Who: Alice and Frank Longbottom
Where: Their bedroom
What: D:
When: Tonight, after Orpheus is taken in
Her toes grazed the wooden floor of their master bedroom as her legs kicked back and forth. Alice had never noticed how high their bed was until this moment, and in her mentally numb state, she wondered how far back she could sit on it before her feet couldn't reach any longer.
It had been the longest two days of her life, and she was sure that was the truth. Everything was a big, rapid fire blur that she could barely make sense of, and quite honestly Alice had no desire to. Maybe if she allowed her mind to send her to this place of quiet and calm ignorance, she'd never have to fully accept the events that had driven her to this silent madness.
She could hear Frank moving around in the bathroom, she could see the light coming out from the door flickering in and out as he moved back and forth in front of it as he changed or--whatever he was doing, before they attempted to sleep. Alice had tried to take off her auror robes before he'd entered the bathroom, but she'd only half accomplished it before her thoughts turned to the wooden floor.
Her eyes were on the ground when the door opened, and it felt like someone laid a heavy weight on her neck and shoulders, because Alice simply could not lift her head to look at her husband.
His chest hadn't stopped hurting all weekend. And not the aching type of pain, but the constricting, unable to breathe sort of pain. Frank had no clue how he had made it through the past two days like this (focusing on nothing besides how many ways he could kill Orpheus Travers did help, but even then he found after too long it brought him too dangerously close to his emotions), though he was hoping the next few days would be as just as unmemorable, for his mental stability's sake. This was far too close to home.
At this point, he was going through the motions. That was the easy part, letting instinct take over--- but only because he had been in this place before. Not really wanting to accept reality, and honestly enough, Frank was okay with that. He held onto the bathroom sink tightly, head dropped low between his shoulders. He refused to think that this was unbearable, because thinking it was unbearable meant it was; they would survive this. They would because--- they had to. He had to.
"Come on," he muttered softly, lips pulling back as he smoothly sat down next to Alice. "You should change. Get out of those robes." Frank hardly felt like looking at her, but eventually, he brought his gaze up to her face. He couldn't let her sit like that, and not talk to him (even though that was exactly what he wanted to do himself), and it pained him more to see her like this.
"I'll help," he offered quietly, but made no movement to do so.
Alice's chest rose with every careful and deliberate breath. It did feel like she was controlling her breathing, that if she stopped thinking in and out, her lungs wouldn't know what to do and she'd suffocate. Maybe that was okay, maybe she should just let her body do what it wanted, because she sure as hell couldn't make herself do anything else. It would feel better than this, that was more than obvious.
Without lifting her gaze her head slowly drooped toward Frank, as if her neck couldn't support its weight and she was simply letting gravity take control. Alice wasn't sure how her husband was doing, and she felt badly for that, but nothing would allow her to attempt to help him. She wanted to, desperately, but her body wasn't letting her get herself out of its depressing stupor, so it was just not an option.
Her chin pushed away from Frank at sharp pain stabbing in her chest. Alice pushed her face into the opposite shoulder and stared hard at the post of their four-poster. Her eyes shut tightly and she was expecting tears, but nothing came, and she felt triply guilty for it.
"Alice," he sighed, a frown forming on his face as she said nothing to him and shifted away. It was entirely possible that she didn't even want to talk to him. Frank could understand that. She didn't have to suddenly start spurting out paragraphs of words at him, he just wanted her to say something--- anything. She hadn't said anything after they brought Travers to the Ministry, not even a peep at the Order meeting, and now the silence continued as they prepared to pretend to sleep tonight.
Frank had never seen her like this before, most definitely. And sadly enough, he found his concern for her made things much easier to deal with, so now, he would only focus on her. And most likely do so for the next few weeks. That was very doable. It gave him something to focus on, something that he actually had control over.
"Alice," Frank repeated steadily, mouth still tight. Breathe, breathe--- he could handle this, he could most certainly take care of this. This was his wife, his family, and--- he should be able to take care of his family. Frank reached out for her, fingers lightly brushing her side as they inched for her hand.
Her fingers felt like they'd been struck by lightening, and the shock of Frank's touch raced up her arm and into her chest and made her heart thud painfully hard. Actual human interaction was not something her body wanted, but her mind was loudly and harshly reminding her that Frank would not hurt her, Frank was supposed to help. Her fingers slowly gripped onto his, not because she had to, but because she needed to. Alice had to remind herself that Frank was still here, Frank wasn't--dead.
She blinked quickly at the thought, not having been able to actually imagine the word in her head or--think it, whatever it was, since Saturday night. Murdered, killed, massacred---those words came easily and swiftly as it was the way to think when on duty and on the scene, but now the thought that Marlie was dead came front and center, and Alice's mind could not configure itself to properly understand this.
What did that--mean? Marlie was dead, Marlie was dead---what---what did that, how was she...Alice blinked a few more times, twisting to look at Frank for a moment before her eyes dropped back to the ground, but the plain, numb expression that had been on her face was gone and replaced with extreme panic, even though her lips were still tightly pressed together. She couldn't breathe, her mind had switched off of paying attention to her breaths to trying its hardest to understand what Marlie being gone meant, what Alice had lost, and quite suddenly she wasn't breathing, like she had hoped for just seconds earlier.
Alice twisted quickly to face Frank; Marlie was dead, Marlie was dead, Marlie was dead and she'd---she'd never see her best friend again, she'd never laugh with her again, she'd never---they'd never do a damn thing again and---it was---Alice latched her other hand onto Frank's arm, mouth finally dropping open to release something, anything, but she couldn't breathe.
There wasn't anything Frank could even begin to say her, but he wished he could. He wished that he could swipe the look on her face away completely with just something. But there wasn't anything, not one word in the English language that could do that, and it really did pain him to think that he could do nothing to help Alice at this point, except for stare back at her and not let go.
He hadn't known what he wanted people to say to him when Derrick died, so how could he even begin to think of what Alice wanted to hear? What did he want people to say to him? Frank thought for a moment as he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, but then quickly pushed that thought aside because that was too--- focus simply on Alice, simply on her.
"Alice," Frank started again hoarsely, but her name simply spilled out of his mouth without any inclination to anything else being said. He ignored that his mind was warning to let go of her, that human touch was probably the last thing she wanted, but Frank found himself gripping her tighter and tighter. His fingers wrapped themselves in her clothes and her hair, and his chest gave a strained shudder.
This was just too painful. Too painful to watch, too painful to feel, too painful to think about. And believe him, if he wasn't the expert of emotional pain and scarring, he didn't know who was. "I---" Frank choked as he felt his chest seize up again. "It'll--- we'll be---" He couldn't even say it. They would though, right?
"Frank!" she choked out desperately, the words finally breaking the emotional dam her mind had created. Attempting to speak and finally succeeding...it was like a burst of icy cold air smacking her in the face. All of this was real. Arresting Travers, watching him get taken away, going here and there and all the bustle and fuss it was all real, it had all really happened, and that meant that Marlie really was--she really was--
"Frank, Frank---" Alice moaned over and over, tears flowing freely now as her body had come down from the out of mind state she'd been in before. All she could feel was pain, like every bone in her body was broken and were now piercing through her skin and lungs and heart. Marlie was gone, her best friend was gone.
They wouldn't ever go shopping again. She'd never see one of Marlie's shows again. They couldn't have their children at the same time and make sure that Marlie had the girl and she had the boy so that they could one day fall in love and be married and then they'd really be family and---
She let Frank cling onto her, curling up into herself to try and disappear. This feeling was never going to go away.
