This Immortal Coil
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of Yana Toboso and Square Enix, Co. Ltd. I don't own them; I just examine all their possibilities.
Part 13: The reset reel
19 March, 1890
Reaper Dispatch Offices - London
9:25 p.m.
William had barely climbed into bed when the phone rang. He paused for a moment and took a breath. Calls at this time of night were never good, though he had been awaiting some good news. Hopefully this was it, though the anticipation of good news sometimes had the reward of horrible news.
William sat up in bed and picked up the receiver on his bed table.
"Spears," he said.
"Mr. Spears, this is Dr. Kingsbury," the voice on the other end said. "I am sorry to disturb you this late."
William's stomach dropped, though there was something that softened the blow. It was her tone of voice; she sounded almost…cheerful?
"I wanted to inform you that it appears there has been a significant improvement in Mr. Sutcliff's condition," she said.
He allowed a small relieved breath. He had never heard that woman sound so merry.
"Mr. Knox was here earlier and he reported to me that Mr. Sutcliff opened his eyes and carried on a short conversation," she said.
William's mouth dropped open slightly.
"He actually spoke?" William said.
"Mr. Knox came right up to me earlier tonight and said he woke up at one point and spoke to him for a few minutes before going back down," the doctor said.
A bit of joy was sucked out with these words.
"What of his condition now?" William said, trying to keep his tone even. "Is he simply sleeping or does he remain entirely unconscious as he has been?"
"Alas he remains in the same state of unconsciousness," Dr. Kingsbury said. "It does appear as if this was another brief moment, though the strongest one he has had. As I said he is back in his original state, though responding a little more to commands. I spoke with Dr. Sutherland and both of us agree that he seems to be bobbing a little closer to the surface. From what Mr. Knox told me, it seems as if he has had moments of cognition; possibly for the past few days."
"How so?"
"Mr. Knox told me that Mr. Sutcliff said something to the effect of, 'Who was the poor bloke who was hit by the angel blast?'"
William's mouth turned up into a small smirk.
"This means he has heard a few things around him to know that someone had been hit by a Voice Attack," Dr. Kingsbury said. "Clearly he wasn't associating himself as the victim. Whether he even knows where he is or why he is here is another matter, though he is grasping tighter onto consciousness."
"I remember Dr. Sutherland said there was a possibility he could have some speech hindrances as a result of his injuries."
"I did ask Mr. Knox about Mr. Sutcliff's speech patterns, he said he sounded normal. Mr. Knox said he sounded as if he had woken from a deep nap though his speech seemed to be growing stronger."
This couldn't be true. Knox had to have heard something wrong or perhaps there was something he could not understand that a trained medical professional could. Maybe he was so exuberant about his senior talking that he wasn't looking for any signs of hindrance. What were the odds that slow, groggy speech would become his normal form of speech?
A voice in William's mind smacked him for looking this gift horse in the mouth. Sutcliff woke fully, Sutcliff was talking; even if it were just for a few minutes, that was reason enough for celebration. William, however, did not want to allow any optimism that would only be shot down later. Careful practicality was the safer approach; if this were the miracle Dr. Sutherland spoke of, he would celebrate when it was plainly in front of him.
"That is truly remarkable," William said.
"We will be keeping a closer eye on him through the night in case this means a full awakening is imminent," Dr. Kingsbury said. "If there are any changes, I will let you know or else Dr. Sutherland will call you if anything happens during the day."
"I appreciate the word, doctor," William said. "Please keep me informed."
William put the receiver back down, then remained in a sitting position staring at his bedroom door. This was amazing news, William wanted nothing more than to emit a long sigh of relief. He still found it an unwise idea at the moment. All of this was incredibly premature and based on second-hand information. Perhaps a personal visit would be best. William nodded to himself and settled himself back in bed.
He would take care of this tomorrow, right now this was a matter for the doctors and Grell himself.
20 March, 1890
Reaper Dispatch Offices - London
8:14 a.m.
William had barely been in the office for an hour and his phone was ringing nigh nonstop. Accounting was the first call, apparently he forgot a comma somewhere on a figure report and it confused someone. As if it was all that hard to figure out what the amount was. Personnel wanted to confirm someone's vacation time. Assignments alerted him that there was a mistake in one entry: a suicidal barrister wasn't leaping from his roof at 11 a.m. but 11 p.m. They were adjusting the assignment schedule accordingly, they just thought he should know. The noise continued.
It seemed as if every moment he got into a nice groove of typing the phone was ringing again. The latest call came while he was in the middle of cataloging some reports, breaking his concentration. He practically threw the folder down on the desk and snatched up the receiver. He was not going to be polite to whoever this was.
"Spears," he practically barked over the phone.
"Mr. Spears I'm sorry to disturb you," a Scottish voice said over the line. "It's Dr. Sutherland."
William felt his bile pull back a bit. He took a breath and settled himself slightly.
"Yes, Doctor," William said with was as much politeness as he could manage now.
"Mr. Spears I have a bit of good news," the doctor said. "As Dr. Kingsbury told you last night, we have been keeping a close watch on Mr. Sutcliff all evening into the morning. About five minutes ago all of his neural responses went into a normal sleep pattern. All of his reflexes and responses are that of someone in the midst of dreaming sleep. In fact he has been chatting a bit in his sleep and tossing around. We are sure this means he will be waking up in everything from a few minutes to an hour on his own."
William felt his hand shaking around the receiver, every single annoyance from before now a passing memory.
"We'd give him a nudge to test it, but that would be a rather jarring wake-up," Dr. Sutherland continued. "It would be best for him if he pulled himself out naturally. If you or Mr. Knox or anyone else were willing and able to be with him when he wakes, I would recommend coming down here soon."
William did a mental rundown of how many papers and reports needed to be filled out. Trifles all of them, just noise fading from his brain.
"Mr. Knox is on duty at present, but I will be down within the next few minutes," William said, holding back a slight tremble in his voice.
He slammed down the receiver, then took a cursory glance at what he had been typing. William then shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of his office, seeing Ms. Thompson give him a concerned look before he phased to the infirmary. He materialized in the hallway and tried to keep from running. Every rushed step was torture, though soon he was at his destination. He could see Dr. Sutherland standing near the window watching Sutcliff from across the room, though readying to spring to action if needed.
William walked into the room, the doctor looked back at him and smiled. William simply nodded in greeting, he wanted to say something but his breath was caught in his chest. He stood beside Dr. Sutherland and stared at Sutcliff. He was indeed turning a little more than he had seen before.
Sutcliff's body suddenly jerked upward. William's limbs went numb; was this another seizure? Instead Sutcliff settled himself, his breath heavier and his head gently turning to the side.
"It looks as if he's having a nightmare," William said softly.
"Ay, or replaying a bad memory," Dr. Sutherland said.
Grell's breaths calmed and his body stilled a little. Soon he was lying prone, though his head shifted a little against the pillow. His mouth opened slightly as if trying to form words. William leaned in a little bit, getting in position to listen carefully.
"A rough collection, that is all," Grell said.
William's eyes widened. His voice sounded as incoherent as someone talking in his sleep. Something sounded familiar though, "A rough collection?" The words suddenly clicked.
"That's what he said to Caroline Wallace when he returned to base," William said.
Dr. Sutherland looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Caroline Wallace, the receptionist?" the doctor said.
The sudden look on his face communicated he knew what William was talking about.
"She said he walked past her looking very ill," William said, keeping a close eye on Sutcliff as he spoke. "She said she inquired about his health, apparently he told her it was merely a 'rough collection' in those exact words."
"He might just be replaying his last memories before falling unconscious," Dr. Sutherland said in an awed tone. "Maybe…maybe the reel is resetting itself."
William let the thought sink in, then nodded.
"It has to go back a few frames before continuing forward," William said.
He was going to wake up any time now, that was the most logical conclusion William could make. This time William was allowing himself a little cautious optimism.
He stared at Grell, watching his form shift a little more and then fully relax. Grell now lay completely still. William didn't move a muscle, only watched and prayed to whoever cared that he would at least shift a little. Sutcliff's lids twitched slightly then gradually fluttered. At last his eyes opened fully. William's lower lip trembled, mentally screaming at him to not close them; to stay awake fully and not just drift out again.
Grell stared at the ceiling, blinking a few times. Those green irises then scanned the beds in front of him. The look on his face was somber; not the blank confusion of a man half asleep, but the grave expression of someone learning of his situation. He was awake, William just knew it. Grell's hand trailed from his side over his chest, his fingers gently clutching his white nightgown as if feeling for the manner of garment he was wearing. His mouth lightly dropped open; he was just starting to put the disparate pieces together and understand what happened to him.
Sutcliff's hand trailed up his neck and over his face, feeling the healthy growth of stubble. The disgusted look he suddenly gave put a smile on William's face, though he held his mouth shut before a chuckle could sneak out. Sutcliff's hand traveled further up his face. William's smile suddenly straightened; he knew what he would find out next.
Sutcliff's hand went up his forehead and felt the bandage, gently feeling around the perimeter of his covered scalp. His hand slowed its creep and it started visibly shaking. He raised it for a second, then lowered it on his forehead. An index finger gently crept underneath the bandage and pulled back. Sutcliff felt around his head again, gently passing over the back of his head and his neck as well.
Grell held his hand on his head, his lower lip trembling. He let out a few small whimpers, tears welled from his eyes. He just realized his hair was gone. William gave Dr. Sutherland a small glance, the doctor looked at him with a heavy expression. His index finger dipped under the bandage again, slightly lifting it to expose a hint of the ginger stubble across his scalp. William winced a little at the sight; what he had just seen was something that Sutcliff clearly felt.
Sutcliff's shaking hand rubbed the side of his face, his whimpers growing louder as tears streamed from his eyes. He suddenly flinched, dropping his hand back down to the bed and taking deep breaths. He looked like he was trying to calm himself, maybe his sobs produced a stab of pain. William wondered if he were still in pain, though his distress looked more like a reaction to such a terrible realization than a physical ailment.
More tears fell down his cheeks as he gave a few breathy sobs. In between his sobs were hard breaths; it was as if he were allowing himself some emotion for the loss whilst trying to pull himself together. These were the emotions of a man in control of himself; it was a direct slap to everyone who thought he would completely explode or collapse into an incoherent fit. Even William had to admit he didn't know how he would react to this. Dr. Kingsbury's words from that day rang through his head:
"If he becomes coherent enough to lament this loss, I would consider it a happy occasion."
William watched Grell clear some tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. This was indeed a happy occasion; if this was his worst loss it would be a miracle indeed. Grell's tears were calming with a few heavy breaths, it was like he was pulling himself forward. At last he calmed significantly, green eyes still rimmed with red and a few lingering tears still in place.
Sutcliff slowly raised his hand from the bed, a significant effort from the looks of it though it was becoming easier by the second. His hand brushed over the top of his bed table, likely feeling for his glasses. He looked up at the ceiling and felt around, getting a small look of annoyance as he wasn't finding what he was looking for. His hand felt around the basin on and William heard a little huff.
William glanced at Dr. Sutherland. The doctor smirked a little, a hand going into the pocket of his lab coat and pulling out a black glasses case. This tip of a red arm peeked out from a small crack in the opening. William smirked in response. Dr Sutherland pointed the case at William and smiled a little wider. William took it and then looked back over at Sutcliff.
Sutcliff's head slightly turned to the side, his eyes now directly upon the collection of flowers. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He stared at the vase packed with red roses, his eyes then moving to the bear from the Undertaker and the flowers from other colleagues. If he heard the kids having a laugh at him yesterday, then this hopefully made up for it.
William went invisible and walked over to Sutcliff, opening the case and removing the spectacles. The chain was clearly taken off, though he felt the slight shifting of a small bag inside holding them. It was a good time to welcome him back properly. Grell's eyes were fixed on the flowers, his pointed teeth exposed in a wide grin. He didn't seem to notice when William dropped his invisibility. William gently handled the glasses by the end of the frame, then lowered them into Grell's line of sight.
Grell's eyes moved to the glasses, a knowing smile spreading across his face. One hand gradually moved up and took hold of the specs, both hands opening the arms and slowly placing them on his face. William could only imagine a knight taking back his helm, reclaiming his title.
Their eyes met, Grell gazed at him with his smile firmly in place. William saw the life in his eyes; a life he had sorely missed. He looked tired and drawn, but very much alive. William never thought he would savor Sutcliff's loving gaze; maybe his mere presence at this moment meant the world to him. William kept his form still and his gaze neutral; it was how he wanted to remain in the face of such a miracle.
"Good morning, darling," Grell said. "Or should I say afternoon or evening, your pick."
His voice was soft and weak, though articulate and present. He still had that playful ring to his voice, that relaxed upper-class manner of speech still fully intact. That voice that used to grate on William was now like music.
"The first was accurate," William said forcing himself to retain a serious delivery. "It's about 8:30."
"Though I should be asking what day it is, or rather how long I've been out for," Grell said.
William stared at him hard. He knew he had been unconscious. From what he said to Knox last night, he seemed to be oblivious to his condition. Apparently now he knew something was amiss. Perhaps he had just replayed the moment of his injury, perhaps that jerking he did in bed was the moment everything came back to him.
"Do you know where you are and why you're here?" William said.
"I do," Grell said. "A lot of it's fuzzy, but somehow I remember the whole incident. The last thing I remember was stumbling into the office and falling on that couch in the lounge."
William tried to keep a stony visage, but this revelation made him numb. He remembered everything? The doctor was right, his record was resetting and he was watching every bit of it. William was almost relieved.
"That's where we found you; still as a corpse and completely unresponsive," William said.
"I think I heard you and Dr. Ian talking about the damage done to my head," Grell said, his expression becoming a bit somber.
"You heard that? He said you would be in and out of it, rather interesting to know how in you would be," William said, pushing up his glasses to give him a focus away from his building amazement.
"The 'in' part has been a work in progress," Grell said.
"What do you recall?"
"The most batty dreams I've ever had, then occasionally hearing someone speak and not knowing if it was all part of the same soup."
He had indeed heard much of the conversations. Perhaps he hadn't been as cold dead as everyone assumed he was. Perhaps that still form could still hear and understand most things around him.
"The doctor said such could be the case," William said, slowly sitting down in the chair beside his bed.
He glanced up to see Dr. Sutherland out in the hallway watching the scene from a safe distance with a smile. It appeared he wanted to give the two some time alone before coming in and seeing to his now-conscious ward. It was a nice gesture, also giving William plenty of room to relay the particulars in layman's terms.
"Your brain resorting itself after the trauma it endured," William said, "all the little nerves and synapses reconnecting themselves or something to that effect. He's the better authority on this than I, though I do recall he mentioned that some gravely injured reapers will view their Cinematic Record in their own minds."
Grell gave a dark chuckle.
"That about describes it, a few reels in mixed order with the rest of the nonsense in my brain," Grell said.
"The sort of thing that would render any outside viewer a drooling mess for the rest of their existences if they viewed but a moment," William said with a small smirk.
"Imagine seeing it first person, though I suppose I know my own madness," Grell said, his moth curving into a smile.
William's smirk widened a little.
"So how long have I been out for?" Grell said.
William's smile relaxed. This was the beginning of the tough conversation.
"Five days," he said.
Grell sighed hard and looked up at the ceiling.
"Brilliant," Grell said.
"Mr. Knox said you truly came around last night," William said. "Said you asked him 'who was the poor bloke who was hit by the angel blast?'"
Grell smirked and snickered a little.
"I answered my own question," he said.
It was so amazing to hear him taking all of this with his humor. William had forgotten how strong he was.
"Now whatever did become of that angel?" Grell said.
That was a memory William did not care to replay, though it was a much more agreeable prospect under these circumstances. He could give Sutcliff some good news.
"It died rather horribly from what I gathered," William said, his upper lip slightly curling. "We arrived at the scene shortly after the blast, just in time for Sebastian Michaelis to emerge from the mess grinning like the cat that ate the canary. It sickens me to think on what we found there, though I prefer it when vermin takes care of vermin."
Grell grinned in response. If his head trauma could have erased all memory of that beast, William would have been most pleased. This was still part of the overall blessing. William recalled wondering if Grell would even remember what a demon was, now he clearly remembered his dearest monster. On its head this was indeed a happy occasion.
"The incident was investigated rather thoroughly in these last few days," William said, glad to steer this back over to business. "The Council examined Matilda Cornwall's completed record and even looked through Ciel Phantomhive's record for corroboration. You were given a few commendations; one for saving a soul from a predatory creature, one for preventing an unscheduled human death, and one recognition for taking serious injuries whilst performing the former two."
Grell's eyebrows rose and he smirked.
"They were likely rather shocked to use the gold seal rather than the red mark on my record," Grell said.
"Needless to say you are on paid medical leave for as long as you need to recover," William said, watching Grell nod lightly in response. "I was told you could retire should you feel the need, though I know what the answer would be to that."
"I should hope so," Grell said with a laugh. "You can tell them a little smash to the head isn't going to stop me."
How wonderful it was to hear those words out of Grell Sutcliff's own mouth.
"I figured," William said.
He paused, his own words about Earl Phantomhive's record floating in his head. Grell saved his life, now he was awake and speaking. Did he remember why he did it? Would he be willing to share it? It was a question he could ask him later, though the thought continued to grate on him. What happened if Grell fell unconscious again? What if he lost some memories the longer he was awake? The matter simply ate at William; he had to bring it out now.
"I had to read that one entry in Earl Phantomhive's record a few times to fully believe what I was seeing," William said. "You saved his life and, from the looks of it, you did so as a conscious act."
Grell's expression sobered, he stared at William in what looked like quiet puzzlement. Maybe he didn't recall anything, though William couldn't just let the matter be.
"I'll be honest, I have been pondering whether your injuries were the result of poor timing or perhaps a truly noble act," William said.
"Willie, you know better than to try to rationalize anything I do," Grell said.
It was an answer that unsettled him. It initially sounded like a distraction, a rubbish answer to get him to stop asking questions. The more he pondered the words, the more they made sense in a way. What if saving the wretch was something that came to him, what if it was an instinctive reaction so deep that perhaps Grell had no rhyme or reason for them especially right now?
Perhaps that was a conclusion Grell himself had to make. He was the one who rescued the boy and he was the one who suffered the consequences. William felt that prying any further would have been rude. He was the one that needed the answer, though Grell was the one who needed the answer more for himself. Just because he was coherent and talking didn't mean there were no holes in his memory. Perhaps prying now would just agitate him and cause more strife within himself to remember everything. Grell needed to reach his own conclusions, William already had his.
"I won't inquire if you could do the same," William said with a smirk. "I concluded that reason for the earl's rescue was your own. The results were still the same."
"Perhaps it was best if you left it at that," Grell said.
It was a conclusion William could manage but not one he liked. Perhaps Grell felt the same. That didn't prevent an uncomfortable pause from settling between them for a moment.
"Where is Ronnie now?" Grell finally said.
William thought this moved from one potentially unnerving conversation to the next.
"On assignment," William said.
"Tell the poor boy to swing by when he gets a free moment," Grell said.
"He has been spending a bit of time here anyway, I'm sure he'll be along at his next available moment."
Grell shifted his head on his pillow and gave a warm smile.
"He is such a dear," Grell said.
That was a reunion that needed to happen. William thought about calling Knox from the field, though he had a bit of a packed schedule. What were the odds though that Sutcliff would black out again before Knox arrived, or worse? It was a ghastly thought though realistic. Knox's shift ended around 3, by then it would be known if Grell would be in his current condition or perhaps improved. Maybe that would give Grell more time to regain his bearings, the patient's needs had to be considered first. That reunion could wait for when Knox was done his shift and Sutcliff had grown a little more accustomed to the world.
Knox needed to see his mentor healthy again, especially after…
"He was here a few nights ago when you went into seizures," William said right out. Why not get this pleasant conversation out of the way now. "Dr. Sutherland said he was practically screaming for help."
Grell looked up at William, his mouth slightly open.
"You gave us a bit of a scare," William said. It was a difficult topic but at least he was explaining this directly to the patient. "I'll let the doctor explain more to you, but they were afraid you started bleeding again. Thankfully such was not the case."
Grell closed his eyes and sighed hard.
"I remember hearing Ron's voice pleading with me," Grell said.
He heard that? Even in the throes of a seizure that aggravated his injury, he still heard that. The power of the mind truly amazed William right now.
"I'd be gentle on the lad then," William said.
Grell gently nodded, then fixed his gaze on William with a little smirk.
"I remembered hearing your voice too at one point," he said. "You said I was a good friend."
So he heard that too. William shifted a little in his chair. Those were exasperated words for a dying man; now that dying man was well again and asking them directly. He couldn't help but feel a little exposed.
"You heard that, did you?" William said.
"Did you mean it?" Grell said.
The question chilled him. William stared at Grell, his defenses lowering every moment he stared into those open eyes. His stern gaze relaxed slightly.
"Perhaps I did," he said.
It truly felt good to say that.
William watched Grell's hand slowly rise from his side and reach for his own hand. He kept his hand loose, allowing the gentle grip. He tried to keep his hand from shaking and he slowly clasped Grell's hand in response. His flesh was warmer, he felt the muscles and tendons slightly shift. William never thought he would ever enjoy this feeling.
William's expression softened, he watched Grell give a warm smile. They gazed at each other for a moment; William felt he was truly appreciating something he had taken for granted for far too long. One never knows how much they value something they might lose.
"You know you won't be rid of me that easily," Grell said.
The corner of William's mouth turned up in a slight smirk.
"To he honest, Grell Sutcliff, I figured that all along," he said.
He simply savored that wicked grin that came over Grell's face.
3:05 p.m.
The dilemma was presented once again: go to the infirmary and get some immediate answers plus a joyous occasion or be a coward and go to the mailbox to see if he received any messages. Ronald phased to the mailroom the moment his last client was collected and recorded; this route was so much preferable. He would rather get some good or bad news secondhand then go to the source and be disappointed or worse.
Ronald hesitated before opening his mailbox. If there was no envelope there, how would he respond? He would go straight to the infirmary next and get his answer, though it might not be an answer he was hoping for. He played those few words through his mind all day; those few weak words in the voice of his friend. Those words were gold to him, he only hoped there would be more where that came from. If there had been no more since, he at least had that.
Ronald finally turned the key on the box and slammed the door open, preparing himself for an empty mailbox. There were a few envelopes inside, he still prepared himself that they all could be mundane matters. He shuffled through them hastily; one was from Procurement, likely for that new part they had available to replace a few worn cables on his scythe. Another was a note from Personnel, a common mailer regarding some kind of reminder or new policy.
The third envelope bore his name in flowing handwriting. He paused and looked at it, there was no indication of who it was from. He ripped it open and pulled out a folded piece of paper that also bore someone's handwriting.
Knox,
I wish to speak with you at your earliest convenience. The matter could be considered important. You'll know where to find me, you've been coming here like a dear for the past few days.
Ron's eyes froze on the writing, his hand slightly shaking. This couldn't be, this had to be someone's idea of a prank, Peter and his brutes playing a sick joke on him. Peter was right handed, however: this flowing script slanted to the left. No, he had seen this handwriting before. It was a little messier now, but the fact it was written at all was the greatest thing Ronald had seen in too long. He just needed to read a few more lines.
I should be a bit more present now, but try not to keep me waiting. I might just take a nap upon seeing you come near just to spite you.
-Sutcliff
Ronald slammed his mailbox door closed, walked a few steps, and phased to the infirmary. He ran forward upon materializing, tripping though catching himself on the wall before he really fell. The envelopes in his hand fell to the floor, but he just sprinted forward. Let someone scold him for leaving a mess, it didn't matter. He sprinted down the small section of hallway to the main room, his hand grabbing the door frame to slow his pace. He almost fell into the room, but his hand kept him steady.
Ron's eyes fell to that one bed, immediately locking on the gaze of its occupant. Ronald froze, Mr. Sutcliff's head turned in his direction. He saw Nurse Lumley standing beside the bed and looking up at him from the corner of his eye, but his senior was the only person he truly saw.
"A truly graceful entrance, Ronald," Grell said, his voice still a bit soft but much stronger than last night.
Ron leaned against the doorframe and stared at Grell, his mouth gaping open.
"Good to see you too, bastard," Ronald said.
Grell simply gave a charming smile in return.
"I'll leave you two gentlemen alone," the nurse said with a smirk.
"Thank you, dearest," Grell said. "You will have to tell me later about how those roses came up."
"Most certainly," she said, looking at Grell then Ron. "Holler If you need anything."
The nurse nodded in parting and left the room through the other door. Ron stood for another moment, then pushed himself out of the doorway and slowly walked forward. Grell settled a bit in his bed and watched him, mouth forming into a smirk. Ronald was shaking, but he strained his muscles to keep as still as possible. He stopped at the side of the bed and stared at Mr. Sutcliff, who stared right back with that little smile.
He was wearing his glasses, somehow he looked normal with them on. The chain was off, though he wasn't exactly going to be jumping around and losing them. It looked as if he had a shave too. The last time Ron saw him he had a bit of a five o'clock shadow, now his face was completely clear. The bandage was still on his head, Ron was a little curious as to why but that was an answer for later.
"If you came here for a one-sided conversation, I suggest moving to one of the empty beds," Grell said.
"Damn, I'd been savoring the quiet," Ronald said.
"Well you're stuck with me now and I've never been a fan of quiet."
Ronald lowered himself into one of the chairs, his hands shaking against the arms though he clutched the arms to at least look calmer.
"So how long have you been back to the world?" Ronald said.
"William told me it was around 8:30," Grell said. "He was there when it happened, waiting for Sleeping Beauty like a good prince."
"Was there a kiss involved?" Ron said with a snicker.
Given what he now knew about their relationship, it sounded even more amusing.
"Alas no," Grell said with a dramatic sigh. "But I have little to complain about."
"That's for damn sure. So you gonna be all okay?"
"Well I've heard nothing but good things so far. I've been hearing the term 'miraculous' thrown around so much today by so many respectable people that I might start to take it seriously. Dr. Ian has been rather practical, he still says that things are still early but I've come immensely far. I've been nicely leered at and prodded for a good part of the day in rather boring ways and so far everyone's optimistic."
"How're you feeling right now?"
Grell sighed and put his hands over his stomach.
"Like the bottom of a latrine, to be blunt," he said. "Like bobbing through it hoping to get somewhere."
"That's better than you were just yesterday."
"Indeed."
Ron glanced at the bed table, seeing a sketchbook with some doodles of items around the room with a pencil next to it. He had been sketching, earlier he had written that little note. Yesterday it was an accomplishment for him to shift a little in bed. Ronald was having a harder time controlling his shaking.
"Looks like you've been doing a couple things today," Ron said, motioning towards the sketch pad.
"That's the attempt at 'getting somewhere,'" Grell said. "I've had a few moments today when I didn't want to just lie here. I've been doing that enough for the past five days."
Here he was, joking about the whole thing.
"I'll say," Ron said with a laugh, his voice cracking slightly. "You were pretty damn still too."
"So I've heard," Grell said. "And I heard you were here quite a bit."
Ron shrugged, feeling his throat tightening slightly.
"It's pretty boring here," he said. "Thought you could use the company."
"You're a good boy, Ronald," Grell said. "For an idiot kid."
Ron chuckled, his voice shakier than he would have liked.
"Though I hear you proved yourself useful a few nights ago," Grell said.
It took Ronald a moment to get his meaning, when he did he gripped the arms of his chair harder.
"I suppose I should thank you for that," Grell said.
"Well wouldn't want to lady to fall out of bed and get all bruised up," Ron said.
"What a gentleman you are."
"So how're you taking…ya know," Ron said, running a hand through his hair to illustrate the point.
"It's just bloody hair," Grell said, patting the bandage. "Oh believe me I was weeping like a baby earlier in mourning for it. Listening to Dr. Ian explain everything snapped me out of it rather nicely. I call this a battle scar."
"They're still keeping the bandage on? I thought you healed up?"
"Dr. Ian said they'll probably take it off tonight. Something about wanting my temperature to stay up before exposing more of my skin. Plus they wanted me to be a little more stable so I could handle seeing what's underneath this."
"You think you will be?"
"I believe so. I'm getting more used to the idea."
"But you can grow it back out."
"Yes, though they'd rather I stored my energy for healing for at least the next day or so. I can understand, a few short naps today is holding me up enough."
"So will you be staying round? There's no chance of you…ya know…drifting off again."
"I've been told it's unlikely, but one of those things they need to watch for."
Ronald nodded, feeling the tightening in his throat growing worse.
"And no I won't be going back to dreamland if I can help it," Grell said. "Apologies, brat, but you're stuck with me."
"Oh damn, and here I thought I'd be readin' to a log again. I was having so much fun."
"Well that won't be happening, though I can still correct your delivery if that's what you truly want. In truth your delivery was passable. And here I thought you hated Shakespeare."
"A guy needs to expand his horizons," Ron said, unable to control the tense crack in his voice.
Grell stared at him with a little smirk. Ron looked back at him and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. His breath was shaky and his muscles trembled a bit more. He looked away from Mr. Sutcliff, then looked back and saw him staring at him even harder.
"Ronald," Grell said.
Ron wanted to say something, but could only nod.
Grell rolled his eyes and lifted his hands, motioning towards himself.
Ronald furrowed his brows and looked at him.
"You might as well get it out of your system," Grell said, motioning to himself a little harder. "You look an absolute fright."
Ron's mouth slightly dropped open, the heat building behind his eyes.
"You better not…"
"Better not everything, yeah agreed. Just have it out with."
Ronald dropped from his seat to his knees.
"I'll take your word for it," he said, a sob sneaking out.
He leaned over and wrapped his arms around Mr. Sutcliff, burying his head in his chest as the tears fell. He felt a set of arms wrap around his back, conjuring a wave of breathy sobs. A hand gently patted his back; a once-still hand he had held so many times that was now gently rubbing his shoulder.
"There ya go, just get it out," Grell said.
What Ronald would have given to hear that voice once over the course of these five days; to see him moving of his own accord, to have a reminder he was alive. He sobbed harder against that white nightgown, feeling the warmth of his mentor's body instead of the still cold he had grown used to.
"You son of a bitch," Ronald sobbed. "Don't…don't you ever bloody scare me like that."
"I'll certainly try," Grell said, Ron swore he heard a small crack in his voice.
Ronald sobbed a little more, feeling considerably lighter.
Grell lightly ran a hand through his hair, feeling the heat in his own eyes. It was a welcome feeling, a distraction from the perpetual dull ache in his head and the lingering sleepiness he had been fighting off all day. He allowed a few tears to stream down his cheeks, a reminder that he was indeed alive; a reminder this moment was truly real and not another dream.
Ronald lifted his head slightly, seeing some tears on Grell's face. Grell looked back at him. He know what the brat saw, though he really didn't care. They were considerably beyond formalities now. Perhaps this was the thanks he could properly give the kid for giving a damn.
"Now it that better?" Grell said, his voice betraying a small crack.
"I'd say so," Ron said with a chuckle. "I could ask you the same."
"You didn't see anything," Grell said.
"Same with you."
"Good, we're in agreement."
Ronald snickered a little. Things seemed to be getting back to normal.