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Daniil Dankovsky, Bachelor of Medicine and a consummate professional, liked to think of himself as a rational sort of fellow. He might not go so far as to call himself superior to his fellow men – at least, not in so many words – but he did rather consider himself a cut above the rest, an accomplished enough man to deserve respect.
And yet, here he was.
Making… jewelry.
It wasn’t as though it had even been his fault, really; no one had told him that the little beaded bracelet was so important, or even that it was Murky’s, and anyway, he hadn’t meant to break it – the thread was so worn and frayed that it was a miracle it had lasted this long, in the first place. Daniil had simply been moving his microscope, but he had failed to ensure that the desk he was moving it to was properly cleared off, and he accidentally placed it atop the bracelet; the microscope slipped unexpectedly on the round beads, Daniil grabbed for it a bit too enthusiastically, and the bracelet flew across the room and suddenly beads were everywhere. So, yes, perhaps he could have been a bit more careful, but it was his desk! He had told the children not to leave anything there! And, yes, all right, they were children, and Daniil was aware that they were not especially used to the idea of doing as they were told, but it still wasn’t his fault. So there.
This did not seem to matter much to Murky. Artemy had come running at the noise and had barely had time to give Daniil a wide-eyed look of distress before Murky appeared at his heels, seen the beads everywhere, and begun to tremble, tears welling up in her eyes. Daniil had taken a half-step forward, and Murky fled back in the other direction before he could say a word.
Artemy looked after her, then back at Daniil, and sighed.
“Are you alright, oynon?”
Daniil realized he was wringing his hands, and grimaced. “Fine, thank you.” He coughed lightly. “Should you- that is, is she, er…. hm. I can… buy her a new one…?”
Artemy looked at the beads scattered across the floor, and his mouth twisted unhappily. “I don’t think so, oynon. She liked that one very much.” He sighed again, shoulders slumping. “Damn. I didn’t realize it was so frayed, or I would have re-threaded it.” He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly, and Dankovsky groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “Think she’ll let me apologize?”
“Right now? No, give her a few minutes to herself, and then I’ll see how she feels.” Artemy’s eyes fell on the microscope. “You were re-arranging things again?”
“I was.” Daniil pressed his lips together, then nodded to himself sharply and began to gather the beads from the floor. “Well. I’ll see what I can do with this.”
Artemy shot him a suspicious look. “What do you mean by that?”
Daniil raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to try to fix it. What else would I mean?”
Artemy blinked. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d-…. Well, never mind. Thank you.” He turned towards the door, then paused, then turned back once again, walked over to Dankovsky, and patted him on the shoulder firmly. “Good,” he said. “I’ll talk to her.”
Daniil flushed slightly. “What do you mean, ‘good,’ I’m not a dog- Artemy!” But Artemy was already walking away. Daniil huffed in annoyance and went back to the painstaking work of finding all of the beads on the ground.
An hour and a half later, he was sitting at his desk at last, a fresh length of thread and a bowl filled with little glass beads of various colors in front of him. He was good with his hands, he was fairly sure of that much – after all, he could perform surgery, make neat stitches, repair his clothes, all with ease and finesse. Repairing a bracelet, he reasoned, could not possibly be any more difficult than that; it was so easy, in fact, that local children (who had not a single bachelor’s degree in medicine between them!) could do it. He, Daniil Dankovsky, could certainly figure it out on his own.
That said, he had not engaged in this particular art before, and the design was proving… elusive. It was made with three lengths of string – or was it one, twisted around in three rows? And it had a pattern of green with yellow teardrops – or was it yellow with green teardrops? No matter how he tried, he couldn’t recall. He recalled how, as a boy, he had once come to the conclusion that, if he simply tried hard enough, he could change the way that he remembered things so as to have a photographic memory. In the end, he had succeeded in nothing but giving himself several very painful headaches, but he wished now he had kept at it – after all, it had never been proven that it was impossible to force oneself into having photographic memory. Daniil cursed under his breath as he dropped one of the beads, and he was underneath the table retrieving it when he heard Artemy’s voice behind him.
“Having trouble, there, oynon?”
Daniil yelped and banged his head against the underside of the table in his haste to straighten up. Chagrined, he slid out from under it and stood, rubbing his forehead. Artemy was looking at him with a suspiciously innocent look on his face.
Daniil frowned. “I’m doing just fine,” he said, not at all petulantly. “It’s only a bracelet.”
“Hm.” Artemy leaned over to examine Daniil’s desk. “You’re doing it backwards, I think.”
Daniil took a calming breath. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. “Backwards. Of course.”
Artemy picked up the bowl of beads and poked at its contents, then set it back down. “Yes. The yellow comes first, then the green. You’re doing very well, though. You don’t have any previous experience making jewelry, have you?” And now there was definitely a smile playing at his lips, and that was enough of that, thank you very much.
Daniil sniffed and shot him a look. “Yes, well, perhaps I simply have a talent for it. Are you here to help, or did you just stop in to bother me?”
At that, Artemy’s poker face fell away completely and he broke into a laugh. “Oh, do not take everything so seriously, Dankovsky. You will give yourself wrinkles with that glare of yours.”
Daniil put up a valiant effort not to glare harder at that. “Artemy…”
“Yes, yes, all right. I thought you might need some encouragement.” Artemy smiled broadly. “But it seems you did not need it, after all.” He patted Daniil on the shoulder. “I’m glad.”
“Hm. Naturally.” Then Daniil pursed his lips and let his shoulders drop a little. “She’s, er, not too upset? I didn’t mean for it to break, you know.”
“She is upset, but she will be fine.” Artemy’s smile softened as his gaze fell on the half-finished bracelet on the table. “She will appreciate this very much, Daniil.”
Daniil nodded several times. “…Yes. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Well. I ought to get back to work, then.”
Artemy patted him once more on the shoulder, and stepped away. “Of course, oynon. Murky will probably still be in her room when you are finished.”
Artemy was halfway out the door when Daniil called out to him again.
“Er, Artemy?”
Artemy raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“The pattern- the pattern of the beads. You said it was yellow before green, yes?”
Artemy was smiling again, for some reason. “Yes, Danya, that’s right.”
“Right.” Daniil nodded sharply and got back to work.
It took another hour, but the bracelet was finished at last. Daniil held it up for scrutiny, eyeing it critically. It certainly seemed right. Then again, he hadn’t paid very close attention to what it had looked like before. He heaved a sigh. This was, it seemed, the closest he was going to get to the original, so hopefully it would be good enough. It was on better thread, now, and he had great confidence in his knots, so at least this one wouldn’t break so easily. Stowing the bracelet carefully in his pocket, Daniil made his way to Murky’s room.
The door to Murky’s room was painted a cheerful goldenrod yellow, with a paper sign on it that said, ‘Murky’s Room! No Entry! Authorized Personnel Only!’ in uneven letters that started out large but got progressively smaller until they were just barely crammed onto the page. Daniil steeled himself, took a deep breath, and knocked.
“Murky?” he called. “It’s me. May I come in?”
There was a very long silence. Then, in a muffled voice: “Fine.”
Daniil pushed the door open gently and glanced around. It took him a few moments to locate Murky, wrapped in a heavy woolen blanket like a cocoon, her face just barely peeking out of the top. She was glaring at him. Daniil made his way over to her and sat in front of her.
“What do you want?” she said into the blanket. She had obviously been crying; there were tear tracks going down her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy. Daniil felt guilt bite at his stomach.
“Hey there, Murky,” he said, trying to keep his voice gentle. “I’m sorry about your bracelet.”
Murky sniffed loudly, and Daniil very pointedly did not think about how the blanket could probably do with a wash. “Whatever,” she muttered. “Stupid bachelor. Bet you’ll tell me it was my fault for leaving it there. Stupid.”
Daniil cringed inwardly. “Murky, no, I- well, I would prefer you didn’t leave your things in my study, but-” Murky’s eyes widened and began to fill with tears, and Daniil hastily cut himself off. “-But it wasn’t your fault! It was…” He exhaled through his nose. White lies were fine, he reminded himself, if they made the children feel better. “It was my fault, Murky. It’s all right.”
Murky’s eyes widened even further, but she didn’t look like she was about to cry, anymore. There was no putting it off anymore, he supposed; Daniil reached into his pocket and pulled out the bracelet.
“Now, I know it’s not perfect, but-”
Murky gasped audibly and threw off the blanket, all but snatching the bracelet out of his hand and staring at it in wonder.
“How’d you do that?” she demanded. “It was all broken, I saw it! The beads were everywhere! It was broken, I know it was!”
Daniil felt relief flood through him, and he let out a faint chuckle. “Yes, it was. But I fixed it. Is it all right, now?”
Murky bounced lightly up and down on the balls of her feet. “It’s perfect, it’s perfect!” She beamed and held out her hand to him. “Tie it on for me?”
Daniil felt warmth bubble up inside him, and couldn’t help but smile a little. “Sure, pumpkin.” Murky just about gleamed with happiness, tears forgotten.
“I’m showing Sticky!” she declared as soon as it was tied on, and scuttled off to find her brother. Daniil watched her go, rubbing lightly at his chest. Then, Artemy peeked around the corner, and Daniil jumped. How on earth did such a large man sneak up on him so easily?
Artemy had something that might have been a genuine smile and might have been a smirk on his face. “Looks like Bachelor has a heart, after all,” he said in a stage whisper.
Daniil rolled his eyes. “Unproven. A theory, at best.”
Artemy folded his arms and leaned against the doorway, and it was definitely a smirk, now. “A solid one. No evidence to the contrary.”
Daniil felt himself flushing, and looked away. “You’re absurd.”
Artemy just laughed, and after a moment, Dankovsky, consummate professional though he was, allowed himself to laugh with him.