Nathan and Jeanne-Marie, Monday afternoon

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Jeanne-Marie is visiting when Nathan takes a turn for the worse.


When Jeanne-Marie stepped into the infirmary room, at first glance, Nathan looked to be asleep. But he opened his eyes as she approached the bed, blinking at her as if trying to focus. He was alarmingly pale, his features drawn with pain, and although he managed a halting smile, his breathing was shallow. "Hey."

Nathan's appearance stopped Jeanne-Marie briefly in the entry of the small room, and not just because of how eagerly the man's flesh attempted to match the foul paleness of the space that surrounded him. Nothing about him, even as she convinced herself to move closer, suggested the improvement her brother had conveyed to her only a night before and it immediately left her with unnamed worries. She subdued a tight frown as he opened his eyes and exhaled a worn greeting with a worse smile. "...Bonjour, Nathan." The pause that preceded her question and the weight of her words seemed to suggest her own idea of the answer. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had worse days." Which was technically true, even if he really did feel like crap. His ribs hurt like hell this morning. "Thanks," he said, trying to smile at her again. "For the dog." The stuffed animal was perched on the bedside table. "Doesn't look like your brother at all, though."

I've had worse days. Jeanne-Marie seated herself slowly in the chair near his bed, leaving the translation of that misleading phrase to burden the air between them and spark a lack of belief that lingered in her eyes. She returned the partial smile and looked briefly to Nathan's fuzzy and inefficient protector, "You are very welcome, though clearly blind." She moved to pick up the beast and held it for the man to examine, "It has his eyes, his frown and his penchant for over-protection." Her tone sobered even as she tucked the dog almost lightly against his arm, "Though apparently not his skill for it."

"Don't know a stuffed toy who could." He had to stop twice to catch his breath in the process of a single sentence. Probably not a good sign. "Moira laughed herself... silly at it. Said he was more like...a wolfhound, than a collie."

The anxious tightening of her own chest was no match for the obvious, increasingly painful constriction in Nathan's. Jeanne-Marie listened to his broken sentences without hearing them. "Nathan," she said very quietly, "You do not sound well."

He gazed up at her, his expression awkward and strangely vulnerable. "Bad day," he finally conceded, trying to slow his breathing down. "My ribs hurt." Worse on one side of his chest than the other, too, which was strange. Also, probably not good. "Don't think I'm up to walking around the room today. Hope Amelia won't push."

"Then I will be on guard until the proper wolfhound returns, non?" Jeanne-Marie responded gently, her tone and expression moved to a sudden softness by the look in his face. Though she hoped her brother would not come and be forced to see the man this way. Struggling. Her concern showed no signs of retreating even as he slowed his labored breathing and managed a few words without heaving. "Perhaps I should find Mademoiselle Voght," she suggested, then amended, "I will not let her push."

He'd promised, Nathan thought, a bit dizzily. He'd promised all kinds of people that he'd behave, that he'd be a good patient - which included telling one of the doctors when he felt like crap. And he really, really did. The pain in his chest was just getting worse. "Maybe you should," he managed, trying to smile again and not quite managing it. "Can't catch my breath."

Jeanne-Marie did not have time to scold the man for keeping silent on the matter, even if only for a short time, and Nathan did not have time to see the fresh tension his confession brought to her face. She was gone in a blur of speed that made her indistinguishable from her absent twin until she was in the doorway of Amelia's office. "Mademoiselle," she delivered the news with feigned composure, "Nathan requires your assistance. He has spoken of difficulty catching his breath and aching ribs and he..." her calm wavered visibly, the report dwindling into blatant concern, "He does not sound well."

Amelia rose immediately, frowning. "I should have woken him earlier. I could tell he wasn't resting very well," she muttered, and vanished in a puff of green smoke. By the time Jeanne-Marie made her way back to Nathan's room - which didn't take very long at all - Amelia was bending over the man in the bed with her stethoscope, talking to him in a low voice.

"Can't catch my breath," Jeanne-Marie heard him say again, a note of something closer to fear in the labored words.

The woman's quick departure had done little to ease her nerves, but hearing Nathan's voice speaking the same words again with a fresh underlying panic was enough to set the Quebecois' heart on edge. Jeanne-Marie stepped closer, looking quietly between pain-etched patient and scowling doctor.

Amelia reached for the blood pressure cuff, sliding it onto Nathan's arm. "Thank you for getting me," she said, her eyes flickering up briefly to meet Jeanne-Marie's. "Sometimes he's too stubborn for his own good."

"Sometimes?" wheezed the man on the bed.

"Nathan, enough with the brave face." Whatever the blood pressure monitor was telling her made her frown. "Ms. Beaubier, could you... there's a portable x-ray machine in the next room. I need it." She started to adjust the bed, lowering it.

"Frequently," Jeanne-Marie replied without any trace of humor, meeting those green eyes only for as long as she could stand. Her brother was the same way. She allowed her gaze to fall to Nathan once again until the request pulled her focus from his paling face and she nodded, disappearing in a rush of motion and returning with a moderately slowed pace for the sake of the bulky machine accompanying her. Even in the span of this short absence, the man's breathing had grown still more strained. "What is happening? What is wrong...?"

"I'm going to need the x-ray to make sure." Amelia's eyes flickered back to her, as if assessing whether or not asking Jeanne-Marie to step outside was going to be necessary. She said nothing more as she got the machine set up, however, even when the silence dragged on, the absence of other noise making Nathan's labored breathing only sound worse.

The results of the quick scan made her expression tighten. "Congratulations, Nathan," she said, moving the machine aside. "You have officially developed a complication. There's air building up between your lung and the wall of your chest - it's preventing your lung from working properly."

Nathan couldn't quite repress the flinch, what little color left in his face fading away at her words. Amelia continued briskly. "Simple enough to fix, though, so don't worry. Ms. Beaubier, will you stay with him for a moment while I grab some supplies?"

Whatever agitation Amelia's calm, even snide, demeanor through this moment stirred in Jeanne-Marie was quelled by her assessment of the situation. Action needed to come quickly. "Bien sûr. Go." The doctor departed, leaving her temporary nurse to linger near Nathan's bedside, pale eyes meeting his and slim fingers gradually following suit. She squeezed his shivering hand.

The answering squeeze wasn't quite as strong as it might have been. #Don't tell your brother.# The telepathic projection was faint and unfocused, but Nathan managed another weak smile even as he continued to fight for air. #He'll flail.#

"Enough with the brave face," Jeanne-Marie repeated Amelia's words quietly, angular brows sinking at that weak grip and distant mental voice. Her hold remained firm around his hand.

Amelia bustled back in almost immediately, pushing one of the metal carts. "You may not want to stay here for this," she said to Jeanne-Marie as she came back to the other side of the bed, slipping an oxygen mask over Nathan's face before she did anything else. "Although so long as you stay quiet and stay out of the way I don't have any particular objections if you do."

Jeanne-Marie forced some composure back into her features, continuing to hold Nathan's hand and her spot on the opposite side of the bed. She lifted her eyes to watch Amelia in her dire task and hoped her own feigned bravery might last the moment. She had no intention of leaving her brother's dear friend this way. "I will stay."