Face the blood: Fred and Laurie (Backdated)

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Laurie checks on Fred who is reluctant to leave Yvette's bedside. They talk about Yvette, and Fred and how things are.



Laurie frowned at the rather solid form of the boy currently sitting beside Yvette's bedside, she was sure he'd been there since the morning, and she hadn't seen him in the cafeteria with any of the others, nor had she seen him leave. Not that it wasn't possible, but the current set of his shoulders spoke of a certain amount of tiredness.

"Shouldn't you try and get some sleep?" she asked, voice modulated to what Laurie considered her 'Doctor's tone' almost instinctively.

"Not tired," Fred said simply, in a deep and cracked voice. He upended a Redbull into his mouth, and threw the now empty container into a nearby trashcan, where at least a dozen of its brethren had come to rest. Though the voice coming from behind him wasn't all at once familiar, it didn't seem that Fred cared; he continued staring at the unmoving form of Yvette in front of him, eyes slowly looking her over for any sign of movement or life...

"I think that you are," Laurie countered, eyeing the can he'd thrown into the bin. "Riding yourself to exhaustion won't help Yvette."

"Nothing I can do right now'll help," Fred said, his voice quieter than once that should come out of a man his size. He still made no move to turn around, "Sleeping wouldn't help her either,"

Laurie didn't answer for a moment, instead moving to pull another visitor chair over so that she could sit beside Fred. Once she'd arranged the chair to her own satisfaction, she sat, her hand reaching out to clasp his shoulder gently, an attempt at comfort.

"It's not always about what we can do for others," she said, tone still soft. "What would she say to you, if she were to talk to you now, do you think?"

Now that Laurie could look at Fred's face, she could see his eyes, with tears threatening to fall out at any second, "Doesn't matter what she'd say, cause she can't say it, cause some som'bitch thought it'd be a good idea to bury goddam plates in the ground that kill people..." his voice was venomous, but didn't increase in volume, as he was mindful of the injured girl right in front of him...

Laurie wondered briefly if she would have time to cry later, to come to terms with what might happen to Yvette. She reached into a pocket of the jacket she wore and pulled out a clean hankie, holding it out to Fred.

"It still matters," Laurie noted, holding his gaze. "What's more, I think if you'd accepted that things were hopeless you wouldn't be so stubborn about staying by her side."

Fred took the hankie, but didn't seem to understand what it was for, as he seemed to subconsciously wipe his eyes with his sleeve. For a moment he said nothing, just inhaled and exhaled...

Finally, from somewhere deep in him, came the soft words, "I know...nobody promised fair...not in this world...but, Yvette? Really? This happens to her of all people?"

Laurie's hand squeezed his arm gently, and then dropped down to rest across his hand. There wasn't a lot of comfort she could give but that, she certainly didn't have any real answers, or any reasonings as to why Yvette had been the one to pay the price this time.

War was not pretty, and good people got hurt, and hurt badly all the time. That was the world they lived in, and one Laurie was coming to accept, if not be happy with. She didn't want to tell Fred that though, it sounded too harsh, too unforgiving.

"I don't know, Fred. I honestly don't know."