Prompt Post: ROUND FOUR
ROUND FOUR IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND THREE | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND FIVE >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
“Charles.”
It gives him a shock to be addressed by his name here and he feels a flare of irritation that someone managed to approach him without his sensing them. When he turns and sees Moira MacTaggert a throb of guilt joins in with the other emotions. He really hadn’t wanted to alter her memories but his hand had been forced to protect the children. The regret for that gentles his voice as he replies. “Moira! It’s very good to see you again. What are you doing her at the hospital? Not ill I hope?”
There’s no need to mention why he is there. The ebony cane he’s leaning on is answer enough - there are such things as check ups, consultations, physiotherapy, and it could have been worse than the constant ache nerve damage in his right leg. The doctors tell him if the bullet had struck even slightly differently…
He shakes off morbid thoughts of what might have been and gives Moira a smile. Asks again “What does bring you out this fine afternoon?”
But Moira is looking at him like he’s a dream and a nightmare all at once, with far too much emotion for a simple meeting between friends, even friends who parted under such circumstances as they did. She’s looking at him like Armageddon’s floating just on the horizon and Charles can almost hear sand crunch underfoot instead of the smooth, linoleum of the waiting area. Can only blink in astonishment at her as she starts to babble “Charles… I’m sorry. I - I was arguing against it and I only heard it had been sanctioned this morning and I tried to find you - I came to the hospital to try and find you, see if they’d give me your address…”
Moira trails off and he’s almost knocked over by the waves of guilt and shame coming off her. Guilt, shame and… fear? Fear of - him? No, Charles thinks, that can’t be right, and his fingers drift up to his temple. But it is. Fear of him and what he’ll do when he finds out about…
His fingers drop and for a half second he doesn’t recognise the harsh grating sound of his own voice.
“Moira. What was that about the children?”
* * *
She’s sorry. She keeps telling him that, over and over again on the drive. And Charles doesn’t need telepathy or to be able to sense the feelings she’s projecting because he can practically smell the scent of fear she’s exuding through her pores, he can see the sweat on her brow and under different circumstances he would reassure her and calm her down. Play the civilised man.
But Charles’ children are in danger and Moira knew about it and quite frankly the only reason he hasn’t hollowed her out and left her at the side of the road is that his fucking leg means he needs someone else to drive him back to Westchester. Charles is not feeling civilised right now.
So he grips his cane tighter and he tells her to keep quiet and he tells her to go faster. And he puts power behind it to ensure she does both.
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