Visit to a Friend

[Susan Matthews]

Rushing through the halls and down the stairs, Susan was at the Hospital Wing in no time. She had practically flown through the halls, not wanting to waste a minute more of her free period. As she approached the door to the infirmary, she slowed a bit. Most of the students had already cleared to their places in the library, common rooms, or on the grounds. The clicking of the heels on her Mary Janes seemed to echo through the first floor corridor.

Susan quietly pushed open the door to the infirmary. As she entered the large bright room, she was surprised to see how bland it was. She had expected more than all white. Everything seemed to be so clean too. Susan stood by the door for a moment, basking in the silence and cleanliness of it all. It didn't take long for the healer to notice her and come over hastily.

"Dylan Cooper?" Susan asked, she would have ventured forward on her own, but she was afraid of what she would come across on her own. Susan followed the finger of Madame Aku to the bed with the curtains pulled around it. Hugging her self slightly, Susan thanked the healer and walked toward Dylan's bed. As she approached the bed, she finally saw the extent of his injuries.

"Oh, Dylan," she whispered in spite of herself.

[Dylan Cooper]

Dylan lay in a half-hearted stupour. Half of him craved sleep, his eyelids drooping and demanding that he rest them for but a few hours. The other half of him, however, was loathe to attempt any kind of rest while D’rorah was not there to protect him from his nightmares. He had strictly sent her away from the Hospital Wing to attend classes, and to get some sleep herself; she could not maintain her own health while she neglected sleep simply to allow him a few moments of peace. While he appreciated all she had done for him during her extended visit within the Hospital Wing, he could no longer allow her to neglect herself so. Fighting the sleep that fogged his brain, he yearned for a potion to return him to wakefulness.

Vaguely, he thought he heard his name mentioned. Knowing that D’rorah would not be back yet from Defence, he continued his internal struggle for a moment or two before hearing his name undeniably uttered once more; closer, softer this time. His eyes opening lightly, he saw Susan standing within the curtains that had been pulled around his bed to save him some embarrassment from the other occupants. The expression on her face sent shivers of shame through him; shame for what he had endured, and what it had left behind.

He knew that, with many days now having passed since the incident, as well as the aid his peaceful sleep had brought, he had recovered rather a lot. He was no longer the bloody mess he had been on his first night here. He was still quite obviously in no fit state to do much of anything, however. His head was still covered in the burn scars that Madam Aku was allowing time to recover on their own before attempting to heal them by magic. Unbidden, memories of his first night came back to him. As he’d lain unconscious upon the pillow, the material had melted into his fresh burns. The effort to remove his skin from the pillow had been quite improbable, not to mention the absolute pain of such a thing. The extensive network of scars covering his chest, back, arms, and even the one on his neck had stubbornly refused any healing magic the nurse had attempted; though both she and her patient had known the futility, with such a dark spell being used. Though you could not see it, his feet were heavily bandaged to cover the burns upon them, and the entirety of his body, once containing boils, had now been reduced to a pockmarked complexion. Here and there, large red circles gave mute testament to what had been evident there previously.

The hard expression that had taken up residence on his features over the course of the past week or so diminished slightly in light of the young girl standing before him. The weakness so clearly evident in his body washed over him, as well as the pain of enduring such wounds and the embarrassment at the condition of his body. As it was, he knew that she could only see the scars upon his head and the damage to his arms, neck and upper torso. That was enough, however. “Susan… Hi,” he said, his voice raspy and appearing underused. Nevertheless, he was happy to see her.

[Susan Matthews]

When she came around the curtains, Susan had prepared herself for the worst. As her eyes fell upon Dylan it seemed that was exactly had befallen him, the worst. Her eyes slowly took in the various cuts and gashes all over the part of his body that protruded from under the covers of the hospital bed. It was almost painful just looking at the injuries, Susan hated to imagine how Dylan must have felt, what he must be feeling.

With a fluid movement, Susan had pulled her wand out of her robe pocket and flicked it. From her wand came a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't big enough to be tacky, but also not small enough to seem wimpy. She would have liked it to be of just one type of flower, but her scattered thoughts brought on a variety of roses and daffodils and carnations and daisies. She finished off, by producing a vase with some water. On the end table by Dylan's bed, Susan placed the flowers inside the vase.

"Thought you might like some nature, you know?" Susan spoke as she made eye contact with Dylan for the first time. She hated to think of how long these injuries would keep Dylan from their element. Susan did her best to avoid the questions she assumed he'd heard a lot of lately.

Why? How? and Who?

Instead, she decided to bring up another subject. Susan pulled up a nearby chair closer to Dylan's bed. "I spoke with D'rorah today," she started, speaking softly and clearly. Susan found that if she looked into Dylan's eyes, she could remember the Dylan from before. The fact that his eyes were the same, maybe a little sadder, maybe a little pained, but still the same dark brown, gave her hope. The Dylan she knew, her friend, her Elemental Master was still in there somewhere, waiting to be healed.

"She said that we should bond as Elemental Master and Shadow Warrior," Susan began again. "After we bond, we be connected even stronger." She let her eyes slip, "And then we can prevent . . ." Susan didn't finish her sentence, she couldn't. She had brought up the subject, she'd spent so much trouble avoid. Now that she'd come to it, it seemed like the only subject at hand. Susan shifted uncomfortably, before deciding to start again with a different approach.

"It will make us stronger," she stated as her eyes found Dylan's again.

[Dylan Cooper]

Seeing a decently-sized bouquet of flowers emerge from the tip of her wand, Dylan smiled lightly. He felt his eyelids weighing him down, the exhaustion that was ever-present in his weakened body. “Thanks…” he said quietly, hoping that perhaps having his element closer might aid his recovery somewhat. His eyes meeting hers, he wondered if she would ever think of him in the same way again. He was glad that she had finally come to visit him, despite the incredible self-deprecation and self-loathing brought with any visitor that viewed his body.

Watching as she took a seat, his ears perked up slightly as she mentioned D’rorah. Hearing her words, however, he wondered at everything. He hadn’t the faintest inkling of how to even bond with Susan in such a way… Seeing her eyes fall away from his, he wondered why. Had he done something? Perhaps… not done something? Considering it for a moment, he came to the conclusion that perhaps she just no longer wished to look at him. It was not an unreal concept, afterall.

Prevent… prevent what? Prevent him being too weak to do anything about being kidnapped; from being dragged into the very room that usually brought him closer to his element, closer to peace in times of turmoil. Swallowing with some trouble, presumably still due to the large scar across his neck, Dylan’s mind wandered back to events that he most certainly did not wish to dwell on. Noticing her uncomfortable movements, her change of tack in the direction of her words… It didn’t do much to make him feel better. Being able to find her eyes once more, he knew his own held a certain sense of increased sadness.

[Susan Matthews]

The silence that came after her last statement was intense. Susan felt engulfed in the sensation of nothing and everything all at once, all the while she managed to keep her eyes on Dylan's. Just as she recognized the faint sound of anything to be the ringing of her own ears, it was gone, washed away by the foot steps, presumably coming from Madame Aku as she passed by. Susan wasn't sure how to receive the silence between them. Was he waiting for her to continue? Was she waiting for him? She wasn't sure of herself, anymore. Or in between, was it mutual?

It had seemed all the energy she had spent getting to this point, to here, to see Dylan, was too much. Now that she was here and in full aware of his state and how she felt about the whole ordeal, she was utterly exhausted. More mentally than anything, Susan felt brain was worn out, as if it were an old hair band that had been stretched to the point that it was no longer usable.

Of the emotions that were left, Susan felt disappointment the most prominent. Disappointment for herself mostly. Disappointment that she didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to say to make her friend feel better, even if it would be only temporary or meaningless. She could not think of a single joke to share or song to sing. No stories to tell or poems to recite. No references to movies or books that she'd seen or read.

Throughout her visit, Susan had done her best to keep a face amiable, happy, calm. As the silenced rushed over her, as hard as she tried to stop it, she could feel her eyebrows knitting and her eyes watering with the tears she'd promised herself not to spill. Then the question slipped. With out consciously choosing to speak it, the words had somehow formed on her lips. Her tongue had involuntarily made the motions and her lungs had some how issued the air that rubbed her vocal chords into a sound.

"Why?" she croaked weakly, "Why you? Why did they do this?" She didn't really expect Dylan to have an answer. It was more of a question that was asked without a real answer at all. Susan had stopped after the words had left her mouth. It surprised her how dry her voice had sounded. She spent the rest of what energy she had left on composing herself. Slowly her eyebrows unknit themselves and even a faint smile formed at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes remained watery though, brimming with tears, and threatening to overflow.

[Dylan Cooper]

His eyes locked onto hers throughout the seemingly uncomfortable silence, Dylan barely had the energy to register that fact; to register much of anything, in fact. To him, it was only more time spent dwelling on things which he should not, if not for his guest then at least for his own sanity. He recalled the first time they had met, on that two-faced day by the lake. It did not seem like so long ago that they were introducing themselves, and now here they were. The best of friends, and somehow neither one knew what to say.

His voice returned, however, when he saw the watery nature of her eyes, the obvious effort she was providing to hold back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her at any minute. “Susan… Don’t cry. It’ll be okay. This will never happen again, do you understand me?” He wasn’t altogether sure if he was trying to comfort himself or her more. At her words, he faltered. The effect was instantaneous. A sheet of hopelessness, of blank disbelief was cast over his eyes. He stared into nothingness, his mind running over the events of that night. Of every mark he had gained, and more importantly, of everything he had lost in the process. “We don’t know yet…” he said dully, unable to produce anything more. “I wasn’t paying attention…” The guilt and self-blame he had felt ever since that night was more terrible than ever; engulfing him in his vulnerable and weakened state.

He wondered how long such terrible feelings would consume him, how long he would feel this physically exhausted, feel so worn out from going over the same thoughts over and over again. Of course, the only person who might know was D’rorah; he had considered the option but did not wish to make her uncomfortable… His eyes tearing themselves away from Susan’s, he couldn’t bare to see them any longer. He was tired of seeing the pity in anyone who passed by; it was the very reason he’d asked Madam Aku to pull the curtains around his bed. He did not want to see any such thing from a stranger, let alone his closest friend.

[Susan Matthews]

The chair she was sitting on suddenly seemed hard. Although it was padded with a decent enough cushion, she found herself uncomfortable again. The main thing going through her thoughts, It's not fair . . . And it wasn't. Dylan didn't deserve this, Susan thought. As her mind got to thinking, she subconsciously folded her hands together. Out of habit, her thumbs began twiddling, spinning as fast as her brain was working. Her sadness was slowly fueled into anger. Though she did not show it, except for her thumbs, Susan had taken on a different mindset.

Her eyes searched for Dylan's, but he wouldn't catch hers. He refused to look her in the eyes again. Her thumbs slowed a little as her thoughts became more regular. Dylan's labored breathing and drooping eyes gave the hint that he was certainly tired. As reluctant as she was to leave, Susan knew that she couldn't, and maybe she shouldn't, stay forever. Another thought came to Susan: embarrassment. Her eyes glanced briefly to the tall white curtains that surrounded the two of them. And suddenly, with out making the conscious decision to do so, Susan was embarrassed for Dylan, and sorry for Dylan. Though on some level, she knew he would absolutely hate her for feeling this way, she couldn't help but feel some sort of sympathy, or empathy, or whatever it's called.

"You should get some sleep," Susan said thoughtfully, as she considered leaving. To tell the truth, she wasn't exactly sure if that was what Dylan needed all, it seemed like something her mother would say though. As if a long nap could solve anything. She slowly stood up, dropping her hands gently at her sides. Unsure of what to say at first, she fingered the flowers by his bed. She let her index finger caress the yellow petal of the closest daffodil, her favorite. It was always a sunny and happy flower. It was a shame not everything was as happy as the daffodil.

She reached for her bag, that she had unceremoniously dropped on the floor earlier. With all of her things in tow, she looked to Dylan again, hoping to catch his eyes.

"Get well soon," it was the expected thing to say. As she turned to leave, she stopped and turned at the last minute, "Hey, if you ever need anything, anything. I'm here, you know that?" She put on her best smile, trying to be the best friend she could for the best friend she knew.

[Dylan Cooper]

From the moment she had arrived until the moment she stood up again, everything had changed. She had appeared distraught, anxious upon arrival. And now… Now she couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. Blaming himself, something he was so fond of recently, he wondered how they’d gotten here, of all the places in the world. Perhaps he’d pushed to far… Maybe she was simply not used to the new him. Even more prominent in his mind was the concept that she simply couldn’t bear to look upon his scarred flesh any longer. He assumed it would be much the same with the rest of the world, so why did that little idea hurt so much when Susan was concerned?

The emotional attachment between Elemental Master and Shadow Warrior had been evident even before they’d been aware of it, lying low until the right moment. The ensuing events, however, the training and continued meetings, had drawn them closer. Recalling his training, it was almost laughable at how much effort he had put in. All his hard work… and it seemed it had accumulated into nothing, given the events of the previous week.

Nodding in a detached manner, he resented everything. Typical teenage angst, with a twist. He resented the fact that he had not been helped, by anyone else or by himself. He resented that he had happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and in the wrong mindset to deal with any trouble. More than anything, he resented the pain that he had endured, and the scars it had left behind. The scars that changed everything to everyone… The suggestion that he should get some sleep would have been laughable if he wasn’t so upset with everything. He was worn out, body and soul, but his mind refused to shut down. Everything was accumulating to create an absolutely exhausted young boy who was unable to sleep for the nightmares that haunted his every move.

His eyes refusing to meet hers, they remained focused on anything but. He largely skipped over her comment to get well. His gaze travelling to her face, he saw the smile upon her face and felt bad for ruining everything. Nobody said self-loathing was logical. Producing the smallest of ‘yeah’s, his eyes resumed their inspection of his own hands, the one part of him that was bearable to look at.