pirate_jack | (no subject)

Wellard blinks, and stares at Mary.

"... What?"

"He had a hole in his stomach," Mary repeats, patiently.

"The Healer fixed it. I told you."

"A hole in his stomach... how? And from what? Was he shot?" Wellard bites his lip, frowning.

"Is that why he wasn't here, this morning?"

A small, indifferent shrug. If Mary knew all this, she certainly wouldn't be waiting on Jack to tell her.

"He was hurt in his stomach," she repeats. Again. "I do not know how - only that he was bleeding. Jack told me to get a healer and you said to listen to him so I did."

"Jack is the captain- you are supposed to listen to him, specially in situations like that." Wellard bites his lip, frowning thoughtfully, before standing.

Carefully.

"Where is Jack?"

Wellard will not have to go very far to find out, because the sound of footsteps on wood are already becoming clearer.

The door to the cabin opens, and two figures -- one taller than the other -- can be seen silhouetted against the brightness of the daylight outside.

Jack's the first to stroll in, and he stops in his tracks as he notices Wellard.

"Son, thought you were meant to be resting." He shoots a glance at Mary, adding under his breath, "Fine lot of help you are, little missy."

It's about at this point that he notices the chest standing open on his table, and clear alarm flashes in the black eyes. With studied casualness, Jack strolls across the room and then turns around to face them all once he reaches the table, spreading his hands wide for balance as he does so and grinning disarmingly.

It's probably a coincidence that one of his hands happens to knock the chest lid closed, and the chest itself is now hidden behind his back.

Really.

"You said to wake him up!" Mary retorts.

She's not good enough at reading people to note the alarm - but she does see him noticing the open chest, and as a result plants her feet a little more firmly on the floor.

"And I'm at least feeling somewhat better." Wellard mutters- though headache+bright light from outdoors= ow, and he hurridly shuts his eyes for a moment.

But, seeing Jack and Merriman is a bit of a relief, given all that (may have possibly) has happened.

"Jack- Mary said that Norrington was hurt- did someone shoot him?"

Merriman closes the cabin door, careful not to shut it too loudly. His attention is on Wellard, so he does not entirely notice Jack's quick move to close the chest save to note the change in position.

'Not shooting, Mister Wellard,' he says, keeping his voice low as he moves further into the cabin. 'He was attacked with a knife, and left unconscious on the floor. You were found outside the room, also unconscious. And Captain Sparrow sent Miss Lennox to find a doctor for Mister Norrington, and proceeded to bring you out here.'

It isn't accusatory, not in the least. It is a simple statement of the facts as he knows them.

Wellard looks over to Merriman, and nods slowly, thinking that over. Then he bites his lip.

"I don't remember what happened, sir. Any of it. I left the Pearl to go and find him- Mr Norrington hadn't arrived, and the Captain had said as much. But after that, I- I cannot recall."

"Don't worry over it, son," he tells Wellard quietly, and Merriman at least may notice the oddly serious tone in Jack Sparrow's voice.

"It'll come back to you in time, savvy? In any case, there's no need for you to be concerned over it."

"There isn't?"

Mary's tone is dark. - well, as dark as can be managed, when the only octaves available to her are distinctly in the higher registers.

"You keep saying there is no need to worry - but he could be hurt or bespelled or anything. If you were not there you cannot know!"

Key word, of course, being if.

'Miss Lennox.' Merriman's voice holds all the sternness that comes of years (and years) of teaching, with an additional note of warning against further accusations. 'That will do.'

He crosses the cabin, treading carefully on the boards -- and reaches up to remove the lantern from its hook overheard.

'If you will permit me, Mister Wellard?' He shifts the lantern to his left hand, lowering it to keep the light out of Wellard's direct sight-line. 'I would like to see your head, and where it hurts worst.'

Hurt or bespelled, he will likely know soon enough.

Wellard nods slowly, sitting back down into the chair close at hand.

"Jack gave me some willow bark, which has helped, sir. And things are somewhat clearer, thankfully. Just that anything off of the ship, before or after, sort of... is hazy, until its nothing." He sighs, and closes his eyes.

'Willow bark.' Merriman nods. 'Very well.'

The site of the injury is painfully (in a manner of speaking) apparent, even though Merriman is quite careful in his examination. As the lantern-light illuminates the worst of the bruising, the shifting patterns of light and shadow only serve to sharpen the fierce, intent lines of the Old One's face.

'Quite the haematoma you have there, Mister Wellard,' he murmurs, almost more to himself than to Wellard. 'It will undoubtedly be sore for a time, though a bit of ice wrapped in cloth will help the swelling abate. And you are likely to have a headache and perhaps some dizziness for good while to come, I'm afraid.'

Another few moments pass -- during which his expression seems a little distant, as if listening for something only he can hear -- before he speaks again.

'As for enchantment, Miss Lennox...any magic that may have been involved appears to have run its course. Which is to say that it is difficult to be certain if there was magic involved. But even if there was, it does not seem to be the sort that will hinder his recovery from this.'

Mary's face flushes red with embarrassment and anger at the warning, but she stays silent for the duration of the diagnosis, listening intently.

'Haemotoma' is one of those words that sounds frightening whatever context it's used in. Like 'algebra'. Or 'cholera'.

(Mary will be looking it up.)

"Magic can do lots of bad things besides making people ill," she says, aloud, her fists screwed up at her sides.

She's still glaring at them all equally, Wellard as much as the rest.

"Why do none of you want to know what happened? You all say not to worry but how can you not worry when you do not know?"

Merriman arches an eyebrow at Mary's comment about magic, but he does not reply to it. Instead, he gives Wellard a final close scrutiny, then crosses over to replace the lantern on its hook overhead.

'This kind of memory loss is not like forgetting where you have put a book, or misplacing a set of keys,' he says, reaching up to adjust the hook before slipping the lantern back onto it. 'It is the mind's way of reacting to a very bad shock. And so the mind itself has to heal, above all else. If the memory returns, it will return in due time -- much like a broken bone knitting together. If it does not return, then worrying about it will not make it return any more quickly, and the fretting may well make matters worse.'

He also knows, though he does not say it aloud, that if magic was involved then the chances of recovering the full memory at all will be slender at best. So he looks over then, from Mary to Wellard, and adds quietly:

'We do want to know what happened, very much so. But it would not help to replace a blurred but true memory with a clearer but possibly less true one. And so what is needed now is rest, and time.'

Both of which Wellard will get, aboard the Black Pearl.

Wellard sighs quietly, and rubs his eyes.

("I'll remember.")

"Memories do come back at times, Mary. ... I have seen it happen before, so-" He shrugs. "We will see. At least after my head stops pounding at every little thing." He mutters.

It would require someone to have been watching Jack at exactly the right moment to notice his small jerk and oddly wry, knowing smile as Merriman reports his opinion.

(the mind's way of reacting to a very bad shock)

"Well and there you have it, then." He strides forward a step to draw everyone's attention, spreading his hands wide and looking at them all with a wickedly engaging smile.

"Rest and time, another dose or two of willow-- nasty foul stuff though it is." Jack makes a face at this, but continues, "And no worries, and it'll all come right in the end."

"Worrying helps you prepare for things," Mary mutters; but it's the kind of dark, nearly incomprehensible mutter that you do when you know that you're talking in a lost cause, and simply would like to make it perfectly clear that you're not convinced, no matter how everyone else feels.

"Are you going to visit the infirmary at least?"

Merriman looks over at Wellard. 'Once you feel well enough to leave the Pearl, Mister Wellard, would you be amenable to doing so? If you speak to Dr Simon Tam, perhaps, he might be able to give you a more expert opinion than mine. There is also Nita Callahan -- as Miss Lennox said, she healed Mister Norrington, and her magic is similar enough to mine to make matters less complicated for you.'

He is well aware of Wellard's uneasiness around doctors...and Jack's current levels of protectiveness. Simon and Nita are relatively unthreatening, if nothing else.

There is an attempt at a nod there, but it is soon given up as Wellard finds he can feel it even through the affects of the willowbark.

"I know Dr Tam, from before." He glances over to Mary. "Yes, I will go and see him when I can make it over to shore without the worry of falling into the lake."

Because drowning and being eaten by Ed would rather make the concussion worse, really.

"I know him as well," Jack volunteers, grinning wickedly. "Good man, even if he doesn't like rum. Criminal mastermind, savvy?"

It may be true, but Merriman does not smile at that...primarily because he remembers a note, in his own handwriting, that had once been tacked to the bar's noticeboard.

Instead, he looks over at Mary, his expression quite serious.

'Is that suitable for the time being, Miss Lennox? I realise that it is a makeshift situation for now, but things will be seen to very soon. I will be making a few enquiries of my own, when we return to the shore.'

Oh yes, he most certainly will.

(no subject)

mistressmaryquitecontrary - 2006-11-03 03:42 (UTC) - Expand