Who: Izzie, Archie, and ERNIE MacMillan!
What: Archie wakes up! AND THERE IS ANGST
Where: St. Mungo's!
When: Today!
Archie hadn't met the baby yet, Izzie found herself thinking as she started at her husband's unconcious form, baby nestled close to her chest.
He hadn't met the baby yet, he hadn't met his
son.
Their son, he hadn't met Ernie! It made Isobel sick to think about, but as she spent her days in the hospital the thoughts could not be pushed out of her mind. Everything for the past---these
days had blurred together, it might even be a bloody
week since the earthquake for all she knew, but---everything just felt like one long, miserable day, all of it spent in the broken down walls of St. Mungo's.
Izzie had been with her brother Ulrich, when the news first struck. He managed to keep her in the house, refusing to let her go raving in Diagon Alley to look for Archie which she should be
thankful for, but remaining in the house only kept her mind on the what
ifs and the terrible, terrible thoughts of what news an owl might bring, or a ministry official with a solemn expression. Aaron and Eloise had arrived at the same time, both looking haggard and worse for wear. Aaron was an auror, Eloise a healer, so
they had information about---not
only about Archie, but Oscar! Her brother Oscar as well had been caught in the mess and they were
both in critical condition.
She fainted. From the exhaustion of the day, all her worry, the baby, and the fact that she
did hear her worst fear come true. They didn't know if Archie would make it, he could
die and it was as if the entire world had decided to shake around her and collapse everything she'd built and dreamed about. Isobel had no idea how she'd gotten to St. Mungo's so quickly, or how she'd suddenly gone into
labor, but her siblings were there, her
parents were there, and even though that was the closest and most supportive her family had been in her entire
life she still felt completely and utterly alone because Archie wasn't there.
As much as she was devastated that Archie wasn't around for Ernie's birth, Izzie was thankful for his slightly early arrival. If she didn't have her baby to hold onto during these long hours and days of waiting for a change, Izzie wouldn't have been able to make it. But feeding Ernie, waking up with him, coddling and playing with him---it just made things better. The guilt about naming the baby without Archie had subsided, because she
had used names they had discussed, so it wasn't out of the
blue and---
Izzie just really hoped Archie liked Ernie's name, when he woke up. If--
when he woke up. She looked down from her seemingly locked gaze on Archie down at the baby. Ernie was waking up from his nap, why couldn't his Papa?
Friday had been the onset of the apocalypse.
Archie had survived the initial quake relatively unscathed, but unnerved to the very core. After the rumbling had stopped, chaos had broken full out. Ministry workers were running in every direction, the building itself appearing to crumble in certain areas, and he felt so disoriented that he wasn't sure if up as down or down was up. But once he'd come to his senses, the wizard had grabbed his wand and was one of a small team of unharmed people running in and out of the various offices on their level and doing what they could to help evacuate the victims to safety.
Until the aftershocks came. It had been years since an earthquake of this magnitude had struck London, particularly the Ministry——no one, not even Archie, was stopping to take in the scientific significance of this event; it was unlikely, even, that the majority of people realized what exactly had happened, aside from bedlam. But the mini tremors were still of such an enormous magnitude that the parts of the building that had been weakened by the quake were now starting to fall apart. There were stampedes of people who were rushing to clear the building going every which way, but there were still people trapped inside the chaos. Leaving had not occurred to Archie, who remained zipping from offices and trying to heal or otherwise aid people who were reduced to immobility, or otherwise suffering. In the midst of the second aftershock, however, something toppled on top of him as he was hurriedly trying to move desks and other furniture that had piled on top of a poor worker. Archie's wand was flung from his grasp as he reeled, collapsing into a jumble of broken rubble, before the heavy cabinet fell atop him. He screamed in pain for a few brief seconds, before his consciousness fell to black.
His condition was critical. One side had been impaled by glass, and many bones had been broken beyond simple Skele-Grow repair; several had to be regrown just so they could be broken and reset properly. Among various other injuries, his head had sustained a severe concussion, which was cause for the most worry——although they were certain he would pull out of the unconscious state, being that he had already survived this long without declining seriously, no Healer could state for sure what his mental state would be upon waking. Memory loss, in addition to long-term symptoms were very real possibilities at this point, they had gravely said. Archie flitted in and out of consciousness after his second day, but was far from coherent. For just a second or two, sometimes more than a few minutes, he seemed to recall that he was some place he did not belong, and not some place where he was very much expected. This nagging sense of urgency prickled always in the back of his drowsy mind, a tickle of annoyance that felt as though he were missing an important meeting. Ignoring that pressing feeling, however, Archie remembered Scotland, nearly the only clear picture in his mind, and a lake. The setting sun over it, splashing faint orange and pink across the sky, the dull overgrowth of the moors and grassy knolls reflecting the bright colors just the slightest. It was, Archie would come to realize, a place he thought of as sanctuary, a place where nothing bad could ever happen, because nothing ever happened here. It was a constant. Total equilibrium. If it, say, rained, everything simply turned darker, greyer, and wetter, then slowly dissipated as it blew over. The sun shone brightly when there weren't any clouds, and the world was simply a little darker and duller when there were.
It was a little lonely, however, but Archie simply figured that was best for him. If there wasn't anyone there when he arrived, he supposed there wasn't ever to be anyone with him, and that was just the way it was. Things were certainly more peaceful when it was just him. But one day, he thought he heard something peculiar. For just a second, a sound rippled through the air. There hadn't been much of that, naturally, since Archie found there hadn't been much to make sounds at, but this seemed to come from just beyond the hills, and it was a sound he couldn't quite place. Bewildered, he'd shrugged it off, but it seemed to come again, not long after. And again, and again, then again, as if it were hovering just out of reach. It was laughter, he slowly recalled, and of the utmost teasing kind. Flustered, he ran after the sound, but it always seemed to disappear before he got close to it. Archie tried again and again, never seeming to make it up the knoll before the laughter faded. Sometimes he tried running around it, but the laughter always seemed too fast and too flighty for him.
This day, however, Archie heard the laughter coming from atop the hill, just as he always did. And he began to run after it, just as he always did. It wasn't that he felt stronger or faster than he did most days, or that the laughter was slower, but something, he couldn't put his finger on what, was different. This time, he could see the laughter as he was chasing it, glints of gold sparking in the sunsetting-moor. They were less like glints, Archie realized as he continued chasing, and more like ribbons. Thin threads of the finest gold, lashing out at him in an exasperating manner as they suddenly appeared and disappeared in his field of vision. Then he saw, they weren't ribbons, they were
hair… weaving in and out of what seemed like thin air, outrunning their own giggles.
There was only one person in the world with hair like that who could cause him to be so flustered.
With renewed vigor, he set off after the laughter, determined to catch her and make her stay. The faster he ran, however, the faster she seemed to run. Archie was trying so hard to keep up, but she simply wouldn't stay put!
Isobel, he told her in his sternest tone, that's not playing
fair. But all she answered with was that infuriatingly mischievous giggle. But she wasn't so far ahead of him now, and if he just put his hand out——ran just a little faster—— it seemed as though he could——
Something was poking him. The light was too bright, and there were too many people, and he could hear the strains of crying reaching his ear. It had a fussier sound to it, as though it were more of a wail, he noted, as he listened to it more, but it was not a very agreeable sound. And as that continued, he could feel various other things poking him, and there was a heavy weight on the top of his chest, and it was all very uncomfortable. He tried to communicate this, but found he had little to no idea if his lips were moving and sound was coming out of them, or not. He heaved a great sigh.
"Shhhhh, Ernie, Ernie, you've got to be quiet, Papa's sleeping."
Izzie cradled the baby close, still finding herself amazed that she actually had him in her arms. After all these months, after all the
stress they had in the beginning of the pregnancy, their baby was finally here for her to hold and talk to and watch grow up. It was
thrilling, but that thrill quickly became muted at the fact that she wasn't sharing these first few days of Ernie's life with Archie. Isobel was trying to remember
everything the baby did, how his face scrunched and his first
cry, first bath, just---she'd been ridiculous with keeping track, but she knew that Archie would be doing the same thing even if she
wasn't in a coma, so...so she needed to have all those moments stored and ready for when he woke up.
She shifted Ernie to her other side as he got fussier, frowning because she was sure he couldn't be hungry. He didn't need to be changed, he was warm and cozy in his blanket and tiny robes, so...Izzie felt her lips begin to wobble right along with her son, wriggling and revving up for a shriek. Oh, hell. The healers
said she would be overly emotional for a bit after birth, and with everything
else she was as good as a leaky,
leaky faucet when it came to her crying. She didn't know what her baby wanted! What was she going to
do if Archie never woke up to help her when she didn't know what Ernie needed? Izzie looked up frantically at her husband's still form, her desperate state forcing her to believe that Archie would wake up right
now and help her even though that was impossible----
Izzie sucked in a deep breath, standing far too quickly for a woman who had very little sleep and a very little newborn in her arms. Her husband was definitely moving his lips, he'd done more than just breath through his nose and---oh, he was---he was saying---
something. Izzie hurried over, pushing Ernie to her shoulder to keep rocking him as she leaned over Archie. Merlin, she couldn't take her eyes off his lips as they moved and for a moment Izzie tried to decipher what he was saying, but she couldn't contain her excitement and dipped closer to kiss him quickly. Just for a second.
"Archie?"
His brow furrowed where the light was hitting him. Square in the middle of the forehead, too, just between the brows. Archie wanted to fling his arm up to cover his eyes, but even though he tried—and he tried very hard, as a matter of fact—he couldn't. It didn't even feel as though he were making the effort. Or perhaps he could feel the effort, but there wasn't enough strength him in him to feel that eh could feel it—whatever it was, even opening his eyes felt like it was much, much too much work. But there was that sound again, the laughter, though it wasn't laughing. It nagged at him to do something besides lie there uselessly. Gritting his teeth, mostly metaphorically, and clenching his fingers into fists, he felt as though the sheer effort he was exerting should have pushed him straight through the roof, through dimensions, perhaps even through time and space somewhere, than just the simple task of opening his eyes.
It worked, though. Light swam into view first, hazily, and overpowering to his sensitive, deadened sight. Instinctively, his eyes fluttered, almost closed, but he knew that if he didn't keep them open now, it was unlikely Archie would open them again. After the light came the shapes, and there was one that loomed large and close by his side. All of this, and he still had no clue as to what had happened or where he was. Archie wasn't even particularly bothered by that fact, now that he was thinking about it. The lightest of touches made itself known to him on his forehead, and he winced as the shadow that had fallen upon his face drew back and the light was on him once more.
Groggily, it occurred to him that Isobel was standing next to him. His vision was slow in returning, but he knew it was her, and she had to know that he could feel her there, if not outright see her.
"Isobel," he tried, but the sound wouldn't come. "Isobel," he said again, this time more forcefully. The sound was like a solid object pushing itself up his throat, scraping against the dryness as it tried to expel itself. It crossed Archie's mind that he must not have spoken for some time. A hoarse whisper sounded, nothing intelligible, but his voice felt so disused and his throat so try, that it was a miracle, in his hazy opinion, that he'd even been able to get that much out.
But his wife was
here, and he knew she was, and that was the important thing right now. There was, he hoped, all the time in the world to figure out what had happened, later. Instead, he just looked up and gave her the most reassuring smile he knew to give.
She let out a cry of relief at the sound of her name coming from his lips. It was cracked and strained, but
Archie was saying
her name. Izzie immediately pushed herself down onto the side of the bed, shifting Ernie over. "Archie?
Hello, love!"
It was all Izzie could think to say. She didn't wish to tell him what happened, or how badly injured he was. The first thing Archie should hear upon his waking shouldn't be something
bad or depressing like that. Isobel wasn't even sure if she could actually relate the whole thing to him, right now or ever! How could she, when just thinking of the events sent her soaring to tears? Just imagining if the rescue crew had decided to check the office Archie was stuck in
later, or in ten minutes, or---who
knew what kind of twist of fate had led them to saving her husband's life? Izzie had always moaned about her bad luck, so to have Archie rescued when there were people
still missing----she couldn't help but be amazed by how perfectly luck had been on her side, and how easily it could have gone the other way.
Izzie didn't want to explain to him why he was in the hospital, or why he was on a million different potions a day, or----or
anything that might make him sad. Her husband deserved everything
but sad and depressing thoughts. No, Izzie wanted the first thing Archie saw to be---well,
her, since he'd already looked at her, but---She shifted closer, trying to tilt Ernie into a better view.
"Look who's here, Papa." Saying it out loud
to Archie made her voice crack, eyes swelling with the tears she'd been so good at keeping back for the past minute or so. Izzie sent him a smile, trying to steady herself as she was slowly beginning to lose her sense at the fact that her husband was
awake and now he could meet their
son and----"C'mon Ernie, say
hi."
"Well, then," Archie rasped, albeit quite pleasantly as he looked back and forth between the small baby and his wife. And though Isobel had revealed the connection only moment before, asked, "Who's this?"
But slowly, very slowly, the memories trickled like sludge back into place—his wife had been pregnant, hadn't she? But Isobel hadn't been due so soon, not unless… not unless he'd been away for a very long time? In which case, she'd had to have had the baby, wouldn't she? His tired eyes scrutinized the baby's face, trying to discern how old he had to be. What did a newborn look like, how was Archie supposed to know these things? And if that was his child Izzie was carrying in her arms, that meant he had missed it. He had missed everything. Archie hadn't been there when his wife had gone into labor, which meant he couldn't hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be all right. He couldn't have taken her safely to St. Mungo's, and he couldn't have waited outside the delivery room and paced about frantically, worry about how his wife was faring, or whether his child would be a son or a daughter. He couldn't have waited for the nurse to bring him in after he or she was born, and place his newborn child in his arms. He couldn't have finished the nursery whilst he waited for Isobel to be released from the hospital.
He could not have done anything.
Archie's eyes grew wide as he looked from Isobel to the baby in her arms, golden fuzz atop his head, huge blue eyes just like his mother. Archie had almost missed—Archie
had missed his name. Ernest, Izzie had called him, Ernest MacMillan he would be called.
His eyes began to sting from the tears that were prickling bitterly and threatening to spill. He was already an invalid, or at least very close to one. There was no reason to make himself pathetic, Archie told himself sternly, trying instead to remember what his father or brother would say to him in this situation, however loath he was to think of them now.
It didn't work very well.
A most feeble attempt to raise his arm was made, but he could only raise his hand a little. With his finger extended towards his son, Archie said, with tears starting to spill from his own blue eyes, a pained but incredibly genuine small smile, "Hallo."
Izzie couldn't contain herself.
First, when Archie asked who the baby was, she immediately burst into silent tears. Oh
God! The healers had
said that there might be some brain damage, some memory issues, but! But their
baby! He didn't know his son? Couldn't Archie just
see who this was? Izzie had, in the few seconds before she pushed Ernie close, imagined this whole big
scene with Archie just sitting up and smiling and being loud and joyous and it was
nothing like that.
"Archie--" she started out a bit frantically, breath hitching. No, no, he
needed to see that this was his son without her telling him, that would just
ruin this perfect moment. They needed it! After this past week, they
needed that glorious, wonderful moment of father meeting son, damn it! Izzie sat down hard on the side of the bed, pushing him forward to reiterate the fact that this was his son, but before she could she saw Archie's eyes change with the revelation.
Oh, oh God. This was even more tear-inducing that his lack of recognition.
Her sobs became louder, even though she was trying very, very hard to be quiet. But this
moment! The one she had just been silently cursing for not happening. Here it
is, and she could barely watch because her eyes were full of tears.
Finally they were tears of joy, but that still kept her from watching Archie and Ernie interact for the first time.
Archie and Ernie!
"H-here," Izzie choked, managing to blink away a few tears, enough to clear her vision. She moved Archie's arms herself, manuevering pillows behind his elbows. From the past week of walking around with an infant in her arms (Izzie had rarely put the baby down since he was born), she had become very good at doing things one-handedly. With everything in place, she propped Ernie up into Archie's arms and sat back. More tears fell and Izzie put her hands to her mouth, trying to calm herself down but failing miserably.
Ernie yawned and snuggled into his father, and Isobel lost whatever sense she had. They were finally a family!
