'Waiting room' wasn't the right name for it. It was a torture chamber.
Ensconced in an uncomfortable chair, Ivy sat counting the minutes and clenching her fists, her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands. She had been there for almost two hours; other anxious people had come and gone, some acknowledging her presence but most of them staying well away, as if they could sense the turmoil within her. She hadn't moved, instead simply concentrating on the time ticking away, and trying not to lose control. She would have destroyed the entire hospital out of sheer frustration if Eve hadn't been in there, still much too far away despite being in the same building. She had to wait, and wonder, like everybody else, and it was all just one more thing added to everything else that was making her feel utterly helpless.
She supposed it was a good thing, in a way, that nobody was bothering her. It allowed her to think things through, trying to figure out what on earth had happened to her. When she had turned around and seen Eve, the hole in her chest, the blood rapidly soaking through her pyjamas...her entire world had narrowed down to focus on one point. Any thoughts that weren't about Eve had vanished - and still, she had been unable to do anything but hold her close and mumble the same words over and over. She had been useless, and the guilt burned hot inside her, a fire in her belly.
Only when Batman had interfered had she managed to start functioning properly again, and even then she hadn't been herself. In retrospect, she had obviously been in shock, and it had taken over everything. She had handed Mortimer over to the police without a murmur - yes, she'd threatened him, but any other day she would have destroyed him where he stood for even attempting to take her Evelyn away. She'd actually had a civil conversation with Commissioner Gordon; that in itself was ludicrous, even if he had been very accommodating and hadn't tried to arrest her. She had even ridden in his car to the hospital. Her thoughts had been entirely focused on Evelyn's survival and nothing else, blocking out the fact that she was apparently now on casual speaking terms with the Commissioner. Now she was able to process it, she couldn't believe it.
It was as if...just for that short time, she had just been Pamela, without Ivy. She'd been weak and confused and scared, trying her hardest to be strong for the woman she loved but finding it too much of a struggle. Part of her wished she could turn back the clock, if only to prove to herself that she really could be the hero for her Evelyn when she had to be, without having to rely on the two people that had been trying to lock her away for years.
She supposed, however, that was a reasonable response to the situation. Being in love made you do strange things and act in strange ways; when the one you loved was in danger, it was a whole different ball game.
She didn't remember ever feeling like this, not even before her transformation; but then, she had never had anybody she really loved before either. Woodrue had been an infatuation, and Harley had been fun, but what she had with Evelyn was real. It was meant to last, not be cut short by a bullet and her own mental breakdown.
Ivy sat forward and put her head in her hands. She wished with all her heart that she had been stronger; she wished she had been able to get Eve away from that madman safely. She should have kept a better eye on her, kept hold of her hand and made sure she never left her sight. Instead, she had been so focused on getting to the door that she hadn't seen the danger. It was all her fault - the kidnapping, the gunshot, all of it.
If only she'd been faster. If only she'd kept her head, instead of breaking down and becoming useless. She had tried to pull herself together, enough to deal with Mortimer, but even that had been too much - instead of retreating into herself and letting the cops take charge, it should have been her taking Eve to the hospital. She had let her down.
Glancing up, she saw that only ten minutes had passed since she'd last checked the time. With a groan of frustration, she stood up and walked over to the small window, gazing out at the view of the city below. It seemed strange that the world outside looked the same as it always did, entirely unaffected by the events inside the hospital. Ivy felt trapped, and she hated it, but she also didn't dare leave the room, let alone the building. She couldn't miss any news.
Just for something to do, she went to the water cooler in the corner and filled up a plastic cup. The water was icy cold, and she clutched the cup between her shaking hands as tightly as she could without crushing it.
She paced, and time ticked on. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Someone came in, a sad-looking man accompanied by a small boy who clearly didn't have any idea what was going on. The boy stared at her with wide eyes, and for a second Ivy wondered if she'd let her control slip and her skin was turning green again - but no, he was simply staring at her like children that age do with anything new. She was slightly uncomfortable under his fixed gaze, and returned to her chair, deliberately not making eye contact. She felt absurdly territorial, like the waiting room was her place to suffer in limbo and nobody else's, but she quickly dismissed the thought as ridiculous. It was only a result of the tension and frustration inside her, manifesting itself in a way that didn't involve reducing the hospital to rubble for keeping her Evelyn away for so long. She knew that there was no better place her love could be right then, but oh, the fear. The not-knowing. It gnawed steadily at her self-control as each second came and went.
It had to have been at least another hour now since she had arrived at the hospital, her skin pale and apparently human, her arms and thighs covered in leaves that formed a sort of dress so nobody was too suspicious. Gordon had offered to come inside with her, despite obviously being deeply conflicted about it, and she had barely had time to deny the offer before running into the hospital foyer and demanding to know what was happening to her Evelyn. Once it had been established that she was describing the woman who'd been brought in apparently by Batman, scaring the life out of two nurses sneaking a cigarette together, the receptionist had been especially helpful. She'd given him an alias, not trusting that there wasn't a single person in the hospital that would recognise her real name, and after filling out some paperwork she'd been directed to this room. This horrible, purgatorial room.
Even as she thought it, the door opened – there stood a nurse, his face an unreadable mask. Without even realising, Ivy held her breath.
"Miss Irving?" the nurse said, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Ivy nodded. The nurse beckoned her, and she followed him outside the room, leaving the man and boy alone.
Out in the hallway, it was noisier, but somehow more private – none of the people scurrying by paid them any attention. In a practiced move, the nurse placed his hand on Ivy's shoulder firmly, but not too firmly, and gave her a hint of a smile. "Well, Miss Irving, your partner is out of surgery and in the PACU. We'll be monitoring her closely, and she'll need to stay in our Inpatients unit for at least a couple of weeks, but she'll make it through. The bullet did break two of her ribs, but it missed her vital organs. She's a very lucky woman." He squeezed her shoulder.
Ivy stared at him, her brain not quite processing what he'd said. Could it be? She was shaking harder; she didn't dare believe it in case she was wrong. "She's…okay? My Evelyn's okay?" she asked deliberately, her voice harsh to the ear and far away from her usual velvet tones.
The nurse nodded. "She will need monitoring, and she'll have an impressive scar down the line, but she'll be fine."
"When – when can I see her?" Ivy gasped out.
"It'll take about an hour for the anaesthetic to wear off, then you'll be able to see her straight away, for a short while. Meantime, I'd advise you to get yourself something to eat and drink, maybe some fresh air too. Then you can head up to the PACU – just follow the signs. She'll be in there for about two hours before we can move her." He pointed her in the direction of the hospital canteen, and left her to it.
In a sudden rush, all the tension flooded out of Ivy's body and she collapsed back against the wall of the corridor, leaning there for support in case her knees gave way like it felt they would. Eve was going to be okay. The words went round and round her head like a mantra, filling her with happiness. Her heart ached; she wanted to run up to the PACU on her wobbly legs right then, to pull Eve close and never let her go.
Part of her knew it was selfish to feel that way. She had to remind herself that the mantra in her brain was in the future; Eve would be okay, but not immediately. She wouldn't be well enough to be hugged, let alone leave the hospital, for at least two weeks. After that, Ivy would have to take care of her as she recovered fully, both physically and no doubt psychologically. Of course she wanted her to be okay now, this minute, but she was also more than happy to look after her, whatever that meant. She would look after her for the rest of their lives.
The door to the waiting room opened. Out came the man and the boy, the former looking tired and the latter sulky. The man nodded at Ivy in recognition. "Good news?" he asked tentatively. His voice was hoarse.
Ivy allowed herself to smile for the first time in what felt like an age – it felt strange, as if her facial muscles had forgotten how to do it. "She'll pull through," she said, the words cementing themselves fully in her mind once she said them aloud herself.
"Congrats," the man said with a small smile of his own. "I hope everything goes well for you two." He picked up the boy, who was starting to complain about being bored and wanting a drink, and lifted him onto his shoulders. They walked off down the corridor, following the signs to the canteen.
Ivy decided that perhaps she should follow suit. She had some time until Eve was fully conscious, and she hadn't eaten properly in days, having been running on her own photosynthesis. She could go longer without actual food, and had done before, but taking some time to at least drink some fresh water would do her good. It wouldn't help Eve in any way if she was running on fumes, and the small, slow ritual of sitting down alone to have a drink would help her to calm her thoughts.
Her footsteps were light and graceful as she walked through the hospital, barely registering any of the people or rooms she passed. Her head was full of relatively good thoughts, something which had felt impossible only a few hours before.
Eve was going to be okay.