[ Thanks. Like Krouse is doing her a favour. Like he wouldn't have done anything for one last chance at this, if he'd even imagined it'd be possible. ]
I'll see you soon.
[ No you're welcome. Just that promise, one he can actually keep for her. Krouse mutes himself, but leaves the channel open, the connection live. He doesn't need the extra motivation of seeing her picture to propel him out the door and down the stairs, but he doesn't want to let it go either, as if this invisible tether somehow keeps her real.
He doesn't know where she is in the hospital, but there are only so many places it could be. Drawing up a systematic overlay in his head is easy. That's not his borrowed tinker ability at work, limited as it is to communication devices, but an old skill of his own.
Krouse hunts down an operating theatre and a maternity ward first on the ground floor, urgency growing at both empty rooms. He wants to flick off mute and double check that she's still there, that she's sure of where she is, if she can tell him anything about the room - but something keeps him quiet. Intuition or superstition. If he tries to talk to her again before he sees her, and she doesn't answer -
He finds her before he can let himself think about it.
Krouse stands in the doorway, framed by the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway. The smell of disinfectant mingles with the hot animal smell of Noelle's body, antiseptic and organic combined into a cocktail that used to make him nauseous. He adjusted. His body still remembers how to breathe.
Every time he saw her in the last months, the worst ones, all he'd ever been able to think about was how guilty he was. It was reflected back at him in every one of her eyes, even when she tried to act like she didn't hate him for it. He'd never been happy to see her. He should have been so happy to see her.
He's happy now. Happy in the worst way, a huge, resounding pulse of grief and joy and relief running from the crown of his head to the ends of his fingers through his thudding heart. He realizes, looking at her, that he'd stepped through every door since he lost her wanting her to be in the next room.
Krouse smiles, crumpled and wet as new butterfly wings. He blinks away the still image of her face and looks at her real one. It's the best thing he's ever seen in his life. ]
no subject
I'll see you soon.
[ No you're welcome. Just that promise, one he can actually keep for her. Krouse mutes himself, but leaves the channel open, the connection live. He doesn't need the extra motivation of seeing her picture to propel him out the door and down the stairs, but he doesn't want to let it go either, as if this invisible tether somehow keeps her real.
He doesn't know where she is in the hospital, but there are only so many places it could be. Drawing up a systematic overlay in his head is easy. That's not his borrowed tinker ability at work, limited as it is to communication devices, but an old skill of his own.
Krouse hunts down an operating theatre and a maternity ward first on the ground floor, urgency growing at both empty rooms. He wants to flick off mute and double check that she's still there, that she's sure of where she is, if she can tell him anything about the room - but something keeps him quiet. Intuition or superstition. If he tries to talk to her again before he sees her, and she doesn't answer -
He finds her before he can let himself think about it.
Krouse stands in the doorway, framed by the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway. The smell of disinfectant mingles with the hot animal smell of Noelle's body, antiseptic and organic combined into a cocktail that used to make him nauseous. He adjusted. His body still remembers how to breathe.
Every time he saw her in the last months, the worst ones, all he'd ever been able to think about was how guilty he was. It was reflected back at him in every one of her eyes, even when she tried to act like she didn't hate him for it. He'd never been happy to see her. He should have been so happy to see her.
He's happy now. Happy in the worst way, a huge, resounding pulse of grief and joy and relief running from the crown of his head to the ends of his fingers through his thudding heart. He realizes, looking at her, that he'd stepped through every door since he lost her wanting her to be in the next room.
Krouse smiles, crumpled and wet as new butterfly wings. He blinks away the still image of her face and looks at her real one. It's the best thing he's ever seen in his life. ]
Hey, Noelle.