Early Morning September 15th, 1893 - Kirke Home
Tybalt Kirke

I want you here in my arms
We'll hide away in the dark

Elsie knew tired, (she was a parent after all, of two under two, no less,) but this type of exhaustion was all-encompassing and bone deep. It was nearly morning, she realized, by the time she'd flooed out of the library and back home. She had tried to owl Tyb to let him know she was alright, but after the barrier went up, it was hard to tell, or get any word back. The triage and makeshift hospital at the library had been a lot. Elsie had never seen such carnage in her entire life; she certainly wasn't built for it, but she also knew she couldn't just leave and not do something.

The house was dark and quiet, which was good— she had worried she'd come home to a screaming infant, but it seemed Tyb and Miss Halliwell had been able to keep Maisie full enough until Elsie could get home and nurse her. Her first stop was her infant daughter's nursery to solve all of their problems. Maisie had been asleep, but Elsie knew she should feed her now before she tried to sleep herself. Not to mention the relief Elsie would also get. Els settled into the rocker in the corner with Maisie comfortably nestled in her arms, blanket drawn across the two of them to keep them warm, rocking the chair gently as Maisie nursed.

She had almost dozed off when she heard the door open. Sleepily she realized Tyb had come in, but she was still a little dazed. "I'm sorry, I didn't know if you were awake and I knew she needed to nurse." Never mind that Elsie was dead on her own feet, but she had never been very good at putting herself first, especially now with the children. She should have seen if Tyb was indeed asleep before settling in with Maisie, but the discomfort was bordering on painful and she was still processing the whole disaster; better to do that alone in the dark than worry anyone else any more.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Tyb shook his head faintly, whether or not she could see it through the darkened nursery. “How could I sleep?” She had still been gone, and he hadn’t gotten any word through – no one had been getting word out of London, once they’d left it. (He had never stepped outside the Ministry building, himself: other departments had been called to help, but unsurprisingly enough, Games & Sports and Duelling specifically were not of much use. So Tybalt and his colleagues had been sent home to safety.)

He was still in his Ministry robes. He wasn’t sure he had achieved anything, actually, since getting home. He was with Ben and Maisie – it was good someone had gotten home, he supposed – but Miss Halliwell had done most of the looking-after of the children, because all Tyb’s energy had gone on restless fretting.

The dragons had gotten somewhere near the Ministerial debate. The debate had been at the library. Elsie worked at the library, and Elsie hadn’t come home yet. He couldn’t get back into London now, because of the barrier, but he hadn’t been able to stop the spiralling what ifs.

He rubbed his eyes briefly as he ventured over towards the rocking chair, not wanting to disturb Maisie but unable to linger calmly at the door. They looked – so strangely peaceful, there. Tyb had been picturing far worse. He touched a hand gently to her shoulder, half to convince himself she really was home in one piece. “Are you alright?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

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Maybe she should have come home sooner— she just hadn't been able to, in good conscious, leave when there was something she could do. "I'm sorry," she reached up with one hand to cover his, giving a reassuring squeeze. "I tried to owl," but she hadn't known if it had gotten through. Even if it had, she supposed it was only a small comfort. It had only said where she was, not how she was, after all.

Gently she lifted Maisie upright for a quick burp, her daughter blissfully complying quickly before snuggling in, back to sleep. "I'm alright, just tired." It was a lot. She was exhausted, it was almost as bad as the shipwreck a few years ago, and more traumatizing. Elsie stood and wrapped Maisie back in her swaddle, slowly lowering her back into her cot to sleep for a little while longer.

Feeling the exhaustion deep in her bones, Elsie stretched a little before turning back to Tyb. She motioned toward the door, holding out a hand for him to come with her. She stifled a yawn as she made the short trip to their room. She wanted out of her dress and corset and into her bed, but first she needed to wrap her arms around her husband and have a good cry about it, which is exactly what she did.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He only shook his head a fraction about the owl – he must have already been beyond the barrier, because he hadn’t gotten it, and he wasn’t sure how much of a difference it would have made. (Knowing she wasn’t dead would have been something, but he had been too afraid to even contemplate that. What in the world would he do without her, a widower at twenty-eight? Elsie had been part of his life for too long. It just wouldn’t make sense.)

At least Maisie was far too young to have noticed anything amiss with her evening, Tyb thought, equally jealous and relieved about her innocent little face, blissfully back to sleep already. That was the life, being fed and snuggled up and able to sleep soundly.

Elsie was yawning, too, exhaustion written all over her, but Tyb – too wired and with no way to release it, pacing around the house waiting for her – wasn’t ready to go to bed. She was probably too exhausted to answer any of the questions he had, and he shouldn’t put her through more stress than she had obviously faced, but –

There was a tentative question on the tip of his tongue when she threw her arms around him and broke down. He clung on, arms tight around her, with a few soothing, hushing sounds that he would usually make to the baby when she cried. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he said, in the same soft tone – she had said she was alright, but she obviously wasn’t. “You’re home. Do you want to talk about it?”

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Elsie buried her face into Tyb's shoulder, the sobs quiet and exhausted; she just didn't have the energy for anything more. Her fingers curled into his robes, holding on, the only thing keeping her grounded. It was hard to feel anything but safe with Tyb's arms around her, but even his soothing voice did little to dispel the horrors she'd seen.

"It was awful," she managed. "So many injuries and fatalities, such carnage, in the library. I can't make heads or tails of it." Els whispered, her thoughts coming out somewhat incoherently. People with severe, life-threatening injuries in the lobby of the library; patients lined up in the stacks; discarded supplies tossed haphazardly all over the place. Would she ever be able to unsee all of that? "I should have come home sooner, but the barrier, and I wasn't sure I could. I felt so guilty leaving when help was needed." Nobody knew the library like she did. Elsie had never been very good in a crisis, but she just hadn't been able to tear herself away. She'd grown up with brothers, had given birth twice, she was not shy around blood, but this was, had been, far too much.

"Awful, just awful," she repeated, breathless, curling into herself against him. Families torn apart, lives forever ruined and changed, injuries that would never go away. Els had to count her blessings that as far as she knew, this was the worst of it for her.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

But the library was Elsie’s place. Tybalt knew the world didn’t work like that, that real places couldn’t be sanctuaries, and thus safe from all destruction and all harm – but he had never, ever worried about her work at the library before. (That had been her remit, when he’d played quidditch; he had never expected to find himself here.)

He could barely picture it, however she described it – but if there was one thing he wasn’t surprised by, it was that of course she had done her best to help. (She had lost too much not to; two of her brothers before their time.) “I couldn’t think without you,” he admitted, mumbling it against her. He didn’t mean to sound plaintive – he had been safe, and the children had been safe, and he’d felt sure she had been safe too, but still, selfishly, he wished she had come home at once. “I don’t mean – I know you had to stay.” He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to swallow that persistent, irrationally lingering fear. She was here in his arms. Nothing bad had happened to them today.

“As long as they didn’t have you out fighting dragons,” he managed, weakly.

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Part of her knew she should have come home sooner. How many times had it crossed her mind? It hadn't been a conscious choice, she realized, to stay and help, but she should have chosen differently. She could hear it in his voice and understood where he was coming from. It hit harder than she realized. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Elsie couldn't even find a chuckle for his joke in her. Everything was just so heavy and the regret was overwhelming now. She should have thought more of home in making a decision.

Elsie dared to peek up at him, hoping he could forgive her. In the aftermath, she still felt overwhelmed, like she was still struggling to figure out what to do next even though her body was only upright because she was clinging to her husband. Maybe it was the exhaustion, maybe the lingering panic, the fear still flowing through her veins, but she shut her eyes tightly, a fresh wave of tears spilling out.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Elsie shouldn’t be saying sorry (she always would find things to be sorry about when it wasn’t her fault, he knew, but that didn’t mean he didn’t hate it), but at the feeling of her renewed tears Tyb was abruptly sure he’d upset her. Somehow he’d made things worse. “I didn’t mean that,” he protested, although he could still feel the agitation built up in his body from all the waiting without her. “I’m not blaming you, I swear. Just – it was bad enough imagining it. And I don’t know what I – we – would do without you.” He knew he shouldn’t say such things – other people had lost families today – but more than anything, Ben and Maisie were much too young to lose their mother.

He had been holding Elsie so tightly until now that he hadn’t noticed the state of her clothes, the fine layer of debris dust ground into her dress, the dashes of dark that he was sure must be other people’s blood. “Here, let me help,” he said quietly, ashamed at himself for finding no ounce of selflessness in his heart to care about helping anybody else; as if he could possibly make up for it now by unhooking a few buttons of her ruined clothes for her.

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Els knew he hadn't meant it like that, she understood where he was coming from, of course she did. It was all so overwhelming that she didn't know what else to do. It was a default habit, to apologize when she didn't know what else to do, something she had mostly abandoned, especially where Tyb was concerned, but hard to do in a case like this. "I know," she assured him, mumbling into his robes, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Not that she didn't think he could do it without her, of course he could, but none of them should have to.

Leaning back a little as he released her, Elsie swiped away the remnants of the tears on her cheeks. She hadn't even registered the state of her clothes or her hair anything after the relief of being home. She must have looked a gruesome sight, dress stained with red and dirt. Sure it was ruined, and probably for the best, because she wouldn't be able to wear it again even if it wasn't, Elsie felt better for taking off that very physical reminder of the day's events. It wasn't the right time to sink into a hot bath; all she wanted to do was crawl into bed, but not like this. It would be good to wash off all of the evidence of the disaster and help clear her head. Bodice tossed aside, she reached back to work on the ties of her corset, arms tired, shoulders sagging heavily, the exhaustion finally starting to wear on her.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He almost wished he could cry just to let out the lingering stress, to feel that release and relief. But it was all knotted up inside his chest, so he kept his focus on Elsie instead.

“Come on, let me,” he murmured, stilling her hands and taking over on the corset ties. Something to untangle, then: it felt good to be useful, even for a moment, even in such a miniscule way. He would get her some warm water, a washcloth, a nightgown, get her to bed – she had been taking care of other people for hours; it was his turn to look after her now.

He eased the undone corset from out under her arms and set it aside. “Will you be able to sleep, do you think?” Tyb asked quietly, as they made progress with her clothes. She seemed exhausted, but he wasn’t sure if her mind would keep her awake after everything she had seen.

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Els was too tired to argue with him, so she let her hands drop, moving to the ties of her skirts instead. She took a deep breath as the corset loosened and came off. She would have to take inventory of everything later, right now she just didn't have the energy. "I should probably try," Elsie had no idea if she'd be able to shut down and sleep or not. She stepped out of her skirts, leaning down to unhook her stockings, too antsy still to just stand there. The chemise beneath the dress was stained too, everything having seeped through. Elsie sighed heavily and reached up to start on the leftover pins in her hair.

"I just need to wash up first," she couldn't go to bed like this. "What about you?" He was still in his ministry robes, clearly hadn't settled at all in her absence, but Els definitely wouldn't be able to even attempt sleep without him curled up next to her. It likely wouldn't be for very long either, the children would rise and need one or both of them, they couldn't leave everything up to Miss Halliwell and Mrs. Robinson for too long. Even a short spell would be good for her, she supposed, enough to recharge to get through the day. She wouldn't be allowed back to the library for a few days, she imagined, so she would be able to catch up somehow.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

“I’ll help you,” Tyb said, when she mentioned washing up – firmly, so that she wouldn’t protest if he fretted over her. He could picture her helping strangers at the library, could piece it together from her bloodstained clothes and the ash on them; while she pulled at her hairpins, he ducked away to gather the discarded layers up and bundle them out of the room to be put in the washing basket. (He wasn’t ordinarily so efficient when it came to tidying anything – but the fewer reminders in the room, the better.)

“I’m fine now,” he added, when she asked about him, because she was finally home – he was tired, but still restless with energy, with wanting to be useful now. “I can listen for Maisie.” He supposed neither of them need go to work tomorrow. Her, because the library would be in no fit state of repair for it; him, because his job was entirely useless for disasters like these.

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There was nothing to do but nod and as he stepped away to take care of the laundry, Elsie set the pins down on her nightstand before moving to her wardrobe to pull a nightgown from the drawer. It was old but soft and comfortable, exactly what she needed for the nap she was about to take.

Moving toward the small washroom adjacent to their room, Elsie saw herself in the looking glass for the first time. It was worse than she thought, smudges of ash smeared across her cheeks and in her hair. The same grey tone had settled into her skin and under her eyes, the fatigue clear in her expression and every movement. She wanted to get this over with quickly and reached for a wash cloth, running it under the tap without waiting for any warmth to the water. Bruises and small cuts littered her arms from hurrying around, one set of very clear fingerprints wrapped around her forearm from where someone had grabbed her in a panic. She wasn't hurt, had hardly felt it for the adrenaline rushing through her veins all night, but looking at them now it was quite alarming and she didn't want Tyb to see.

Elsie shivered as the cold cloth hit her skin, but it felt somewhat refreshing if nothing else. She ran it over her face first, trying to get the ash and soot from her skin; up and down her arms, wincing slightly as she hit a particularly purple bruise. "I'm nearly done, why don't you change." She offered, still trying to hurry despite agreeing to let him help. Els knew there was probably a blossoming bruise on her ribs too from where she'd gotten knocked into and pushed into a nearby shelf. She hadn't been self conscious about changing in front of him for a long time now, but Tyb's nerves were already frayed, she didn't need to make it worse by letting him see.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

She was more efficient here than she had any right to be, after the day she’d had – but he supposed it was exhaustion propelling her towards the bed. Tybalt hadn’t been sure he would sleep, but maybe he would be able to finally relax a little, if she was actually sleeping next to him.

So he had gone back and forth tidying and getting ready for bed, and obliged her by taking off the Ministry robes in lieu of his nightclothes, but as he crossed just by the door, slightly ajar as it was, he heard her wince and turned his head towards her. “Els,” he said, aghast, before she could dissuade him from it. He felt bad even for embracing her before, the way all those bruises looked – and maybe they weren’t bad, and she had escaped more unscathed than most, but she had winced. He chewed vigorously on his lip, feeling a new spike of anxiety and trying to do his best to dismiss it. (He understood now, how she had been with him playing quidditch. He could hardly bear to look.) He dragged a hand through his hair, trying to get himself to snap out of it. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

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Hearing him puttering around the bedroom saw her relaxing a little bit. Hopefully he would stay out there and she could finish washing up without sending him over the edge. After removing most of the soot and dirt from her face and arms, Elsie gingerly lifted her stained chemise to see the bruise on her ribs. It was a deep purple, and bigger than she originally thought, but it wasn't so bad. She hadn't even really felt it earlier when Tyb had been squeezing her and everything these days paled in comparison to childbirth, so she was relieved that at least this would heal pretty quickly.

She froze at the sound of her name, looking cautiously up at his reflection in the looking glass. "I'm fine," she assured him, reaching for her nightgown quickly. "I got knocked into a shelf when someone was rushing by." Clumsy on her own two feet, she didn't need any help, but she had been in the way and it was just an accident. Her voice was quiet, tired, and she was trying to downplay just how hectic everything had been, though she knew he could probably guess. "It's just a bruise." She always seemed to have them anyway; she bruised easily and often, just from casually bumping into something. Pale skin and poor circulation and all that. Nothing felt broken or anything worse; she had gotten off lightly, comparatively.

Els turned away for a minute to pull one garment on in favor of another, the long sleeves of her nightgown thankfully covering all of the little injuries on her arms. She hung the washcloth on the edge of the sink and gathered up the ruined chemise to be tossed later. There was no rescuing any of the clothes she'd had on today and that was fine. The corset was truly the only loss, as they could be expensive to replace, but she would figure it out. Stopping in the doorway just in front of her husband, she gently laid a hand on his cheek. "I'm alright, I promise." It was far more mentally and emotionally upsetting than anything that had happened to her body today, but she would be alright. She had to be, otherwise it would have been for nothing.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

It barely mattered if all her reassurances were the truth – they couldn’t make him feel entirely better, no matter what she said. Elsie had still been there and had a traumatic day, and there was no way on earth he would be able to fall asleep now without imagining it in awful detail.

But at least he would have a better chance of sleeping next to her. Tyb frowned at her, but forced his expression to soften when she put her hand to his cheek. “Okay,” he relented, because he had no choice but to trust her that she was alright, that there was nothing more to be done. He squeezed her other hand and let out a hefty breath before surrendering fully. “Let’s go to bed.”

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