Chapter Text
The corridors of Port Victory Hospital were never fully quiet, but that morning they felt particularly dreary. Every cart wheel was rattling a bit too loudly, each patient calling out at precisely the wrong moment. The windows were cracked open slightly, letting just enough sunlight and fresh air in to attempt comfort towards the patients.
Jack Dawkins moved through it all with a practiced pace, his coat swinging, gloves put into his pocket and a stack of medical papers tucked underneath his arm. His expression bright with the promise of intrigue in a difficult case.
He thrived on challenges.
Beside him, matching his stride—usually—was Lady Belle Fox.
Usually.
Today, she was half a pace behind.
Not enough for anyone to notice. But Jack noticed everything about her.
“Try to look alive, M’Lady,” Jack drawled lightly as they entered the surgical wing. “The patients are already incompetent enough not believing in a female surgeon. You don’t want to feed into their suspicions, especially not before breakfast.”
“Although I do not enjoy their misogyny, I would not subject them to an irritable mood, which I am not in,” Belle replied crisply. “I do not despise them, I merely object to the notion that women can’t be prominent in healthcare.”
“You object to breathing too loudly.”
“I object to you breathing too loudly.”
He grinned. There she was. Sharp as ever, the bright, fascinating, beautiful Lady Belle. The woman he was so utterly in love with.
Except—her voice was tighter than usual.
Controlled.
He watched her closely as they scrubbed in. She leaned her weight against the basin for a moment too long. Her shoulders were stiff, as though she were bracing against something unseen.
“You’re quiet,” he observed.
“I am not.”
“You are. You’ve insulted me merely once this morning.”
This was the fact he was most concerned about. He loved their quick banter and playful remarks. Her silence was slowly drilling a hole through his heart.
“I’m conserving energy.”
“For what? A duel?”
“For enduring you.”
He laughed, but his eyes stayed on her face. There was a sheen of sweat along her hairline that had nothing to do with the heat. If something was bothering her, why didn’t she just tell him? No matter how small the thing hurting her was, he would fix it.
Hetty rushed past them with a tray of instruments. Presumably heading towards the theatre where Sneed was performing a surgery. She almost ran into them in her haste, mumbling a quick apology while keeping up her pace. Belle stepped aside and swayed slightly.
Just slightly.
Still, Jack noticed. His hand shot out automatically, gripping her elbow.
She straightened at once. “Unhand me.”
“You nearly toppled. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I was simply adjusting my footing.”
“You adjusted gravity.”
She fixed him with a glare that could sterilize surgical equipment. “Do not try to dramatize.”
They entered the theatre.
The case was straightforward, an abdominal abscess requiring drainage, but Jack was eager to tack over for Dr. Sneed. Ever since Belle had introduced ether and carbolic acid into their hospital, Jack yearned for more practice on all sorts of surgeries.
Sneed accepted the relief and headed back out to tend to his other patients with Nurse Baggett.
That left Jack alone with Belle.
“Would you like to cut first?” Jack says to her while handing over the scalpel.
At first she was keeping a steady rhythm, dictating every step, as she usually did. Explaining in simplified terms from her medical journal what needs to be done.
But halfway through, she went quiet.
Too quiet.
Jack glanced up.
Her jaw was tight. Her free hand pressed subtly against her side before she quickly moved it away.
“Belle,” he murmured under his breath, low enough to assure none of the spectators could hear. “Switch with me.”
“I’m fine.”
“That was not a suggestion.”
She met his gaze defiantly, then another flicker crossed her features. Pain. Sharp and sudden. He didn’t push farther. Instead, he accelerated the procedure, finishing the surgery cleanly and efficiently.
After everyone had left, Jack pulled off his gloves and muttered a quick “thanks,” to Hetty who had come to collect the patient. Only then did he turn fully towards Belle.
“You’re pale.”
“Not more than usual.”
“You are. You look nearly as pale as the patient in ward B.”
“I assure you I am fine.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“You nearly fainted!”
“I did not.”
“You leaned.”
“I repositioned.”
“You winced.”
“I blinked.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
There was a beat of silence.
“Have you eaten?” he tried again.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Food.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re impossible.”
“And you are meddlesome.”
She moved to gather the surgical notes, but the movement cost her. He saw it, the tiny hitch in her breath, the way her fingers tightened briefly around the papers. He reached for her wrist, checking her pulse before she could stop him.
“Jack—”
“Hold still.”
Her pulse was quick. Too quick. “Perhaps,” he said carefully, watching her expression, “you should rest today.”
“But I have patients to tend to.”
“I will take over, they can survive without you.”
“But the hospital will devolve into chaos.”
“Well, we somehow managed before you got here, plus you introduced new methods to us so even without you here, it’s an improvement from before you joined us.”
She almost smiled at that, but her composure faltered again. A subtle tightening around her eyes. A shallow inhale.
He felt unease coil low in his stomach. Was she alright? Why wasn’t she telling him what was going on? He was probably more worried about her than she was about herself. It wasn’t dramatic panic though, not yet. Just the instinct he had learned the hard way, knowing when something small wasn’t right.
“You’ve been uncomfortable all morning,” he said more quietly now, cupping her face in his hands, worry seeping into his voice. “And before you deny it, I’ve been observing you all day. You’re not as subtle as you would like to think. At least not to me.”
“I am exceptionally subtle.”
“You are many things. Subtle is not one of them.”
She looked away first, pulling her face out of his reach.
“It is… a private matter,” she said finally.
He raised a brow. “Private how? You know your every action is important to me, no matter how big or small your thoughts are, I care. You are the only person who could say anything and I would be fascinated. The only person who clouds my thoughts the whole day. Making me unable to think of anything else. So believe me, Belle, when I tell you whatever is going on, I care and I am worried for you.”
She shot him a warning glance.
He studied her carefully, but dropped the subject. Instead of finding out what was wrong, because God knew she was too stubborn for that, he decided to focus on sending her home to get some rest.
“Please let me bring you home Belle, and then you’ll tell me if it becomes worse.”
“It won’t.”
“That was not reassuring.”
She squared her shoulders. “Thank you for the offer, but I am perfectly capable of managing myself.”
“I’m aware,” he replied. “That does not mean you should.”
For a moment, something softened in her expression. Then another wave of pain seemed to pass through her. It was brief, but it drained the colour from her cheeks.
“I will finish my notes,” she said tightly. “And then I shall go home.”
“Will you truly go rest?”
“Yes.”
She said it without arguing further.
That fact frightened him more than anything.