Chapter 2
"Raine! Raine, Raine, Raine!" I groaned and rolled over in bed. Someone very insistent was tugging at the bed covers. "Wake up!" I opened one bleary eye to see a pert face framed by brown hair that badly needed to be combed about five inches from my own face. I took a deep breath and forced myself to sit up. The little girl clambered onto my bed, all smiles.
"Morning!" she exclaimed, brightly, pulling the blankets around. The clock on the wall read eight in the morning; considering my late night, I was in no mood to be up and about. But when there’s a bouncy little girl tugging at your sleeve, you don’t have a lot of choice. She hopped off the bed, and with the complete lack of respect for possessions common to a three-year-old, started poking around my room. There wasn’t much for her to find, so I let her play while I tried to regroup. I stumbled into the bathroom and splashed myself with cold water. My eyes were circled with black. I washed up a bit and came back out to find Ellone rooting around under the bed.
I reached down and tugged on one pajama leg. "Come on, Elle, we have to make some breakfast." She wriggled out from under my bed, covered with dust bunnies. "Then maybe a bath. You’re filthy."
"No!" Ellone pouted. "No bath."
"Yes bath, and let’s go." I picked her up like a sack of potatoes, and she started to giggle. We went downstairs to the kitchen, and I set out three bowls and started boiling water for oatmeal. Laguna probably wouldn’t be much for solid food for a while. I hung my head. Just what I needed - two babies in the house.
I was distracted from my self-pity by Ellone, who had crawled up onto one of the kitchen chairs. Brow furrowed, she was pointing to each bowl and carefully counting. I heard her whisper, "One…two…three. Raine and Elle, one, two." She gave me a look of disgust. "Too many! Elle can count better than Raine!"
"Three is for our visitor." I smiled at Ellone. "Someone is going to stay with us for a little while. He’s very sick, so we have to be nice to him."
"Where did he come from?" Ellone asked.
"I don’t know that yet, honey. We’ll find out. Those people you saw last night brought him here so I can take care of him, just like I take care of you."
"A baby brother?" Her face lit up. "They brought Elle a baby brother?"
I laughed. "No, Elle, he’s too old to be your baby brother. But maybe you can be friends when he feels better."
The kettle whistled, and I busied myself with cooking up breakfast. Once the oatmeal had thickened, I stirred in some brown sugar and some raisins for Ellone. It was always a roll of the dice to give her a spoon, but I decided to let her be a big girl while I fixed up a tray for Laguna. In between trips to the cupboard and icebox, I stole bites of my own breakfast. Last night’s adventures had left me with a tremendous appetite. Ellone was singing nonsense to herself as she ate, half with fingers and half with utensils. Once she’d gotten about halfway through the bowl, she put her spoon down and announced, "Done!"
I peered in at the remainder of breakfast left untouched. "You don’t get any treats later if you don’t finish." She made a face at me and pouted. "Go on. Finish it. I’m going to bring this upstairs."
The oatmeal had cooled to lukewarm by the time I reached Laguna’s door. I pushed the door open and set the tray down on a nearby chair while I pulled the curtains on a window to let some light in. Laguna stirred and groaned when the light hit him. The Potions had relieved some of the swelling in his leg, and the bruises on his face were fading, so he looked a little better. I patted him on his good shoulder to wake him up, and he opened bleary eyes.
"I brought you breakfast," I told him, helping him sit up and piling pillows behind him so he didn’t fall back down. "Hope you like oatmeal."
"Everything hurts," he mumbled, wincing.
"I’m not surprised. Be careful, you’re one mass of stitches. They’ll come out in about two weeks." I sat on the chair and picked up a spoonful of the oatmeal. "Open up!"
"Don’t need to be fed…" Laguna protested weakly. He tried to reach for the bowl, but his hand shook and fell limply back into his lap.
"I’m afraid you do," I said. "Come on. This isn’t any more fun for me than it is for you." I held up a spoonful of breakfast and didn’t let him turn away. In the end, Laguna was just too tired and hurting to argue, and he let me feed him. It was strange to be treating a grown man like a baby, but I had a feeling that the similarities between Laguna’s care and Ellone’s early years weren’t going to end with one bowl of oatmeal. Laguna would need almost everything done for him until he healed enough to take care of himself. Though the Potions had pulled him back from the brink of death, he still had severe injuries, and only time would take care of them all.
The door scraped behind me as I patiently waited for Laguna to finish a spoonful of porridge. "Elle! Not now!" I hissed, trying to wedge the door shut with my chair. Ellone scooted in anyway. "Ellone, go play in your room!"
She paid no attention. I couldn’t drop the bowl, so I was stuck. She popped up next to Laguna’s bed and gave him a long, hard look. "Who are you? You’re not little! I wanted a little brother to play with!"
"Ellone!" I warned.
She pulled herself up on the sheets and stared Laguna in the face. "You need a bath too, just like me!"
Laguna’s eyes brightened. The first smile I’d seen from him crept across his face despite the terrible pain he was in. "Probably right. What’s your name?"
"Ellone. What’s yours?"
"Laguna."
"La-goonah." She rolled the unfamiliar name around in her mouth. Ellone slid back down and glared at him. "Yoo better play with me. I wanted a brother!"
He breathed a painful laugh. "You bet."
Ellone nodded, once, then scrambled out of Laguna’s bedroom. He looked at the door after she left, still smiling. "Your…daughter?"
"Yes," I replied, holding the spoon out again. "Not biologically, though. She’s the daughter of my heart. Her parents were killed by Esthar during one of their raids."
"How sad… poor Ellone," Laguna said. "Can she come back?"
"Sure, but I’ll have to tell her to go easy on you. You’re in no shape for most Ellone-games. If you aren’t careful, you won’t heal."
"Yes, doctor." He lay back down on the pillows, exhausted. The simple act of eating had tired him out considerably. I’d rouse him later to clean him up, but sleep was what he needed. By the time I finished piling dishes and dirty utensils on the tray, he was fast asleep. His chest rose and fell regularly with deep breaths, and his hair tumbled carelessly across the clean linen pillowcase. Odd that a soldier should have such long hair – I’d have thought it would get in the way of the sharp-faced helm the Galbadian soldiers seemed to favor. Rather nice face to go with the hair, too. Now that the bruises had started to fade thanks to the Potions, he was revealed to be handsome… in a boyish way. Laguna’s looks were still marred by a nasty black eye, but he’d get over it.
I stared for a long moment, then shook myself. Such silly thoughts. There was work to be done and a little girl who needed her bath. I pulled the curtains at the window and left Laguna to rest.
The morning flew by. There was Ellone to deal with, and she was her usual delightful self when I tried to wash her hair. Young children and cats have the same affinity for water. Then it was off to the shop for some more provisions for the pub. As I left, my usual "shadow" followed me at a distance; there are a lot of monsters in Winhill and my popularity with the soldiers assured me of an escort. A quick consultation with Anna in the village produced supplies I needed for my patient, such as several doses of strong painkillers, plaster and heavy wrappings for a cast, and antibiotics. Last stop was at another shop for a Hi-Potion, which left my purse considerably lighter. I scolded myself for being too softhearted but bought it anyway. By the time we were finished, Ellone was fussy and more than ready to go home. It was past lunchtime, and both she and Laguna needed to be fed. At least one of them was semi-capable of doing it herself.
I fixed Ellone a sandwich, with the crusts cut off of course, then heated up some soup for Laguna. "Want to come with you!" Ellone chirped, watching me prepare a tray. "Please, please, please!"
"Not now, Ellone," I said, lifting up the tray. "Mr. Laguna is very hurt and he needs rest. Maybe when he’s better, okay?"
"When will that be?" Ellone pouted. "Tomorrow?"
I shook my head. "I don’t know, honey," I said. " I really don’t know."
Laguna was half-awake when I opened the door to his room, muttering to himself and stirring restlessly in the sheets. I put the tray down and laid a hand on his forehead; he felt overly warm and feverish. He opened clouded eyes at my touch, groaning low in his throat. I pulled off the sheets and inspected his wounds; some looked inflamed and one or two were seeping blood.
"Hurts," he moaned, breathing heavily. I saw tears gather at the corners of his eyes and spill down onto the pillow. "Hyne… my leg… please help me…"
"It’s all right," I said, trying to soothe him. "I’ll be right back."
The cooling soup forgotten, I raced downstairs to gather up the Hi-Potion, the antibiotic, and a dose of morphine. Hair flying, I hurried back up to his room, clutching the precious medicines in my hands. I sat down next to him and cradled his head in my arms, trying to get a firm grip on him, and uncorked the Hi-Potion. He thrashed around, threatening to upset the Potion.
"Laguna," I said, firmly, holding the Potion up to his lips. "Drink this, now. Come on." I tipped the bottle towards him, and he coughed and swallowed weakly. "That’s it," I coaxed. "Finish it all." Laguna tried to pull away, panting, but I held on and forced the bottle back to his mouth. "Now, Laguna. Don’t do this. You’ll feel better." I tilted the bottle back again, and he slowly drank what remained.
Laguna closed his eyes, leaning back into my arms, and I felt him relax. "Better?" I asked, and he nodded. "Good. I have something for you to eat." I wriggled out from under him and sat him up in bed, well cushioned in pillows.
"More oatmeal?" he asked, showing a spark of interest.
"No, soup this time." I held up the spoon. "Open up." Perhaps he was tired, but Laguna didn’t fight me this time as I fed him.
"Tastes good," he mumbled in between spoonfuls.
"Thank you," I replied. "I made it." The bowl was soon empty, and I put it back on the tray and picked up the antibiotic. "You have to take this pill. Some of your cuts are infected." He let me give him the pill and gulped it down with some water. "How are you feeling? Still hurting?"
"Yeah," Laguna said. "It’s a little better, though."
"Do you want some painkiller?" I held up the syringe. "I promise you won’t be hurting at all after this."
"Not a needle…" he groaned. "I hate needles."
"Suit yourself, then," I said, tidying up. "I’ll be back later if you change your mind."
I had to give Laguna some credit – it was almost an hour before he started to call for me. The numbing effects of the Potion wouldn’t last too long, as I knew, but I preferred to let Laguna find that out for himself. I went back into his room to find him glassy-eyed with pain.
"Do you want the shot?" I asked, checking the syringe for air bubbles and finding none.
"Please," he whispered hoarsely.
"All right." I bent down to roll Laguna over onto his side, and he struggled.
"What are you doing? Don’t you usually get a shot in the arm?"
"No, not this one. I can’t give it to you there; it has to go elsewhere." He blushed furiously and protested. Oh, come on," I said crossly. "You’re a grown man. Enough. Would you rather be in pain?"
"No," Laguna replied, sounding sulky. "Can’t a man have some privacy though?"
I rolled my eyes. "Laguna, I’ve already seen more of you than I care to. Who do you think stitched up your wounds last night?" Laguna dug his head into the pillows, mortified. "Stop fighting with me and roll over."
I rolled him over onto his good shoulder and took out an alcohol-soaked pad. "I’ll be quick," I promised, and pulled down the waistband of his shorts just enough to expose the right place for the needle. It went in smoothly, though Laguna yelled like a child at the stick. I ignored him and depressed the plunger. Indignity or not, he’d stop hurting and he’d sleep like the dead after this.
"Feeling better yet?" I asked, moving him back into bed. Laguna’s face was relaxing and his eyes were clearing.
"Thank you," he said. "Much better."
"Good. I’ll come to check on you later." I gathered up the empty syringe, capped it, and put everything back on the tray. "Anything else?"
Laguna looked decidedly better, though his gaze was wandering all over. "Pretty lady," he murmured, looking over at me. Belatedly, I remembered that the side effects of morphine were hallucinations and delirium. He laughed, softly, "Pretty lady saves my ass. Kiros… Ward… I’m so sorry…" Another tear slid down his cheek and he closed his eyes. While I stood there, frozen, he fell asleep, snoring heavily.
I shook myself all over and picked up the tray to go back downstairs. If I didn’t get started on dinner, the hungry hordes bound to invade sooner or later would be climbing the walls when they arrived. Laguna’s slurred comment followed me around in the back of my head the whole time, like a fly you just can’t shoo away. Pretty lady…
The pub was, as usual, crowded and busy. I worried that the noise would wake Laguna up, but he never moved in all the times I went upstairs to check on him. The soldiers were full of questions about my patient, but there was nothing to tell them beyond what they knew already: he was going to live and he was sleeping. It was with great relief that I announced last call and shortly thereafter chased all the men out into the night. My second day with Laguna ended much like the first, with an exhausted collapse into bed and dreamless sleep.