Death Comes to the Bishop Family

He was supposed to be okay. The last time they had rushed over, things were looking up and there was little worry about the Bishop patriarch actually falling as ill as originally expected. But now, they knew it was little more than a misunderstanding. He had gotten worse, and somehow, a note from Agnes was all it took to draw Avery from work without so much as a note for anyone who might come looking for her. She was glad to have been informed, but equally irritated that all his daughters would be given was an hour or two. How long had Agnes known?

Avery wouldn't ever admit it, but she was dreadfully jealous of the woman. Her father adored Agnes, but for upwards of ten years, he had essentially ignored the elder of his two girls. Avery couldn't say the same about Claire, because she honestly didn't know what the situation was when it came to her sister. Yes, the issue with Avery was almost wholly her fault. But she had been out of Durmstrang and in the public eye for years, and it wasn't as though her parents couldn't have found her if they tried to.

It wasn't until she barged into the hospital that she felt a moment of doubt. Did her family actually want her there? Or did Agnes just think they would? For a breath, she was rather grateful for Agnes, but it passed when it registered how little her parents actually knew about her. Agnes knew even less, yet she wanted to bring the eldest Bishop daughter into the fold once more. How incredibly ironic.

She caught sight of her mother and rushed over, deciding there was no point in wasting time over all of that now. "Mom," she greeted gently, anxiety marring her features. This felt too familiar for Avery's tastes, so she decided to lead the way this time. "Come on. We shouldn't waste time."

She had been in the field when her mobile rang, which was fortunate because it wouldn't have picked up in the magically dense Ministry of Magic. Otherwise, Claire shuddered to think how long it would have taken Agnes to find an owl. Her father had never liked them, so they didn't have any. The little time they had would be shortened even more. She was able to bring Lenora, Elsie's owl, along with her, having stopped at home for .4 seconds to grab the owl and her bag, before she arrived at St. Mungo's, a place that was becoming more and more horrific to her.

Agnes tried to hurry, but her arthritis slowed her down, so the note to Avery went out slowly, while Claire utilized a hospital owl to contact her mother - Agnes thought Else might not appreciate getting such news from the new woman, and had suggested the it might come easier from the estranged daughter instead.

Nothing about this situation was easy.

Claire sat in her chair in her father's room, Agnes glancing up when Elsie popped he head in. "Claire - I think they're here."

Claire nodded and her soul sister hurried off to intercept the other Bishops. The Nortons had received Claire's text and had been at Mungo's within minutes, swearing they would wait in the visitor waiting room and remain nearby should the family need anything. Elsie had found a cardigan for Claire, as the hospital was a bit chilly. Elsie claimed that the cardigan had happened to be in her bag, but Claire had the suspicion that Elsie had stolen it from somewhere and transfigured it to look like one of her own.

Elsie found the Bishop women and hurried over, her face crumpled into shared grief and concern. "They're in the third room on the right." Ben Norton approached, having seen them step in, and they two siblings watched them go down the hall together, hearts aching for the Bishop family.

Claire was staring at her father, who was breathing slowly, her hands clasped in front of her, forearms resting on her knees. She heard Agnes rise and turn as the other half of the broken Bishop family arrived.

Agnes' chin wobbled as she smiled. She approached, going in for the gentle hugs. "I'm so sorry. He just... turned. I sent for you as soon as they told me his time was... well."

Claire looked at her father's face, slightly wrinkled but not nearly as wrinkled as it should be. She stood slowly, taking in a deep breath and turning.

Her eyes fell on Avery. Avery, who no longer had a pregnancy belly but still had Robin. Avery who had a family and a life. Avery, who she had once looked up to before she won the race in becoming a distant grown up first.

But none of that mattered right now.

She approached slowly, and awkwardly reached out for a hug, not certain how this worked.

Avery frowned openly at Elsie and Ben when they approached, feeling quite affronted by the fact that they had once again arrived before her when it was her own father who was in trouble. But there was no time for that, she mused. If they were here, then Claire was, too. When they walked in, Avery attempted to give decent hugs in return, but she sort of hated how her last moments with her father were going to be spent. She regretted not seeing more of him, but she could still feel how stiff she was when Claire approached.

When her sister pulled back, Avery was finally able to look at her dad and take in the moment. He didn't seem to be particularly alert, but she hadn't really expected much. A glance was sent around at the others before she stepped around to one side of the bed and sank into the extra chair. Her hands twitched, wanting to reach for his. But she didn't know if she was really allowed to, so she kept them in her lap instead.

Looking to Agnes, she wanted to ask what had happened, but Avery had a feeling she would be hearing a lot of that once he had passed. At that point, it would be all they had to talk about. Particularly with people who had not been there. Her lips rolled together and she realized how much she wished Robin was there with her. Claire had Elsie and Ben for whatever reason, so Avery didn't feel so bad about wanting to bring in someone who would make her sister feel uncomfortable. Wasn't it fair to think that way? No one here would be too worried about whether or not she was alright. Not when they had other people to think about.

Avery knew full well that it made her seem selfish to assume as much, but it didn't matter that she had been away for so long. It still hurt, and she still registered the hole that would be left once again. This wasn't right, and it wasn't what she wanted. But none of this was up to her, and that made it even worse, somehow.

It registered belatedly that she hadn't spoken a word to anyone besides Else, who had shown up at Avery's shoulder. "Um," she attempted, glancing at the two other women and trying to pretend like there wasn't a massive divide between them. Her mouth opened again, but she faltered, shaking her head.

It didn't feel right, at all. The hug was awkward, uncomfortable, and there was somehow space between the two of them. Which seemed apt, for no matter what gesture either of them made, there always seemed to be some sort of distance between them. It had always been that way. Sometimes, Claire worried that there was a deficit of love in her family. Obviously, there had been some love lacking between her parents, or they would still be married. There was love lacking between the sisters, because they hadn’t really spoken like sisters in years. And there was even love lacking between parents and children.

But her father very clearly loved Agnes, and was loved back. And, Avery had a child with Robin – even if Claire didn’t know the full story there, she had a feeling Avery couldn’t have gone that far without developing some love somewhere. Claire didn’t know about Else, and her love or lack thereof. But Claire knew she could love. Robin had taught her that, and she relearned that every day with her best friend. So they all knew how to love… they just couldn’t love each other, apparently.

Maybe it wasn’t a lack of love they all suffered from then. Maybe they hadn’t learned how to put in the effort. And now, with time and practice, they knew how to do it.

So was it too late for them?

The hug was done and they pulled apart. Claire turned to her mother who gave her an awkward smile and then hug just as awkward as the one she had shared with her sister.

Silence fell among them all, and Claire glanced around. Part of her wanted Elsie in the room, but the other part of her was very glad that the Nortons had the sense to stay out in the waiting room. Elsie knew Mathias fairly well, having tried to keep up the communication in the Bishop family for Claire’s sake, but she knew better than to impede on the family moment. Except, Claire did not feel surrounded by family. She felt surrounded by strangers who had always been forced to be around each other.

And yet, wasn’t that what family really was? Just people who, by chance, had no choice but to be somewhat invested in each other, forced to share bits of their lives in an intimate fashion? She had shared holidays, frantic breakfasts, and ordinary days with the people in this room (Agnes excluded) and that had to count for something.

With a slow breath, Claire walked back to her chair and sank into it, running a hand through her hair as she leaned back, trying to look okay with this whole thing.

The healer stepped in. “Oh, hello. Family’s here it seems.”

Claire nodded a bit, but did not turn around. She had heard the speech. She really didn’t care to hear it again.

“Straight to the point, yet? It started off as pancreatic cancer. It seems Mathias knew about it for the past year, but hadn’t told anyone.” Agnes closed her eyes, flinching. Hearing it a second time didn’t make it hurt any less. “In the past few months, he’s developed growths in his liver and now his colon. He’s in no pain right now, but his weakened state made any sort of infection or stress on the body incredibly dangerous. He’s fading. It could be a week at the most, but it could be within the day.” He paused, taking in the female faces around him. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do but keep it out of pain. If you need anything, please let me know. I’ll give you your privacy.”

He stepped out. Claire stared at her father, his chest rising and falling in a steady, deep rhythm. He looked fine. He was just fine.

No. No, he was not.

Why wasn't she crying while the healer explained what was happening? Wasn't she supposed to? That's how this sort of thing went. Especially in movies. She hadn't really had this part with Aiden, but she had been absurdly torn up over that. He had been her father figure for a good six or seven years, and there was no denying the fact that Mathias had not been. He hadn't tried, either. None of them had. Maybe, Avery mused, he had found Agnes and been so happy with her that he hadn't even thought about getting in touch with the older of his daughters.

Why was she even here?

After the healer stepped out, Avery could only lift a hand to rub at her forehead. Finally, she couldn't handle it anymore. She stood quite suddenly, surprising Else into stepping back. "I- I'm sorry," she uttered quietly, determined to respect her father even while she had her sort of breakdown. "I just... I can't do the big, group pouting thing. Agnes," she added gently, turning to face the older woman, "I'm very grateful that you told me what was happening. Extremely grateful. But I'm not-" her voice cracked, so she paused and tried again. "I'm not even sure he would want me here. Not like this, at least. Probably not at all. So, I- I need to make a phone call. And I need a minute to figure out what to say to him."

"Avery," Else began, reaching out a tentative hand to grasp her daughter's shoulder. "Maybe you should take a minute with him. If you point out the number on your cell, I can call them."

The blonde blinked at her mother, uncertain how to explain that she wanted to call the husband that Else had never met. Not to mention the fact that Robin would need to ask Keiran to watch Ariadne if he decided to come down. Avery didn't even know where he was, either, so she had no way of knowing how long it would take him to arrive. Knowing Keiran, though, the man would be quick to apparate over and take care of things to hurry things along.

"I-... That isn't what I meant," she replied, ducking her chin guiltily. "I just don't know how to do this."

There was a long silence because, there wasn't much to say. Even in a normal, functioning family full of people who knew how to treat other and who weren't riddled with estrangement and awkwardness, it would be hard to come up with words now. Mostly, it would be assurances (which opposed logic, so that wouldn't be heard) and memories (which this particular family had a shortage of). So really, there wasn't anything to say.

But maybe that was okay. Weirdly enough, this family had survived in silence. It was fitting. Sad, sure, but their whole existence as the Bishops had been a sad one. Claire would rather them being sincere than a forced conversation about things they knew nothing of.

Claire tilted her head at Avery's words, closing her eyes. The words rolled out without much prompting because, apparently, somewhere within her resided the defiant little sister. "We're not pouting exactly," she mumbled, unsure if anyone would even hear her or not. She shouldn't be irritated, but this didn't feel at all like pouting. The depth and pain felt much too rightful to feel at all trivial.

She listened to the exchange between her mother and sister, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of her father, as though looking at him now would fill all the gaps in her memory of him. The conversation rumbled behind her and she didn't say anything until the awkward silence returned. And then, without looking at her sister, Claire spoke in a low, calming voice, "You don't have to do anything. Just be here. And wait."

((At any time, we could jump hours into the future so Claire could tell them all to get coffee or go sleep or whatever))

Avery didn't catch her sister's first comment, but she did turn to look when Claire spoke up to try and give her a response or a solution. She knew full well that Claire was the one meant to be more worked up about this. Avery understood that. But if the situation was flipped somehow - not that she wanted anyone to be ill, mind - and it was Else they were losing, Avery wasn't convinced that she would have actually been informed. She only knew because Agnes decided to send her a note. A great deal of the awkwardness she felt around the woman had dissipated in her realization of that fact, but nothing Agnes or Claire did could make this okay. How Else was dealing with it was entirely beyond her.

Avery didn't care if her sister wasn't looking her way. She still frowned and shook her head. It was no wonder, really, why the two had never reconnected. Claire obviously didn't understand her older sister, and Avery didn't have it in her to explain why it hurt so badly to even be standing there. Nothing she wanted to say to her father could be said in front of these women, and it was clear that, although Else had suggested it, Avery might not get that chance.

"That's not good enough, though," she replied, her tone just plain sad. "Sitting here in silence is just additional pain that none of us need. Claire," she added cautiously, "I know that it's probably not what you really want, but I need to have him out there." She gestured vaguely towards the door, hoping she wouldn't have to clarify who she was talking about. "So I'm going to step out and see if he can get here. And... I don't want to upset anyone by asking, but there are some things I want to say to dad. I know it isn't like he could answer, but... it just seems like something I should do. But if that isn't okay then I won't bring it up again."

Waiting for a reply, or worse - a rejection, seemed like a terrible idea. So Avery picked up her phone and started out the door, just hoping Elsie and Ben would be aware enough of who she was (not that they probably could be. But she hoped) to let her alone while she tried to reach out to Robin.

Claire knew that this was apart of grief. Part of her training in espionage covered basic psychology - which was funny since she was such a victim to her own mental trappings - so she knew enough to know that an outpouring of emotion, no matter how illogical, was completely within the norm. She had just... responded differently. Sense of self was totally lost in all of the preparation. When the time came, she wanted her father to be met with strength, and bravery, and the assurance that it was okay to leave. She didn't want self pity, and fear, and pain to mar his last moments. Once he was gone, she would indulge her own feelings however they came. Until then, it wasn't about her.

But Avery wasn't like Mathias. Neither was Else. Distant as they were, Claire knew she and her father were similar. They didn't say much, they just worked. That didn't mean they didn't feel. Oh, they felt, and they felt deeply, but they worked hard on laying those emotions to rest, because they didn't make for a productive life. Claire couldn't say she knew her father well, but she had her hunches. And if they were right, he had felt like a failure of a father and husband for a very long time. And Claire didn't want to tell him not to go, just to give him one more failure in his life.

It sounded strange, and she wasn't surprised that this wasn't the way Avery was taking it, and she doubted Else or Agnes would understand it much. But Claire wanted her father to know they would be okay, more than anything. She couldn't keep him around, she couldn't reclaim the lost time, but she could give him some sort of peace.

So Claire did not fight her sister. In her quiet, low voice she simply told Avery, "Do whatever it is you need to do." She wanted to assure her sister that she had the right to some time alone but, before she could, Avery had left.

There was a silence in that time, and Claire turned her attention back to her father. Agnes broke the silence with, "Of course she can have some time with him. Right?"

Claire nodded. "We all can. The healer said he may even wake up. That would be good for all of us."

Very hard. Very hard for them all. But with all of the time they had missed, all of the missed memories and dropped conversations, Claire wasn't going to deny any of them a final good bye.

In the hallway, Avery acted like she didn't even realize Elsie and Ben were around somewhere and lifted the phone to her ear. It took a couple rings, but the moment she heard Robin's voice she sank into one of the chairs set outside of Mathias's room. He sounded as he always did, obviously unaware of what was happening in the room behind her. He was as casual as ever, and it was incredibly comforting somehow. It wasn't enough to cover the panic that had forced its way into her voice. Without her immediate family there to judge her, it seemed so much easier.

"Honey?" she asked, her voice practically halting even as she tried to remain calm.

How strange it must seem, she realized, to go from how she had acted that morning to how she was sounding now. Avery had been laughing almost too hard in their kitchen before work with her cousin, Jenna Duffy. The woman had been Avery's only real friend during her years between living and home and attending university. Now that she had offered to take care of Ariadne since she was staying home with her own child, Derek, the girls were seeing more of each other once again. But she wasn't laughing now. Not even close.

"Robin, I need you to come to St. Mungo's, okay? It's not me- it's my dad. He doesn't have very long. I just... I don't know how to-" she froze, barely able to breathe, nonetheless explain. When she properly gathered herself again, it came out sounding a bit more controlled. "I'm not sure I can manage this. I don't know how to handle my family. I know it isn't at all what you want to deal with, but please. Please, love. I need you."

Robin got the call at lunch. When Avery's picture popped up on his phone he unceremoniously picked it up with a casual "Hey", prompting a disapproving frown from Misha. If his brother's slap-on-the-hand of a glance wasn't enough, Avery's first words were enough to pull Robin from his seat and make him start moving towards the quiet space by the bathrooms in the back of the restaurant. An instant of panic at the name 'St. Mungo's' was immediately put to rest by Avery as she clarified the situation the best she could. 

"I'll be there in twenty, okay? Hold on." Without another word Robin hung up and turned around back towards the table for two. Misha was checking his own phone when Robin reached him. The older boy's eyes flicked up from his scrolling screen of emails, surveying his little brother with an expression of poorly concealed impatience. The look only deepened as Robin reached for his coat. "I've got to go. Call you later." 

"Seriously?" After years of Robin jumping out or making excuses right before the check was to be paid, Misha's grumpy accusation was fair enough. His comment ignored, he called after Robin's retreating back, "And just call Dad, he's the one who wants you there." But family commitments had completely disappeared from the young man's mind. At least any Ivanov ones that involved Russian bankers, black tie dress, and a large company deal. There were other family matters that required his undivided attention now. 

Robin took the underground. Taxi probably would have been faster but he had spent the last of his muggle money, leaving him with only assorted wizarding coins and his pass for the trains. The ride through the city felt painfully long as Robin was given the time to sit and consider the call that he had received. While it was not uncommon for Avery to become upset, there were very few occasions that he had heard her sound that distraught. Of course she was. If he understood what she had said correctly.. she was losing her father. 

It had been closer to thirty minutes by the time Robin left the station and made his way into the busy St. Mungo's lobby. His stomach was already sinking unsettlingly, more in response to the place than to the situation. There were few places in the world he hated more than this hospital. First his splinching incident then Avery being attacked, two out of the three worst nights of his life had happened right here. Uninterested in lingering, Robin got the room number from an old healer with wispy hair and made his way up through the maze of lifts and halls. 

He saw her first. She was standing alone in the hallway, looking sadder than he could have imagined just from her voice. Without hesitation, Robin made it the rest of the way down the hall and immediately brought Avery in towards his chest. "Hey" he mumbled, an echo from his earlier greeting on the phone. Robin didn't know what to say. He had never been good at finding the right words at times like these. Instead of his usual fumbling over phrasing, Robin simply wrapped his arms around her, only knowing that he wanted to keep her close. He kissed the side of her head before softly asking "Are you okay?" The answer to that was obvious, but what else could he do?