Chapter Text
Reba McClane couldn't say how she felt when she found out Francis Dolarhyde was dead. She was still in a hospital bed, recovering from the smoke inhalation from his attempt to kill her. An attempt she had since been told was not in earnest. She had not yet decided if his intent made any difference; how could she decide if it made any difference if he was alive or dead?
It was too much, too many different feelings to name. The first clarity she felt through this cloud of smoke came when she heard that Will Graham's wife was in the same hospital as her.
"Can I see her?" she asked, knowing full well the impossibility of her words.
The nurse balked. "I'm not sure that would be a good idea."
"I can walk. Doctor Saldez said it would be good for me to get out of bed more."
"Yes, but - "
"Are you going to show me the way, or leave me to wander into the wrong wing?"
There was a thoughtful pause, and then the nurse came forward to take her arm.
"I can get around this ward well enough," Reba said with a practiced balance of polite assertiveness. The nurse acquiesced by stepping away as Reba climbed out of bed and slid her feet into her slippers. She walked confidently out of her room, all the while aware of the eager nurse within arm's reach.
"Turn left here," the nurse instructed quietly.
Reba complied. They were soon beyond the halls she was familiar with, but she found herself more determined than usual not to need help. Everything about being here made her feel like a victim, but she wasn't willing to carry that with her to see the woman who Francis had tried to kill.
"Do you know her?"
"I met her husband once. He said he'd come see me again. I imagine he left her under a similar impression."
"It sounds like you have a lot in - I mean, to talk about."
Reba couldn't begrudge the near miss at a comparison. There wasn't much that could be said about the woman they were going to see that couldn't be said about herself. She wondered briefly who tattlecrime.com would focus more on.
"This is it."
Reba stopped. It had been a shorter walk than she expected. Nothing about this stretch of hallway sounded or smelled particularly unique, and yet she knew on the other side of the window was a woman who she had more in common with than anyone she was likely to meet the rest of her life.
"She's inside, filling out paperwork. Do you want to talk to her?"
Reba considered, and found her ability to parse decisions had not improved since leaving her bed. "Describe her to me."
"She's very focused. She, uh, has a kind face." Reba's companion seemed at a loss for any more descriptive words.
"What injuries does she have?"
"I can't say. HIPAA."
"I'm not asking for medical records, just what anyone else walking down this hall could see."
Reba was equally aware that she was making the nurse uncomfortable and that she was a hard person to say no to right now. As expected, her caretaker acquiesced. "Her arm's in a sling and she's favoring her left side, but that's doesn't seem to be slowing her down. Looks like she's well on her way to recovering."
Reba very much doubted that.