It was so strange, so eerie to be in their own home, she could hardly recall the years they had been away but the evidence was written in the lines on both her and Frank’s faces, and in their slowly recovering bodies. But she would never say how strange she felt here. It had been so touching that Augusta had kept the old place, not just maintaining it but keeping it absolutely pristine; it was as though the knock on the door had never come, as though they had only left it for an afternoon instead of a decade and a half. All the same, but she was so different…
When Alice looked at herself in the mirror for the first time she had cried out in shock, and then when the family had left at last she had curled into Frank and quietly cried and couldn’t even say why. It wasn’t just her appearance of course, it was everything, but the thin wispy white tufts and sunken cheeks had driven all of it home. Crying had been all she could do.
Since then she had mostly tried not to look in any mirrors, or at her own hands, or to think too much about how different her body was, how it didn’t even feel like it belonged to her some days. Sometimes a wisp of her own hair would trail the edge of her vision and briefly startle her.
So Alice had focused on Frank; he was changed too, but his eyes were the same, and her love was the same. Frank had been the only thing she had really known for years, and she was still holding onto him now. She focused on encouraging him and helping him as much as she could, and on trying not to let him see that all was not well with her. She still hurt; sometimes for no apparent reason the pain and exhaustion would set in and she would want to give up. Hadn’t she fought for long enough? But then there was Frank, he still needed her, and Neville, dear beloved, her little lost one, so she would hold on. But she would be quieter than usual, and she would be still and sit quietly with Frank and find her solace in him.
Today wasn’t a bad day though! But she had looked in the mirror, horrors… then she thought she saw something and it made her pause. It was gone, whatever it had been, but she sat down at the vanity anyway and stared at herself. Alice couldn’t avoid it forever; this was what she looked like now. Gaunt and frail, not at all the plump young woman she had been - her dimples were a ghost of themselves. When Alice had been a teenager she had wanted this! She had longed to be slim and willowy, instead of round faced and plump. This was her punishment, how thin she was now, and how she loathed it. This was actually an improvement over how she had looked at first; she was slowly gaining weight, but it was a long road. Some of her potions spoiled her appetite so it took concentration to remember to eat.
Alice sat there brooding, staring at the alien body she found herself in. She caught no glimpse of whatever it was she had seen and might have sat staring all afternoon if her husband had not quietly interrupted. “I’m here, are you?” she replied softly, darting a glance at him and then quickly back… did she at least move like herself? A little bit…
Alice slid to one side of the bench, though there was plenty of room for the both of them already, and invited Frank to come sit by her. “I just… I thought I saw something but I guess maybe it was wishful thinking,” she said sadly, letting her eyes drop and reaching for his hand and sighing. “Or just the light…” She had thought she had seen a faint halo of gold, like her brown hair had always showed in the sunlight. But she had stared and stared and it was just as thin and white as could be since.
Home might be familiar, but the people in it weren’t. Frank knew he wasn’t the man he had been; there were still days when he could barely walk, and the effort it took to do formerly simple things like get dressed was exhausting. He hated being this helpless. The young man who’d been strong, quick and playful, able to pick up a child for a game or duel two opponents at once, just wasn’t there any more. On the upside, this was something he knew could be remedied in time, if not cured altogether. He was already stronger than he had been when he woke up in St Mungo’s.
Worse for him was the struggle he had with talking. His mind was much clearer now, but it was still difficult for him to speak properly even when he knew what he wanted to say. It was like the words got confused or lost on the way from his brain to his mouth. In truth, there were days he almost envied Alice for being that much more capable.
But he wasn’t blind to her struggles, either. She was in pain so often that he wanted to just let her rest while he did what needed doing. Even when she tried to hide it, he knew she was suffering. And the horrified wail she’d made on first seeing herself in the mirror… he couldn’t blame her. She’d changed so much from the beautiful woman glowing with warmth and life that nobody could be surprised that she didn’t want to look at herself any more.
He knew he wasn’t any better - a grey-haired, haggard wreck with little flesh covering his bones - but he didn’t care so much about appearance. It wasn’t pleasant, but looking good wasn’t high on his list of priorities compared to moving, speaking, and most importantly Alice.
Now, seeing her gaze forlornly into the mirror, like she was searching for a reflection she recognised, Frank’s heart broke. He used to be able to be so strong for her, so easily… he couldn’t help feeling like he was letting her down by not being able to ease her pain.
“’m here,” he replied with a faint smile. That little question-and-answer seemed to be the simplest way for both of them to recognise if the other had slipped into a flashback. Crossing the room carefully, he sank onto the seat beside her and let her take his hand, giving her fingers a light squeeze in return.
“Could be… seeing future,” he managed, and quirked a little smile, putting his free arm round her shoulders and leaning his head against hers. “Still lovely now.” And he meant it; he hadn’t fallen in love with Alice because she was beautiful, but because she was kind and sweet and gentle, and her mischievous streak was captivating. Her beauty - at least in his eyes - was simply an outward reflection of her personality, but even if the outside had altered, the inside hadn’t.
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