WHO: Bianca and Bertram Aubrey
WHAT: Bianca's going through a rough patch
WHERE: Their flat
It had been a very long day at work. Bianca had been out on the pavement for a jog before the sun had even rose, and instead of coming home to change she’d gone straight to the Ministry to shower and get prepared for the day. The day was uneventful so Bianca decided to stay an extra hour and a half to finish up some logs for the next week, and to help with inventory even though their receptionist hissed at her to stay away from all the parchment.
When she got home there had been take out on the table for dinner, but Bianca complained of a headache and had gone straight into the shower and right into bed. She couldn’t tell you what time it was now, just that Bertram wasn’t in bed yet. A day like this shouldn’t be something she was used to, but for the past month it was all she could manage. Her friends had tried cheering her up, Bertram and Aaron were always around to attempt to raise her spirits, but by the end of the night Bianca found herself getting swallowed up again by the dark pit of depression that had engulfed her since Adamina’s kidnapping.
What was she good for if she couldn’t protect the ones she cared most about? Bianca had spent a few days in the hospital after the initial attack, and once she was released had devoted all of her time to investigating the crime scene, reliving the event. She hated that she had been so surprised, she hated that she’d been overwhelmed, and she hated even more that she had nothing that could help the case. Adamina had been found, but she’d been tortured, tested on, her friend, one of her only true, true friends had gone through hell and it had been all her fault.
No one was mad at her. She knew that, they repeatedly told her that, but Bianca couldn’t let go of the guilt. It had literally consumed her and she continued to stare at the wall when the door to the bedroom opened.
Bertram was at an absolute loss about what to do with Bianca. She’d had challenging work situations before, of course, but she’d -- always been tougher than him, and maybe he’d taken that for granted. Now that she was the one who seemed to be losing her mind over things, he wasn’t sure how to react. He understood, of course -- if it had been Zach, he would’ve been just as much of a basket case as she was. The problem was that he didn’t know how to approach it.
He sure as hell didn’t want to tell her that maybe she should get some professional help from work. She’d been through more than this, from the snippets she’d told him about her brother, but maybe this was -- some sort of deep, personal failure issue. He’d been trying to cheer her up for weeks, now, tried to be supportive and complimentary and funny (okay, the sock on his penis with the googly eyes hadn’t gone over as well as he’d been expecting it to), but none of it seemed to work.
“...I brought you some hot chocolate. Aaron insisted.” Which was complete bull, of course, since Aaron couldn’t possibly have done such a thing. He’d been taking care of their son more and more lately, but fortunately that was something he’d grown used to with Amissa.
She stretched, rolling over to her other side to at least look Bertram in the face before she declined the offer.
“Maybe in a bit,” she lied. Bianca forced a quick smile before pulling her thin blanket up over her shoulder and turning back to face the wall. Somewhere, deep inside, she appreciated that Bertram was putting forth an effort, but she didn’t feel like she actually deserved it, or him. She was a miserable failure when it came to her job and helping those she loved, how could he even look at her when taking care of their son had become something of great difficulty? She was thinking these things, that she should do something, but all she could do was tighten the blankets around her.
Hopefully he would just go to sleep, not that she was actually going to any time soon. Bianca had been feigning sleep most nights, just waiting for a somewhat appropriate time to ‘wake up’ and get started on the next day. She was living one day to the next, and part of her missed trying to plan for the future, but who was she kidding? She was a hitwizard. She had known what she’d been getting into when she first entered the squad and had lost her way when she met Bertram. She loved him, more than anyone she’d ever cared about before, more than herself, but Bianca had started losing sight of how dangerous her lifestyle was. She had to get focused once again, she was slipping.
“My mum could take Aaron tomorrow,” she said tonelessly. Maybe she could help that way, give Bertram a break that Bianca couldn’t offer him right now.
Aaron was actually down for a sleep, now, though how long that lasted he was never sure. Especially with the way Bianca had been acting, the boy had been fussier than ever. Bertram frowned to himself and set the drink down onto the table next to Bianca, and dropped himself down onto the edge of the bed. It was right up until she spoke again that he was able to hold in the building frustration.
“I don’t want her to take him tomorrow. I’ve got that work-at-home article to finish editing,” he snapped, feeling immediately guilty for doing so. He’d been getting more and more of those, lately, even if the pay was terrible and they were boring as hell. He’d thrived on the field jobs, but that -- well, that just wasn’t in the cards any more. Bertram passed his hand through his hair -- it was getting long again, and he just hadn’t been able to find the time for a cut.
He dropped his elbows to his knees and stared down at the floor. His mother had never gotten like this, even when things had been tough -- he didn’t know how to react to this. He bit down hard on his lip, hard enough to draw blood.
“Bianca, just talk to me.”
Bianca’s gaze pulled from the wall to look at Bertram. It was rare to have him be anything but light hearted, but as much as his tone should have startled her, it didn’t. She blinked a few times and pressed her lips firmly together before shifting to rest on her elbows. She could at least attempt to give him her attention. Her eyes traveled over him, taking in the visible stress that Bertram had taken on. Her heart ached at the sight, but that feeling was immediately overpowered with her raging guilt; she was once again the reason behind someone’s pain.
What could she say to that? That she was sorry she was a failure, that she consistently wasn’t good enough? What could Bertram have seen in her when all she saw was someone who was pathetic, weak, she could barely take care of herself let alone----Bianca shut her eyes, trying to force the thoughts away. They swarmed her mind when she was feeling the most vulnerable and pushed back any feeling of pride that she might have. It had taken her so long to deem herself worthy of anything, and now she felt absolutely worthless. Bianca could listen to her family and friends say otherwise, but the support could not break through.
She pulled her legs up to her chest to sit up straighter, dropping her chin onto her knees, frowning. Maybe Bertram could do something for her, because she felt the need to give him an answer.
“I can’t,” she managed. Bianca felt herself begin to shake and she looked away from her husband. How could she talk to him if it was only going to reaffirm how much of a failure she really was? She physically could not say the words without feeling like she was going to meltdown. “I--can’t.”
Bertram laughed despite himself. He tried hard not to sound as tired as he was when he spoke next, brows furrowed. “Funnily enough, that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. Talking.” He shifted just enough to rest his hand on the back of her neck, toying with the fine hairs there. He didn’t want her to think he was angry, although he -- was, he was mad, frustrated.
“You’re better than this, you know. I know you are.” Encouragement, that was what she needed -- right? She just needed to convince her that laying around was for quitters, and that she wasn’t a quitter. That sounded stupid even to him, but he couldn’t just give up on her. He’d never forgive himself, not after she was the one who’d helped him get himself together and finally find some motivation for his life.
“You can say whatever you want. But I’m not just -- going to leave, okay? I want to help you.”
But she wasn’t. She couldn’t---Bianca tried desperately to stop her eyes from welling at his touch, but even she could admit she was in a delicate state. What was wrong with her? She should be able to accept her husband’s words, see them as truth. She was better than this? She had thought she was, she had even been feeling smug for a while, like a good Slytherin should. But now it felt like one soft push and her entire body would shatter to the ground.
Bianca twisted her lips, “I don’t want you to leave,” she let out, and she lurched forward to throw herself into Bertram’s chest.
The fear of losing him crept into her mind, managing to surpass her overwhelming depression and guilt. Bertram had helped her create a good life, a great life. He continued to love and support her even when she couldn’t do so herself. Knowing he was there, even if she had been terrible at acknowledging it, had kept Bianca from completely going off the deep end. And her baby, oh, her little Aaron---the cycle of guilt began to rear its ugly head; she was a terrible mother, how could she---Bianca’s grip around Bertram tightened, trying to force the thoughts away.
“You can’t leave,” she sobbed, unable to focus on anything but the terrifying idea of being left alone.
Okay, see, this was also what he was worried about happening. He caught her in his arms as best he could and gathered her up against his chest, choosing to brush his hand through her hair instead of over her neck. “Hey. Hey, I’m not leaving, Bianca. I promise.” And maybe his promises didn’t mean much to people, but it might to Bianca. He’d tried so hard not to lie to her.
He’d thought about leaving, sure, but he wasn’t going to. Leaving Bianca in this delicate state -- anyone could see that it was a bad idea. If he couldn’t bring her around, though, he’d have to get her help … and he didn’t want it to get to that point.
“You need to start forgiving yourself, Bianca.” He spoke quietly, not wanting to upset her further. “Please.”
She didn’t feel like she was allowed to forgive herself. Bianca clung to him, her breathing heavy as she attempted to control herself. Everyone kept telling her that these things weren’t her fault, that she’d been overwhelmed with Adamina’s attack, she couldn’t have done a thing for her brother---and she seemed to understand these things, but she couldn’t accept them. There were so many things that she could have done differently!
Her brother should not have wasted time in hiding her, in trying to divert the situation. If they’d just left he could have escaped! Bianca should not have tried to take the two men down in the park with her pregnant friend just feet behind her. Her priority should have been Adamina, and it had been but she went about it the wrong way and---
“I don’t know how,” she admitted. Bianca couldn’t do it herself, if she could she wouldn’t be in this terrible place. But did she really deserve to pull herself out of it? It was just going to happen again, she was going to make a mistake and ruin someone’s life, it was inevitable. She was exhausted just thinking of it. Bianca pressed her face into his shoulder, not wanting to move. “I can’t think straight.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. The problem was that he didn’t know how either, not really. He obviously hadn’t been helping too much by being supportive if she wasn’t getting any better. Did he need to do something else? Or … well. Bertram pursed his lips together, still holding her against him.
“Then maybe you could think about talking to someone who’s -- I don’t know, been through the same thing as you?” Or someone who was trained to do this. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder, rubbing his hands affectionately over her shoulders. All he knew was that his wife couldn’t go on like this, not when he knew she was capable of getting over it.
“Or … I don’t know.”
She nodded against him, though she was still unsure. There was surely going to be no solution tonight, Bianca knew, and she was sure that Bertram was aware as well. She did feel better just by being in his arms, and maybe, maybe she’d be able to make more of an effort if she could be awarded with his warm embrace. Holding Bertram and having him grip her just as tightly was the physical reminder that Bianca needed to remember that she was more than just the shell of a person she felt.
“Just---stay with me, for now,” she pleaded quietly, her arms unwilling to relinquish their grip on her husband. Who knew when she’d be able to find the strength to hold him like this again.
