Dec 04, 2006 22:07
"Look out!" Aron ducks behind the permanent magical barrier, his shoulder jostling Bernard's, as his new experiment has... an accident. They turn to each other and start to giggle, and Bernard reaches over to brush some cinderblock dust out of Aron's hair.
"Are you two quite done flirting?" Jonathan calls from the outer observation and readings shell. "We've got a visitor."
Bernard's head pops over the barrier. "I told Elvis I couldn't take his calls anymore. Don't tell me he's taken to stalking me..." He trails off when he sees Gerald Allbright standing beside Jonathan behind the protective glass. He looks--
Something in Allbright's face strikes a nerve, and Bernard gives Aron an absentminded order to clean up and start over, walking out of the protected inner lab. He brushes his hair free of dust with a nervous smile. "What can I do for you?" She didn't have a raid today, it was just desk work and meetings, she said she said she-- Allbright casts a pointed glance at Jonathan, seated across the room scratching out notes. Bernard shrugs and steps closer. "Come on. What is it?"
Allbright takes a breath. "No good way to put this, Wrangle. Your--" His voice lowers. "Your wife's had to go to hospital." Bernard opens his mouth to ask, paling, and Allbright holds up a hand. "She looks to have had a miscarriage."
Across the room, Jonathan breaks his quill, spattering green ink across his calculations. In the lab, Aron suddenly shouts, "You've got to look at this precipitate, Bernard! 'S bloody, like, chunks of this yellow stuff!"
Bernard shakes his head, his ears roaring. "That's not. I. Thanks. Thanks, Allbright." He walks to the coat rack in the corner. "Jon, I'll."
"For God's sake, man, get out of here," Jonathan hisses. "Jennifer'll be back from her tea in a second. We can handle it."
Bernard nods again, too shocked to even panic, and slips out the door.
***
"So. S-so, um." Bernard rubs his red eyes, thankful that Ted came to take the kids over to their house for the duration. "So, you're saying that she was only a few weeks pregnant, if that?"
"Four, perhaps five. Not very long." Healer Durkin reaches out and grasps Bernard's shoulder briefly, his kind face awash with sympathy. "You can take her home this evening. This early on, the damage is minimal, at least physically."
"Okay." Bernard looks around the waiting room, just to have something to look at besides the healer's pitying gaze. "What can I do for her once she's home? Something tells me a cup of tea isn't going to do much."
The Healer sighs, and scratches his chin reflectively. "Just be there for her. Make her comfortable. She may not have known she was pregnant, and she may not have been terribly far along, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have the right to grieve." A pause, and Durkin catches Bernard's eye. "That goes for you as well."
"Okay," Bernard replies quietly, and says no more, responding to some strange inner privacy that he never knew he possessed. He doesn't want to talk about this to a healer. He wants to talk to his wife. "Can I see her?"
"Yes, yes of course--" Healer Durkin sounds immediately apologetic, guiding Bernard down the ward to a small curtained-off section near the end.
He nods to Bernard. "I'll just be at the station, should either of you need anything."
"Thanks," Bernard replies, staring at the curtain. He waits until Durkin walks away, and then steps around the curtain, his stomach in knots.