10
Foxie gave me a puzzled look, but I was already beside him. I yanked the nonLee from his holster—“Margo!”—aimed and fired twice.
Bane crumpled like a dropped doll; half-rolled, half-skidded along until his head bumped into the parapet. I was already racing after him.
“Margo! Give that back!” The voice barely penetrated. It went on behind me, more softly, “Stair Six to Officer of the Watch. Have a situation. Request your presence. Just you, Fox, no one else, discretion required. Please confirm?” He was calling his brother on his wristCell.
I fell to my knees beside Bane—heaved him over onto his back. Unconscious. As I dragged him into my lap, drops of scarlet splashed onto his white face. Swiping at my bleeding lip with my sleeve, I wrapped my arms around him, fighting to keep sobs from escaping. I’d stopped him. He was safe.
Dimly aware of Foxie picking up his nonLee from where I’d dropped it beside me…of him checking Bane’s pulse… An indeterminate period of anxious repetitions of “Margo?” and gentle touches, then Fox was there, pulling more insistently on my shoulder.
“Margaret, what’s going on?” His hand snaked in, fingers also pressing against the pulse on Bane’s neck, then he began prying me determinedly from Bane. “Come on, Bane’s okay, Marg…” He broke off, staring at my face. “Margo, who hit you?”
Unable to look at him, I saw his younger brother’s face crumple in sudden understanding and disbelief.
“Didn’t say anyone hit me,” I muttered.
“No, but the hand print on your face says it for you.”
Blast. “Could we concentrate on Bane? He hit his head when he fell.”
After another quick, critical glance at my face, Fox probed Bane’s forehead for a moment. “I’m guessing he’ll just have a nasty headache from the nonLee, right, Foxie?” he queried his brother.
“Yeah, I really think he’s fine.” Foxie assured me.
“Now, what happened?” demanded Fox.
“Well,” said Foxie, “Bane came through the door and started running full out across the roof, which seemed strange behavior for a blind…for someone who can’t see… then Margo bursts out and shouts something about stopping him, and while I was trying to figure that out she snatched my gun and shot him. At which point it dawned on me that…um…Bane kinda…didn’t look like he was planning on…stopping. If you get my drift.”
Fox glanced at the thigh-high parapet, face twisting in understanding. “Discretion. Quite,” he said grimly. “Oh, what a mess.”
That summed it up.
“What’s going to be done about it?” asked Foxie uneasily.
“That’s Margo’s business, I suppose, like it or not. We’d better think about getting Bane off this roof before anyone comes up to take the air. This mustn’t end up in the newspapers, especially not at the moment. How many times did you shoot him, Margo?”
“Twice,” I muttered. “In case I missed.”
“Doubt you did, so.” He looked at his brother, “can you grab the EVAC stretcher from the top of the stairwell?”
Foxie hurried away.
“Where do you want him taken, Margo?” asked Fox.
Where? “Home, of course.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Where else?”
“Well…the holding cells are both free.” He saw my expression and hurried on, “But I suppose that’s not what he needs, in his…condition.”
“Of course it’s not!” I snapped, beginning to shake again.
He crouched beside me and put an arm around my shoulders. “Okay, Margo?”
“Yeah, it’s just…just…I know Bane’s done something terrible—” My hand gingerly probed my sore face— “But when he realized what he’d done, he almost…he almost…” I found myself crying into a stripy red, blue and orange uniformed shoulder.
“I know,” sighed Fox. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Foxie soon returned with the stretcher and Bane was quickly lifted onto it. Fox took one end and Foxie the other and we all squeezed into the lift. Reaching our floor, we hurried along a mercifully empty corridor—except…bother, Antonio was peeping around the corner. But we had Bane inside before anyone else appeared. They rolled him off onto the bed and stood there rather awkwardly.
“Um…I’ve got to get back to my post, but…what do I put in my report?” asked Foxie rather plaintively.
“Nothing!” I said at once.
“I don’t know if I can do that, Margo. I mean, my weapon’s been fired. Twice.”
I’d scarcely had time to think about what next, but the thought of this being reported, of other people knowing… “Well, mine hasn’t!” I went back into the living room and took my nonLee from the drawer in the cupboard by the door, popped out the power mag and offered it to him as they followed me through from the bedroom. “Swap?”
“Margo…”
“Oh, come on, Foxie,” I said, making sure to speak calmly. “I thought Bane was your friend. Didn’t you see the state he’s in? It’s not like he isn’t sorry. Didn’t he just prove that? He needs TLC, not an interrogation! Just take this power mag, give me yours and forget what you saw, both of you, please?”
Foxie looked at his older brother. Fox frowned. “We’ve sworn to—”
“You’ve sworn to defend the Holy Father with your lives. Keeping quiet about Bane isn’t going to interfere with that! Perhaps you’re not in the need to know, but there’s a spy in the Vatican, and they haven’t been caught yet. If you put this in a report, if you tell anyone, it’s going to get out. It’s going to be all over the newspapers, and you know what the reaction from the public will be. Now that really will put the Holy Father in danger, just at the moment, won’t it? And the rest of us. Promise you won’t tell?”
Fox’s frown deepened. “We’re not going to promise, Margo—but we’ll avoid saying anything about it if we can. If Bane’s as sorry as he…seems to be…and he makes amends and preferably agrees to get some help…we’ll take it to our graves. But if he so much as clenches his fist at you, well, we don’t care what trouble we’ll be in for not reporting it sooner. Is that clear?”
“Of course,” I said quickly. This was probably the best I was going to get. “Foxie?”
Foxie looked relieved to have the decision out of his hands. That was why he was still a happy-go-lucky private and Fox was the Officer. “Okay by me.” He unholstered his nonLee and removed the power mag, swapping it with mine.
Fox was frowning again. “You get that charged as soon as you can, Margo. They don’t hold many shots at the best of times.”
“I know, I know.”
“D’you want me to send someone round? Jon, perhaps?”
I shook my head. Despite my efforts to shrink his uniform with my tears a few minutes ago, I really didn’t want anyone here just now. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
He gave me a disbelieving look, but they let themselves out.
I put Bane properly to bed, then sat on the sofa and cried some more. I’d left the bedroom door open in case Bane started to wake up, but…I had hit him with both shots. It would be some hours before he woke. The real reason I’d fired twice?
A leaden ache of fear and pain seemed to reach from my forehead to my chest to my stomach. My stomach… I pulled my blouse up and inspected my belly anxiously. There was a red mark to one side, where I’d hit the cupboard, perhaps I’d have a bruise? But the baby must be absolutely miniscule at this point, surely the impact wouldn’t be enough to do any harm? Please, Lord? Please, please, please? Fifty percent was too high already.
Eventually I went into the bathroom to wash my face. And inspect the damage. Looking in the mirror, I winced. There really was an identifiable hand mark. Had Antonio seen it? He’d seen the whole show, hadn’t he? Or enough to figure it out. Nothing I could do about that…but if he said anything, and then I went out like this, it would confirm it all. The way people would look at Bane. Unbearable.
Perhaps he didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to actually hit me. He was just lashing out, because I hurt him.
Lashing out at me. Perhaps he wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it the moment before or the moment after, but right then…he had meant to hit me. He had.
Oh, Bane.
I ran some water and washed off the mingled blood and tears. My cheek was swollen but the cut on my lip wasn’t really all that big. It bled again after its dousing with warm water, so I held a piece of toilet paper to it until it stopped, wiped the rest of the water from my face with a towel and eyed my reflection critically.
It’d definitely be a few days before I could go out. Anyone who saw this would guess what Bane had done, whether Antonio told tales or not. Shame curdled in my stomach. And fear. Bane…they’ll hate you forever…everyone will hate you…from hero of the Liberations to criminal and coward, that’s how they’d see it.
No! No one must know!
What else could I do? Anyway, we really didn’t want the EuroGov getting a picture of me like this for the front page. They’d neglect to mention I’d looked ten times worse after their specialCorps captain got through with me.
I shouldn’t have kept on at him like that. This is my fault.
No. I shoved the thought away. That just wasn’t true. Bane did this, not me. I rested my hands on the washbasin and bent over as a fresh wave of anguish swept over me.
Bane, how could you?
How, beloved?
How…?
Eventually I found two painkillers and a glass of water and went back to the bedroom. Bane remained deeply asleep. I put the pills ready on the bedside table—he’d have a terrible headache when he woke up—and slipped under the covers beside him, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest, listening to his heart drumming under my ear.
“Bane, please don’t let this destroy you!” I whispered to his sleeping ear. “Please… You’re more than just your eyes, can’t you see that?” I whispered it to him, over and over, until I felt tears coming again.
Baby, please be okay. Please, Lord? Please…
…Bane was stirring beside me. Daylight streamed in. What time was it? I was fully dressed, what…? I rolled over and flinched as my cheek touched the pillow. My cracked rib ached worse than it had for days.
Oh.
I put an anxious hand to my stomach, but all felt normal. No cramping, no bleeding. Okay so far.
Settling my arms back around Bane, I waited, my nerves screwing themselves up in anticipation. Lord, please help him to deal with this.
Finally his hand went to his forehead and his empty eyes opened. “Aww, I feel like someone shot me with a nonLee,” he groaned.
“Someone did,” I said softly.
“Huh?”
“Here, take these.” I pressed the tablets to his lips.
He took the glass when I touched it to his hand and washed them down. “Thanks. Who shot me?”
Well, it could be worse. At least he hadn’t woken up expecting to see. “I shot you, Bane.”
“Why on earth…?” He stopped. The blood drained from his face. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. “I didn’t, did I? Tell me it was a nightmare?”
“I’m sorry, Bane. I’d be lying.”
He closed his eyelids tight and turned his head away. The look on his face—too much like his expression before running for the roof.
I hugged him and spoke as lightly as I could. “It’s going to be all right, Bane. We’ll get through this. There’s no such thing as an unforgiveable sin, you know.”
“No?” His hand crept towards me, found my shoulder, sought my face. I pulled away gently—he’d only feel worse, touching the damage. He drew his hand back abruptly, shaking. “Why did you stop me?”
“Bane! Why do you think?”
He kept his face turned away and said nothing. I held him, pretending I couldn’t see the tears of despair running down his cheeks, until finally he sank asleep again.
Sick to my core with dread, I got up and scoured the apartment, removing curtain cords and belts, moving all the remotely sharp knives into a box on top of the highest kitchen cupboard and locking the windows and pocketing the keys. I was still quartering our four rooms, uneasily certain a smart guy like Bane would find something I’d missed if he really wanted to, when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Margo?”
“Hi, Jon.” Now that I’d had a bit of time to myself, his calm, friendly face would be a very welcome sight. Though… I wanted to pour my heart out to him, yet if I wanted to get rid of his attachment to me that probably wasn’t a great idea. But it would still be good to see him.
“Are you all right, Margo?”
What? Surely Fox hadn’t… “I’m fine, Jon. Why wouldn’t I be? D’you want to come round?”
A brief silence. “Bane’s there, is he?” Jon’s voice was oddly hard.
I frowned at the wall. He knew. How did he know? “Of course. He’s having a nap, actually. Well, he was, the phone may have woken him.” Which made me desperate to go and check on him.
“I don’t think I will, then.” Jon’s voice cracked with unaccustomed anger. “Look, call me if you need anything.” He hung up.
I stood with the phone clutched to my chest. Jon. Jon? The one person I would have trusted to stand by us—to stand by Bane. To be reasonable, to forgive. So his feelings for me might still be slightly more than mere friendship, but…he was Bane’s friend first. His best mate growing up. He’d been Bane’s best man, stood in for Bane’s parents…how could he just turn his back on him now?
How did he know?
My eyes were pricking again, but I fought it. I’d get dehydrated if I carried on like this!
Ramming the phone back into its cradle, I went back to the bedroom. Bane sat on the edge of the bed holding a wire coat hanger. He’d straightened the hook and was rubbing the end with a finger as though testing its sharpness.
I dived across the room and snatched it from his hands. “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare, d’you hear me? You want to make it up to me? Well, don’t do this!” Had the dark spirit that had once made him so determined to kill me himself rather than let me be Consciously Dismantled now driven him to this? Holy Michael the Archangel, please protect him. Protect us both.
He just sat there and said nothing at all. Sat there unmoving as I emptied the wardrobe of coat hangers and threw them out into the corridor. Rushed back…still just sat there. I scribbled “unwanted, please take” on a piece of paper, tossed it out the door and rushed back again.
Still sat there. Had he taken in what I said?
From his expression…no.
I grabbed the phone and dialed the numbers for two of the counselors, one after the other, but no one answered. I began to dial a third and slammed the phone down suddenly. What was I doing? They would see my face. They would know. They would tell someone, and other people would find out. They might even be the spy. Or a spy. Eduardo thought there could be more than one. No one could see me until my face was better, no one! Bane’s future depended on it…the vote might even depend on it.
A rattling sound came from outside, as though someone had just stepped into a pile of coat hangers and got tangled up. The sounds of someone extricating themselves, then a knock at the door. I froze, panicking again.
Another knock, and a voice called, “Margo?”
Jon…who couldn’t see me.
I let out the breath I was holding, went to the door and peeped out, making sure to stay far enough back to be invisible to the corridor camera. There was no one there apart from Jon.
“I thought you weren’t coming round,” I said rather shortly. The hurt was still fresh in my chest.
“After what Antonio told Kyle, is that any wonder?”
That’s how he knew. Oh no. Was Antonio going to tell everyone? Was Kyle? Was it already too late?
“What on earth did Antonio tell Kyle that put you in such a funny mood?” Somehow I managed to sound merely slightly miffed.
Jon frowned. “He said Bane hit you.”
“He said what?” My outrage was fairly convincing—I hoped.
“Is it true?”
“Jon, Antonio has never forgiven me about that chicken. I suppose you can’t see it, but he glares at me like mad whenever we meet.”
“So he made this up completely, did he?”
“Look,” I sighed and let myself sound a bit less happy. “Bane and I just had a really nasty fight, Jon. It wasn’t nice, okay? We were talking about anger management and stuff, and Antonio caught the end of it when Bane stormed out of the apartment, and I ran after him. Maybe he got totally the wrong impression.”
Jon had a mulish look on his face. “Kyle said Antonio saw you with blood on your face, and a big mark as though someone had hit you. He was quite specific.”
“Perhaps he has a good imagination.”
“Or perhaps…”
“What? Perhaps your best friend is a wife beater? An abusive rat? Is that what you think?”
Jon was silent for a long moment. It was one of those moments when I could practically see him sucking every auditory clue in through his ears, and I struggled to breathe normally.
“I don’t think my best friend is an abusive rat,” he said at last, slowly. “But I think…it’s not impossible…just at the moment…that he might…really lose his temper. And…you’re not denying it, are you? I’m not stupid, Margo. Tell me the truth.”
If I tell you the truth…you’ll be sucked in. I’ll cry all over you, you’ll comfort me…it’s not fair to you. And…I can’t bear for you to know. Not even you. Not this.
“Antonio has blown it out of all proportion. It was a horrible, horrible argument, Jon. But I’m going to go and join Bane for a nice, um, making up session as soon as you remember how upset Antonio was that I fed his precious hen to Mr. Everington and stop taking him so seriously.”
Jon hadn’t entirely lost his frown, but he said nothing, flushing slightly.
“And for pity’s sake, if you hear Antonio—or Kyle!—spreading those rumors around, squash them, will you? You know what people are like! If this gets about, well, Bane could save the Holy Father’s life or achieve world peace, and to his dying day people would still think of him as…you know.”
Jon’s frown deepened for a moment. He wasn’t convinced, I could tell. But after a moment he said, “True. Well…bye then. But you know where I am if you need me.”
“And if Bane needs you? You know how depressed he’s been—”
“Oh, don’t talk to me about Bane!” He marched off down the corridor.
He didn’t believe me. But he would keep the secret. Thank God.
I rushed back to the bedroom. Bane was jiggling the window handle. If I hadn’t already taken the keys… I dragged him into the living room and sat him on the sofa. “Bane? Bane? Please talk to me? Please?”
No reply.
I choked back tears as there was another knock at the door. Now what? “Who is it?”
“Margo, are you all right?”
Kyle.
Bother.
I marched up to the door and yelled at it with all the anger I could muster, which was rather a lot, just then. “My own brother is spreading the most vile rumors about my husband, and you ask if I’m all right? No I am not all right! I am really annoyed with you! So go away!”
“Did Bane hit you, Margo?”
“I can’t speak to you right now, I’m too angry! Just clear off!
“Margo…let me in! Antonio said you were bleeding.”
“I’m sure he said a lot of things, but I fed one of his not-supposed-to-be-pet chickens to someone, unless you’ve forgotten! He is not one of my fans!”
“If there’s nothing wrong, then let me in!”
“There is something wrong: my brother is spreading gossip from people who don’t like me! I mean it, Kyle, if you tell anyone else, I don’t think I’m ever going to speak to you again.”
Silence for a moment, then he said, “You’ve spoken to Jon, have you?”
“Yes, thanks to you filling him up with this stuff!”
Another silence. “Look…I’m going to go away and let you calm down. But Margo, if Bane’s hitting you, you have to—”
“Bane is not hitting me!” I snarled. Hit, yes, but not hitting. “Is that clear? Now go away!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll come back another day.” He sounded much less certain, all of a sudden.
“Good riddance!” I snapped.
He went away, thank God, and I glanced around to check on Bane, feigned anger at Kyle quickly turning into the real thing. He hadn’t so much as asked if Bane was okay! Not a word! Antonio must’ve told him what Bane tried to do. Didn’t he care even the tiniest, tiniest bit?
I sat beside Bane and put my arms around him. “It’s going to be all right,” I whispered to him. “Jon and the Foxes aren’t going to talk, and Kyle isn’t sure enough of what he knows to make trouble. We’ll just stay in here for a few days until my face is okay and then we’ll find someone to help, okay? Pope Cornelius, maybe. You wouldn’t mind if we spoke to him, would you? He’ll know what to do. I know we’ll both feel better if we talk to him. Bane? What do you think?”
He just bowed his head a little lower and said nothing. I wasn’t getting through to him.
Oh Lord, help us, please? What do I do?
I watched him. Day and night. He’d drawn away from me into a frighteningly Lucas-like indifference to life and everything in it. I didn’t dare leave him alone for a moment. He’d raise his arm when asked as I dressed him, but he wouldn’t talk to me, except the occasional mutter of “What’s the use?” or a broken whisper of “I’m so sorry.” I’d sit him at the table but he wouldn’t eat. I’d try shoving food into his mouth but he didn’t want it.
I phoned Doctor Frederick to ask for advice, telling him Bane had got rather down and lost his appetite. He reckoned I should concentrate more on getting water into him and that he’d improve in a few days; if not, get in touch and perhaps he’d have to be admitted to the hospital wing. I hung up, sweating at the thought. I couldn’t go to the hospital with my face like this! But if I didn’t go with him and they took their eyes off him for an instant…so after that, I told everyone we were fine. I was fine, he was fine. A terrible lie.
Because I said everything was fine, Doctor Frederick started calling every day, wanting me to go and see Lucas. I told him I was too busy and hung up. I longed to ask him to send one of the counselors around here, but they could be the spy, and even if they weren’t…as soon as they saw the state Bane was in, they’d have him off to the hospital, wouldn’t they? And then… All the counseling in the world would be no use if he wasn’t alive to benefit from it. No, I just had to manage until he snapped out of it, or my face was fit to be seen. Then it would be safe to see about some proper help.
I’d park Bane on the sofa like a huge doll and try to write my blog, looking over my shoulder about every ten seconds to check what he was doing. Before long I dragged my desk around so I could see him as I worked—I told him I’d moved it so he wouldn’t bump into it, but he didn’t walk anywhere, period. Didn’t do anything. He just seemed to want to die.
Fox phoned every morning for three days in a row, to check I was okay. Me, not Bane. I told him I was. It was almost a complete lie—but not quite. The baby was like my personal sun. A sun trapped behind thick black clouds on a dull day, but still a comforting presence providing a little warmth. Every morning a ray of light peeped right through when I woke up and found no blood, no cramps. Thank you, Lord.
My daily look in the mirror gave me no such feelings. The bruise had gone Technicolor, and my lip wasn’t healing as fast as I’d hoped. I traced the finger marks on my face every morning, frowning. Fade, come on, fade…then we can speak to Pope Cornelius.
The next morning, it occurred to me that I could invite Pope Cornelius here. Yes! That was it! I picked up the phone at once and dialed Sister Immanuela.
“Hello?” Eduardo’s voice!
“Oh…I…must’ve dialed the wrong num—”
“No, you haven’t,” said Eduardo. Was he going to ask me a load of questions? But he went on, “The delegation from the United States of South America have arrived. They’re meeting with some of the leaders of the African Free States while they finalize the details for their deputation to the EuroGov, who are now kicking up a fuss about this first meeting, complaining about some trade agreement with Africa and threatening not to allow the visit from the South African delegation at all. Of course, there’s no doubt about the outcome—the EuroGov are too keen to keep the USSA sweet because of all their mineral resources—but they’re clearly trying to punish them for their support for the referendum.”
“Oh,” I said. “So the Holy Father—”
“Is meeting with them all right now, trying to ensure that the South American visit to Brussels goes ahead. Sister Immanuela is busy interpreting, so her calls are coming to me. Anyway, security’s very tight, right now, and I want anyone who’s a possible target to stay out of the way. So could I ask you to stay in your apartment for the next few days until this is all sorted out, and the EuroGov representatives have cleared off?”
“Of course,” I said, all too readily.
“Did you want to leave a message for the Holy Father?”
“No, not now,” I said quickly.
Eduardo hung up without saying goodbye, of course, and I sank back down on the couch and looked at Bane helplessly. No question of speaking to Pope Cornelius until it was all over. But probably the Foxes and everyone else would be too preoccupied to worry about us either. For a few minutes, I was relieved, but…
Come on, Bane, just snap out of it, please?
Every time I thought he might be calming down I’d find him holding some object I’d overlooked and examining it in that disturbing manner, and I’d have to confiscate it. I couldn’t sleep more than ten minutes without starting awake in a sweat of terror and turning on the light to check on him. Soon I just left the light on.
Blogging became difficult, then slow torture, then almost impossible. Fortunately the South American situation was hogging the press’s attention for now, and I could just keep my series of posts on organ donation going, ask for prayers and report the Pope’s public comments on the current situation. Good thing too, since I could hardly keep my eyes open, but every time they closed my subconscious sent a spurt of pure fear to yank them up again. I felt like a zombie. I prayed almost constantly, haphazard, frantic, erratic prayers, and I longed to attend Mass, but even leaving aside Eduardo’s request, there was no possibility of leaving Bane alone.
“What do I do, Lord?” I whispered, flat out on the floor with arms outstretched, and not for the first time, but the answer just wouldn’t come. Everything I could do seemed to threaten either Bane’s life, his future, or the vote—but not acting left Bane in danger too. Pope Cornelius was the only answer. He was so wise and compassionate, he’d know what to do. We just had to hang on until we could speak to him. Bane would be fine until then, so long as I kept my eyes on him.
Had I fallen into a nightmare?
Kyle kept coming to the door, but since he was demanding I charge Bane with assault and have him hauled off to the cells, I didn’t even let him in. He seemed to want to believe Antonio. He didn’t send any counselors around, or anything like that, so either he was still a bit unsure, or he didn’t care two hoots about Bane. His attitude towards Bane hurt more than anything else.
He wasn’t the only one. Jon called regularly, but the conversations became increasingly monosyllabic. I was so hurt and angry with him for showing zero concern for Bane’s condition, and he was hurt and angry with me for refusing to confide in him. But I’d a feeling he was part of the reason why Kyle remained nicely uncertain about what had really happened.
On Monday, after I’d been a no-show at every Sunday Mass, Sister Eunice rang to ask if I wanted Holy Communion brought to my apartment. Wanted it? Oh, how I wanted it, but I had to say no, please, don’t trouble yourself. That blasted mark on my face…still far too clear. Everyone would know…they’d put Bane in the hospital and he’d…
I hung up, fighting back tears at that vision of Bane being taken away.
Hurrying back around the sofa to look at Bane, who lay motionless on his back, face turned to the ceiling, my head swam, and I dropped abruptly into the armchair.
Oh God! I’ve got to sleep! I’m going to faint if I carry on like this! Then there’d be no one to watch Bane! In desperation, I yanked out the nonLee I’d taken to carrying around…just in case…took wobbly aim and fired twice. Lay down on the carpet beside the sofa…
…Darkness shrouded the apartment. It was near dawn. We’d slept away the rest of the day and almost all the night. The nonLee had satisfied my subconscious as well as I could possibly have hoped. Was this day number…? Yes, it was! Any blood…? Nothing…? Nothing! The two weeks were up! It felt like a huge weight had just lifted…until I remembered Bane. Still asleep.
I rubbed my belly gently. “Daddy’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “He’s going to be okay.” Should I tell Bane, now? Would it snap him out of it? Maybe… But he’d realize, wouldn’t he? That I’d already been pregnant when he… The Lord only knew what he’d do if he found that out, just now. And what if I did lose the baby? There was still a twenty percent chance, until ten weeks were up, according to that leaflet. No, I couldn’t tell him, not at the moment.
Baby probably had nothing at all like ears yet, but I talked to our little one a bit more, until Bane began to stir. Then fetched painkillers to feed to Bane and managed my first half-decent blog post for a week, thank goodness. I’d nearly finished my series on organ donation, and I wanted it to end well.
I’d no sooner posted it than the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi, Margo.” Even in the circumstances, the well-bred British voice wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
“U! How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Back at work. I’ll be stuck behind a desk for another week or so, but it’s better than wandering around all day with nothing to do and people trying to fuss over me. How are you, anyway? I didn’t see you at Mass yesterday. Or on Sunday. Eduardo didn’t mean you couldn’t go to Sunday Mass, you know.”
Had Eduardo set Unicorn on me? No, he was surely too wrapped up in that meeting…please Lord? But if U was back at work, how did he have time to call me? Panic swirled inside—the pressure from concerned parties was growing, and yet they were only concerned for me, I just didn’t dare… “No, I was feeling a bit below par. But I’m much better today. I’ve just posted my blog. Have a read if you’ve got time.”
“Of course. I always read it.” I could hear tiny clicking sounds, he must be by a computer, then a few moments of silence as he scanned the beginning. “Looks good, Margo.” He sounded considerably less anxious. “Glad you’re feeling better.”
I breathed out a sigh of relief when he hung up. That improved blog post would reassure people better than any assurances from me.
Another few days of somewhat less mediocre blog posts and our baby was well, but I was running short of painkillers for Bane and the nonLee was getting dangerously low on charge. The things didn’t have many shots in them at the best of times, and if an assassin did come through the door, a full power magazine could mean the difference between life and death.
I went into the bathroom and looked at my face yet again. It was much better. Still a fading bruise and a tiny mark on my lip, but the handprint was getting very hard to make out. With a quick glance at Bane, I reluctantly picked up the phone and dialed Jon’s apartment.
“Hello?”
I let out a breath in relief. French accent. “Hi, Snail, it’s Margo.”
“Margo! Are you all right? We heard some…nasty things. Jon says they’re just rumors but…”
They weren’t convinced. Bother. “I’m fine, Snail.”
“Oui? How’s Bane?” A hard edge to Snail’s voice.
Was everyone going to be like that? Yes. That’s why I’d been hiding, wasn’t it? “He’s…um…fine. Is Unicorn there?” Probably a fool’s hope, actually, though the meeting was finally finishing today.
“Yeah, hang on, you just caught him.” His voice called distantly, “U, it’s Margo.”
“Hello?” Unicorn’s voice came down the wire.
“Hi, U. Um…I need a quick word with you. Don’t suppose you’ve got time to come over?”
A moment’s awkward silence. “Margo, if I go see Bane just now, my flatmates will disown me.”
“I’m asking you to come see me! We can talk in the corridor, if you like!”
“You’re able to show your face in public?”
“Are you coming or not?” I asked after a moment’s silence.
“All right, I’ll be round in a minute.”
As soon as I’d put the phone down, I checked Bane. He gave no sign of having heard what I was saying. Had he totally given up?
After a few minutes there was a tap at the door, so with one last glance at Bane, I tiptoed across the room and slipped out into the passage. “Hi, U, how are you?”
He’d still been very pale and prone to wincing as he breathed when I’d last seen him. There was more color in his cheeks now, and though his movements were rather controlled, the pain had clearly eased a lot.
“I’m well on the mend, Margo, honestly.”
“Well, thanks for coming.”
“I’m not mad at you, Margo.” His clear blue eyes inspected the left side of my face, and his brow darkened. “What can I do for you? Drag your husband to the cells?”
“Oh, shut up!” I hissed, “You’re as bad as Kyle!”
He shrugged. “Just offering. What, then?”
I opened the apartment door, peeped at Bane and eased it closed again. Then took out the nonLee. “I need this charged and I can’t really go see Eduardo at the moment.”
Unicorn’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t heard there’d been an incident—”
“No, there’s been no…incident. Everything’s fine.”
Unicorn frowned. He inspected the gauge. “That’s, what…at least six shots fired, maybe more like eight. That doesn’t look like ‘everything’s fine’ to me. What do I tell the boss? He’ll want to know.”
Rats. Here was hoping Unicorn would just take it and charge it for me. “Just…just tell him…look, I just need it charged.”
“Just need it charged?” Unicorn looked at me in disbelief. “Margo, what have you been using it f—” He broke off and went white with rage—took a step towards our door.
I flattened myself against it and didn’t budge.
“Are you using it on Bane? I’ll knock the bounder’s block off! I thought it must be a one-off; I thought things were getting better, that’s the only reason I haven’t told… Why don’t you leave him, Margo?”
“Don’t be so horrible! I thought you were our friend!”
“I am your friend, Margo! That’s why I don’t like to see you putting up with his behavior!”
“You know how depressed he is! What else can I do? I’m terrified of losing him!”
“Right now, he wouldn’t be much loss—”
I started forward, hand upraised…remembered his ribs and tried to stop myself…but the next moment I found myself in a gentle but firm immobilizing hold. I tried to shake him off, quite ineffectively, then froze as I heard him give a little ‘oof’ of pain.
“For pity’s sake, Margo, calm down! Look, I’ll take this to Eduardo, but I think you can expect a visit from him, okay?” He released me. “Look, let’s do it this way…”
He unholstered his own nonLee, popped out the power mag, switched it with mine, reholstered his own and returned mine to me, just as I had with Foxie. My face went red with remorse and shame. After what Bane had done to me, how could I fly at him like that?
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, wiping tears from my eyes. “Did I hurt you? Is…is there no way you can get it charged without telling him?”
His brow twisted. Asking him to hide stuff from Eduardo was a tall order.
I stared at him, my heart in my mouth, swallowing back a sob. Lord help me, it wasn’t just Bane, I was a mess too.
Unicorn sighed. “All right, I’ll charge it as though it were my own, okay? But you can’t carry on like this with Bane, Margo. Promise me you’ll think things through?”
“Fine, I promise.” Wasn’t going to take long. Bane dead in someone else’s care or alive in mine. Difficult decision.
Unicorn’s lip twisted, but he headed off along the corridor in the direction of VSS headquarters. I bit my lip. Had I made a big mistake in asking him? U was Eduardo’s heir-in-training—thinking I could outmaneuver him was probably about as sensible as thinking I could win against the world Chess Grandmaster. Too late now. Still, the meeting was almost over. Tomorrow I might be able to see Pope Cornelius. Please, Lord?
I was almost calm again—until I went back into the apartment and saw Bane standing by the window, fingers to the glass, about to push out a pane.
“Stop it, Bane!” I raced over, grabbed him and dragged him back to the sofa. Sat beside him and took his shoulders and shook him so hard I actually made his head wobble a little. “Please! Stop it! And say something, please! Talk to me? Just talk to me, please, Bane, please, please, please… Just SPEAK TO ME!”
No response. I buried my face in his chest, feeling as though my head would split open with anguish. His hands moved slightly, as though they would wrap around me—I raised my head, heart thrumming with agonizing hope…and his hands fell to his sides again.
…What the? A surge of panic brought me fully awake. I’d been asleep slightly more than twenty minutes—but Bane hadn’t moved. Perhaps I should try sleeping on him in future. Wrapping my arms around him, I rested my cheek against his stubbly one. Time to shave him again.
“We’ll see Pope Cornelius tomorrow, Bane,” I whispered. “That’s what we’ll do—”
The phone rang.
Reluctantly, I went to get it. “Hello?”
“Margaret.”
My stomach dropped. Unicorn, you promised! I put on a cheerful voice. “Hi, Eduardo. How are you?” Still too busy to worry about me, I hope.
“Other than the fact that people are lying to me and my power magazine records are up the creek, I’m fine. I think the real question is, how are you?”
I froze, my thoughts racing. U hadn’t told him, had he? No, he just hadn’t gone to any effort to make Eduardo believe what he had said. Sneaky VSS unicorn. And the power mags all had serial numbers…now that Eduardo had looked, he knew that not just one, but two, people had turned in mags originally issued to…someone else. Eduardo had probably just had an intensive catch-up session about where I’d been and what I’d been doing recently. Which would have been rather revealing in a completely different way than he expected.
“Oh, I’m fine. Bane and I have been keeping to ourselves as you requested. It’s nice to have some couple time.”
“I’m so glad to hear it. However, the EuroGov representatives just left. So you’ll be able to go up to the hospital and see your patient before he succeeds in starving himself to death.”
“I can’t… What?”
“Mr. Everington hasn’t touched his food in over a week. Just throws the plates at any counselor who comes into the room. He’s on a hunger strike: he wants you back, and Dr. Frederick says you won’t answer any of his messages telling you so.”
“But…” My thoughts whirled. Tomorrow, tomorrow I could see Pope Cornelius; he’d know what to do! Then, maybe… “Tomorrow, I should be able to—”
“When I spoke to him just now, Doctor Frederick said if he couldn’t get you to come today, he was going to sedate the man and put the feeding tube in.”
“Oh, he hates the tube.” But…Lucas was still in too bad a shape to miss this many meals.
“Indeed. But fortunately,” said Eduardo silkily, “you are fine and can therefore go and see him.”
“Today? Um…” I struggled to think.
“Should I come around, then, so we can discuss how fine you may or may not be?”
He didn’t believe a word I said; he was just trying to force me to tell him the truth. And I didn’t, didn’t, didn’t dare do that. Pope Cornelius wouldn’t take Bane away, I was sure of it. But Eduardo might, without a second’s hesitation. And he wouldn’t be amenable to argument.
“That would be a waste of your time, wouldn’t it?” I struggled to sound light and unconcerned. “I’ll pop up to the hospital within the hour, I hadn’t realized how serious the situation was—I’ve been so busy with the blog and everything.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Margaret Verrall. You haven’t left that apartment for two weeks—popping out for five minutes this morning to almost assault one of my agents doesn’t count. I’ll check with Doctor Frederick later and if you haven’t been out, we’ll be having a little chat. I’m not too sure what’s going on, and you know how much I like that.”
“I said, I’ll go up to the hospital!” I slammed the phone down. Confound those security cameras!
I went a few steps across the room to get a better look at Bane, who still sat there harmlessly, then started chewing on my fingers. How to be in two places at one time? Well, there was bilocation, but one had to be a saint, and like there was any chance of that the way I was going at the moment. Then there was asking for help. From a less dangerous source—one who didn’t have the power to click his fingers and have Bane taken away, even if he did genuinely think he was acting for my own good.
I didn’t want to ask, but what choice did I have?
I went back to the phone. Whispered a prayer and dialed a number.
“Hello?”
“Jon? It’s Margo.”