Welcome to the Plague

This was rotten luck, he knew, and he should have foreseen it. They were, after all, visiting his sick aunt. There was a chance that one of them would be exposed to whatever made her ill. But Emmeline’s symptoms progressed far worse than his dear aunt’s. June was experiencing pains from the chemotherapy- Emmeline’s initial stomach problems mimicked June’s own nausea. But Emme soon became more affected by some sort of cold. Many times a day, Kirby had strolled out into the village, his hands pushed deep into his pocket, to fetch her a different medicine. They had been managing.

And then she had the rash.

Kirby knew his options were narrowing and he felt himself forced more and more towards paying St. Mungo’s a visit. He had casually mentioned it while washing up for dinner. “Oh no,” Emme had said. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be better tomorrow.” She said that for three days. And then one day, it took Kirby an hour to wake her up. Something was terribly wrong, and the muggle medicines were not working on the pureblood Russian heiress. He should have realized- she was practically royalty, how could her system take anything but the best.

Emmeline was loaded into the Gullwing, protesting that all she needed was square meal and Kirby was being stupid. He drove her to St. Mungo’s and quieted her by describing the plot of a play their Greek friend Demetri had sent him. Demetri was an avid dramatist and playwright and Emmeline was incredibly fond of his thoughts. The sickness had kept her from being able to read, however, so she sat quietly and soaked in Kirby’s words.

He parked the car and helped her out, entering St. Mungo’s with a little difficulty (it had been a long time, after all.) Inside, he went straight to the receptionist and told her the symptoms. “Yeah, yeah, her and a dozen others.” Kirby blinked. “She has been out of the country, she could not have picked it up from them. I still want her checked in.” He realized this would be an expensive visit, he was sure. He might end up having to dip into Gerald’s funds, something he hated.

He turned to look at Emmeline and saw that she had fallen asleep in her chair, slumped slightly, pouty lips open just slightly. The girl was gorgeous, and a few men glanced at her, giving Kirby his cue to press the receptionist for help. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll call someone down. It’s on your dime.” Kirby nodded and headed back for Emmeline, who had slid onto the next chair. He placed his satchel on the seat next to her and sat at the seat next to that.

Waiting.

Kirby sat there for what felt like a long time, but he was aware (by the prompting of the ticking clock on the wall opposite him) that hardly any time had passed at all really. At least, hardly any time for a hospital. Emme and Kirby had been in their fair share of clinics and were used to waiting hour for medical care. When a woman walked up, however, to Emmeline after what felt like a shorter wait, Kirby found himself slightly appreciating being back in the wizarding world. He leaned over and said, "Yes, this is Emmeline." He gripped her shoulder and shook softly. She stirred and her eyes looked up at the woman. She glanced at Kirby, the look telling him that she did not want to be treated. She turned back to the woman and suddenly winced, doubling over. She looked back up, "I need help."

Kirby pulled his bag on and slid over to sit next to her, murmering, "Up we get." He gripped her elbow and pulled her to her feet, where she swayed for a moment until she seemed to gather herself. They were used to tough conditions and Emmeline had always been a fighter. She looked delicate and pampered, but her life was a rocky one and Kirby had seen her outlast women who thought they could rule the world. He trusted her now.

The woman introduced herself and instructed Emmeline to sit. Kirby assisted her in bending her legs and settling onto the chair, his hand remaining on her shoulder for comfort- she had never been fond of any sort of medical institution. They made her nervous. She did managed a small "hello" to the woman, though, that sounded promising.

Kirby watched carefully as Khaat looked over his closest companion and he found himself restless to leave this place with her feeling better so they could explore and meet the new people and see what this place had to offer. Fortunately, the woman did not need to inspect her for long, it seemed, before her expression informed him that she knew what was wrong. It might be their lucky day.

The gravity of her voice, however, seemed devoid of luck. He listened and he felt Emmeline's shoulder shudder. The way the woman described it all was foreboding. And they both knew that when an official did not offer an up-front cure, there was not one. They had been with friends on clinic calls when they found out they were terminal or dying. They were never offered a cure either.

Emmeline turned and looked at Kirby, her eyes big, but her face still full of the strength that made him consider the possibility that he might very well love her. He touched her face and dropped his hand to her knee, looking at Khaat. "Okay." The woman handed over the potions and other treatments and he slipped them into his bag. He handed Emmeline the lotion and murmured, "Here." He looked back at Khaat a moment. "May I speak to you alone, a moment?"

Kirby watched Emmeline and her long, thick lashes rose and fell now with a certain heaviness that he recognized as the burden of knowledge. He and she had often debated the human psyche and the knowledge of tragedy- would it be better to know you were in trouble, or was ignorance better? Kirby had argued that while one might ache for knowledge, it came down to simple psychology- people preferred not to know. She had argued otherwise- and now she had learned the flaws of her thinking. Khaat's words did not exactly help, but she liked words. She looked up and nodded, offering a smile. "Thank you."

The woman brought her tea and Emmeline reached out for it, managing to hold the cup and lift it to her lips for a sip. She must have enjoyed it's effects, because her eyes opened in surprise. "Wow," she said. She looked up at Khaat and said with an honest, open face, "This is really good. I would like some, please. Thank you." She took another deep drink. Kirby's request to speak to Khaat alone cause Emmeline to look up in surprise, giving him a questioning look. He stood and kissed her forehead, saying, "Just to see about my aunt. You need quiet. Relax. Drink your tea."

He followed Khaat into the hallway and closed the door. "My name is Kirby Byron. Emme and I have been travelling all over the world. This can not be a bug going around, just here. We haven't been exposed enough to have possibly caught it from someone around here." His piercing eyes reached hers. "Just how much do you know about this? It's worse than you wanted to tell her, right?"

Kirby listened intently, soaking in all of Khaat's words and letting them settle and embed themselves into his mind so he could use them for later. That, and it was nice to add this to what he knew of history. People too often thought of history in the past tense, but it thrilled Kirby that one day, the present would be history. It was living and around them all. They were all apart of it and he would be teaching their posterity about it. He was affected, it was apart of him. If this chapter of history was not on the offense on Emmeline, he might actually be oddly thrilled by the idea of this mystery plague.

Khaat deciphered that Emmeline had been ill. Kirby corrected, "Not quite. She's weary is, all. We've been on the road for seven years or so. So, our immune systems are stronger than most, but we've also been a bit overexposed. I don't have any of her symptoms, though." Thinking this all over, he realized they might have to stay here longer than most places. That meant finding a real job, a livable apartment- oh, it sounded rotten. It made it so difficult to uproot and move on, something they were both in constant need of. Or at least, he was. Emme just needed to be with him to ensure her own survival in this tough world.

Khaat continued on and Kirby nodded. "Please. Run it all through me first. I suppose this means bedrest and observation." Damn it, damn it all. The longer he stayed, the closer his father got to finding him and trying to reconnect. Or his stepfamily. He was not sure which was worse, really. He ran a hand throug his hair, hiding his distress by briefly closely his eyes and releasing a small breath. "Right." He opened his eyes and dropped his hand, hair still mused. "There must be a prospective cure. What do you need for it? I guarantee I can track it down. I would like to help."