The Day After

[ingebjorg9]

A short one-shot I wrote after re-watching Mastermind.  Slight spoilers for the film.


The day after, she still found herself trembling.  After the hell of being trapped in that dank silo, stalked and threatened by the unhinged Kraftzcyk, it took her a little while to readjust to the white calm of the hospital.  And it was a very white calm: what light she could see was glimpsed through multiple layers of gauze.  Her concerned doctor had replaced the bandage over her eyes, evading all her questions about whether she would ever see properly again.  The worry gnawed at her, but she was too tired to think much about it now, and the nurse had given her a sedative and painkillers.  Linda squirmed around in the bed, found a more comfortable position to lie in, and fell asleep.

When she woke she sensed someone in the room with her.  All her senses on high alert, she immediately noticed a sound somewhere next to her.  Heart pounding, she sprang upright, ready to face her assailant.

“Hey!  It’s okay!” said a soft, familiar voice.

“Stefan?”

“Yup.”

There was a shuffling sound, and a pained groan, before she heard him settle in the chair next to her.

“Are you okay?  Kurt said Kraftzcyk stabbed you.”

“I’ll be all right.  I was more worried about you.  How are you doing?”

How was she doing?  It was difficult to say.  She supposed she should be pleased that she and young Therese had got out alive – but two women were dead, she was lying here with a bandage over her eyes, and she wouldn’t quickly forget the terror she’d felt.  If she could only stop trembling it would be a start.

“I’m... I’m a bit shaky...  Actually, I’m terrified...”  She trailed off, feeling tears beginning to sting her eyes – and they really did sting.

And then she felt him take her hand.

Looking back later on, she would realise that that was the moment she began to recover.  That moment, sitting there with her hand in Stefan’s, was when she began to feel safe again.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, stroking her fingers.  “I know you, Linda.  You’ll be fine.”  He squeezed her hand.  She squeezed back.  It was like being thrown a lifeline.  She hung on.

Several hours later when Kurt Wallander came to visit his daughter in the sparse white room he found them both fast asleep: Linda on her back, snoring, and Stefan in the chair beside her, a hand on her arm.  He shook his head, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth.  He found he didn’t have the heart to wake either of them.

Linda impatiently counted the days until the bandage came off.  Her father visited often, and they talked about Kraftzcyk, about why he had done what he did, about dads and daughters.  Therese Martinsson even came to see her once or twice.  But the most time was spent with Stefan.  Sometimes they talked, sometimes they sat in silence.  It didn’t really matter, as long as he was there.

When the bandage came off he was still there.  Blinking at a world that was still blurred and unfamiliar to her, she focussed on his eyes, his smile, his hand on hers.  Her lifeline.