A/N: Well, it certainly has been a while! Here is a short update. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this...whatever it is. As always, feedback is appreciated! ;)
"The pain of it all,
The rise and the fall,
I see it all in you.
Now every day
I find myself sayin',
I want to get lost in you—
I'm nothing without you.
…Let me get close to you."
"Lost in You" –Three Days Grace
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
Margot slowly blinked her eyes open, her head heavy as if somebody had filled it with lead, her eyes aching under the bright white light. She tried to sit up and felt a stab of pain shoot through her ribs. A groan escaped her throat.
"Margot!" a soft exclamation drew her out of her groggy state.
"Bruce," she mumbled weakly, glancing to her left and seeing that the boy was indeed sitting nearby. Alfred was at his side, of course, looking weary and pale, fast asleep and snoring softly. She recalled the events at the manor, the men that had attacked her, and a wave of relief washed over her to see that both Bruce and Alfred were safe. "What happened?"
"Everything's fine," the boy reassured her, glancing at his butler and nudging the man. "Alfred."
The man started awake with a snort. "What?" Blinking, he glanced first at Bruce and then at Margot. "God," he breathed, "you're awake."
She noticed how ruffled he looked, the burn marks on his face, the way he seemed to favor his side as he moved. Bruce also looked a little worse for wear. "What happened to you two?" she asked wearily.
Alfred and Bruce exchanged a look before answering simultaneously.
"You don't want to know."
"We'll tell you later."
Alfred continued, "You should rest. Believe me, you'll want out of here as quickly as possible."
Bruce glanced at the man. "Only because you don't want to stay."
"The doctors keep looking at me like a bloody piece of meat," Alfred responded darkly.
"They just want to have a look at your side," the boy explained patiently.
"My side is fine," the butler retorted, indicating Margot with a nod as he added, "She's the patient."
"I'm fine," she replied, adding with a groan, "Everything hurts, but I'm fine."
"Master Bruce," suggested Alfred, "why don't you go fetch the nurse?"
Bruce nodded and rose.
As soon as he was gone, Alfred moved nearer, his expression growing serious. "Margot, there's something I need to discuss with you." She nodded and listened quietly as he continued, "Those men that attacked you took Bruce. They almost killed him."
"I tried to stop them, but…" Margot trailed off hopelessly, staring down at her hands, which clenched the bedsheets tightly. "I'm so sorry, Alfred," she whispered.
He reached for her, slipped one of his large, worn hands over hers. "Margot," he murmured, drawing her gaze back up to meet his. "I don't blame you," he reassured her. "But it's not safe for Bruce to remain in the city right now." Alfred's brow furrowed, and he seemed to struggle with what he was going to say next.
"You have to leave," Margot realized aloud.
The man looked up and nodded reluctantly. "I'd rather not leave you here, but—"
She squeezed his hand gently in hers. "I know, Alfred. I've always known. Bruce comes first. I get it."
"Do you?"
It required more effort than she thought, but she raised her hand to touch his face, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine here with my Jell-O and ice chips." A bit of movement caught her eye, and she glanced aside just in time to see Bruce return with the nurse.
"Oh, thank God," she groaned.
The nurse's brow rose. "Looks like you're all ready for your next morphine dose, Ms. Vallant."
"More than."
She watched quietly as the nurse administered the painkiller, then settled back into the pillows of her hospital bed. Once the nurse left, Alfred turned back to Margot and informed her, "I've contacted a couple of mates. They said they'd be willing to look in on you."
She scoffed, already feeling the morphine begin its work of numbing the stabbing ache in her ribs. "I don't want your 'mates' seeing me like this—or anyone, for that matter. Besides, it'll do me good to have some time alone."
"I don't see why we have to leave anyway," Bruce interjected.
"We already discussed this, didn't we, Master B?" Alfred replied in a warning tone, his smile forced as he glanced at the boy. "In fact," he checked his watch, absently running his thumb over its face, "we ought to be on our way."
The young man grimaced, but didn't protest further.
"And as for you," said Alfred gruffly, turning to Margot, "I'll call you. I want to know that you're not causing trouble here while we're away."
She smiled wanly, starting to feel quite drowsy. "Right. Like you can stop me."
"Margot…" he whispered, glancing back hesitantly at Bruce. She could tell he was a little wary about showing affection towards her in the boy's company. After a moment, he leaned over her, brushing her hair back and pressing a kiss to her brow. "Be safe," he told her. "Get well."
Margot nodded as she started to float away into a dreamlike trance of painkillers and exhaustion.
They bid her a quiet goodbye, Alfred giving her hand one last squeeze before he put his arm around Bruce's shoulders and led the young man away. Margot watched silently as they left, surprised by the sudden ache she felt in her chest, an ache that morphine couldn't help.
She hadn't realized how attached she'd become, how dreary the thought of being alone suddenly seemed. She only hoped that they wouldn't be gone for long.
Margot spent the next two and a half weeks in the hospital, starting to become convinced that the slow, steady beeping of the monitors was a subtle and insidious form of torture. She still hurt quite a bit during the few minutes between doses when she'd briefly come out of her drug-induced fog, but mostly it was boredom that made her feel as if she was slowly going mad.
She slept, ate the same under-salted food three times a day, and passed her time watching old Mexican telenovelas. The days began to blend together. The only high point was when Alfred called her twice a week to check in. Always on Tuesday and Saturday, around midday for her, late evening for him. He was the only reason she was aware of time at all, trapped in the small windowless box of her hospital room.
Today was Saturday.
Her eyes flickered up to the clock above the door for the third time. 1:12. Her phone usually rang a few seconds past 1:13. Margot already knew exactly what she would say this time, too, hoping that it would wring a laugh from the man. Alfred's laughs were rare enough already, but lately it seemed as if they were on the brink of extinction.
He didn't like being away from home any more than Bruce did, despite the fact that he was the one insisting that they leave town. If it was for the boy's safety, he'd do it, but Margot could tell he missed the manor with all its familiarity and routine. She heard it in his voice every time they spoke, that longing, that reluctance to hang up, despite the fact that their conversations never lasted more than three or four minutes.
A few short, perfect minutes.
Margot's phone buzzed, startling her out of her thoughts.
Like clockwork, she thought to herself.
She picked the phone up and answered in a low, sultry voice, "Hey there, stud. What are you wearing?"
"You're hilarious."
Margot could practically hear the raised eyebrow in his dry, unamused tone.
"How's Switzerland? You're not going to come back with a six-foot-tall blonde supermodel named Greta, are you?"
"As if Greta, the six-foot-tall blonde supermodel, would be interested in me," Alfred retorted gruffly.
Margot smiled unconsciously as she listened to the familiar cadence of his voice. "You never know," she replied. "I find you strangely attractive, after all."
"It's good to know they still have you on drugs."
"Alfred, was that a joke?"
"No."
She laughed softly. "God, I miss you."
The man was quiet for a moment before he asked in a gentler voice, "How are you?"
Margot shrugged, despite the fact that he couldn't see her. "I'm fine. The doctor says I'll be out of here in a couple of days if I'm good and don't let my friends from the VA sneak me any more hot wings."
He sighed on the other end of the line. "You see? This is why I had reservations about leaving you alone. Are you sure I shouldn't send someone to look in on you?"
"I'm sure," she reassured him. "I get visitors. Remember that veteran I met here the other day? The paraplegic I told you about? We got to talking, and it turns out he knows a couple of people down at the VA office who served with me before I was deployed. They visited two days ago."
"And brought you hot wings."
"Yes."
Another sigh.
"How's Bruce?" she inquired.
"Restless."
Margot didn't voice the question they both knew she wanted to ask.
Alfred answered it anyway. "We'll be returning soon," he told her.
"Yeah?" she inquired hopefully. Spending time alone in the hospital was bad enough. Spending time alone at the manor—she wasn't sure she could take it.
"Give us another week or so. Will you be all right on your own until then?"
She scoffed, "Quit worrying. I'll be fine." A pause and then, "You didn't leave any milk in the fridge, did you?"
"No."
"Good. Spoiled milk grosses me the hell out."
A soft laugh escaped him. "Margot."
"What?"
"Take care of yourself."
"I will."
He was silent for a moment, and Margot had to check to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. Then he murmured, "I miss you."
"Me too," she whispered.
"I'll talk to you again soon."
"Yeah."
Margot lowered her phone, holding it to her chest as she leaned back and closed her eyes. Two and a half weeks and it was the first time he'd said it. He missed her. It caught her off-guard. She'd assumed, of course, that he did, but actually hearing it…well, honestly, it only made her miss him more.