Ileana made her way south towards the butcher shop on North Street. She had been herself for three days, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to return to her normal routine. How could she? She’d killed the man that Jean—one of her closest friends in a hundred years—respected more than any other. How could she face him after that?

A strong gust blew through the streets, and instinctively she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. In a century her sense of fashion hadn’t changed, nor did it show any signs of beginning to. She missed the days when it was simple to tell women from men by their clothing. Now, there were some it was truly impossible to tell unless they were wearing a skirt… and even then there were some men…

The gypsy found herself lost in thought as she walked through the still busy streets of Blackstone. The moon was shining brightly above, and Ileana was staring into its light before she realized it. Had it been up to her, she would still be in her apartment, crying her eyes out. As it was, it wasn’t up to her though. Nenora had seen to it that Ileana would be miserable just in case she regained control. The demon had apparently been unsatisfied with the cow’s blood Ileana kept and threw it all out, instead choosing to get her meals fresh. So now, after three days, the gypsy had to get a meal, or whoever knocked on her door next may be in danger. The butcher shop on the corner of North and King was the closest one that kept cow’s blood. Since she’d never bothered getting a car, close was good. Plus, the walk gave her time to think about the events of the past few days.

As she approached Starr Ave, the sounds of gothic techno music could be heard inside Diabolique—the premier nightclub in town. Since it was one of only two nightclubs, there wasn’t much competition. That was where it had all begun—a horrible goth club that was far too elitest for her standards that her young niece had decided to party at. She’d met Jean and Luc there that night… It seemed so long ago in a strange sense. Everything had changed so much for her from before… Jean had come to her rescue then as well. And now she’d repaid him with a corpse.

She shook the thoughts away. The doctor had told her not to dwell on the past. “The past cannot be changed, Giselle,” he had said—she’d used Giselle in those days. “We must use the mistakes of our past to forge the triumphs of our future. You have to forgive yourself before anyone else can be expected to forgive you.” Did she really want to be forgiven though? She hated this feeling… this pain in her chest. It made her sick to her stomach. People had died around her before. Hell, she’d killed people before. Never had she felt bad about it though. This time… this time it really felt like it was her fault.

Ileana had crossed Starr and was about to cross to the opposite side of the street to avoid the bar she was approaching when a commotion inside drew her attention. The doors were flung open as a man struggled into the street—assisted somewhat by a bouncer.

“Sleep it off!” the bouncer shouted angrily.

“You want to fight?!” the man shouted back. At least, that’s what Ileana decided he’d said. The man was so drunk and his speech so slurred it was hardly speech at all, but knowing the man, his retort probably involved violence.

As he fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his keys, dropping them before picking them up once more, Ileana sighed heavily—another old habit from life she’d never lost—and ran towards him.

“Jean,” she said gently, slipping his keys away from him as he looked up at her. She’d always been good at palming, and with him this drunk, he’d never notice.

“Ilellana,” the drunken Jean muttered. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?”

“You called me to come get you, remember?”

“I did?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“Oh… yeah.”

She tried to help him to his feet when the bouncer shouted at them. “Get that drunk out of here!”

Starting to rush, something caught her eyes. The veins in Jean’s arms… her eyes had been drawn to them. The hunger forced it… but they weren’t blue as they should have been. She shot the bouncer a look that would have caused him to cross himself if he were Italian a hundred years earlier. “This drunk,” she spat, “has been poisoned by your establishment.”

The bouncer took a step back, surprised at the venom in the young woman’s voice. “I… we—“

“Aren’t there laws regarding serving alcohol to someone who’s obviously drunk?” The man started stammering a response once more, but she interrupted him. “I’ll deal with you later.” Her face softened once more as she looked back at Jean. “Jean, you have to get into the truck.” She fumbled with the keys, trying to get the vehicle open.

“I don’t… feel so good,” he muttered.

She got the door open and tried to push him up into it. He wasn’t fighting against her, but he wasn’t much help either. His lips were starting to turn blue, and his skin was icy. She had to hurry. He slumped into the seat, and she started to panic. “Jean? Jean!” she said urgently, trying to rouse him. It was no use though. He’d passed out.

Ileana pushed him over into the passenger seat and slid in behind the wheel. How did he do this again? Turn the key… hit the pedal… wait… which pedal? She swore in Romanian under her breath as the car made strange noises, none of which were the engine starting. In fact, she was fairly certain she was doing damage.

“Dammit!!” she yelled, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. She was going to have to call an ambulance and make a fuss. Jean would just have to forgive her for that too.

“Professor?” a timid voice said from the sidewalk. “Are you ok?”

Ileana glanced up to see a young girl from her first class. What was her name… Elise… Elizabeth… “Emily!” The girl was with what appeared to be a date and another couple.

“Do you need some help?”

“Well… yes, actually. Can you drive this vehicle?”

The girl leaned in. “I don’t know how to drive stick.”

Ileana fell, but the other girl spoke up. “I can drive a standard. What’s up?”

“My friend here is,” she took a deep breath. What should she say? “He’s diabetic, and I think he’s gone into shock. I need to get him to the hospital, but I don’t know how to drive.”

The girls both looked immediately alarmed, and the boys looked a little disappointed. “Scoot over, I’ll drive. Mike, can you follow us?” the girl asked of her date.

“Yeah, sure,” he grumbled.

Ileana did as she was asked, and the girl slid into the driver’s seat. A moment later, they were moving towards the hospital. The gypsy kept a close eye on Jean and made sure he was sitting up and still breathing. His pulse was slowing even further, and the blue tinge had surfaced around his eyes as well.

Time slowed to a crawl as they raced the half-mile to the hospital, every moment of it, Ileana fearing the worst. As they arrived, the girl quickly jumped out of the truck and ran inside to get a doctor while Ileana tried to get Jean out. She could have carried him easily if she had Nenora’s strength… but no… she couldn’t. It was too close, too dangerous. Instead she waited for a gurney and tried to warm him up, running her hands up and down his arms as quickly as she could. It was a real pain not generating body heat anymore.

“Isn’t that the running back?” Emily’s date asked as they got out of the car they’d followed in.

Ileana didn’t stick around to explain though. Instead, she ran inside with him, grabbing the doctor’s arm that was taking care of him.

“Miss, I need to—“

“It’s alcohol. He isn’t diabetic,” she said in a hushed voice.

The doctor nodded and looked up at the nurse. “We need to get him hydrated now, and get a dialysis machine in here pronto.” He looked back to her, “Just wait out here. We’ll take care of him.”

Ileana nodded and stood there until the four students came in. “Is he going to be ok?” Emily asked.

Ileana nodded and put on her best fake smile. “Oh yes, it will take more than this to get him down.”

“So was that Jean Rousseau?” Mike asked.

Ileana sighed and nodded. “Please, don’t say anything about this to anyone. Coach Redbeard doesn’t know, and he’d take him off the team if he did. All Jean’s ever wanted to do was play football.”

The kids looked at her strangely. “He’d get kicked off for being diabetic?” the other boy asked.

Ileana nodded. “Redbeard wouldn’t play him unless he had to. He’s very careful with his players.”

“How… how do you know so much about him?” Emily asked, scandal in her mind.

“My family and his go way back. He’s like one of my own brothers.”

The kids all nodded, disappointed they didn’t get their dirt, but Ileana was an excellent liar. The girl who’d driven the truck handed the keys over to Ileana. “I parked it just out front in the visitor’s section. It’s hard to miss. Everything going to be ok?”

“Yes, thank you so much. I’ll find a way to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But uh… you don’t need us now, right?” Mike asked.

“No, thank you. Please, enjoy the rest of your evening. I’m so sorry to have interrupted.”

“Take care of yourself,” Emily said as she led the others back out into the night.

Ileana only had a few more minutes to wait before the doctor came out to speak with her. “He’s going to be alright. He’ll feel like a piece of reused ass when he wakes up, but he’ll wake up. Was this a frat stunt?”

She shook her head. “No, he… he’s a soldier. He lost his unit in Afghanistan, and this last week… he lost someone very dear to him. He just… I didn’t know how bad he was.”

“A soldier? Does he drink like this often?”

“Oh, no. Not like this. This is just… it’s my fault.”

The doctor put his hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for this kind of thing. People do horrible things to themselves when they get depressed. The best thing you can do is support him and get him the help he needs.”

She nodded absently. “Can I see him?”

“I need to have a nurse go over a few things with you first. He’ll be out for awhile anyway. You can see him when you’re done.”

Ileana spent the next hour listening to a nurse go on about teenage alcoholism and how it’s the family that can save the victims… the family is the victim… etc, etc. The woman gave her at least two dozen handouts and fliers on symptoms and help programs, including a government run program specifically for soldiers that have come home. Ileana had done her best to pay attention, but she could swear she smelled his blood in the air.

When she was finally allowed in his room, her body fell again. His hair looked awful, and his skin was clammy and pale. There were wires hooked up to him everywhere, and a tube was in his throat to make sure he kept breathing.

“Oh, Jean,” she whispered. “What have I done to you?”

***

She spent the remainder of the night watching him. Well before daybreak he was warm and full of color again, and his veins ran true. When the sun started to peek through the windows, Ileana asked an orderly to draw the curtains for her, and she’d made sure to sit away from any light that was seeping through. She wasn’t going to leave him alone though, and calling Luc would likely just make matters worse.

It was almost noon when he finally woke up. He shook his head and looked around, wincing at the “bright” light. When he saw her sitting next to him, he started a bit. “Where… where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t you remember?”

He shook his head a bit as he started thinking. There was the bar… then the other bar…

“You nearly killed yourself drinking.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t drink that much… did I?”

“You’re lying in a hospital bed.”

Jean once again looked at his surroundings. “I guess… I guess I overdid it some. How… what are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to the store and you came stumbling out of that bar.”

“Oh.” He paused for several moments. “Where’s Luc?”

“I… I haven’t called him. The doctor said you’d be fine, and I didn’t think calling him here would do any good. You can talk to him when you get home.”

Jean just nodded. “Yeah… you’re not… are you going to tell him?”

Ileana just shook her head. “That’s not my business.”

He winced a little as something was dropped in the hallway.

“How do you feel?”

“Like ass.”

“Well, that’s better than the doctor expected. I’ll call the nurse to let her know you’re awake.”

She reached over to hit the call button. “The doctor said that once you were awake, they’d take a blood sample and a urine sample. If everything comes back right, you’ll be allowed to check out.” She nodded to his keys on the bedside table. “Your truck is in the visitor’s section. You’ve already missed most of your classes for the day, so I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“My classes? What time is it?” he asked, looking over at the clock next to his keys. “In the morning? How… how are you here?”

“It was still dark when we got here.”

“Why did you stick around? You’re gonna fry if you try to leave now.”

“I’ll just have to wait until sundown. It isn’t an issue.”

Jean shook his head. “You shouldn’t have stuck around.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for months.”

“That’s not—“

“No,” she said, standing up. “You’re right. I had no place.” She started to leave, but he grabbed her wrist, startling her.

“Ileana…” he started to say something, but it disappeared.

“Just… take care of yourself, Jean.”

His grip faded, and his hand slipped away. She passed the nurse as she went into the hallway. Ileana slipped into the stairwell and went towards the basement, but before she reached it, she fell against the wall and started to cry.

This entry was posted on Friday, August 22nd, 2008 at 3:53 pm and is filed under Deleted Scenes, Episode 2.02, Ileana's Journals, Jean's Journals. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.