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Jack is both pleased and disappointed at how quickly the hours turn into days during his and Belle’s time spent working together.
Not currently together, he should clarify. She’s down the hall in the laboratory she’s had set up in the hospital for her to perform research and experiment when she’s not working with Jack downstairs on the ward and in the theatre. They’ve both been so busy this week that by Friday, Jack’s only had time for a rushed crumpet standing next to her in the back hallway and an all too brief press of his lips against hers before they’re off.
He wouldn’t have it any other way, however, he muses, though it's now getting on suppertime and he’s not seen Belle. He’s in an empty exam room tidying up and sorting through some dusty bottles of the Prof’s ancient homemade “remedies” i.e. preparing them for incineration now that he’s seen his last patient for the day.
He looks up at the sound of steps in the hallway, and a moment later, there is a hasty knock at the door.
“Enter,” Jack calls, wrinkling his brow at the mysterious brown bottle in his hands.
“Oh thank god you’re alone,” Belle sweeps into the room, a puff of air escaping her cheeks. She quickly shuts the door behind her and leans her back against it, as though to keep anyone else from following her inside. Jack raises an eyebrow, straightening up from crouching in front of a supply cabinet.
“And where have you been? I was just about to come looking for you. It’s almost time for supper, you know,” he says.
“There’s no time for that Jack,” she says, waving him away. “I have a situation I need your help with. But it’s ah, oh god. I’m being so stupid,” she pauses, one hand resting on her waist, looking upset.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Belle, you are the furthest thing from stupid I’ve ever met,” Jack says, setting the Prof’s remedy aside and going to her. “You’ve met Fagin, right?” he jokes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Belle snorts in amusement, but it's short lived.
“Right,” Belle continues, mirroring his crossed arms. “But I’m afraid what I’ve done is actually rather stupid and I’m now hoping you won’t laugh at what I now must ask you to do.”
“I won’t, I swear to it. Now, what have you done?” Belle exhales, seeming to have to collect herself before she goes on.
“You know how I’ve taken an interest in women’s health, and to that end, I’ve gotten to know the area’s midwives.”
“Yes,” Jack says, a little confused about where this is going.
“Well, a few days ago we got on the subject of hygiene products. I was fascinated to hear some descriptions of items used to, well, staunch the flow. So I thought I’d try one for myself. But I had to wait, you see, until my own menstrual cycle came around.” Belle’s gesturing with her hands. “But now, well, I cannot get the sponge out. I’ve been trying for the last quarter hour but the human arm is not designed to bend any old way, you know,” she finishes, crossing her arms in frustration.
Jack most certainly does not laugh. He doesn’t even let a chuckle escape his lips. Belle looks so uncharacteristically flustered standing next to him at the exam table.
“Come here,” Jack says, holding his arms out and pulling her to him. She’s warm and smells faintly of chemicals from her laboratory, like always.
“It’s nothing I haven’t taken care of before,” he says, cupping her cheek. He means Belle in general but also this wouldn't be the first time he's attended a patient who inserted something rather makeshift into the vagina in order to go about their business as usual every month. She’s stiff in his embrace a moment before she melts slightly, and wraps her arms around his waist, hugging him back.
“I’ll lock the door,” he says, kissing her hair before pulling away to do just that.
“Help me with my skirt?” Belle asks, beginning to loosen the ties of her dress. Jack helps her out of one layer, then two before washing his hands in the room’s basin. He opens a cabinet nearby, selecting a bottle of Castor seed oil. He turns, and Belle’s got her legs in the tables’ footrests already, a rather sheepish expression on her face.
He knows Belle, though. And he knows she’s also nervous judging by her fingers, which are tracing the shape of one of her corsets’ ribbons unceasingly. That, and she also can’t quite meet his gaze. Jack sets the bottle of oil down on an instrument tray in favor of taking Belle’s hand in his own, the one that’s not so fidgety.
“Look at me,” he says, getting her attention. “What do you say we call it a night. When we’re finished here, I mean. We can go for a drink at the Bagpipes, whatever you like.” He smiles, remembering briefly the last time they went, and Belle got quite tipsy with him. With effort, Belle meets his gaze and gives him a small smile, no doubt remembering the same thing he is. She nods. It has been a long week for them both.
“I’d like that, Jack. But first,”
“We have business to attend to,” Jack finishes, squeezing her hand before moving away.
Jack takes a seat on the low stool at the end of the table, unstoppering the bottle of oil and applying a liberal amount to his fore and index fingers. He’s concerned Belle will have a heightened sensitivity to a digital examination, even with the presence of menstrual blood as lubrication.
“Why don't you lean back against the table for me,” he says, looking up from between Belle’s spread legs. She nods once, laying back.
Belle pulls up her shift baring herself to him. Rather than enjoying the sight as he usually would he focuses on the task.
“Now you'll feel my fingers at the vaginal opening. Let me know if anything I do is too painful or you wish to stop,” Jack says, watching Belle swallow with effort, but her hands have moved to lay still across her stomach, and he takes that as a positive sign that she’s ready.
Jack’s fingers slip inside her, and Belle tenses up immediately.
“Try to relax, Jack says, remaining still. “The more relaxed the muscles in your pelvis are, the less discomfort you’ll feel.”
“I’m trying Jack. It’s not the easiest,” Belle replies, her voice strained.
“I know, you’re doing great Belle,” he says, his fingers slipping further in. There’s what certainly feels like a long few moments where Jack can’t feel the offending piece of sponge, until–
“I’ve got hold of it now,” he says, carefully withdrawing both his fingers and the blood-soaked sponge from within. He can’t help but grin upon hearing Belle’s relieved exhale. A gush of menstrual blood accompanies the sponge’s removal, but Jack’s laid out some cloths along with the oil in preparation. Gently, he cleans Belle up.
“How does that feel? All better now?” he asks, looking up at her as he wipes. Belle’s got one wrist pressed to her forehead, and Jack doesn’t miss the blush in her cheeks. She nods her head fervently, her eyes closing in relief.
“You were very gentle, Jack.” she says, “I cannot tell you how much I love that about you.” In reply, Jack presses his lips to the bare skin of Belle’s knee and feels grateful for this moment together, as frankly weird as the circumstances are. He’s always grateful though, he reflects, his hands busy sorting through the cloths on the instrument tray, he’s always happy to be in Belle’s presence. They could be shouting in each other’s faces, in fact have done so, but he’s still happy to be there.
“Belle, have you got a spare napkin with you?” he asks.
“No, no I–” Belle starts to get up, but Jack halts her with a hand on the kneecap he just kissed.
“No matter, I’ll fetch one from the supply room next door.”
“Thank you, Jack,” Belle treats him to a proper smile as he leaves the room.
Hours later, he and Belle are tucked up in bed, she with a hot water bladder pressed against her lower back, he with his arms wrapped around the rest of her. Belle is mostly asleep, but she’d fallen into bed already discussing the results of today’s experiments and what she plans to try next, wanting Jack’s input.
Jack begins to doze, thinking about tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Pretty much perfect, he thinks.