Elixa hummed to herself quietly as she made a note on the parchment. However much there was a contamination crisis going on, there were still as many of their usual patients as ever, eating things that weren't edible, brewing dodgy potions and all. It was made all the harder by the paranoia that another ingredient for their standard potions might be tainted, so Lix had to quickly test the validity of each before using it. It slowed the process down somewhat, and time they did not have.

It was late afternoon, and the door pushed open to the little potions laboratory. She looked up over the top of the vapours from the cauldron to spot Ambrose Darrion. He was meant to frequent the ground floor with artefact injuries but had been seconded to the third floor as another set of hands and youthful legs.

"Hey," Lix greeted, having introduced herself in a hurry yesterday when he'd joined them. "How are you holding up?"

The question was a little unusual perhaps, but the walls had ears in this place, and sometimes mouths.
"I heard what happened, well, the gist. I swear I saw you check with Gawmdry just before it happened." She shook her head.

Check this. Bring this. Go here. Find that. Ambrose's job instructions hadn't changed, but for the past few hours, he'd switched into a drone-like state of obedience. Quiet, polite, out of the way. Though it sounded ideal, it somehow drew more attention to himself than his usual boisterous demeanor. At some irrelevant time just past four o'clock, Healer-in-Training Darrion was on a bring this task as he pushed open one of the lab doors. A sudden friendly greeting forced him to focus.

"Hey, Elixa." He remembered. He’d forgotten her last name, but he remembered Elixa. It sounded like elixir, Ambrose had thought at the time, which was appropriate, as she was one of the true in-trainings for this floor... Their first meeting felt like so long ago, now. His excitement for being in a new place, doing new things, had been drained by the circumstances. Regardless, he offered her a smile.

"Uh, it's been..." He gave a wry laugh, attempting to seem cheerful, though his composure fell somewhat when he couldn't find any words to follow suit. Instead, he gave a folder a small wave. "Results from next door," he said quietly as he placed the folder on her workbench, "and some more things to test," he put a few ingredient vials on top of the folder. He wished he could just keep his eyes down and listen to Healer Elixa talk, but, alas, that was not how conversations worked. I heard what happened was one of the world's vaguest statements, but Ambrose understood.

"Earlier today?" he feigned realization as he looked up to meet her eyes, but there was no question of what she meant. There was no need for him to recall what had happened, as the events had never left his mind.

"Yeah, I did ask him, and he was sure it was fine." Ambrose crossed his arms, but it seemed too defensive, so instead he put his hands in the pockets of his trainee robes. It didn't feel right. Nothing did. He wasn't sure what to do with himself, he'd been shifty ever since Jacoba's death.

"I don't know, though. It was weird. No bleeding, no throwing up, no laughter, no delusions," all incredibly common symptoms to the poisoned. He could have gone on, but he wasn't sure if Elixa was interested. She seemed friendly, but it wasn't his place to complain. Or to keep her from her work, for that matter. He looked away from her with a shrug. "I don't know." He looked down at the various things sprawled across the desk.

"What did you hear?" He recognized a lot of these ingrediants. "Just curious. I'm not sure if I should be fearing for the worst." Ambrose glanced up at her, attempting a smile to lessen the implications of his statement. He wasn't sure how well he did, but could he be blamed for his uncertainty? On top of what had happened today, the threat of termination had crept into his mind, and he was finding it unfortunately unshakable.

"Thanks," She uttered automatically over the deliveries, but didn't reach for either of them, more concerned with Ambrose's deflated appearance.

"Earlier today?" Darrion asked. Elixa gave a little mhm of confirmation.

"I don't know, though. It was weird. No bleeding, no throwing up, no laughter, no delusions…" Elixa frowned as she listened. He looked away from her with a shrug, he wasn't keen to talk about it and she didn't blame him. "I don't know. What did you hear?" He asked, lingering, which indicated although he was reluctant, he did agree that talking it over with someone sympathetic might help. "Just curious. I'm not sure if I should be fearing for the worst."

"I didn't hear your name for dismissal if that's what you're worrying over." Lix explained promptly and gave him a reassuring smile. "I just heard that Deville had more than a moment, and you got the brunt of it. She's - we're all a bit fraught, not that I am defending her, she shouldn't have done that to you right in front of the family." She shook her head, "But we're all human." As she spoke she made her way towards him and reached out to give his shoulder a squeeze.

"You feel you're to blame for giving her the potion, right?" Lix asked, showing proper concern. "Even though it's Yawndry - sorry Phil's fault for giving you the order?"

Ambrose gave a weak smile at her touch. At the very least, he was glad that Elixa hadn’t heard rumors of ’Darrien’s maniac killing spree,’ or, ’Darrien fails to follow simple instructions,’ or something. Deville had acted as if he’d killed the patient himself; as selfish as it was, he did feel some relief in knowing that the rumors were apparently about her, not him.

“No, I understand, we’re all stressed. I’m sure she didn’t mean to be so harsh. Or, she didn’t realize she was being harsh, or… something like that. I get it.”

He considered her question with a squint at the contents of the cauldron. Her summary was accurate: Jacoba had died because of something he did, but he gave her the potion on someone else’s words. It was a simple enough situation, yet, the thought of shifting the blame only gave Ambrose a cold feeling in his stomach. Ambrose had given her the treatment, Gawmdry had approved it, the apothecary had made it, a few others had witnessed it, and Deville hadn’t enforced her supposed orders… didn’t they all shoulder the blame? It felt wrong to try and wash the blood from his hands onto someone else; Ambrose ignored the fact that Deville had done exactly that.

“I don’t know,” he toyed with his watch. On one hand, Ambrose knew that following Gawmdry’s orders didn’t make him responsible. After all, Ambrose was paid to follow the orders of his seniors. On the other hand, he didn’t want to feel as if he were following Deville’s footsteps by shrugging off his role in the death. Ambrose lifted his eyes back to Elixa as his brain finally clocked in, finding suitable words:

“Maybe everybody—or nobody, I guess, depending on how you think--should be blamed for what happened. Like you said, we’re all human. It seemed like a miscommunication.” He shifted his weight, an apologetic smile playing across his face. While he appreciated her understanding, he couldn’t ignore the guilt of trying to point fingers. Of all the people involved in the situation, Ambrose could have gotten away with it, but the back of his mind begged him not to do it. For whatever a man sows, that shall he also reap.

Besides… though Ambrose wouldn’t admit it, Gawmdry wouldn’t have been his scapegoat, anyway. You’d think a hospital-wide potions ban would have mandated a sign, or a door lock, or something.

“It’s just… I don’t know. I guess I can’t stop thinking about her and her brother, the poor kid. They seemed close. I wish I could have done more for him, or more for her, or both.” He scuffed his foot on the ground a bit, tracing his eyes along the tile. He lifted his head as a thought occurred to him.

“I wish I could have told him it wasn’t my fault," he said, raising his brows with a tweak of a shrug, "Deville didn't exactly share the blame, but I couldn’t defend myself, you know? His sister died as this exchange was happening, so it wasn’t like I could do anything about it.” Ambrose crossed his arms, trying to remember where he was going with this.

“So… I guess, I know it’s not really my fault, but I can’t help but feel kind of bitter about it all. It’s selfish—“ he suddenly gave a stiff laugh “—Sorry for dumping this all on you, by the way, you seem busy. I don't know if that even answered your question," he said, attempting to lighten his tone.

She probably had enough to do without some trainee talking her ear off about his seemingly minor problems. Still, it was kind of her to be attentive, and Ambrose smiled at Elixa, despite it all. She seemed nice; gentle and understanding. It was a shame this was their first real meeting. This wasn't what Ambrose considered to be a good first impression.

Elixa fell silent to listen to Ambrose's thoughts on the matter. He was younger than her by over a decade, a completely different background. It was doubtful that in this situation anyone had the time to consider how he was and how it had been earlier that afternoon. Undoubtedly Jacoba Schlagenweit was not the only patient Ambrose had seen pass. Elixa had wiped clean the boards above several beds since Saturday evening while their former occupants were taken away to lower floors.

"I wish I could have told him it wasn't my fault." Darrion confessed and Lix pursed her lips and gave a little nod of understanding.
"Sorry for dumping this all on you by the way-."

"No, not at all," Lix replied softly beneath his words, looking up and extending a hand towards him. "I asked you. It's hard enough to deal with a loss of a patient in your care without the rest of this going on, and the Head of the Floor having a moment with less than usual discretion. I figured no-one had taken the time to check you were alright, what with us all running around. But we really should - check each other, I mean." She gave him a supportive smile and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at him.

"How are you holding up otherwise? How's working on our crazy floor instead of downstairs?" She asked, returning to her cauldron to peer into it and give a tentative sniff before stirring thrice anticlockwise and knocking off the heat with a flick of her wand. "Do you think we might persuade you to move up, or can you not wait to get back to cauldron explosions and broom accidents?" Her wand tip vanished into the cauldron a moment and then a graceful stream of potion shot from the cauldron into the bottle clasped in her left hand.

Ambrose gave a soft smile to her concern, genuine and appreciative. She was more or less right. There was plenty of running around being done, and still plenty left to do. Ambrose had done a lot of that, himself, as the fatigue in his legs told him.

“Well,” he looked to the brown-eyed witch. As for this floor, Ambrose huffed a bit as a laugh.

“It’s certainly different,” making no effort to conceal a sort of awe, Ambrose watched her nimble potionwork. She hadn’t even double-checked the instructions… was she even referencing instructions?

“Really. This,” he gave a gesture to the entire potions room, with its various canisters and books, “isn’t my element, and that,” he motioned to the bottle in her hand, giving a small grin, despite himself, “was always my Potions class partner’s job.”

Ah, the days of Potion’s class. The Great Darrion Potionmaker was always lucky enough to get a more hands-on partner. Ambrose was often demoted to instruction-reader, and he was happy for it. If there was one truly valuable skill he had gained in school, it was the ability to follow instructions. It could only get him so far, here in the real world, but who could honestly complain about a man who did what he was told?

“It’s all a bit too technical for me,” he admitted, “I’m a wand magic sort of person. Less technical—or, I guess it’s just a different sort of technical.” His eyes moved from Elixa’s work, now back to the woman herself.

“I’m holding up about as well as any of us, I think…” she didn’t seem as battered as some others (especially other trainees, the softer of whom had lost their composure many hours ago. He wouldn’t admit to Elixa, but Ambrose himself was guilty of it, too, off-and-on.) Even so, she was right. They did need to look out for one another.

“How about you? Are you doing okay?” He watched her for any sign that she didn’t want to discuss this. “Everything’s been so hectic, I’ve seen it really get to some people. I wish I knew how to help them. I’ve tried, but…” his smile tightened, “it’s hard. I’m not even sure what’s helpful and what’s not, anymore. Is there anything I can do for you?”

"Ha!" Lix replied in amusement. "You're going to tell me someone else sat your potions NEWT now." She grinned at Ambrose, meaning it as a joke. Of course he had a NEWT in it to work at St Mungo's.

"How about you? … Is there anything I can do for you?" He was very sweet, Ambrose Darrion. Very helpful and hardworking. She would be a little sorry to see him retreat back down to artefacts once the crisis was over. By that she didn't mean she wanted the crisis to be prolonged, just that Ambrose's stay might be…

"Busy, but tell a healer something new." She shrugged and lifted the bottle to examine the contents from beneath for signs of unwanted sediment. "I'm fine, nothing we can't all weather. Family who have been in will be alright thank Merlin. Lucky." Happy with the potion she stoppered it and reached it to Ambrose.

"Here, know how to bathe boils?" Lix asked. There were other patients still on the floor who weren't there because of the contaminated potions but there for other reasons, and they still needed treating and shipping out home as quickly as possible to make space. She studied his face, wondering how his confidence was doing.

"Heh, come on, I'll show you a bit and you can do the rest. Mr Hardcastle will entertain you with his stories of Australia as you do it." With a grin, Lix came past Ambrose and slipped an arm around his shoulders in a friendly manner, guiding him towards the door. "He tells the most fascinating stories about the size of spiders…"



End