Title: Home by another name
Author: roomtable202
Disclaimer: This is intended as a fan fiction, on characters owned by their original creators and I am not making a profit out of it.
To get asleep had never been any trouble for Grey, since some 72 hours ago... until now, when he most needed it. Sitting on the edge of the bed mesmerized by the tiny sun ray trespassing trough a small hole of the bedroom shutter, the same place exactly, the same position, he had maintained during the last two hours, wasn't helping either.
It was not because his wounds did hurt more after Molly's tendering, he could manage; he wasn't hungry or thirsty either; didn't feel cold or too hot; he tried to lie on the bed, to lie on the floor, did some push-ups, ... That was the problem, he couldn't think of anything else to do.
He learned at a very young age that crying didn't serve him any purpose as not his mum or the very many other persons that did have him around those early years didn't care. So, he never cried as a child, nor did he as an adult, not even when nearly 16 his own mother died. But then, in that room, he wished he could,... that it were like puking when sick, a reflex act, something physical that could free him of that hollow nothing he was feeling; he wished he was able to get rid of it, without knowing how or why, and could finally abandon himself to sleep.
"Charlie...?" Molly's whispering from the door interrupted his inner musing but he didn't turn around to face her. "Can't you sleep?"
"No."
Molly got in with a mug of hot milk and some cookies, without turning the lights on, half closing the door, looking now at his face. Quickly adapting to the darkness of the room, Molly couldn't tell for sure if the man was really awake, no matter his eyes were fully open. He did not make any further movement recognising Molly's presence either but kept staring at the tiny ray of light.
"Let me help... Sure you look like you need it... And I can help... There. Just drink the milk and eat one of the cookies." She approached the mug to his hands lying loose on his lap, not knowing whether he would take it. He looked at it heaving a shallow sigh and drank it in big gulps. "You lie face down on the bed now; lie down... let me..."
"Molly..."
"Hush, hush... Just lie face down... Please lie down... Close your eyes..."
Molly searched with a fleeting look where she could give him just some mild massaging to relief his tension among the extensive little wounds and bruising that occupied most of his back and arms and, finally, rested her right hand soothingly warm over his cheekbone, her fingers gently moving between his curly hair, her eyes glued on his shaggy face, reassuringly.
"Close your eyes now... You just have to breathe slowly... Relax... Let yourself go... You are tired... Shsss, Shssss... You need to rest... Shsss... Go to sleep now... Go to sleep... Shsss... Shssss..." In almost no time, Charles Grey subdued, exhaled from deep inside and a small teardrop rolled down his nose,... but that he would never know, for he was soundly asleep by then.
After pulling his covers up for him, Molly left the room and closed the door quietly with her own eyes watering, just realising she had a glimpse of that hidden suffering that Jonas will never dare to share with her.