Chapter One - Meeting
"Are you sure you don't wish for me to walk you home, Evergreen?"
Adjusting and straightening out his coat, Freed placed his hand on the cool metal door handle. He was looking over his shoulder to his receptionist, who was returning the typewriter back into its case. The woman looked up with a grin on her face, placing the expensive piece of equipment under the desk, out of harm's way.
"Are you implying you don't think I can walk home on my own, doctor? Because I can assure you, if anyone tried anything with me, they would be harmed more than me." She spoke with a challenging tone, hands on her hips.
"Quite the opposite. I merely wanted to make sure that, if somewhere were to attempt anything untoward against you, that I could be there to help keep the man alive, stopping any pesky murder charges from arising." He chuckled, opening the door. "I'm fully aware that you're capable of looking after yourself."
Content with the man's reply, Evergreen shrugged on her own coat and walked from behind the desk of the doctor's waiting area. She walked through the door that Freed held open for her, waiting patiently as he closed it behind him and locked it. The cool winter air struck her face, contrasting the heat brought upon by the now extinguished fireplace of the waiting room. If she didn't like the snow so much, she would have definitely called winter her least favourite season. But that was a title held by the rainy English spring.
"Goodnight, Doctor Justine." She smiled.
"Goodnight, Miss Evergreen." He smiled back, slipping the top hat over his long green hair.
The two turned and walked away from each other on the frosty cobbled streets, illuminated by the flickering flames of the streetlamps above them. Freed felt his posture relax slightly, the stresses of the day leaving him as the lure of his warm bed came to taunt him.
Some may call it mad to work the hours that he did, Evergreen most likely being at the front of the queue considering her work hours needed to mirror his work hours. Yes, perhaps working for twelve hours a day, starting and ending at seven, was obsessive. But he'd grown to handle it by now. And, he reasoned to himself, it was easier to look a dishevelled and tired man in the mirror at the end of the day than it was to look at a sick man at his doorstep as he refused to help.
Adjusting the top hat slightly so the falling snow wouldn't get into his eyes, he quickened his pace. Perhaps he could indulge himself in a cup of tea and a slice of Eccles cake before he retired to bed tonight. He had, after all, been forced to abruptly end his lunch when a drunkard stumbled into his office and began to demand treatment for symptoms that didn't exist.
Of course, Evergreen hadn't managed to put her self-defence skills into practice when she was eating a salad, he thought with a small chuckle.
Spurred on by the thought of a hot drink and food, Freed looked forward and walked in the direction of his home. He lived a short while away from his office, but the journey was scenic and both his house and office were luxurious enough to justify the half hour walk. He hardly had reason to complain, at least he had a warm home to return to and a stable job to leave for in the morning, many people didn't and he counted himself lucky.
As he walked along a small stream that would eventually meet up with the Thames river, he saw a middle-aged couple walking towards him. By the look of their clothes and the cane the man held, they were wealthy. Perhaps on the same level as Freed, but most likely a little higher.
When they got closer, Freed managed to hear a snippet of their conversation, unintentionally of course. The woman, who he assumed was married to the gentleman, seemed extremely annoyed by something. The husband apparently shared this sentiment.
"What a revolting man." The woman huffed. "Using such language. In a public place, no less. Should be kicked off the streets in my view, sent to a work camp. Some hard work and discipline, that's when men like him need."
"You can't expect anything more from their kind." The man agreed. "Just be glad we have the status to distance ourselves from that part of London. A man like that wouldn't dare step a foot near a manor like ours."
Resisting the urge not to roll his eyes at the arrogance of the two people, he tipped his hat and nodded at them as he walked past. The husband of the two returned the gesture, apparently holding him in a higher regard than he did the man who was the topic of their discussion. It was laughable really, how the fact that he was wearing a long coat and carrying a briefcase gave him an amount of respect that others didn't have. For all this man knew, Freed was a very good pickpocket who had earned these by stealing from this man and his friends.
The classist views of his social status confused him. Despite having grown up in a rich environment, his parents had made sure to teach him that money didn't equate to happiness. To him, it made no sense that somebody could turn off their moral compass and treat people like dirt because they didn't own any land or run a factory. But that was the reality, he couldn't fight it.
But still, perhaps this wasn't the normal class based nonsense. The woman claimed she had a reason for her annoyance: this man's language. But still, the rich were overly sensitive, who knows what this man had actually said.
'Most likely something about feeling under the weather, which she twisted into a graphic description of his explosive diarrhoea.'
He smiled at the thought, eyes landing on the gently flowing water. The small amounts of snow fall and the flickering candle light from the street lamps really did make this a very scenic location. One of London's many little treasures that would most likely never be seen by the masses. It was elegant, calm and peaceful.
"Damn it. Damn bugger shit. Shitting shit!"
Or perhaps not.
Looking to the left where the cursing was coming from, he saw a large man punching a wall quite brutally. He was in an alleyway, unaware that he had attracted an audience in the doctor. Freed watched for a few moments, the man not showing any signs of stopping his tirade of swearing and yelling. Freed huffed and walked towards him.
"What on earth do you think you're doing? Children could here you!" Freed hissed, attracting the attention of the man at last.
He was blonde, broad shouldered and had a scar across his face that slightly resembled a lightning bolt. His face was flushed with apparent exhaustion, a tiny layer of sweat across his brow. He was looking at Freed expectantly, almost as if he wished to intimidate Freed into going away. Well, if he thought a staring contest would intimidate the doctor, he clearly didn't know him.
"Well, why are you using such language in public?" Freed demanded.
The blonde man didn't reply, just continued to look at Freed. The doctor broke the eye contact with the man, looking over his body with a quick blink. He immediately focused on the man's left hand, which was dripping with blood. More blood than just a little cut, that was clear.
He walked to the larger man and took his bleeding hand, looking down at it with wide eyes. It was a rather nasty gash, he was shocked that the man wasn't in visible pain because of it.
"What did you do?" He looked up, unwavering at the confused and angered expression on the blonde's face. "Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm a doctor. Now tell me what you did to cause this and I'll bandage it up for you. And give me your name, as well."
"Laxus." He grunted, grinding his teeth slightly when the doctor's fingers gently pressed against the wound. "And I got into a fight."
"Well you lost then, that's clear." Freed muttered, gently applying pressure to the wound to test the amount of pain that it was causing Laxus. Well he wasn't crying out, that was good.
Laxus looked down at the green haired man with a lot of confusion. He was well dressed and holding a leather briefcase, so clearly had a fair amount of money. Which is what confused him, since men with money usually avoided men like Laxus as if they were riddled with the plague. And they certainly didn't offer to sew up their hand after a fight, they'd usually tut and tell them that they shouldn't have gotten into a fight and that it was their own fault.
Freed didn't notice the questioning gaze of the man, looking over the little alleyway. He saw a large barrel beside the left brick wall, a few bottles placed on it. He removed the bottles and brushed off the dirt with his gloved hand.
"Sit."
Laxus raised an eyebrow, doing as he was told. He wasn't the type to get ordered about by a rich guy who didn't have a concept of reality and usually he would have told the guy where he could shove that barrel. But he didn't, which slightly confused him. It was probably because of the lack of blood and the fact the other man didn't treat him like a pile of day old crap.
Freed placed the briefcase on the floor, crouching down and opening it. After a small series of thieves had broke into businesses near Freed's office, he had started taking the basics of what he needed to make diagnoses and help people home with him. That way, if the worst were to happen and the thieves targeted his office, he could continue his work to an extent. And thankfully, he had more than enough bandages to help with someone's hand.
"Now, do you want to tell me why, after the fight that caused this, you thought it was a good idea to punch a wall and make a scene?" Freed said, pulling Laxus' hand into a position where it would be easy to work on.
"No, not really. Sir." Laxus grunted the last word. "Don't know why I should."
He sighed inwardly after saying that. Now he was probably going to be forced to listen to the stupid speech about respecting your betters and all that shite. He'd just had all of that from his damn boss. Well, ex-boss now.
"Because it's clearly a very stupid thing to do and I need to know if that fight has affected your head and made you moronic." Freed smirked slightly, pulling on a roll of tightly packed bandages.
Despite himself, Laxus found himself chuckling. Not laughing heartily or anything even remotely close, just a small chuckle. But it was more than he had ever given one of the rich guys, but rich guys tended to be unfunny twats who couldn't bear to crack a smile if it was to save their lives. Maybe it was the shock at the attempted joke, mixed with the blood loss of course. It was weird how losing so little blood could cause you to be so damn stupid.
Distracting himself from the thin lie that he was telling himself, he looked down at his hand with another small hiss. Freed had begun to wrap the bandage around his hand, and it was hurting with the pressure that was applied to it.
"I didn't get hit in the head, sir. My hand was just from a smashed bottle." Laxus grunted again, ever so slightly red with embarrassment. Only slightly, however.
"You don't need to call me sir." Freed mumbled, pulling tightly on the bandages as he added another layer. He chuckled when Laxus groaned in pain. "Oh, stop it, you were punching a wall a moment ago without being in pain. Now you're acting like a child."
"Thought doctors were meant to have good bedside manners." Laxus huffed slightly, free hand clenching against the barrel slightly.
"That's true. But this is an alleyway, not a bed." Freed grinned, looking into Laxus' eyes before adding dryly. "And who said I was a doctor? An actual doctor would be able to do this without any pain. So, what you should be asking yourself is, who else would be walking the streets at night with the tools to mop up copious amounts of blood?"
Laxus slowly looked down to his hands, before his eyes shot up to the green haired man. He was met with an amused, yet gentle expression. He shook his head, cheeks reddening further. He joined in with the small laugh coming from the doctor.
"To put your mind at rest, I am a fully qualified doctor." Freed chuckled.
"You aint anything like the doctors that I'm used to seeing."
Freed raised an eyebrow at that, gently creating a tear on the bandage he was using and tying it tightly. He tugged at it a few times to make sure it was secure enough to keep the blood from coming out, eyes occasionally looking up to Laxus' face from under the rim of his hat, making sure Laxus didn't notice him.
His curiosity was rising at what Laxus had said, but he didn't want to start prying. He knew that sometimes poorer people felt that, if they didn't answer any questions of a richer man, they would be punished in some way. He didn't want to unintentionally blackmail the man, but he was incredibly curious. Perhaps he was too curious for his own good…
"I try not to be, most doctors annoy me." Freed couldn't bite back his question. "So, you see a lot of doctors then? Are you sick?"
Laxus blinked slightly, realising his mistake. He let out a soft 'fuck' as he brought his hand to his face and gently ran it over his scar, landing in his messy blonde hair. He leant back on the barrel, looking down at the doctor.
Freed was crouching down in front of his open briefcase again, placing the unused roll of bandages back into it. He shut it and clicked it shut, eyes glancing back to the broader man as he processed Freed's question. He made sure not to push it, knowing some people didn't want to discuss illnesses with strangers, even doctors. Although it was incredibly annoying when someone booked an appointment with him and then proceeded to waste his time refusing to tell him anything about his symptoms.
"You're a clever guy, aint ya." Laxus groaned. "It aint me who's sick. It's my grandad."
"It must be bad, if you're having to see multiple doctors about it." Freed bit his gum slightly in annoyance at himself. "Sorry, I shouldn't be prying."
"Nah, you aint harming anyone." Laxus sighed, getting off the barrel. "And it's probably not that bad, I just can't find anyone who'll take a look at him. Turns out the people who're meant to help you only do it if you pay 'em enough. No offence. No, actually, do be offended. Doctors are full of shit. They all talk about how damn good they are, act like they're god's gift to humans but don't actually give a shit about people. Just the money."
If it weren't true, Freed would have disputed it. But practically all of his colleagues would rather treat a little cut on a rich man's forehead than they would a poor man with a real sickness. All Freed could do was pat Laxus on the shoulder.
Laxus shrugged it off, not looking at Freed as he began to walk out of the alleyway. The doctors that he had met were bastards, not good men. He strode quickly down the side of the stream, ignoring how the pain in his hand had subsided slightly since Freed had bandaged it up. It was harder to ignore the faster steps that were coming up from behind him.
"Look, I'm sorry if I hurt your ego or whatever baut-"
"If you'd like, I can have a look at your grandfather at a discounted rate." Freed cut him off.
Laxus stopped abruptly, causing Freed to do the same. The blonde looked over Freed's face, for the first time. He didn't have the same sneer of self-righteousness that most of the doctors he had met wore, and he was a hell of a lot younger as well. Truth be told, he was basically defying every stereotype that the doctors had set in Laxus' mind. Even with the long green hair.
"Look." He sighed loudly. "It's a nice offer, but I just lost my job. Don't really get how anyone can fuck up lifting barrels of booze in and out of a bar every night, but I managed to do it somehow. Typical really. Anyway, can't afford to pay for it. Might be able to scrape buy on food until I find a new job, but even that's a stretch."
Laxus began to walk again, pissed. Of course, the once chance of getting any medical help at all was on the night where he lost the only fucking source of income. Why couldn't he come weeks ago, when Laxus actually had the money to pay for it.
Freed sighed, walking briskly to catch up with the man again.
"Sir, what if I didn't request payment and did it for free?" Freed offered, Laxus faltering in his step slightly again. "You clearly care for your grandfather a great amount, and I wouldn't be anywhere near as good a doctor as I wish to be if I allowed a man to remain sick if I could have helped."
"You're gonna do your job for free? For a guy you've never met? Without questioning it at all?" For all Laxus' questions, Freed nodded. "Did you get hit on the head and turned stupid?"
"I spend every day helping people who I don't know, Laxus. And as for the money, I became a doctor because I wanted to help sick people. So I made a promise to myself, I'll only overcharge the annoying rich people that I don't like." Freed smiled, electing a chuckle from Laxus.
"Good promise, shame more people aint like you." Laxus smiled. "You sure about this? It feels weird accepting this kinda thing for nothing."
"Well, if you need any medicine you will have to pay for that, but I shan't charge you for my time and advice."
Thinking for a moment, Laxus decided that he had nothing to lose. He sighed and began to walk towards his house again. This time, he made sure he was walking slowly enough for Freed to walk beside him. The doctor smiled and matched the pace, pleased with himself.
"If you turn out to be a murderer, I'll damn kill you." He grunted.
"If I am a murderer, you wouldn't find out until you were dead. How would you kill me?" Freed teased.
"Well I'd haunt your stupid ass then."
"You wouldn't be the first ghost I've had to deal with. Probably not the last either."
"Wait." Laxus paused slightly. "You're not actually a murderer, right?"
"No, of course not. On an unrelated note, there's a new mass murderer killing blonde men. You should be on the lookout for him."
"You're a bastard."
"I'm a doctor." He grinned "The two are mutually exclusive."
Removing the stethoscope from the old man's chest, Freed pushed his long hair form behind his ear and looked at Laxus. He had been in Laxus' small house for half an hour giving Makarov, Laxus' grandfather, a rudimentary check over. Currently, he was positioned beside the old mans bed while the blonde watched over him, leaning on the doorframe.
"Well, as you suspected, his illness isn't all that bad." Freed assured.
Laxus sighed in relief and pushed off from the doorframe, walking towards his grandfather who was giving him a toothy grin. It was made from pure smugness; the old man had been complaining to Laxus about his insistence on finding him a doctor for weeks.
"Told you, there's nothing wrong with me. Fit as a fiddle." The old man cackled. "Can I finally get out of this damn bed."
"I wouldn't advice that, not yet." Freed replied, chuckling when he caught Laxus glaring at his grandfather for his use of the word 'damn.' "Soon, however, that won't be a problem. For now, I'd recommend as much bedrest as possible. And that means actually sleeping, not complaining about being in bed."
"Hah. You managed to find the only human doctor in London, didn't you boy?" Makarov cackled.
Running a hand through his hair in exhaustion and embarrassment about his grandfather's behaviours, Laxus glanced down worriedly at Freed. He still didn't know the doctor well and, despite how Laxus had been insulting Freed's profession previously, he didn't know if the doctor would begin to get annoyed at them and storm out. Thankfully, Freed seemed to be taking it in his stride.
Laxus excused himself from the room and invited Freed to do the same, claiming that they should leave Makarov to his rest. He closed the door to Makarov's bedroom and walked into the small kitchen, sitting at the table and gesturing to the other chair for Freed to do the same.
"You sure he's fine. You're not just telling him that because you know whatever he's got is bad and you don't want to scare him?"
"I can assure you I don't do that with my patients." Freed smiled softly. "He almost definitely has the flu. It should steady itself out with time, however I can give you some advice to help move the process along."
"Yeah, please."
"Well, diet can be a big contributing factor. Lower his meat and bread intake, perhaps try and make a conscious effort to increase how much fruit he eats, aim for five different servings a day. And if that's not possible, perhaps strive for one piece of citrus fruit a day. People claim us doctors are repelled by apples, but oranges are much more effective." He smirked slightly. "Throwing them at us gets the job done quite well."
Again, Laxus chuckled at the relatively funny joke. All the advice that he had been given was reasonably achievable, he was friendly with the local fruit vendor so could perhaps get some free produce. Makarov wouldn't be happy with the lack of meat, but he would have to deal with it.
Looking at the doctor's face, Laxus rolled his eyes. It was painfully obvious that the other man had some more advice but was hesitant to share it. Laxus had to wonder how he could be a doctor and tell people that their relatives were going to die with such an expressive face. Doctors typically didn't have any emotion on their face. But, as Freed seemed persistent in proving, he wasn't the typical kind of doctor.
"What aren't you telling me?" Laxus demanded.
"You needn't worry. The advice I've given you already will be more than enough to speed along your grandfather's recovery."
"I got in a fight today because I lost my job. You think I won't get into another because you're not telling me how to help my grandad?"
"I don't doubt it." Freed sighed, looking around the kitchen. "This house. I'm afraid to say that this form of environment isn't going to help your grandfather's recovery in any way. But I'm aware you won't be able to change that."
Laxus sighed. His house wasn't good. It was small, bordered by three other houses on three sides of the wall and the bathroom was beginning to get mouldy. They shared it with one of Makarov's old friend's, Porlyucia, and her young granddaughter. They slept upstairs in the larger bedroom, Makarov took the smaller bedroom and Laxus slept in the sitting room couch during the day. Well, he used to. He would have to change that now he no longer worked in the nights.
It was obvious the house wasn't the right place for a sick person. It was stuffy, overcrowded and cluttered beyond belief. But, as Freed said, he couldn't change that.
The doctor looked a Laxus with restrained sympathy. It was obvious that, even if the larger man was too prideful to outwardly admit it, he would do anything to ensure his grandfather's help. A drawback to being a doctor was defiantly having to look people who were desperate in the eye and say you can't help them.
"Do you have any other form of income, or was your job at the bar it?"
"Yeah, I'll go to the butchers and beg for something in the morning." Laxus sighed at his own lie. Most places he could work at refused to give him work for one reason or another.
"I may have a position open for you. It might not be the most dignified for a man like you, however." Freed offered cautiously.
"What is it?"
"I spend most of my waking hours at the office. Chores can often build up at home and bite into the time I should be sleeping. I've been meaning to hire someone to assist me with those chores while I'm at work. Perhaps prepare supper for when I return." Freed explained, speaking with caution.
"A maid? You want me to be a fucking maid?"
"I was hoping to avoid using that term. But it is the most applicable term, yes." Freed cringed slightly. "If it makes you feel any better, I will be the only person to know and I certainly won't treat you with any less respect because of it."
Laxus ran a hand through his hair in thought. A maid? Typically, maids wore frilly skirts and were, well, women. Laxus was pretty sure Freed would stay true to his word and treat him with respect, but still… On the other hand, he did need the money and, given he didn't have any real education or experience in working, getting offered any jobs would be hard.
Shaking his head, he knew that he would have to take the job. His pride might be damaged and he knew his grandfather would have some mocking comments about being a maid, but this was what he need to do.
"One condition." Laxus demanded. "I get to bring gramps. Get him out of this shit hole for a couple hours a day."
"I won't be there to stop you from bringing him and I certainly won't be turning a sick man out in the cold when I return." Freed smiled. "And, if you're doing your job well, I won't know if my spare bedroom has been used throughout the day."
"Seriously?"
"Do your best to keep him in bed throughout the day and you have my blessing." Freed assured. "The walk to my house and the fresh air will probably do him well."
Laxus wasn't sure what to do as Freed wrote down his address. This damn doctor couldn't possibly be serious. He didn't know him or his grandfather and he was willingly inviting them to spend time in his house throughout the day. Sure, he could probably get as many police officers on them if either Laxus or Makarov tried to steal anything, but he was still being incredibly trusting.
Freed handed Laxus the small piece of paper with his address written on it. He knew that this could be a risk but Laxus and his grandfather seemed trustworthy. It was obvious that Laxus cared for his grandfather and he doubted the blonde would risk his only form of income by doing something wrong.
"I leave for work every morning at half six in the morning." Freed informed. "If you could arrive at my home at six I can show you your duties and give you a rudimentary tour."
"Six huh?" Laxus grimaced slightly.
"Can't you handle it?" Freed taunted slightly. "Tomorrow will be an anomaly. Your normal working hours will start at eight o'clock. I just wish to show you around before I go to my office tomorrow."
Laxus nodded in relief, more than thankful that he wouldn't be waking up every morning at an absurd time. He glanced down at the small piece of paper he had been given, recognising the street name, he could get there quite easily. It was a pretty nice place, he walked past it every time he walked to the market. Anytime he saw someone from the street they glared at him or wouldn't create eye contact; it'd be hilarious to see how they reacted when he walked past them and into a respected doctor's house.
Perhaps he should wear his coat that was covered in oil stains and patches of ripped fabric. That'd scare the hell out of those posh morons. And if they had a heart attack it'd give Freed some extra work, so there were no downsides.
Freed had picked up his coat and hat that had been slung across the back of a chair as Laxus studied the piece of paper with interest. Now adorning the clothing, he waited patiently for Laxus to look up at him; it would be rude to leave without addressing the homeowner.
"So, I start tomorrow then?"
"If that's agreeable to you."
"Yeah, that'll be great. Thanks." Laxus grinned as he looked up, realising Freed had put on his coat. "You goin'?"
"Yes, I've had a rather long day. I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly." Freed smiled slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow. And please take my advice in relation to your grandfather, it certainly will help his recovery."
Laxus nodded as Freed turned around and began to walk down the small hallway beside the staircase, to the front door. With a mischievous grin, Laxus reached over and picked up a slightly rotting apple from the fruit bowl atop the table. Nobody was going to eat it and, out of curiosity, Laxus wanted to see just how well doctor and his new employer's orange theory held up.
With a slight smirk, he threw the apple at the doctor. He was aiming to knock off his top hat, but had misjudged the distance and it was spiralling towards the back of his head. He cringed, knowing this was going to make his first day working for this man incredibly awkward. He immediately began to question why he had decided to throw some old fruit at the other man. A moment of stupidity that could easily ruin his chances of getting some money.
As Freed walked, he noticed the apple flying towards him in a dusty mirror besides the door. He turned around and managed to catch the airborne fruit before it hit him. He frowned down at it and placed it on the small wooden table beside the staircase.
"As I said, oranges are much more effective." Freed smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow, Laxus."
Freed had left the small house and was on his way towards his own home before Laxus could say anything, leaving the blonde with a content grin on his face. So, he hadn't messed up his chance at the job and would be working for someone who didn't get annoyed at every little thing.
He took the rotting apple from the little able, knowing he would get scolded by Porlyucia for leaving it there if he didn't. After ridding himself of the fruit, he jogged upstairs to check on his grandfather. The moment he walked inside, the smaller man was looking at him with the widest grin that he had ever seen. It took a moment to see why.
"You're finally here, maid." The old man grinned. "Could you plump my pillows, maid."
"You heard then?" Laxus rolled his eyes. "And I'm not a maid. I'm just doing the same things a maid does."
"Try saying that when your new boss gets you in a skirt." Makarov cackled.
"He doesn't even see me as a maid, he's obviously not gonna do that." Laxus groaned when the old man laughed manically and began to wiggle his eyebrows at him. Bored with his grandfather's stupidity, he closed the door and began to walk downstairs to prepare supper, muttering under his breath.
"Should've just let the old bastard die."