December 2st, 1894 — Bartonburg, Hogsmeade

It'd taken almost week to summon up the courage to stop by Mabel's house with her forgotten spare (or so he assumed) field kit. He had rifled through it once to verify its contents and noticed it wasn't nearly as full as he knew her kits to be. Then, when she hadn't reached out to either the Ivy Leaf or him to inquire about it, he figured she simply didn't know it was missing. Perhaps he ought to have come by sooner, but after the squid incident and all the bad blood between them he didn't know whether a visit would be accepted.

And, lately, Dory was nothing if not a coward.

He hadn't chased after Winnie when she left. He hadn't fought harder to squash the depression he knew losing his limb had caused. He took the promotion solely because he was afraid of what a career change at this point in his life (even a move to a different squad or department) would look like. Time and time again Dory had proved to himself that he was a coward.

Well, no longer.

It was early evening when he rang the bell. Then, when her housekeeper opened the door with the explanation that Miss Brighton hadn't been well in a week, Dory had pushed past her and headed right towards Mabel's room. "Maple?" Dory greeted lightly as he dropped the kit to the ground besides the bed and took a seat on the edge of her bed. Then, to the housekeeper that irately poked her head in behind him, he asked in a hushed tone, "has the doctor been in? Does her family know?"

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Philomena Sprout / Mabel Brighton

  

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beautiful set by lady

Tilda had said she wouldn’t die. At least Mabel had that going for her. When the case she had been sent on turned out to involve a rogue beast that Tilda had also been tracking, Mabel knew she was in good hands. She trusted her friend and her capabilities more than anything but what Mabel should have been more cautious of were her own abilities to not get bitten.

It had been her own fault, and she had no choice but to own up to it, especially when Tilda told her that the bite wouldn’t prove to be fatal, just…incredibly painful and difficult to get through. Tonics and potions would help but as of now, Mabel had used up all the potions she’d had in her storage. When that happened, she figured she would send for more potions to her friends or to the hospital at the end of the day; however time had warped and somehow two, then three days had passed and she still hadn’t been able to send out the owl much less raise her head off the pillow. Her muscles were sore, there was a piercing pain behind her eyes and she couldn’t open her eyes without feeling nauseous.

It was times like these that she missed her family, because she knew that her brother would be here in a heartbeat. But scars still ran deep and every time Mabel thought about sending for one of them, she was wrought with the feeling she would just be burdening them, and the letters had gone unsent. With her head swimming and the letters discarded on her desk, she hadn’t realized someone had entered the room until she felt the bed sink down under the weight of a second person. Her eyes fluttered open and —

Nooo, anyone but him. She even groaned, ducking her head in her covers despite the fact they were covered in her dried sweat. “Dory, go away.” She managed to croak out hoarsely.

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"Not a chance." Dory told her in his same quiet but now firm tone. He didn't know what, if anything, the housekeeper was doing to help her and, judging solely by the fact that none of her family was currently present, he didn't feel safe leaving her. Not like this. Not without someone other than this (apparently inept housekeeper) watching over her.

He silently summoned a bowl of water and washcloth. The woman behind him was muttering about the potions Mabel was taking for her bite and how it was just running its course. But, given that all he saw was unstoppered vials and no stash elsewhere, Dory somehow doubted that. Dipping the washcloth in the water, Dory sighed before lightly brushing it across her forehead.

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beautiful set by lady

She looked a fright, that much was certain. Her hair was likely in knots, and she hadn’t bathed in a few days. The last person she’d have liked to see her this way was Dory. A weak hand tried to push his away but as soon as she felt the coolness of the washcloth, it was clear Dory was here to stay. She wanted to apologize for the state of her, that she hadn’t planned on him coming over but the words died in her throat. Instead she echoed Dory’s sigh and looked up at him with a bleary gaze. “Feels good.” She rasped.

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Hours slipped by in a similar fashion, with him tending to her illness and her fading in and out of consciousness. Dory wrote to her family, a quick missive informing them of what was happening and a request for them to send her preferred healer. (After all, the only healer he knew she had experience with was a midwive and Dory very selfishly prayed she hadn't found herself in that position again.) The letter went unanswered not that it bothered him much.

When the next day came and went, Dory left her side only to tend to his own basic needs. It was easier than it used to be to take unexpected time off now that he was a squad head. The case files would still be there, the on call list was scheduled for at least a month out. So Dory felt little guilt sending in a note explaining he was down with the flu and would be in next week. Besides, he would sooner be fired than leave Maple like this.

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beautiful set by lady

The last thing she remembered was trying to tell him to not contact her family; there was no reason to worry them. But before she could do that, she succumbed to darkness. Occasionally she’d wake up to feel a cool compress on her forehead. She expected the presence at her side to leave, especially as she felt the fog in her mind clearing; but it didn’t happen. She knew not how many nights and days passed, but one moment it felt as if the world had gone dark. And then she woke up coated in sweat. It was terribly uncomfortable, but it was with a certain clarity that she regarded the man in front of her. “You stayed…”

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Her voice, strained and raspy, woke him from a dead sleep. He lurched forward from his slouched position in the chair, his open book falling with a thud to the floor in the process. "Hey, Maple." Dory greeted quietly as he reached for her hand. "You're up. How are you feeling?" A quick glance at his pocket watch, opened and abandoned on her night table, told him she wasn't due yet for her next round of potions.

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beautiful set by lady

He had looked so peaceful when he slept. A tendril of hair had escaped, drifted down onto his forehead and Mabel had wished she had the strength to brush it away. But when he startled awake, she could see the lines of stress in his handsome face. And as he came closer, she reached up a hand to his. It felt warm and properly comforting, and she felt that warmth throughout her extremities. She found herself smiling at him. At his question she looked inward and strangely found that she was feeling better; she still felt weak, and she didn’t think she could last more than 10 seconds on her own two feet without the world turning on its side and her falling over, but when she squeezed his hand, she didn’t feel shaky. “I’m alright,” she said truthfully, furrowing her brow as something hit her. “How are you here? Didn’t Mrs. Smith kick you out?” She wasn’t supposed to have men in her flat, especially unchaperoned.

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A smile. A real, genuine smile, one that he at times of pure stress and exhaustion questioned if he would see again. Dory found himself grinning, nearly laughing even, with the relief surging through his veins.

He did, however, chuckle a beat later at her question. "She tried to. Then she saw your condition and set certain terms." If he was at all willing to release her hand he would have gestured to the wide open door behind them. That combined with the frequent checks and the lack of anyone joining them (despite the crochety woman watching him address and send countless letters to her family) allowed him a bit of grace.

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beautiful set by lady

She’d missed his smile, his laugh; his voice. She’d missed him something fierce, yet there was a reason why they hadn’t talked in a while, wasn’t there? Her mind still felt heavy in a way, with a fog that refused to lift. So something in the back of her mind told her to just enjoy him being here, enjoy his presence. He’d been taking care of her, and had even apparently squared up with her landlady when it came down to it.

“Certain terms?” Mabel echoed, blinking up at him. She did her best to look around the room. When her neck screamed at her, she stopped and found that her joints were still aching. “What do you mean certain terms? You didn’t have to do something ridiculous like sleep in her room, did you?” The image brought a giggle to her lips.

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Before Dory could explain the terms set or even allow himself a moment to relax in the sound of her laughter, Mrs. Smith appeared in the doorway with a stem look shot in his direction. The chair inching closer was a broken term, one Dory felt no guilt over having done. Between that and his ignoring her directive to summon her as soon as Maple had awoken, he already knew what words were about to be spoken before the crone uttered them. "Out, Mr. Fisk. You were warned."

He didn't fight the woman, not with the threats she had levied at him while Maple slept. Instead, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles and rose to his feet. "I'll send a letter to Til - Miss MacFusty to let her know you're awake. I'm sure she'll be by soon." He promised her as he summoned all his things back into his bag.

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beautiful set by lady

If Mabel was of the strength, she’d have physically cast Mrs. Smith out of her room. She cast a withering glance at the door as soon as Dory was given his marching orders. Mrs. Smith was saved a glare by the mere fact that Dory had been permitted to nurse her back to health. Apparently inching closer to her had been the final straw for the old-woman-turned-chaperone; never mind the fact that (aside from her and Dory’s physical…history), any modesty Mabel possessed had been completely dashed by her training and career as a healer. It was useless to argue with the woman however, and Mabel sighed, squeezing Dory’s hand as he pressed a kiss to her skin.

Behind him, Mrs. Smith looked like she’d swallowed a whole lemon and she tried to fight the grin on her face as she bid Dory good bye. And before Mrs. Smith could say anything else, Mabel rolled over and closed her eyes to get more rest, intent upon Dory being the last memory she had before she fell asleep, and decidedly not her landlady.

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