sirenspull | Another accidental video - re-entry with a new canon point

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Another accidental video - re-entry with a new canon point

[Dirty fingers brush over the NV screen when it switches on, leaving bloody streaks across the screen. The whole video is vibrating; as the fingers move, a view of the Newcomer apartments from the baseball diamond is clearly visible. Whoever is holding the NV is clearly a newcomer and clearly in some kind of trouble.

After a minute, there's a shallow gasp and a moan; the voice is high pitched, obviously a girl's. The NV falls, and goes black; it's camera down in the dirt. But it lasts only a minute. The owner of the voice goes to pick up her NV, gasping in agony as her hand curls around the device. It's obvious why; there's a hole shot clean through her palm and out of the back of her hand.]

Marius? Marius, where are you?

[The voice has a heavy French accent when she speaks, and just for a minute, Eponine's face comes into view. It's dirty and tear stained. Her hair is a mess, greasy and tangled but that is the least of Eponine's concerns. She's forced herself into a sitting position, and one hand she presses to her chest, - a chest which is bleeding profusely. She gasps again, and sinks down onto the ground and out of sight of her NV.Without anything to support her weight, she can't keep herself upright any more. She knows she's dying, and tears wet her cheeks. She feels sick and dizzy and the world - wherever she is, fades in and out. She needs to see him before she dies. Her breathing is getting more and more shallow. She has to ask his forgiveness.]

Mariussss...

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Yes. At the barricade.

[He'll hear a soft flop kind of noise as Eponine sinks back into her pillows.]

He shot and I - I couldn't hold on and I fell and I landed here...
I thought it was a dream. I thought being shot here was a dream.

Shot here? [It's that part he homes in on most of all, echoing it in confused disbelief. How could she have been...? Unless... back in the past? In 1918? Why didn't he know about this sooner?

He's on the verge of dropping into self-pity (how could he have been such a terrible friend?!) when he catches himself. This isn't about him- and Eponine sounds far, far too tired to explain herself. No wonder.

Softly, he adds:] No, don't tell me about it now. If it's alright with you, I'd... like to come and visit you. Tomorrow, maybe? When you've had time to get your energy back a little?

You would like to visit me?

[She sounds positively delighted at the prospect]

I would like that, M'sieur. If you have the time.

Of course I would. I wouldn't just let you lie there in hospital all by yourself. [Though, doubtless, she already has other people visiting her.] When would be too early for you?

Too early? Before the sun rises! [She laughs] I can sleep through it now. But after the sun, I am awake and trapped here, so when you like.

Then... maybe ten o'clock? [He's usually up and ready for his morning run by six thirty, but he's also not sure how the doctors might feel about him turning up at eight AM.] Is there anything I can bring you?

That sounds fine!

[There's a pause whilst she tries to think]

... Do I still have things? I thought, perhaps, when I was killed, they'd go?

[She has nothing to speak of anyway; her few possessions were at Ella's.]

I do not need anything - a shirt, perhaps, if you have one to spare. My trousers are fine, but the shirt has bullet holes and blood now. I do not want to wear my own blood really.

I'm not sure. You'd have to check where you left them last. [He pauses at her suggestions, thinking.] I have a couple of shirts you could borrow. I only ever really wear them for jobs if people don't want me in my wrestling costume. It'll probably be a little big for you, though- you're a lot smaller than I am... is that okay?

I do not care, M'sieur. I can hold them down with string if I must. Thank you - I will give them to you soon.

[It is entirely probable that all of her clothes in Port are too big now; her waist has shrunk to the waspish thinness of starvation. Her cheeks are hollow and her arms and legs are skinny beyond belief. If the bullet hadn't finished her, another winter would. Eponine herself doesn't seem too bothered though]

Don't worry about it. Just try to relax, alright?

I'll see you tomorrow, Eponine.

[click! He ends the feed]

[It's just gone ten o'clock when Hattie and Warsman arrive on the ward, he carrying their bags in one hand and, as gently as though he were carrying a baby, a modest bouquet of flowers in the crook of his other arm. He'd dithered that morning on what to bring her, aside from the necessities; he's heard Robin talk about the symbolism of flowers as though it were another language he were fluent in, but as much as the idea appeals to his sensibilities he's not so elegant himself. If he were Robin Mask, he might have taken the time to carefully pick flowers that said what he wanted to say... but what if he made a mistake? Or gave the wrong impression? Did he even know what he could say at all?

Actually, he's immensely glad that Hattie is with him, and not just because it means that he has company. It means that he doesn't feel quite so self-conscious as they pace the long, white hallways, and that, when they find a nurse, she can do all the talking. He's not entirely convinced they'd have let a seven-foot, masked man in to see their gunshot patient alone.

But even he has to stop as his eyes finally settle on the fragile ghost of a girl inhabiting the bed. She's pale and drawn and thin, and for a sudden, brittle moment he sees his mother's face twinned- but then he shakes the image free and hurries to Eponine's side.]

Eponine... I can't believe...! [He's still shaking his head.] Thank goodness you're alright.

[Honestly, Hattie may come off as a little bit crazy to Warsman. As they had traveled along, she had kept insisting the Eponine should be dead, that she saw the girl die right in her arms after she was shot. Her rambling, naturally, contradicts what everyone had just seen. But instead of clarifying, she then expressed worry that Eponine would never forgive her- And that was part of why she wanted Warsman along; he's a very good mediator-type. Surely he'd do something if Eponine tried to throw her out, right?

Of course!

The good news is, that Hattie was particularly helpful about the flowers and recommended an ensamble of yellow roses, cremones, alstroemeria and daisys as a symbol of sunshine. She also volunteered to carry the flowers so that Warsman could carry the five boxes and four shopping bags that she had brought along. Fair's fair, right?

She stands behind Warsman, but she's at a complete loss for words, and looks so incredibly guilty.]

M'sieur Warsman!

[Eponine's face lights right up. She's absolutely charmed that she has visitors, people who care enough to see her when she's ill. And is that -?]

My Lady! You have come to see me? I cannot clean for now; my hand is too bandaged.

[She smiles sadly] You're both real. It was all real, wasn't it?

[Hattie's story had him thrown for any number of reasons, of course, but he's never been the kind of person to interrupt. He'd stayed quiet and let her tell him how things had played out, how she'd been with Eponine when the bullet had torn through her. How she'd held her. There was a lot to be confused by in that story- the chronology, the time shifts, the discrepancies in deaths- but that's not what stops Warsman first and foremost. What does make him stop and stare is just how deeply it's obviously affected Hattie.

He's no magician. Trying to say something in the short time it took them to get to the hospital would have been futile. But when Hattie had finished what almost seemed to her to be a confession he'd silently, simply, put his hand over hers and left it there for some time.

Seeing Eponine in person only seems to have rattled her all the more- which means that, now that they're in, he's going to have to do some of the talking to start with. Fortunately, it's a little easier to get the words out when Warsman sees Eponine's reaction to their arrival; his eyes soften into a smile immediately and he puts the bags down by the bed so that he can approach her and, a little hesitantly, put a hand on her shoulder.]

This is real right now. At least, I hope it is. [There's a tentative pause and then he sits down by the bed, suddenly feeling very large and ungainly next to the girl's almost ethereal figure.] I don't think anyone's expecting you to clean anything just yet.

[Hattie didn't expect an 'answer', really. She was more speaking aloud, hoping that things would make more sense to her as a result.

It didn't really work.

And it's even more flooring once Eponine addresses her as 'my lady'. Could it be, maybe.. That Eponine had forgotten what had happened? Either way, due to her guilt, she couldn't help but look like she was staring at a ghost. She gave a small, awkward smile in return, then nodded in agreement with Warsman.]

[Eponine does her best to hide her wince as Warsman lays his hand on her shoulder. She aches everywhere.]

Real... I thought I had dreamed it all; I thought Papa had knocked me out. But it all happened? Even...?

[She looks past Warsman to Hattie, trying to understand the lady's behaviour.]

I am not so dirty, you know? They had to clean me whilst they operated. You can come near. Are you cross with me?

[She turns to Warsman, pulling herself up off her pillows with a gasp and a groan, to whisper]

is my lady cross with me?

[Hattie's silence only gets stranger by the second to Warsman: before now it was hard for him to imagine a space occupied by her that wasn't also dominated by her conversation. The fact that she can't even work up a greeting is evidence enough of the burden she's carrying.

But his own insights are informed by their conversation on the way here, and Eponine isn't privy to what's been said already. It's no surprise that she takes things the wrong way, even if it does make him feel awful on Hattie's behalf. That said, his thoughts are dragged away from the matter the second he feels Eponine twitch under his touch- he jerks his hand back quickly, silently berating himself for not being more careful before he answers her question. It feels so strange to be the go-between for once. He's used to being in the middle of rivalries, but not quite like this before.

Hoping Hattie doesn't take it as a sign of rudeness, he drops his own voice to match.] Not at all. I think she's just been worrying about you a lot, Miss Eponine. [Back to "miss" now that the initial wave of relief has passed.

He doesn't want to speak for her, anyway, and so he quickly glances up and speaking normally again. Maybe having a prop will help her find her voice.] Miss Hattie? The flowers...?

[Hattie straightens up suddenly, and the idea that Eponine would believe Hattie finds her filthy- Well, that's true that she's dirty, but that doesn't bother Hattie as much anymore. She shakes her head quickly in response to being cross. She then nods quickly in agreement to being worried. It was embarrassing not to say it herself but that's certainly Hattie for you.

Thankfully she catches on to the flowers ice breaker.]

Y- yes! These are for you.. I picked them out, but Warsman actually bought them. They're roses and such, and as you can see they're all yellow. I figured they would brighten up an otherwise rather dingy and lethargic room..

[ She looks around a moment to find a place to set them down, when she suddenly raises a hand to her mouth and tears trickle down her cheek.]

M- Much like.. You do..

[Eponine looks a bit happier when Warsman speaks, and she laughs]

Just 'Ponine, M'sieur. I am not a 'miss' or a lady and I never will be now.

[Eponine looks initially relieved when Hattie speaks - until Hattie starts crying. Eponine just looks at her in complete alarm.]

Madame - you're crying? Why do you cry? I am sorry, you know, about the shop. I should not have let him see me; did he hurt you - but...no. Did you hit him? I couldn't...

[She runs a hand through her hair, before cradling her forehead. Thinking back hurt. She had died there, she knew, and it had felt exactly the same in Paris, shot yet again at point blank range.]

Were you safe? Did you go back to the inn we found?

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