A/N: I love how this fandom has been dead on this site since 2013, but I'm still trying.
Just as the doctor had said, he was practically pushed out of the hospital by noon. He couldn't say he was checked out, because that would imply the process was formal rather than the brief looking over of his papers and an aid showing him to the door. He didn't know what he had expected, and frankly, he knew he should be more surprised that there was a hospital on this side of Petersburg. He remembered the doctor that had visited Raskolnikov when he was sick, as he had made it his duty to recognize anyone involved with the Romanovich family. He had been overweight but young, and all too sure of himself with that misjudged confidence that only inexperience could bring. What was his name again..? Ah, it doesn't matter.
When he made it through the doors of the hospital, he took no steps further. Svidrigailov was quite aware of how ridiculous he must look blocking the entrance with his head still wrapped up in bloody bandages, but he could not find any reason to move. He did not think he would make it this far into the day, as his suicidal mission had been just that morning in the crack of dawn, but now the streets were full of life and his stomach was making it clear that it was late enough to be finding lunch.
Should I go back to my room and pretend nothing happened? How strange that would be, sitting in the pleasure gardens under the balcony and sipping tea like a gentleman after this morning. A nurse came straight for the doors in a run, nearly shoving Svidrigailov out of her way. It forced him to move two steps back, but he still planted himself there and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. The thought suddenly occurred to him that he might visit Rodion again, but realizing how Dounia must have appeared after last night, out of breath and hair tousled out of its bun, they must have figured something was astray. Again with her! I really must stop-
Like magic, his distracted gaze managed to focus on one figure across the street, half hidden in the crowds and passing carts, but unmistakable with her violent shawl and rich brunette whisps. And yet, despite the shock he felt in his veins, he was still doubtful that it could possibly be the woman of his dreams. It was not until she crossed the street and approached him, her eyes locking with his, that he sprung into action, straightening his shirt and brushing back his unruly curls with his hand. Her brief look of shock made him realize that doing this just accentuated the scarlet bandages.
"Avdot-" after last night, he could hardly refer to her by her first name- "er, Miss Romanovna, what has you in the streets without an escort?"
"I hardly think I need an escort to visit the market," she said in a strained voice, those dark eyes of hers glued to his forehead. Despite the obvious tension in her posture, Svidrigailov could not help but feel the opposite, her mere presence making it hard to focus on anything or stand as straight as he should. "Pardon me, but are you alright?"
Ah, sweet Dunechka! Worrying for me and coming to see me like a doting wife. He wanted to scold himself for such thoughts, but seeing her here in front of him made it so much more difficult than it was when he was alone in bed. "Quite alright, despite my efforts." He offered a smile and briefly wondered if it was proper to insinuate such things to a woman, but then again, she must have already known. On that subject, "Actually, it is quite practical seeing you here without your family, for there is something I need to return to you." He reached for his inside pocket, but finding it empty, he began testing the others.
It was not until this embarrassing moment that Svidrigailov noticed his coat was lighter without the weight of the gun. He must have dropped it after the shot. It could be anywhere by now, and he knew if the authorities or the hospital had it, they most certainly would not give it back now. "Ah, nevermind, it seems I've misplaced it." Despite knowing he didn't have it, his shaking hands continued to fiddle with his coat, his mind already getting lost in his murky thoughts. This is absurd! She has no need for it anyway, and it is not even hers to begin with, for didn't she say she stole it from under my roof? Or should I say Marfa's roof? No matter, that pistol was mine, and I shot it for years and the one time it mattered I-
A feather light touch on his knuckles made him freeze. His eyes found Dounia's once more, her hand swiftly withdrawing as he did. "Whatever it was, I'm sure life will go on without it." The sweet irony of that statement was enough to drive Svidrigailov mad, but he could not bring himself to move an inch. Her hand was still hovering in the air, and he stupidly wondered if she would touch him again.
"Why exactly are you here, Miss Romanovna?" She looked at him then with a hint of fury, and his heart was struck with the sudden fear that she might leave without a word. Instead though, she took a breath from her nose and steadied herself.
"I'm here to tell you that I've changed my mind."
"Ah, about what?" It can't be, it can't be what I think it is.
"I believe you know what I'm talking about," she said it as if she couldn't bear to repeat whatever it was, but Svidrigailov felt he might die if there was a misunderstanding, so he had to hear it. He continued to stare at her until she sighed, "your offer last night. I'll admit that in the room, in the dark, with no one else in the house and the doors locked, I was quite frightened. But when I went home and saw my mother, she said something that changed my mind. She started talking about my brother. It made me see that he really was not well, especially with how he last left us the other day." She focused on the buttons of Svidrigailov's burgundy jacket, not able to look into his eyes as she remembered, "He was saying the strangest things about sinking and swimming and coming back but maybe not… Razumikhin was very concerned as well. I could see it in his eyes."
"So, you will accept my offer and come to America with me? Your brother too?" He whispered it in a strained voice. He briefly wondered if he really was dead, and this was all a strange mirage in the afterlife. However, Dounia's brilliant eyes and the warmth of her hand returning to his told him it was no dream.
"Yes, that is what I am saying. I think if we do not act soon, Rodya will end up doing something dreadful. I've heard terrible things about Siberia, and with his frail health, I fear I may never see him again if he leaves." Her fingers tightened themselves around his own, and Svidrigailov realized this was probably her way of making him know she meant what she said, for he wouldn't be surprised if he looked baffled at the whole situation. Truly, he did feel lost in the whole ordeal, and barely heard the reason behind Dounia's acceptance. His mind was too preoccupied in replaying her first words, 'Yes, that is what I'm saying.' She was saying yes to him, holding his hand like an intimate friend.
He nearly fainted, but managed to catch himself before he stumbled too far. Dounia now had a hand on each of his shoulders, trying to keep him steady in the street. "Goodness, you must have lost a lot of blood. Truly, what made you think to do such a thing?"
"I apologize… you're coming to America with me?"
"Yes, yes! Not so loud. You never know who could be listening at this time of day. The streets are so busy in Petersburg, nothing like at home." She glanced around to make sure her suspicions were false, then turned back to him. "Come, we must speak with Razumikhin. Knowing Rodya, it will be nearly impossible to make him agree to the plan. We will need his help."
Just like that, the light feeling in his bones solidified with a jolt of realization. He went rigid in Dounia's grasp, and she backed away from him as if his hatred was visibly radiating from him. "Are you suggesting we bring him with us?"
"Yes, but only for Rodya. He is very fond of him; if he is to listen to anyone, it's him. Mr. Svidrigailov, believe me when I say he can be trusted."
"It is not that, not at all." He would have continued, but remembered his place. Dunechka had said yes against all odds. She was here, freely touching him and addressing him by his name with no accompanying insults. Razumikhin may be a liability, but if he made his conditions clear, perhaps it would not matter in the end. "Miss Romanovich, if I am to assist you and your troublesome brother," he refrained from calling Raskolnikov anything worse, "then you must promise to adhere to your end of the agreement."
"Which is?" He knew she was bluffing. The fire in her eyes refused to give in to the ice in his though, so she continued to try and find a wiggle space.
"You know full well what it is, Dunechka."
"Don't you dare use familiar names with me!" She reeled back, one hand on her reddening cheek and the other clutching her shawl closed tightly. She looked mortified and turned to finally leave when Svidrigailov's body kicked into action and he found himself reaching for her clothes to get her to stop, but the moment his fingers brushed her back, she had turned again to face him. "I only ask for time to adjust."
It only took a second to consider, the fear of her leaving renewed, "Yes, of course."
"The I will meet you in two days in front of Rodya's building?"
"Yes… of course." He didn't even realize he was repeating himself. She nodded, turned back to the street, and in the blink of an eye, she was mixed in the crowds and gone from his sight. He still stood in place with his hand out from when he felt the cloth of her dress, blinking in disbelief at the events that just unfolded.
She said yes… Dunechka said yes, she will leave with me, leave this blasted place and belong to only me. Only me… how silly of me. Her brother will be there, and that young man. But Dounia will be mine.
His legs eventually led him to his room. Katerina was nowhere to be found, but it did not matter in the end. In two days' time, he would be wiped clean from Petersburg and Russia itself. He would be free from the poisonous country, the impoverished families that clung to him, and the ghostly old figure that continued to watch him from the shadows.