What to do? (RP with
abbytude)
God help me, this is agony. For both of us.
Rory sat by the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of Pippa's breathing. His lover slept deeply, but it was the sleep of exhaustion rather than true rest. Last night he'd soothed and rocked her after another scream-inducing nightmare, then comforted her through the tears and self-recriminations that followed. Stupid, useless, a burden ... every word tore at his heart, but all he could offer were embraces she felt she didn't deserve and reassurances she didn't believe.
He couldn't even sing her to sleep. Not even hum. Not after what he'd done to her with Rory's own music.
Love was supposed to heal wounds, to conquer all, wasn't it? And yet, thanks to that piece of filth, Rory had to watch his sweet believer girl suffer through no fault of her own and know that all the love, closeness and support he could give her wasn't enough. Not for this.
Leaving Pippa with Mr. Beaker curled at her side, Rory walked into the living room, pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket. He checked the time before calling up his contact list. Eleven in the morning ... Abby would probably be at work by now. Well, he could leave a message if she wasn't free. Pippa needed help that he couldn't give, and Abby was the only person he trusted to ask for some direction.
Keeping one ear tuned for the sounds of Pippa stirring, Rory listened to the dial tones with the other.
Rory sat by the bed, watching the slow rise and fall of Pippa's breathing. His lover slept deeply, but it was the sleep of exhaustion rather than true rest. Last night he'd soothed and rocked her after another scream-inducing nightmare, then comforted her through the tears and self-recriminations that followed. Stupid, useless, a burden ... every word tore at his heart, but all he could offer were embraces she felt she didn't deserve and reassurances she didn't believe.
He couldn't even sing her to sleep. Not even hum. Not after what he'd done to her with Rory's own music.
Love was supposed to heal wounds, to conquer all, wasn't it? And yet, thanks to that piece of filth, Rory had to watch his sweet believer girl suffer through no fault of her own and know that all the love, closeness and support he could give her wasn't enough. Not for this.
Leaving Pippa with Mr. Beaker curled at her side, Rory walked into the living room, pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket. He checked the time before calling up his contact list. Eleven in the morning ... Abby would probably be at work by now. Well, he could leave a message if she wasn't free. Pippa needed help that he couldn't give, and Abby was the only person he trusted to ask for some direction.
Keeping one ear tuned for the sounds of Pippa stirring, Rory listened to the dial tones with the other.
no subject
Five years since her neighbor, a pissed off abusive monster in his own right, had attacked and pummeled her, broke her nose and sent her halfway across her own apartment. Abby shook herself from the memory and cleared her throat. "I've been where she is, Rory, to a certain extent. More than once. Some things will probably always trigger memories for her and the best you and she can hope for is learning how to cope with them when it happens."
And that's so far down the road from now it wasn't going to help Pippa today or tomorrow. "You're right, she needs to talk to someone and I'm more than willing to help her find the right fit, I just wish I knew someone here that could help. If I were in Chica--Chicago..." Her voice caught on the word, if only she were in Chicago. "The head of psych here is a total shithead."
And as she thought about what Pippa would need, Abby swore quietly. "This is going to be a bitch, you know that? I think you and I and shit, your father should probably discuss a few things before anyone tries to sell Pippa on talking to a therapist. We need to get a few things straight."
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He swallows hard at Abby's brief touch on a time she was attacked. "You too. I'm ... God, I'm sorry." Not that Abby needs or wants his pity, but he hates the thought of those he loves being hurt so. He wonders if Da knows. Best not to say anything until he finds out.
Things. Yes, Rory suspects he knows exactly what things Abby means. "I can come over anytime that would be convenient, Abby. Pippa's my first priority." Over even his own life or freedom, if it came to that.
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"Um...sooner rather than later would be better." Dammit, she still hadn't told work, Ruairi or well...anyone. "I'm going to be heading back to Chicago for a few days."
She doesn't want to tell him why, Rory doesn't need her grief on top of what he's already coping with. She only hopes her voice doesn't sound too strained and that she can keep from being distracted long enough to help him and Pippa.
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"I could come over this afternoon or evening for a little while. Either that or tomorrow morning." He doesn't want to leave Pippa alone any longer than he has to, but he also knows she doesn't want to be treated like an invalid. Dilemmas.
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She's trying for humor, but really, the sooner she can get things under control in both cities (because Abby always needs to feel in control) the better. "She's all right being left alone?"
The doctor is guessing at Rory's problem of the moment, she hasn't talked to Pippa much beyond how the woman is feeling physically and making sure she has the sleeping pills Abby suspects she isn't taking often enough.
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Leaning forward again, he starts massaging the back of his neck. "I can be there by four, if that works for you."
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What she is going to do between now and then, besides somehow manage to get up off her rear end, is call Ruairi and work as well as the airlines and people back in Chicago one more time. "Rory, it's only been a little over a month...it will get better."
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Another sigh, this one less depressed and more determined. "I'll see you at four."
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She hangs up the phone and tells herself to call the hospital, her significant other, her best friend...then promptly ignores her own orders to smoke another cigarette and wait for four o'clock to roll around.