Lily stood in the doorway of the hut, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her hair tied back from her face. She'd been doing what she could, helping out where she could, being a nurse but just now a hush had fallen, and Eddie with with Emmy and this is where she needs to be, right now.
She didn't speak, though. Either they'll notice her or they won't, in their own time.
He registered her presence a long time before he actually moved, before his eyes could be drawn from the bed.
When he did, he didn't even speak. Gordon looked at her leaning in the doorway and he nodded, stiffly. It was thank-you, it was an invitation, and it was a subtle sort of recognition.
He couldn't quite trust his voice, but a wave of his hand indicated a chair.
It took awhile for Chris to realize there was someone else in the hut aside from the three of them. His back was toward the door, though, which didn't help, one hand wrapped loosely over his mother's forearm, feeling the faint pulse just under her skin. Faint, but steady.
A turn of his head, revealed Lily's presence finally and he jumped just a little before realizing it was her and immediately relaxing.
"Hey," he said, his voice quiet, a hushed whisper that was grateful and resigned all at once.
"Hello, boys," said Lily in the doorway. It had been a long day, had felt like a long day and Lily was feeling every inch of her forty years.
She smiled at Gordon, weary in the corners of her eyes and then walked up behind Chris, stroking the thick, slightly sweaty curls at the nape of his neck.
"Hello, Peggy," she said, finally, looking down at the woman in the bed. "How's everybody holding up?"
There was something about the way Lily addressed his mother that made Chris's breath catch a little and he lowered his head quickly, blinking away the sting in his eyes as he concentrated on the feel of her hands gentle on his hair, not unlike the way his own mother had touched him once upon a time.
Swallowing hard after a moment, he managed to collect himself and took a deep breath. "Well as we can, I guess," he said, voice a whisper. "Not much to do."
Gordon looked very old as he sat there, quietly, reaching out to hold his wife's paper white hand in his own. He pressed the pad of this thumb along the simple gold band that he'd given to Christopher not so long ago.
"There is little else," Gordon said, quietly. He'd never been built for waiting, for stalling, for sitting around on your hands and not having anything to do, not having an ounce of control. That may have been part of why he hadn't been there the first time around. The waiting and the helplessness...
He looked up at Lily solemnly. "Sit, my girl. It's been a long day in all ways."
Chris answere with a shake of his head, keeping his eyes lowered, focused on where his hand held hers, her fingers so much smaller than he remembered.
"I think the machines are still pumping drugs through her," Chris replied, glancing up at one of the said machines. Years ago he'd known what each one was and what it did, but seventeen years had made him forget most of it.
"She hasn't stirred," Gordon added, voice gravely, unused. He wasn't sure if that was for better or for worse, being able to see and talk to her one last time. If he could stand what she would have to say...
"She probably won't, now," said Lily, slipping back into health care professional mode. She reached out and touched Peggy's foot lightly through the sheet.
Chris gave Lily a small, weak smile at that and nodded something that looked like a thank you. "Think she knows?" he asked, his voice quiet as his own hand slid up the gentle curve of her arm. "That we're all here, I mean."
"She used to sleep more soundly with all of us home," Gordon remembered, shaking his head and looking down at the ground. Probably it was the drugs that gave her such peace, but he liked to think - needed to think - that his selfish absence the first time had been forgiven in some small way by his presence now. That it made things easier, not only for the boys and his son, but for the one great love of his life in the bed.
"Maybe. Maybe she does. It seems that women always have a way of knowing such things."
"Waiting," Chris echoed with a quiet, bitter sort of laugh, talking more to himself than anything else. He couldn't imagine what his mother could be waiting for, but he knew what they were all waiting for. The exact same thing he'd had to wait for the first time. The end.
Funny how seventeen years didn't make it any fucking easier.
She didn't speak, though.
Either they'll notice her or they won't, in their own time.
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When he did, he didn't even speak. Gordon looked at her leaning in the doorway and he nodded, stiffly. It was thank-you, it was an invitation, and it was a subtle sort of recognition.
He couldn't quite trust his voice, but a wave of his hand indicated a chair.
It was all he could do.
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A turn of his head, revealed Lily's presence finally and he jumped just a little before realizing it was her and immediately relaxing.
"Hey," he said, his voice quiet, a hushed whisper that was grateful and resigned all at once.
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She smiled at Gordon, weary in the corners of her eyes and then walked up behind Chris, stroking the thick, slightly sweaty curls at the nape of his neck.
"Hello, Peggy," she said, finally, looking down at the woman in the bed. "How's everybody holding up?"
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Swallowing hard after a moment, he managed to collect himself and took a deep breath. "Well as we can, I guess," he said, voice a whisper. "Not much to do."
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"There is little else," Gordon said, quietly. He'd never been built for waiting, for stalling, for sitting around on your hands and not having anything to do, not having an ounce of control. That may have been part of why he hadn't been there the first time around. The waiting and the helplessness...
He looked up at Lily solemnly. "Sit, my girl. It's been a long day in all ways."
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Her eyes closed and then they opened again. She breathed slowly and felt so weary. She couldn't imagine how Gordon and Chris felt.
"She doesn't look like she's in any pain..."
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"I think the machines are still pumping drugs through her," Chris replied, glancing up at one of the said machines. Years ago he'd known what each one was and what it did, but seventeen years had made him forget most of it.
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"It's for the best."
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"You rest easy, honey. Rest your head."
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"Maybe. Maybe she does. It seems that women always have a way of knowing such things."
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She kept her hand resting lightly on Peggy's ankle. She'd been...how old, the first time this happened? Younger. Too young.
It was somehow easier and harder, now.
Somehow, she felt closer to Peggy this way.
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Funny how seventeen years didn't make it any fucking easier.
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