll only be a few minutes anyway," Queenie told her, having picked up on Iris's worried thoughts about leaving him.
"Please, take your time," insisted Iris, her cheeks flushing red despite herself. Queenie's capabilities always put her on edge, not to mention she always forgot to steel her thoughts around her.
The two sisters hung back a moment to watch Iris leave.
"She blames herself, poor dear." Queenie whispered to Tina as they watched Iris aimlessly turn the corner of the stark hallway. Queenie frowned, more-like pouted, at the platinum-haired witch's defeated manner. "She's treating herself so unfairly."
"Mr. Graves and Miss Faeborn used to work cases together," Tina explained, taking the flowers from Queenie and placing them on the nightstand by Percival's bed. "They were close."
"Were?" pressed Queenie, looking over at Percival who, in her opinion, still looked pretty banged up.
Tina shrugged. "He got promoted to Director of Magical Law Enforcement. After that their relationship became… strained."
Queenie's brow furrowed, thoughtfully, "She seems pretty attached to him."
"Yes. I think she is," nodded Tina.
The two joined up at the foot of the bed and watched Mr. Graves silently.
"His hands..." murmured Queenie, wringing her own milky white ones as she gazed down at the fresh red scars crisscrossing Percival's flesh, "Do you think they'll fully heal?"
Tina bit her lip at the disturbing thought. "I'm not sure," she replied quietly.
"But isn't he a master of Wandless Magic?" Asked Queenie.
"Yes, he…" Don't say was, she told herself, the word already on the tip of her tongue. "He is."
The lie was less painful to say than the truth. She wondered if Iris was denying it herself. The Second-In-Command's troubled look as they'd first walked the room in said it all. Mr. Graves was never going to be the same again.
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Iris rounded the corner of the well-scrubbed hallway, dragging her feet, exhausted. Every now and then her toe would catch on the white tile floor, causing her to stumble. The pattern reminded her of honeycomb.
She wondered if she shouldn't return to MACUSA, or better yet, go home. Picquery had not called for her and Percival was kept under a heavy sleeping draught while he healed. She knew he would not be woken until the healers determined he was well out of danger. She supposed the best thing to do would be to return to headquarters and see if she was needed.
She slowly trudged down the front steps of the magically concealed hospital and headed up the street, her heeled footfalls heavy on the sidewalk. Rain began to come down softly and Iris pulled her coat tighter around her, hugging herself as she quickened her pace.
She couldn't stop thinking about what the healers told her regarding Percival's hands. They said, calmly and without doubt, that it was likely that they may never heal. Hearing the news, she felt like her chest was collapsing in on itself, like she couldn't breathe. The head healer hadn't noticed her shock and continued on talking as if all of what he had been saying was perfectly easy to swallow. How could he know what Perceval meant to her?
Once they left her alone with Percival, Iris felt numb. She knew the incredible difficulties of harnessing the ability to perform Wandless Magic. But, unlike her, Percival was a true master of it. Wandless Magic was his livelihood, his life. It seemed that his future grew murkier with every passing hour and all she could do was watch.
The further Iris walked, the more she felt the urge to run- to run until her lungs ached and her muscles were all but played out. But she didn't. She bit her tongue and forced her ebbing tears down, keeping an even pace as she walked. Just continue forwards, she thought, looking through the people passing by. In the end, what good would it do to make a scene?
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Against Iris's better judgment, she had returned to MACUSA to report. The moment she walked in the doors she was instantly flagged down by Manny who told her that the president wanted to see her immediately.
"I haven't even been here a minute and there's already a five alarm fire?" She grumbled.
Manny merely shrugged, seeming to roll with her bad mood quite easily.
"How is Mr. Graves?" He asked.
"He's alive- he's healing," she told him, heading over to the elevator with long, purposeful strides. Despite her annoyance, she was somewhat grateful to be given a task. "Other than that, I don't know. They have him under a sleeping draught, so I haven't been able to talk to him."
"Is that for his sake, or ours?" asked Manny, referring to MACUSA's over-barring need to control every situation.
The platinum-haired witch pursed her lips as she boarded the gilded elevator car, "I honestly don't know."
"Well, you're probably about to find out," muttered Manny before stepping away and leaving her in the company of Red who, somehow, didn't even have to ask what floor she was going to.
Reaching the President's office, she made quick work of the passwords and entered. Seeing Iris standing in her doorway, Picquery calmly set her work aside and invited her in.
"Hello, Miss Faeborn," she greeted, rounding her desk. "How is Mr. Graves?"
Iris considered what she should say before speaking. "He's stable. Though, he may have suffered some long-term injuries. It's not yet clear."
"I'm sorry to hear that," murmured Picquery. "Once he is well enough, we will need to begin reviewing his memories right away. I'm giving that assignment to you."
Iris suddenly felt her stomach knot up. "Madam President, I'm not sure if I'm the one for this job."
"I'm certain you're the best candidate for it," said Picquery, unwavering. "Memories can be tampered with and sometimes muddled; especially if the victim has been tortured into revealing secret information. Out of anyone in the department, you've known Mr. Graves the longest. I believe I can trust you to recognize what memories are real and what may be a fabrication."
"I see," said Iris, irked by the idea that Percival would try to hide anything. She had thought the President knew he was not that kind of man. Apparently she was wrong about that.
Picquery went on to say, "I want to keep this investigation close to the vest, no outsiders, no reporters. We must know what Graves may have told Grindelwald. The situation is very delicate."
Iris practically did a double take. "Mr. Graves is being investigated?"
"We can't leave anything to chance," she explained, showing some regret. "I trust that you will be objective in this matter."
"Yes ma'am, of course," nodded Iris, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
"I'll need your report as soon as possible," said Picquery before returning to her desk.
"Yes, Madam President."
With that, Iris left the office with a new feeling of dread weighing on her. Percival went from victim to suspect in under five minutes. Perhaps Manny was right in his statement about the sleeping draught. MACUSA was on full defense mode after Grindelwald's attack, and Picquery was ready to squash any hint of a threat.
AN: Hello everyone! Sorry for my long absence. I'm still here though and determined to finish this story. Hope you liked the latest chapter. there will be more soon.
