Chapter 7
When he next awoke, there she was again. Her robe was over him, and the cold surgical table still underneath him. Sophie's hand was over his own, and her head was turned away from him, resting on her arms as she apparently slept next to him on a chair pulled up to the table. One light was on in the corner of the room, and it stank of the copper of blood and antiseptics. Victor's eyes rested on her blonde head for a moment longer, and then looked around at his surroundings, the IV in his left hand connected to a blood bag that seemed to be nearing the end of its infusion. The work area looked like it had been scrubbed, not with the usual clean-up team's expected perfection, but most likely Sophie's handiwork. He felt a strange numbness on the right side of his body, stretching from his neck down his chest. Victor stretched out his muscles, his limbs coming to life with a silent groan. His activity made him aware of another IV in his right arm, and upon inspection was an antibiotic.
Victor rolled his eyes and drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table, and then stretched out the fingers of his right hand. Like a jostled puppet she came to life, her back curving to sit back, and head following up in a slow roll, tired green eyes blinking at him with instant softness. That numbness in his chest was interrupted by a cramp, a pull that left him gritting his jaw. Victor rolled his shoulders and then sat up, with Sophie wordlessly moving to make sure the IV tubing stayed connected. In a pleasant silence he threw his legs over the side of the table, and she moved the other IV pole around the table.
"Bathroom?" she said softly, standing in front of him again, and in answer he slid off the table, bare feet touching the floor. Immediately she was putting her shoulders under his left arm and clucking at him to not put much weight on his right arm.
"Grab that other pole, it's coming with us," Sophie instructed, and with one of her arms around his waist, and her free hand pulling the pole hung with the blood transfusion, they made their way to the bathroom so he could take a piss.
By the time they got back to the surgical table the blood transfusion was done, so Sophie helped Victor back onto the table and then replaced the blood bag with a bag of normal saline and titrated it with a furrowed brow.
Victor spotted his clothes folded and placed off to the side on another counter. With his right hand he moved to rub at his face and feel the stubble growing there, along his jaw, on his brow, but when he went to reach higher he felt a sharp pain shoot across his chest and his face curled into a snarl of dissatisfaction, but he dropped the hand and met her silent glare.
"I need my phone," he rumbled.
Her green eyes narrowed at him, and he furrowed his brow at her and jerked his head in the direction of his clothes.
Sophie was silent as she bent to pick up her robe that had fallen to the floor, wrapped it around his shoulders and then went to his clothes and dug through his pockets, retrieving his phone.
He began texting with a flurry of fingers, seemingly unhindered by the IVs sticking out of him.
"When will the infusions be done?" he asked.
"You should be resting," she said instead, and placed a hand on his cheek.
He stared at her silently for a moment, then, "Sophie, the infusions."
She sighed loudly and her hand dropped away, "Give it another six hours at least. Probably should only be four, but still…"
Sophie slid tiredly into chair and watched a myriad of subtle emotions play across his face, caught the light of the cellphone screen catching on blonde stubble.
He made an unhappy noise in his throat, and looked like he was seriously considering crushing the phone within his grip, but then inhaled deeply and cracked his neck, wincing as the sutures above his right collarbone were stretched.
"When did you last eat?" he asked gruffly.
Sophie frowned and looked up at the clock on the wall, "Mmm, I don't remember. But after seeing your insides I can't say I have much of an appetite."
Minutes later he moved to place the phone into a pocket of his suit, and instead touched the bandages the stretched across the expanse of his chest. Sophie held out her hand for the phone instead, and after some jaw twitches he relinquished it to her.
"A ride will be here in four hours to pick us up," Victor informed her and Sophie's face twisted into her own look of displeasure.
"Well you better lay your ass down and rest then, unless you want to faint like a girl when they come to get you," she snapped.
His brown eyes flickered over her face, gauging her seriousness, before he swung his legs up on the surgical table and laid supine once again. Her robe fluttered over him once more, and then she was moving around the table, one side to the other, re-titrating the infusions.
"I've been told to lay low for awhile, so we'll be dropped off at your place."
"Hmm," Sophie murmured, "Well maybe you actually will heal then."
"My gun?"
"At my apartment."
"It should be with me," he growled, moving to sit up, but hands were pushing him back down, not at all gentle even on his right side.
"So should the pool of blood you left on my wood floors, but it's still there and we're still here, so tough luck, Sunshine," she snapped.
They glared at each other with fire in their eyes, but said nothing. Victor felt the need to sleep pulsating in his right temple so after another pointed glare, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
"Victor," he heard her call.
He opened his eyes to find her removing the IVs from hand and arm. Frowning, he looked to the clock and found that indeed four hours had passed.
Sophie hurriedly taped gauze to the sites and then proffered his suit coat, "Your dress shirt was a loss," she explained at his deadpan look. She helped him thread his right arm into the sleeve and pulled it over his shoulders, and smoothed it out. While he pulled on his pants and shoes she moved in a whirlwind throwing away the rest of the garbage and throwing on her robe.
"I must look like a mess," she muttered touching her ponytail, but when her eyes fell on him she paused.
He watched as her eyes ran over his bare chest but for the bandages, Victor felt a heat erupt within him at the darkening of those green eyes.
"You look fine, Sophie," he muttered before opening the door and ushering her out and into the car that waited there.
A mafiosi held open the door for them, and he gulped and Zsasz's bandages and how the murderer-for-hire looked like he was probably gonna kill him for just seeing him like this.
A quick growl stating the cross streets of their destination and then Zsasz was ushering a woman in a robe into the car before him and then disappearing inside after her.
When they exited at the cross streets a little less than thirty minutes later, it was only the woman who exited and she looked confused as the door closed behind her and with a tap on the partition, the mafiosi sped forward, gulping as the young woman disappeared slowly from his side mirror.
Sophie stood on the curb, mouth opening and closing like a fish before she let out a frustrated bellow, ignoring the looks of random Gothamites that walked on the street around her. Sophie stomped to her building and punched in the code with stiff fingers and then made her way up to her apartment. Inside her apartment the gun was still resting on the counter with a smeared bloody handprint, and her floor….ugh, it was a loss.
Sophie locked the door behind her and made her way to her bathroom where she promptly took a steaming hot shower and then made herself some soup before huddling on her couch and turning on the television. Her eyes burned with tiredness as she force fed herself, but she took in footage that had been captured from street cameras, the names that were read as being wanted for gang violence, murder.
Oh, Victor…
Sophie took note of the day and time, and decided that after her last 72 hours she wasn't going to a functioning member of her healthcare team, so she called off and apologized, family emergency, but she'd be there for her next shift. Oh Sophie, you never call off, take all the time you need, is there anything we can do… and Sophie thanked them for their kindness and waved off their concern.
Sophie wasn't sure how much time had passed when her door opened and woke her from her nap on the couch. Victor filled the doorway before stepping in and closing the door behind him, a big, black and expensive looking bag in his left hand.
He eyed her, her soup bowl and then the television. Then those brown eyes found his gun on the counter, the blood smear there and the caked, congealed mess on her front entry way. Victor once again looked at her silently, and then was moving, turning off the television and the light in the living room before disappearing into the bedroom. Her closet light turned on and Sophie slid off the couch, and moved into her room just as he emerged from the closet, turning off the light. Then his hand was there, touching the small of her back and leading her to the bed, divesting her of her clothing and then peeling back the covers and guiding her in.
She heard his clothes hitting the floor and then he was slipping in beside her.
"You should always go shirtless for your suits," she mumbled.
"Sleep, Sophie," he commanded, and she felt his long fingered hand rest itself over her heart, his fingertips against her steady pulse.
"I thought you left again," she said some moments later, struggling to stay awake.
"I told you of my orders, I'll be staying here," he informed her.
"Well I might just let you stay," she slurred with sleep, and giggled a little.
Silence was her answer, and Sophie felt herself plummet into the depths of sleep, once again lulled by the comfort of his warmth at her side.
It was her sixth birthday, but Aunt Carol was at work. She'd left a chocolate birthday cake in the fridge, but Sophie was pretty sure cakes needed candles and she didn't know where those were, but also knew she shouldn't play with fire, so in the fridge the cake stayed.
Mama….Mama always remembered Sophie's birthday. They would wear plastic tiaras and dance around the house, and they'd even wear the silly crowns when they went to go get pancakes for dinner, because it was her birthday and she could have anything she wanted for dinner, even breakfast.
Sophie missed her Mama terribly, and she still felt like she'd done a very bad thing leaving that spot in the mall her mother had told her to stay at. Aunt Carol had said Mama was "long gone", but Sophie figured since that she'd only seen Aunt Carol once or twice before Mama left, maybe Aunt Carol didn't know as much about Mama as she thought she did.
She needed to get back to that place. So she went next door, wandered through the abandoned, rusting refrigerators and found him bent over a book, doing his homework. Sophie tapped him on the shoulder.
"Victor, will you take me to the mall? I need to find my Momma,"
Brown eyes looked her way under heavy blonde brows.
"I thought she left you," he said softly.
"I think she's gonna come back," supplied Sophie. Victor once again began writing on his lined piece of paper, pencil held tightly between his thin fingers, and she watched him, waiting silently.
After what seemed like years he closed the book, and unfolding himself from his seated position on the ground, he went and hid his book somewhere on the porch. From there Victor moved toward the street and Sophie stumbled after him, wishing she still had the same outfit she had a year ago, because then maybe it would be easier for Mama to remember to her.
She followed him to the bus stop where he hesitated just a moment to take her hand and then pulled them in with a group of people and found them a place to huddle in the back.
"How do you know how to get there?" Sophie marveled.
"Sometimes my Mom takes me there," Victor said softly, brown eyes looking out the window, and far beyond.
Victor was so smart...
"You'll really like my Mom," said Sophie. "She laughs all the time, plays dress-up, and she's as beautiful as a princess!"
Victor turned his head to look over at her in silence, then nodded and looked back out the window.
Sophie was just beginning to give up and doze when Victor perked up and his warm hand grabbed hers again, and when the bus stopped, he was quick as a rabbit, getting them into the crowd of people and off the bus.
On the sidewalk he came to an abrupt stop and put his hands in his pockets.
"Where to?" he asked.
Sophie looked up at the building, frowning, "I think I need to go inside, I'll remember then."
That was a good answer it seemed, because he nodded and led the way into the mall. The cold air was refreshing and Sophie used all of her might to remember exactly where they had gone. She remembered that her Mom had taken her by the pet store where they had pointed and looked at puppies and kittens, gave them names and stroked their furry faces through the glass. Sophie remembered the ice cream shop where her Mom had gotten Sophie her own chocolate sundae.
Sophie took Victor's hand then, and pulled him along and she spoke as the walked, telling him all that she remembered as he looked at her and followed.
Then finally they made it, after a bookstore there had been a shoe shop, and after the shoe shop Sophie and her Mom had sat on a bench for awhile just people watching as her Mom had called it.
"Here," said Sophie, remembering the store with white ceramic cats that she had stood outside of for so long, "this is where she'll be,"
And so they stood and waited. And waited. And waited.
Sophie got that bad feeling again, that icky feeling that made her stomach feel like it was in knots and that it was weighing her down. Sophie just wanted to sink through the floor and out of sight. She blinked away tears as the overhead voice notified customers of closing time.
A hand was on her shoulder then, and Victor was bending to look her straight in the eye.
"Some parents are no good Sophie. I know they're supposed to be, that's what all the stories tell you, but some parents...they are just bad people, Sophie. Whenever my Dad does something really bad, if we get the chance, my Mom will bring me here and she'll get me an ice cream too, and she'll talk about how things will change one day. She says my Dad doesn't mean any of the things he does. But I know, Sophie, I know that he does mean it. I can see it in his eyes that he wants to crush us like bugs. I think your Mom took you to all these places because she didn't know how to be a good parent, a good adult, and just say good-bye to your face."
Sophie cried then, putting her face in hands and hiding behind a curtain of hair.
"But why did she leave? Was I a bad girl?" she sobbed.
"You weren't the bad one, Sophie."
He didn't offer hugs or explanations, just a warm hand on her shoulder and Sophie looked into his eyes and nodded, calming down.
"Thank you for coming here with me," she sniffled.
"Let's go back home, the buses will be stopping their routes soon," he said in reply, and they retraced their steps right back out to the bus.
When they got home the neighborhood was dark, but there was an orange glow coming from the porch from Aunt Carol's cigarette as she sat and smoked, waiting.
"I'm not gonna wait for her anymore," Sophie whispered to Victor before they parted ways outside of their houses.
Victor nodded and eyed Aunt Carol's shadowed face before disappearing into his house.
When Sophie marched up the steps, she looked at Aunt Carol and took a deep breath.
"I'm done waiting for her," Sophie said.
"'Bout damn time," breathed her Aunt, exhaling smoke off to the side.