xp_logs | Hank, Maddie, Sunday evening

Hank stops by to see Maddie, bringing food (and attack!soup), and they talk, about touch-craving, the afterlife, and a simpler life among the Physicists.

Hank tapped softly on Madelyn's door. He'd brought up food - a selection of fruit and sandwiches, suitable for an evening snack - as well as an eggcupful of the dreaded soup. If she wanted to see, smell, or taste it, after seeing all the posts on the journals, he was ready. "Madelyn?" he called softly. "Jubilee? Is anyone in there, and willing to admit to being so? I promise, I am clean of all religious literature."

"What, I'm missing out on my monthly copy of 'Watchtower'? However will I preserve my immortal soul now?" came the amused reply. "Door's open, Hank."

As Hank let himself in, the reason for why Madelyn hadn't opened it herself became clear. She was tucked up on the couch under a blanket, cushions carefully arranged to support the arm, which was out of the sling. There was a movie on the TV, something involving a lot of people hitting other people with handy household implements in interesting ways, and she clicked it off as Hank approached. "A girl could get used to all this pampering," she said with a chuckle as lunch appeared. "Maybe I should get thrown into walls more often?"

"I'll tell you what... I'll keep it up if you promise never to get thrown into another one." Hank smiled at her, setting the tray down. "I bring fruit, I bring sandwiches, I bring good coffee.... I even bring a small measure of my infamous soup. Want to smell?" She looked adorable, all curled up on the couch....

Madelyn wrinkled her nose at the mention of the soup. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Hank, but hell no. Not unless you want me projectile vomiting on you - cod liver oil brings back all sorts of bad in the form of a grandmotherly obsession with the s tuff." She sat up a little straighter, wincing as she moved. The shoulder was improving, but it still liked to remind her of how much damage she'd done. "I think I might take you up on the avoiding walls - I'm getting too old for this being injured crap."

"Then have some coffee instead. It smells much better." Hank grinned, offering her the mug... he knew how she liked it, by now. "And I heartily endorse the avoiding of walls... and of sharp implements being wielded in anger." He winced a little, settling his leg carefully as he sat down further along the couch. It still hurt, even if it was healing perfectly... and quickly, thanks to Amanda. "One of these days I'm going to run away from home and go live among the Physicists... a primitive but kindly people, known for their strong coffee and extreme unlikeliness to commit violence upon other members of the tribe, except during the Ritual of the Publishing of the Paper."

Madelyn nearly snorted coffee at that. Coughing, she gave him an injured look. "You did that on purpose," she complained.

"Well, not entirely... I was trying to make you smile, not make you breathe coffee." He patted her back very carefully, staying away from the shoulder. "Although there are times when I think wistfully of a nice, quiet, peaceful job in a nuclear reactor somewhere."

"Alison would tell you it's all in the timing, but then again she seems to like seeing me choke," Madelyn said wryly, setting down the coffee and reaching for a sandwich instead. She was getting used to the one-handedness. "I know how you feel, 'though. Sometimes I wonder why on earth I left my nice dull pathology lab. All I had to contend with there was the occasional walking corpse. Oh, and those field trips to the middle of nowhere. In the rain, usually."

"I can probably arrange both of those, if you'd like." Hank took an apple, toying with it thoughtfully. "As dearly as I love my work here, some peace now and then would be... well, probably a terrible shock to my system. I'd probably have an anxiety attack induced by lack of anxiety."

"You need a vacation, Hank," she said with a snicker. "And no thanks - I already have Fred making noises about offering me my old job back. If I missed squelching my way through a muddy field to look at a week-old body, I'd have already said yes." There was a certain wistfulness in her expression as she said it, 'though.

Hank nodded. "I do indeed... perhaps when things settle down somewhat." He cocked an eyebrow at her, tossing his apple absently from hand to hand. "You aren't at all tempted?" he asked softy. "To give all this up, and go back to a simpler life, if a damper one?"

"The thing about waiting for things to settle down is that they never do - I've been waiting since October for mine." Finishing the sandwich, Madelyn reached for the coffee again. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't," she admitted. "And not just because this place is such a madhouse. At the Bureau, I had a place, a purpose. I knew what was expected of me, and I was good at it. Here, especially lately... it seems like I'm trying to be six different things, and none of them are compatible."

"Ah, see, that's how you know you're fitting in." Hank smiled ruefully. "I, for example, am official surgeon, field medic, GP, inventor-in-chief, chronologically senior computer whiz, sometime mechanic, and occasional cook. And that's not even counting my volunteer work in the fields of Flirting, Joking, Pranking, and Trying To Be Comforting In Times of Crisis."

"Now that's multitasking," she said with a smile, changing the focus of the talk away from her. It was something she'd need time to think over. "And speaking of official positions - how's Anika doing, doctor? She's been very quiet, although I can't say I blame her."

Hank sighed, looking down at the apple. "Her heart is broken," he said softly. "It's a far more serious wound than any of her physical injuries, and will take much longer to heal. I tried to be comforting, when I took her the food, but... well. I don't know if it did any good. There really are no words that can alleviate the pain of knowing that you'll never see the one you love again."

"There really aren't." Madelyn set her cup down with a sigh. "It's just so unfair," she said. "They barely had any time at all, and Mistra's taken so much from her - from all of them, really." She resolved to go down and visit again. She'd promised to be there, after all.

Hank nodded. "I felt so ineffectual," he said sadly. "I tried to comfort her, but we don't really know each other... and there's not a lot of comfort to be had, in her situation. There's nothing less helpful than 'it won't always hurt this much', and reassuring someone that the one they love is now in a better place isn't much help when they probably don't believe Heaven, Hell, Hades, or any other afterlife."

"Unfortunately there isn't really much besides time that'll help," Madelyn agreed sadly. "And Ani's lost so much... Not just Mick, but most of her pack as well. The most we can do is reassure her there are people here who care, that she hasn't lost everything." She picked at the edge of the blanket covering her lap with her good hand, considering the rest of what Hank had said, about afterlives. "I always hated that expression, actually. The one about being in a better place. Even though I was taught that there is a Heaven and Hell, I always found it hard to find comfort in the assumption that death is better than living, which is what that says to me." She gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry if I'm being rude."

"I don't always use it. For some, I doubt it is necessarily a better place. But for Mick and for Tim..." Hank sighed, turning the apple over in large fingers. "It can't be any worse than this world was, for most of their lives. It's something I take comfort in... that those we've lost are at least safe. They can't be hurt anymore, and those they've left behind will join them in time."

There was a long silence as Madelyn thought her answer over, and when she spoke, there was a certain quiver of emotion. "I think they're at peace now, yes. And I want to believe that they're not lost completely, that one day Ani will see them again." Her gaze dropped to the edge of Mick's letter, sticking out of the book of Robert Frost poems Lorna had lent her, and her eyes filled. "It's just not enough, sometimes. The unfairness, the cruelty of it all... it tends to cancel out any comfort knowing they're beyond pain now might give. And it's got to be so much worse for Ani."

Hank reached out, wrapping his large hand around her small one. "This school contains, at this very moment, a woman saved from death only by a miracle, a practicing witch, and several visitors to a Divine Realm," he said softly. "Given all that I've seen, here at the school, I decided some time ago that it would be entirely irrational to not believe that the human spirit does, in some way, go on after death. After all, we have a regular miracle allowance." He stroked the back of her hand gently with his thumb. "It is unfair that they died... especially now, when they finally had something to live for... but I, at least, find it comforting to believe that the part of them that made them themselves will be cared for, somewhere. That they'll never be entirely lost."

Madelyn gave him a wan smile, squeezing his fingers before slipping her hand out from under his to wipe her eyes. "Mom always said I was a terrible Catholic," she said. "Too scientific for my own good. It's strange, the more I have things that challenge my view of the world, the harder I try to cling to them. It's very narrow-minded of me, but it's comforting, in its own way." She took a breath, and nodded. "That does help, though. Even if that part of them that's left is our memories - they'll never really be gone completely as long as there's someone who remembers them and who they were." Her eyes turned to the letter again, and she reflected on how perhaps that was what Mick had wanted to do, leave a part of himself behind, just in case.

Hank reached out to touch her cheek lightly, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb, wishing with all his heart that he could take her in his arms and offer a comfort that he had no right to now. "All those years my mother spent dragging me to church every Sunday didn't make a believer of me at the time, but later... it helped, to have a belief system to fall back on, to make things not seem so bad." He smiled a little. "I wish I could do more to help," he said wistfully. "I feel like... an intruder, in a way. I didn't know either man. It's hard to offer comfort for a tragedy I'm not really a part of, no matter how much I care about those who are hurting, and want to help."

"You do help, Hank. Maybe more because you aren't as close to it - you've got more perspective than I do, at any rate." Madelyn smiled at the gesture, the fur tickling just a little. "And it's strange, I felt the same way? Like an intruder. I mean, I didn't know Tim that well, and Mick and I were friends, but certainly not on the scale of say Alison and he were. And I wasn't there, at the end, like she was." The stab of pain in her chest was less sharp than it had been, but it was still there whenever she remembered coming across their bodies. The futility she'd felt, and the need to try, to do _something_. "It was all over, when I finally got to the barracks, and all I could do was help pick over the bodies... Do you remember Malcolm? From Canada? He was the one who shielded us." As Hank nodded, she went on. "I found his body, in with all the others. Some of the other first gens too. All of them dead, and not a damn thing I could do about it. I wasn't even there to help Nathan and Anika. I remember being so angry at myself."

"Me too," he said softly. "Know what I was doing, in those last minutes? Performing field surgery on a man who'd been eviscerated. I didn't even know most of what was going on. I saved the man's life... and while I did, dozens were lost. The surgery could have been done by someone else, perhaps, as busy as we were. I've spent a lot of time wondering, since then, if I made the right decision by staying there instead of going back to the fight." He sighed, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "And if all I can do now is try to be a good friend, and do what I can to make you feel better, then that's what I'll do."

"It's been pointed out to me by any number of people that there's always going to be doubt about the choices we make. And since there's not that time travelling thing, we have to accept there's not anything to be done to change it now. And I'm positive that man who's life you saved if glad you were there." She looked at the letter again, and made up her mind, carefully reaching for it. "Mick wrote this, before leaving Spain. If you like... it might help to feel less isolated?"

"Thank you," he said gravely, accepting the letter and unfolding it carefully. It was a short letter, taking only moments to read.... blinking burning eyes and swallowing hard to make sure his voice was relatively level took a couple more. "I think I would have liked him," he said softly, refolding the letter gently, tucking it into its envelope and handing it back to her. "I wish I'd had a chance to get to know him." He rubbed at his eyes, and gave her a small, sad smile. "And with your permission, my dear, I'd like to give you a hug. I know I could use one just now."

"I wish you had known him better too." Madelyn spread her good arm, a clear acceptance of the request, knowing Hank would watch the shoulder. As Hank enfolded her in a careful hug, she closed her eyes and relaxed into it. "I'm turning into a hug junkie," she said with a small, muffled chuckle. "Between you and Jubilee..."

"It's all part of our plan," he murmured, resting his cheek against her hair. "If we make you as touch-dependent as we are, then we can set up a whole mutual-fix-satisfaction arrangement. If all goes according to plan, by summer we'll all be on a two-hug-a-day minimum." He held her carefully, rocking the tiniest bit. "I wish I could make this better for you," he said softly. "I really do. Since I can't... please, at least, be sure that I'll always be here for you. Hugs a speciality."

She giggled then, and the laughter felt good. "Sneaky people, both of you."