"Ciel's unwavering will and Sebastian's persistence is what brings them together in this world."
-Yana Toboso
-:-
"Are you comfortable?"
There was a moment of silence, and Sebastian Michaelis waited patiently, clipboard held against his chest and a tray of syringes and a couple of bottles of medicine balanced against his hip with his other hand.
"It's...kinda hard..."
"I do apologize, hospital beds do take some getting used to."
The boy tried to settle himself down again, awkwardly attempting to manoeuvre his arm into a comfortable position – his attempts feeble, though, as the long, narrow tubes that were taped to the needles in the soft crease of his elbow were hindering much of his movement.
"No, I mean, I know...I've stayed in hospital overnight before..." the quiet child said, not meeting Sebastian's gaze. He sighed, set down the tray and clipboard on the moveable stand at the end of the bed, and strode over to the lad. The ten year old boy looked far too small for a pristine white cot so large. Like it could swallow him and make him disappear should he duck his head beneath the covers.
Gently, Sebastian began to rearrange the covers, lifting the child's arm up so he could assist him in becoming more settled.
"O-ouch!"
"I'm so sorry," but it was too late – Ciel Phantomhive had already yanked his frail little arm away, hissing in pain as the catheter pulled painfully in his arm, almost tugging the needle free. "Please, Ciel – do hold still."
He tried to reach for the child again, but Ciel was having none of it. "No! Don't touch me, I can do it myself!" the boy objected, swiping away the doctor's gloved hands. Sebastian bit back an unkind remark as he straightened up, busying himself instead with unhooking a coil of the tube that hung from it's IV pack's stand to allow for more mobility on Ciel's behalf.
"You certainly could, if you were a little more agreeable," Sebastian allowed himself to mutter under his breath, and the child, now irritated more than uncomfortable, scowled at him.
"I can hear you."
Sebastian forced a smile. "Oh good, I'm so glad. At least we know you're ears are in perfect working order."
It took him a second to realize that the boy hadn't snapped right back – usually the child would have come back with a smart quip. Ciel's temperament had slowly gotten more and more agitated the more he'd had to stay in the Karnstein Children's Hospital. Sebastian knew in his heart that the boy had done everything in his power to stay polite, to be good – but when his parents had left when visiting hours had finished, when there was no one else around to witness the boy's lack of etiquette and control, Sebastian saw a different side to the child. A frightened side, a side that he brandished to try and scare off anyone who would try and harm him.
The boy, Sebastian knew, was terrified of dying and he was oh so very close to it.
Turning, the doctor saw the crestfallen look on the boys face; he'd struck a chord that reverberated with hurt. Oh dear; he'd blundered and upset the child past earning himself a smart-arse remark or a livid out lash reaction. Ciel was gazing at his hands, one bandaged, the other with two or three catheter's and needles protruding from his elbow crease. The expression he wore was one of defeat and despair. Of course his ear's were working perfectly; it was the rest of him that wasn't.
"I'm sorry."
Whispered words were clearly of little difference to the boy; Ciel merely slid down beneath the covers, arm uncomfortably lain over the top of the blankets, and turned over onto his side as best he could.
"Good night, Doctor."
Sebastian shook his head, knowing he'd offended the boy and that in it's own right was a mistake. It wasn't that the boy would go crying to his parent's about it in the morning; Sebastian knew that Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive knew nothing of their son's inner fears and troubles – they knew the sickness that plagued the child depressed and upset him, but they also saw the limitless courage that he put on every day, never giving up the fight.
It was times like this that Sebastian wondered whether or not Ciel knew who he was kidding more; his poor distraught parents, or his poor, sick-stricken self.
He rounded the bed to the other side, kneeling down when he came to Ciel's head. Not looking at the boy, but knowing that the child's azure eyes were watching him dully, Sebastian set about removing the constant positive air pressure machine from the larger, lower draw of the bedside drawer, unwinding the broad tube from around the oxygen mask and standing to place it on the top of the drawers.
"I cannot allow you to forget this tonight," was all he said, quietly, and heard a grumbled hmph in response. "After all, the last time I allowed you to sleep without this you had all the nurses in station down the hallway in a mad scramble when your heart rate dropped so fast so quickly."
Ciel didn't reply to that – he rolled over onto his back again, gazing up at the bland ceiling.
"May I?" Sebastian held the mask over the side of the bed, waiting, and Ciel pulled a face as he pushed himself up onto one elbow to allow Sebastian to reach around his head to strap the mask onto his face.
"..."
Sebastian pulled the mask up a little to allow Ciel to speak. "I'm sorry?"
"Could you...put it on the lower setting tonight?"
With a blink, Sebastian registered the unhappiness in his young charge's voice. "Of course. Might I ask why?"
Ciel's gaze went from his to the other side of the room, clearly uncomfortable, as if he were being asked to say something personal and embarrassing. "It's...I don't like being forced to breathe."
"I know. I can't think of anyone who does." Sebastian nodded consolingly, readjusting the mask before moving back to the CPAP machine, plugging it into the powerboard behind the hospital bed and switching it on, dialling it down to a lower setting. "But it must be done; it's on sufficiently enough so that you won't find breathing difficult as you sleep, but it's not so low that it's unnoticeable, I'm afraid."
"That's...okay." Ciel mumbled, his voice muffled by the mask, but just audible for Sebastian to understand the words over the soft hum of the machine.
With a nod, a small smile – an offering of peace – and a slight bow, Sebastian turned to leave, bidding his little patient goodnight once again, but the small, slender fingers of the boy curled into his sleeve.
"Yes?"
"..."
He moved to raise the mask again, but the boy shook his head.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"..."
Ciel's muffled words were almost inaudible, as if he were whispering; speaking words that he could not say aloud to Sebastian, but needed him to hear. After a moment, he let his hand fall, releasing the doctor.
Sebastian reached over the child's head, brushing away some stray strands of his fringe as the sleep medication he'd had Ciel take with water not half an hour earlier began to take effect; the boy's eyes were heavy, all his fight and spirit taken from his with the affect of the sleeping drugs. Ciel's eyes closed, and he sighed deeply with sleep as Sebastian let his finger's trail over the child's soft, pale cheek.
"Goodnight, my Lord," Sebastian whispered, stepping away to leave the tired little earl to sleep, the CPAP machine now in full effect, controlling the child's breathing and regulating his inhalations and exhalations.
He took back up his tray of syringes and medication, and the clipboard full of notes, and stepped out of the private ward, letting the door click quietly closed behind him. Earl Vincent Phantomhive had a brave, brave son; arrogant, frightened, but at heart the child was more courageous than anyone Sebastian had ever met. And even though the boy could be stubborn, unwaveringly so, Sebastian was determined to ensure the child's survival and return to health.
If it was the last thing he'd do, he swore he'd do it.
-:-
Fin