One Day at a Time

[Monty Pendleton]

[adminapproval=30535149]The first three days following Monty's collapse passed in a laggard, meaningless blur. Visitors came and went, hospital wing staff fussed around, but for the most part, Monty remained unresponsive. He didn't mean to be rude. He just couldn't face anyone. There would be questions, inevitably - questions he did not want to answer, or could not answer - questions which, answered truthfully, would jeopardise his career. There would be curious children, and unkind children, and children who meant well, but made him uncomfortable nonetheless. He knew he couldn't delay the consequences forever, but for as long as he could lie in his hospital bed, sedated by draughts and potions and drifting in and out of a peaceful sleep, he saw no reason to speed up his recovery.

But the effects of such deep rest were difficult even for Monty to disguise or deny. Piece by piece, limb by limb, he began to resurface, to reassemble. The fog began to disperse, and, upon clearer, calmer reflection, his worries and concerns reduced to molehills. He wondered how he had ever mistaken them for mountains. It made him feel foolish, until he remembered that he had been functioning on two to four hours' sleep per night for the last three months. How could anybody think clearly like that?

In the dark, when he was sure the nurses couldn't hear him, he cried softly, his pillow catching the tears as they fell. Though the physical exhaustion was gradually lifting, the weight of all he had been through was not. He had mistakenly thought he had hit rock bottom once or twice before. He was wrong. This was the bottom. The well didn't sink any deeper than this. It wasn't quite depression; he had experienced that to recognise the difference. He didn't feel hopeless, or sad. Just overwhelmed. Emotionally tired. But not beaten.

On the fourth day, Monty woke to somebody at his bedside. He kept his eyes closed, but heard their shoes scuff the floor, felt their presence near him. Under the influence of so much calming potion, he couldn't quite bring himself to fear that it was the Headmistress, but the thought certainly crossed his mind. Perhaps, if he didn't respond, they would leave again. It had worked so far, hadn't it?

 

[Jon Phillips]

Jon visited the hospital wing every day since he heard what happened, concerned for his friend and guilt ridden that he had not helped the man sooner, that he couldn't have helped sooner. Monty seemed to handle his promotion well at the beginning of the semester, seemingly so calm and collected. Whereas Jon on the other hand felt like he was grasping at straws to stay afloat, each day bringing him a new challenge he never felt prepared for. At least that's what he believed until the news of Monty collapsing in the entrance hall reached him and he realized it was another story entirely. Jon, despite feeling uncertain about whether he could handle his responsibilities, was somehow juggling everything while Monty, the man he was looking up to in a time of change was the one that was crumbling underneath the weight of it all. The memory of Monty's panicked visit to his office mere weeks ago played on Jon's mind as he attempted to figure everything out, book after book on the subject of anxiety flicked through and discarded on his desk in the moments he had between classes, visits and his other responsibilities as a head of house. Jon had not been aware that the visit in his office was a window into the reality of the situation for his friend at the time, and the thought that he did not recognize any of the warning signs made him feel sick to his stomach. As did the possibility he might have made everything worse by being unable to help.

On the first, second, and third days Jon visited the hospital wing Monty was in and out of sleep, unresponsive but alright, at least according to the nurses. Everyday when Jon left feeling apprehensive he made a plea to find a better way to make it up to his friend, leading into the fourth day when he arrived with a few recently purchased things in his arms. Among them was some chocolate and a small raccoon toy, of which Jon intended to be a source of comfort. He quietly approached Monty's bed in the hospital wing, placing the other gifts on the bedside table, but keeping the raccoon in his hands as he spoke softly. "I got you something, to make you feel better." Giving Monty gifts was not Jon's apology for his actions, or lack thereof, in itself, but it was all he could think of to pave the way for an apology to be made. A showing of affection that might make Monty's day a little brighter because as far as Jon knew, that's what Monty needed.​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty wasn't ready to open his eyes. Once he responded to somebody, anybody, that was it; he couldn't ignore the world any more, pretend to be sleeping. He would have to face the nurses, Katherine, the children... But at the sound of Jon's voice, Monty's eyes opened of their own volition. According to the nurse, the Ravenclaw Head of House had visited every day, though Monty had only been conscious for one of them, and hadn't then had the courage to acknowledge anybody's existence. He looked at the stuffed raccoon in Jon's hands, and wanted to smile, but couldn't quite bring himself to. The gesture was sweet, but it couldn't fix his problems. It couldn't make him a good teacher, or deputy head. It couldn't rewind time, or erase the children's memories. It was just a toy.

Suddenly growing conscious of how weak and pathetic he must have looked, Monty turned his head away and closed his eyes. He didn't want anybody to see him this way. It was humiliating. But while he'd strictly asked Lucius to keep the children away, he'd consented to let the professors visit, not realising just how painful it would be when they came. Perhaps he hadn't expected them to come. Or maybe he wanted his friends there, really, and was only afraid what they might think of him. He couldn't deny that Jon's presence had comforted him, even when he'd pretended to be asleep. Just having him there - knowing that he cared enough to visit - consoled the voice in his head that insisted he had lost everybody he cared about, made a fool of himself, ruined everything. Monty only wished that was enough to fix what he'd broken.

 

[Jon Phillips]

After three days of trying to help and no recognition from Monty, Jon was ready to accept any response he was given and that included the man opening his eyes to look at the raccoon. It wasn't much of a response but it was something and he was pleased for it, a small smile appearing on his face that did not falter as Monty turned away. Jon looked around to find a chair and pulled it closer so he could sit down, taking the small reaction to his gift as a welcome to stay and talk. Regardless whether Monty responded Jon wanted to be there for his friend in whichever way he could and to him that meant talking about the gift as a distraction from the heaviness of the situation. The fact Monty opened his eyes at all moments earlier was enough of a sign to Jon that he knew he was there and was listening to his words. Jon shuffled the chair he was in slightly closer to the bed, placing the raccoon on the edge of the mattress so Monty could get a closer look if he chose to open his eyes again. "Look, it's really soft, see." His hands brushed against the toy's 'coat' as he glanced over to Monty. "And it's got that striped tail thingy." He glanced over to his friend a second time, then back to the toy.

A moment passed before Jon cleared his throat, speaking to Monty not as himself anymore but as the raccoon, in as much of a high voice as he could manage. "I'm just a little trash panda, here to protect you." He held the toy, moving it around on the bed pretending it was moving of it's own accord. "He protec, he attac-" With an emphasis on 'attack' and as much of a mock karate chop he could imitate with the toys small arms, he tried to make his friend laugh. Or at least get some kind of a reaction because his actions were silly and embarrassing. Jon felt embarrassed about it but tried to ignore how weird his actions looked considering the hospital wing was for the most part empty. "but most importantly, he cares about you and is sorry about what happened." The last part returned the heaviness but in the moment it was the only way Jon could think to say sorry, pouting as he shifted the raccoon closer to Monty.​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Go away, thought Monty, as Jon began to describe the stuffed toy. He didn't really want his colleague to leave - not for his sake, anyway. He just couldn't bear the guilt of ignoring him. Poor Jon - he had tried so hard to cheer Monty up, visiting every day, now bringing gifts, and Monty had been nothing but apparently ungrateful in return. There was a pause before suddenly Jon's voice rose an octave, and Monty felt the sheets move slightly. Curious, and slightly horrified, Monty opened his eyes again, giving Jon a disgusted look. Really? He was going to dig up an age-old Muggle meme to try to cheer him up? "Jon - stop," Monty said, but he was laughing softly, batting at the raccoon's head. It was the first time he'd laughed in what felt like weeks, and though he continued to protest, his efforts were weak. "Seriously. Don't do the memes." After a moment, the light in Monty's face died. He took the raccoon and held it still. Though Jon had been speaking through the toy, Monty knew the apology had come from him. "What are you sorry for?"

How did Hemi know

 

[Jon Phillips]

Though Monty's words told Jon to stop, they were still words and not only that, there was a small laugh behind them. It was enough of a laugh to show his efforts to comfort his friend were not futile and were completely worth the time spent visiting him every day. Even if it was minimal, any reaction at all seemed like a step in the right direction when he considered what the nurses told him. When Monty held the raccoon still however, it dawned on Jon that he needed to explain himself rather than focusing on making jokes, and he began to feel out of his limit as he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. Hiding behind the raccoon made talking about the situation easier and now the conversation was figuratively, and also quite literally out of his hands. He looked between Monty and the raccoon, trying to think of the right way to voice his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to make Monty feel uncomfortable or unintentionally push him away now that he was responding. "I just could have done better, could have supported you, but I did not know to handle the situation. I feel like part of the reason this all happened is because I did not react the way I should have." As he spoke he truly did wish he could take the raccoon from Monty and talk behind it again. "So, I'm sorry for not helping more." He looked down to his hands, then up again. "I am always there for you and I want you to know that." There were many things he wanted to say, but he wanted to emphasize that even if he was not there in the right way before, he would be there now, above anything else.​

 

[Monty Pendleton]

Monty should have known Jon would find a way to blame himself. They were so alike, and it was exactly how Monty would have reacted had the roles been reversed. He shook his head, but let Jon finish, knowing it was unwise to interrupt something that took great strength to say. "Jon, no," he said, when his friend finished at last. "You can't hold yourself responsible for this - for any of this. I know what it's like, believe me I do, but it isn't your fault in the slightest. You did everything you could to support me, and I am immeasurably grateful for that, but... I am not your responsibility. I should have talked to Katherine when I realised I was struggling. For some reason, I convinced myself she would think badly of me. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm all right. Well - I will be all right." He managed a faint smile. "You're a terrific friend. Just take care of yourself." Monty swivelled the raccoon around to look at Jon, putting on a similarly high-pitched voice. "Or else!"

 

[Jon Phillips]

Monty was stating the obvious, that Jon's actions could not have changed what happened and it was pointless to blame himself or believe Monty was his responsibility. He looked back down to his hands and took in the words but only halfheartedly believed them, wanting to open his mouth again and tell Monty that a 'terrific friend' would not leave someone alone when they needed it, or fail to see the signs something was wrong. A good friend would know what was wrong and be able to help in whatever ways possible and Jon failed to do that. When he gazed up again, Monty began to talk behind the raccoon. Jon decided to let the subject go and move on as he feigned a shocked expression and gasped, playing into the joke. "I can't believe this little trash panda, the son I brought for you, is threatening me." He raised his hands defensively, looking between the raccoon and Monty. "Okay! I promise! Just don't hurt me or my family, please!" It was going to be difficult for Jon to stop worrying about his friend after all that had happened, but if Monty could say confidently that he would be alright, Jon had no choice but to believe him.
​