Kitty stopped in to see him between leaving Mr Button's house and heading to her shift at the inn. She had resumed both occupations in the aftermath of the battle, though as everyone (Nathaniel especially) kept reminding her, she didn't have to. But she felt the need to salvage some sense of normalcy, some reminder of the routine she had once enjoyed. It's not the same as before though, her newly diminished strength made the eager task running she had once performed for Mr Button near impossible, but between the two of them with their contrasting aches and pains, they managed to find a reasonably comfortable rhythm again. As for the inn... it was a whole different world. There was no talk of rebellion anymore.
In between these two things that were familiar yet strange, it felt only right to pay homage to what was new and good, which was why she found herself with some regularity leaving from Mr Button's early to stop at the hospital room currently housing her second favorite magician. A year ago had someone told Kitty she would care for enough magicians to have favorites at all she would have laughed, but a lot had changed since the demon rebellion.
She spoke a few quick words to the receptionist more out of politeness than necessity (Kitty had become a familiar face at the hospital since Nathaniel's admittance, though she was far from the only one) and headed up to his room. Standing just outside the door, she took a moment to listen in, hoping to gauge the overall mood before entering. In the early days, once he had woken from the initial coma, Nathaniel was brittle and angry, snapping at anyone in sight like a wounded animal, routinely sending nurses from the room with tears in their eyes for nothing more than attempting to change his bandages. He still had moments of surliness, particularly when his wounds were agitated, but as time wore on and the pain lessened he had more good days than bad, and was now usually decent company, if sometimes a little melancholic.
What she heard from the doorway was a good sign. Bartimaeus' voice was animated, no doubt he was recounting some wild and likely exaggerated tale from his history. In between pauses Kitty could make out faint raspy chuckles. She smiled and walked in.
Bartimaeus was in his favorite form of Ptolemy, perched on his master's bed, one leg tucked up against Nathaniel's thigh, the other hanging off the edge. Beside the djinn, looking a little squished but otherwise content (no doubt Bartimaeus had found his way into the bed with considerable pushing and prodding, while Nathaniel undoubtedly complained of his injuries and resisted any attempts to make the process easier. She almost rolled her eyes at the mental image) was Nathaniel. The hospital bed had been raised into a sort of recliner position, and he was further propped up buy a practical nest of pillows, more so, Kitty realized with a start, then had ever been in this hospital room at any given time. She could only hope that whatever Bartimaeus had done to bring about this situation had been done discreetly and with minimal fussing, though she knew better than to be optimistic. Bartimaeus was speaking with great enthusiasm, waving one hand around to illustrate various points. The other hand, Kitty couldn't help but note, was tangled up with one of Nathaniel's and was absentmindedly playing with his fingers. Kitty wondered if the spirit even noticed he was doing it, and decided not to call attention to the action. Nathaniel for his part was observing Bartimaeus with rapt attention. He also seemed obvious to their intertwined fingers.
Bartimaeus was the first to notice her standing there, he met her eyes and his face split into a wide grin.
"Hey look, it's Kitty" he said in lieu of a greeting. Nathaniel noticed her then and smiled as well, slow and sleepy in the way that only strong pain killers can accomplish, but so genuine that she couldn't help but return it.
"Hello Bartimaeus, hello Nathaniel." She crossed to room and took a seat at the foot of his bed, feeling a bit fatigued from the walk. Nathaniel seemed to notice this and his face took on a look of pinched disapproval.
"You didn't have to come all the way out here, you should be resting" he chided. Kitty patted his bony leg, hidden beneath the covers.
"I've told you before and I'll say it again, this is on my way to work, it's barely a detour, honestly" this was, of corse, completely untrue, and the expression on his face said he know that, but Kitty knew he appreciated her company too much to argue.
"Alright then" he grumbled, resigned, as he shifted into a slightly more upright position under both her and Bartimaeus' cautious supervision, "tell me all about what ever nonsense you've been getting up to with that old coot Button"
She smiled and shook her head at his tone, but did launch into an explanation of the most recent summoning methods she'd been trying, as well as her further research and writings on the Other Place. Nathaniel had less to contribute to their conversation, as his head was still addled with morphine and his day to day routine was monotonous and not worth mentioning, but he did his best to keep up, and occasionally offered insight from things he'd read or summonings he'd performed. Despite the painkillers and the substantial injury to his person, he had an excellent memory, and even when his thoughts came out jumbled, disjointed, or vague, they could generally point her in the right direction and were invaluable to her studies. Bartimaeus threw in the occasional witty quip, but for the most part was uncharacteristically silent, content to just observe her and the boy at his side.
Eventually though the effort of keeping up conversation began to wear on Nathaniel. He slumped further and further into his pillows, his responses became shorter, hazier, and fewer, until finally his eyes fluttered shut and his breathing evened out. Bartimaeus smoothed the boy's hair back from his face, his hand lingering on his forehead. Kitty understood the impulse, there was a period of time where Nathaniel's wound had been septic. His temperature skyrocketed, it was all anyone could do to keep him from boiling in his own body. She remembers the helpless feeling of sitting in the waiting room alone thinking, I've already lost so much to this, I don't want to loose him too, but knowing that it was never up to her weather he lived or died. She can't imagine how Bartimaeus had felt, hovering in Nathaniel's room as some insect or another, unnoticed by doctors and nurses alike but monitoring the boy's slow progress as a helpless bystander.
The djinn picked at the nearest pillowcase and stifled snorting laughter at the sight of Nathaniel's slack, sleeping, face.
"you humans are so... fragile" he said, his eyes trailing down to the lump of bedding where she knew Nathaniel's injured side to be. His gaze lingered there for a long moment, face unreadable, before he shook his head, as if to dislodge whatever thought had rooted there, and offered Kitty a smile. He was still holding Nathaniel's hand.
"I don't know," she said gravely, looking directly into the spirit's ancient and world weary eyes, "I think were tougher than we look."