Author's Notes:
For those, who might be wondering why the interludes seem a little imbalanced in pacing, it was a left-over from the first version on the forum, though I've done what I could to keep it as flowing as possible.
The "Matthew Williams" mentioned is pretty much this AU's version of Canada. Also, this is also the part where things get darker, if not at their most graphic. So thanks for bearing with me.
The Personal Records of a Doctor: A RDNA-verse Tale
15 March 1934
Didn't think it would actually happen. Weeks of progress. Gone. All because of them. Perhaps it really started with that damn meeting. Maybe it would have happened anyway. But if not for that.
The envoy arrived promptly around 11 AM. Said his name was Col. William Parker [1]. Looked the part. Had an upper-class English accent. Out of courtesy, and Francesca's safety, I was allowed into the meeting [2]. Went as expected at first. A few pleasantries. A long discussion on the war in Canada. Yet there was something off. The man never touched the subject on aid. Seemed oddly sympathetic to the Reds. Grew more obvious as it wore on.
Then took a combat knife out of nowhere. Lunged straight at her. Shouted Red slogans as he tried mutilating her body. I was frozen. Everything went wrong. As the guards rushed in, he threatened to kill His Majesty.
Then she started laughing. Damn haunting laughs. Still hear them. Those stabs would have killed anyone human. I knew better. Didn't make it any less disturbing.
She stood up. Looked bloodied. Her dress torn. Quickly grabbed the knife and stabbed the bastard. Kept shouting about the Terror. About everything she lost. We lost. Mentioned her parents by name. And those of the other Lost Nations. The ones I've heard anyway.
Grew frantic. Sensual. Almost feral. Can't get that face out of my head.
Tried grabbing the sedatives. Tossed me aside like some toy. Joined the guards as they restrained her. Had to dose her in lethal amounts. I'm sorry. It all went wrong. It's all failing. I understand now, Francesca. If not for them. God help me.
[1] The real envoy's body was later found in a ravine 16 kilometers from Neu Wien. The Red assassin, whose name remains unknown, is presumed to have been a member of the Canadian Red Faction. Needless to say, it caused some uproar between the Dynasty and the officials in Montreal.
[2] Needless to say, he was under oath as protocol to keep the intended details private at least for the immediate future. -Ed.
16 March 1934
The entire day she never left the bed. She couldn't. Her body had been strapped and bound into it. Even then, the room was constantly guarded. Could only check on her ten minutes at a time. She kept screaming and struggling. No one wanted to take any more chances. Nor be near her. Neither did I. Should feel guilty for all this.
Spent hours finishing reports. Barely ate anything. Bridget had to speak to the family on my behalf. Have to make it up to her and His Majesty. In any case, he was busy dealing with the Canadians over yesterday's mess [1]. Had something to do with giving regards to one Matthew Williams. Didn't listen anymore. It was a welcome respite to focus elsewhere.
Tried to pretend she was just another patient. Just another girl with some irresolvable issues. No, only made it worse. To think of her as incurable at all. Can't say to their faces how I've failed. Or if I've really failed. That all the care in the world may not be enough. May never be. Who knows?
The screams died down towards sunset. It was deemed safe enough to loosen the restraints and security. A relief for all of us, really.
When I entered, a more familiar face greeted me. Some sanity returned to her eyes. Looked very exhausted. Seemed less a young lady for a moment. More a lone matriarch. In a sense, she was. Wanted terribly to apologize. No, she spoke first. Took all her effort to keep calm. She wanted to ask, beg me for forgiveness. For all that's happened. For what I saw. Everything. Or as much as she could say. Fell unconscious soon after. Not like last night. Seemed tranquil, if not for the tears.
All I could say over supper was she's trying her best. Still surprises me how she manages to struggle with the pain. In time, perhaps, she could finally put it all to rest. But when? Likely after I'm long dead or when the last Red finally dies. Or will she have to live with this indefinitely?
She said something else before passing out. Barely heard it. That she couldn't do anything to save them. Or rather:
"I saw them die. We were helpless. Forgive me."
I wonder whether it's the same for me.
[1] Given the circumstances, both countries acted quickly in mending what might have been a major diplomatic blunder. As an act of goodwill, the RDNA pledged further backing of the Loyalists. See Daniel Miller's "The Private History of the British Empire" for more information. –Ed.
