Never again, he told himself. Never, ever again would he do something so utterly careless, so utterly mindless, so utterly idiotic. So stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Never again. Over and over Grell inwardly and harshly repeated these words to himself.

He was standing in the spacious kitchen, trying as best he knew how to stop the flow of blood that leaked from the long, frightful cut on the palm of his right hand. Nearby, inside the scullery just off the kitchen, three jagged pieces of what was formerly a porcelain saucer mocked him from their spot on the floor, particularly the fragment with the bit of bright red coating its sharp, spiteful edge. And over on the small table by the scullery door lay his discarded gloves, right where he always put them when he had dishes to wash.

He supposed it was just as possible for him to hurt himself on the broken shards of china even if he had actually decided to take the five extra steps and put the gloves back on, but at least it wouldn't have stung as much. Anyway, he sullenly thought, who else but him would attempt to handle such dangerous objects with bare hands when there were in fact gloves readily available?

Stupid, lazy…and stupid again.

Exhaling deeply, the less-than-perfect butler struggled to wrap the half-bloodied handkerchief around his hand, which proved to be quite the feat when only one hand was free to do the wrapping. More blood was smeared as the wound steadily continued to ooze, making the chore even harder. He was in the middle of vainly trying to tie the ends into some semblance of a knot when the door opened, and Madam Red appeared in the kitchen.

She had been passing by the room, and had decided to check in on him upon hearing his weary sigh. Now, after glancing at the hazardous clutter on the floor and then surveying Grell hopelessly fighting with the handkerchief, she released a sigh of her own and shook her head in what might have been pity. "You're doing it incorrectly."

Finally surrendering in the battle he was plainly losing, Grell turned his eyes away from her, shamefaced, choosing to view the wall instead. "Somehow it's much harder than I thought it would be," he confessed in a mumble. "Oh!" Suddenly tense, he looked back at her hastily. "And please be so kind as to forgive me for the mess…I fully intend on getting r-rid of it just as soon as I fix myself up." He pressed the stained handkerchief down more firmly onto his palm and shifted his hand, attempting to hide the extent of the injury from her.

But it was too late. Madam Red walked over to him, obviously exasperated. "I think it would do you better if you let me fix you up," she replied, and pried his good hand off and out of the way in order to more closely examine the damage on the other. "It doesn't look like you've even cleaned this properly." She made a face of disdain.

"I…" He had nothing to say.

She moved her hands away and allowed him to cover the wound again. As she made her way back to the door, she turned to regard him over her shoulder. "Rinse that off and then re-apply the pressure," came the instructions. "Wait for me here. I'll be right back with bandages." The door shut behind her, and she was gone.

He was inconveniencing her yet again, robbing her of time that she could be spending on more important, more significant things. Thoroughly disgusted at himself, Grell went to do as he'd been bid.

Ten minutes later, the both of them were standing back at the same counter, the lady of the house skillfully winding a long snow-white bandage around her butler's hand while Grell watched dully. "You're quite lucky, you know," Madam Red remarked. "Not everyone has had the training to know how to do this the proper way."

"Yes, of course," Grell automatically replied, voice apathetic, and then was silent again, having no real desire to speak. He hated this. He felt like nothing more than a child right now…like someone to be looked after. It was all so degrading…although, a small part of him wanted to argue back and point out that perhaps this was Madam Red's instinct, to assist those who were physically hurt or ill. That did make some sense. But he still fervently wished that he could be somewhere else right now, and not the object of such attention.

It was then that he heard her next words. "I don't really understand why you didn't think to get the broom," she murmured, without taking her eyes from her work.

Grell instantly wanted to slap himself. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that either. But then, it was evident that he hadn't been thinking much at all. He hung his head.

Noticing this, Madam Red might have laughed a bit in amusement at his forgetfulness…if only it wasn't such a recurring problem. She took the small scissors and cut the bandage, removing the strip left over. "Cheer up," she spoke, business-like. "We're almost finished here." Grell raised his head to look, and in moments the job was done.

He couldn't help but admire the neatness of her work, and had to admit that she was right – it was good to have someone with such expertise around. He flexed his fingers, trying not to bend his tender hand too much. "Thank you very much, my lady," he said as gratefully as he was able, managing a half-smile and forcing himself to meet her eyes.

"Of course," she responded, gathering up what remained of her supplies. "We wouldn't have wanted blood everywhere, or an infection, now would we?"

Grell sighed. "No."

The lady took a moment to observe him, and then frowned. "Don't be so depressed. Just remember to use the broom next time. Please, please make an effort to remember."

"I know. I will," he replied, still unhappy, and nodded once.

"Well then, is there anything else I can address here before I go?" Madam Red asked, preparing to leave and let him sweep up the litter on the floor. At least, she tried to reassure herself, it wasn't one of her favorite pieces of china.

That did it. "This is all wrong!" Grell cried out suddenly, unable to help himself. He threw his hands into the air, all at once animated again, the emotion returning to his face. "I should be coming to your aid and taking care of you, not the other way around!" he raved. "It's unheard of! Ridiculous! It just – isn't – right," he finished in defeat.

Startled, Madam Red could only stare at him, not having expected the outburst. He was frustrated, and who wouldn't be? They both had every right to feel that way. But as much as she hesitated to admit it, a part of her did feel somewhat sorry for him.

She stepped forward and, reaching over, squeezed his shoulder, smiling ever so slightly. Grell looked at her in surprise.

"I know. But you try."

/

This one just sort of happened without me even planning it…

Hope you liked slightly-more-serious Grell.