Note: To reply to the Question, as you noticed, I'm in France, but unfortunately I can't tell when I may update, because it can be any day, and any time of the day, from 7am to 2am my time, depending when I write, when I finish, when I have time, when I'm sleepless... the best way is to subscribe to the site and put me on story alert...
Sorry for the lack of updates this week, but Tekken 6 has been released and well... there's Kazuya Mishima and... well... FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!! *lol* I love this game so much!
January 22th, 2007 part 3 (Mello is 17 and Matt almost)
Taka watched with slight amusement Mihael's face go from stunned to awe to delight, as Mail plugged the various devices, arranging their place, putting this one to the right, this other on top, and finally sitting on the rug, his legs crossed, totally oblivious of his surroundings as he lit everything to life and entered the settings, his eyes glued to the TV screen.
The japanese man had noticed, over the previous days, since Mihael had been found, that the teenager was most of the time hiding his feelings, keeping his expression blank, if not lightly scowling. But when it came to Mail, Mihael had no control over his facial features anymore, and then he became the most expressive boy on earth.
Mail slid the CD of a game in the PS2 and soon, his fingers were flying over the controller's buttons.
"I should have thought about that sooner..." Mihael scolded himself, "I should've known... Mail, you're such a geek! Even in the state that you're in, you still love your games." he laughed, ruffling Mail's hair.
The redhead didn't even react, and kept on progressing in his game, totally focused.
"I could almost believe he's back to normal when I see him like this..." Mihael said to Taka, "When he's in his own little game world, he's exactly the same as now."
"Well, it's only a matter of time now I guess, since he progressed a lot lately." the man replied, his eyes questioning Vern.
The tall black man stood up: "I think so, he doesn't react to the touching anymore and he's pretty at ease now, it shouldn't take long now to know if it's a matter of memory loss or not..." Vern confirmed.
Mihael sighed, not wanting to lose hope and feel like crap again. He tried to be positive, and he had an idea anyway, but he needed to be alone with Mail to put it in practice. Mail needed to be stimulated by things he used to like, so Mihael would do that.
As Mail continued playing, one of his hand suddenly began to rummage in his pockets, obviously searching for something.
"I knew it..." Mihael whispered, standing from the bed he was sat on with Taka as they watched the redhead.
He picked something from one of the plastic bags, and placed it in Mail's hand.
"Don't blame me Taka, but I knew he would go for it..." he said to his substitutive father apologetically.
Mail, skilfully, with only one hand, ripped the white and blue pack open, pulled a cigarette out of it and lit it with the small black lighter Mihael had just given him along with the pack, and thrust the lighter and pack into the backpocket of his jeans, getting back to his old cancer-laced habit.
Taka shook his hand but said nothing, his fatherly instinct was screaming that Mail shouldn't do that, but he couldn't bring himself to stop him. He would see later, when Mail would have recovered...
Mail played through the rest of the day, while Mihael sat on the floor beside him, simply looking at him. Taka and Vern had later left the room, leaving the two teenagers together.
Marty brought them dinner in the evening, seeing that Mihael didn't come out of the room at all. He had been surprised a little earlier to see how much Mail had progressed, and he, Vern and Taka had talked around a cup of coffee in the common room with Linden, the two medical specialists exchanging views and explaining to the two others about the facts they were bringing up.
Vern was a bit anxious about Mail's memory loss, since nothing really showed that he was recognizing the people around him, or at least Mihael, he seemed to feel safe around him, and even accepted the other boy to touch him, but it didn't mean that he knew who he was. But at least, Mail could evolve easily in his environment, and the part of his brain that called to procedural memory was apparently working perfectly. What seemed to be the most affected part was the sensorial one, which prevented Mail from being able to fix the remnant feelings of the past in his head and the present situation and people together. Everything seemed to him as the present, so previous bad experiences were the actual reality for him, as soon as the feelings came to the surface, and his brain would process the informations as current events although they had happened days or weeks ago, making him think that whatever or whoever had threatened him in the past was menacing him now, leading the person next to him to be considered dangerous, be it Mihael or anyone else.
Linden explained that Mail looking like he felt safe next to Mihael, and Mihael being able to touch him didn't mean Mail would never have a crisis anymore. It was a good sign, but not a victory. Of course, the more days Mail would go without a crisis, the more he would recover. But getting rid of the crisis wasn't linked to the memory loss, because Mail could in the end be totally at ease with his environment, and the people around him, but still not remember everything or everyone, and stay in a similar state as he was now.
At bedtime, when Taka came to check on them, Mihael told him he would stay with Mail this night.
"Are you sure?" the japanese man asked, doubtful, "What did Vern say about that?"
"I didn't ask him, but Mail needs stimulation and we used to sleep in the same room for years so I thought we should go back to normal, and the bed is double so it won't be a problem. And don't worry, if there's a problem, I'll leave or call Vern or Linden, depending on the situation." the blond replied.
"Ok, I guess you're right..." Taka sighed, smiling.
"Can you tell Vern I'll stay here tonight, and Linden that he doesn't have to stay awake?" Mihael inquired, as he pulled the controller from Mail's hands and switched all the devices off. The redhead didn't protest, and even stood up as Mihael tugged on his hand to make him understand it was time to go to bed.
Mihael had feared that Mail would react badly to that action, but it seemed that Mail didn't object to anything his boyfriend did to him.
"No problem, I'll come back in a few minutes. I still can tuck you in here." the man winked, closing the door behind him and going in search for Vern and Linden. After all, if Mail didn't object Mihael to sleep in the same bed, then it would be easier for Linden since the doctor wouldn't have to do the night shift, so it was a good idea.
Mihael undressed, and, realising he didn't have any night clothes, he just slid under the sheets in his black boxers. That's when he realised he hadn't worn any leather for days. He never wore any underwears under his leather pants, the thing was impossible.
Mail, once he was in his pyjamas, did the same.
Taka arrived a few seconds later, and once he had said goodnight to Mihael and kissed him on the forehead like usual, he turned around the bed, and, hesitating, he finally left the room after simply pulling the sheets up to Mail's shoulders. He couldn't bring himself to touch the teenager, he was way too scared of starting a crisis. It hurt him, but Mail had progressed so much lately that he couldn't risk anything that would make the redhead take two steps back now that he had taken one forward.
Mihael laid on his back, waiting. As Mail didn't move, he decided to snuggle closer. To his surprise, Mail did the same, resting his head on his shoulder as he rolled on his right side. Mihael encircled his boyfriend's shoulders with his left arm, and they fell asleep.
Mail moved a lot during the night, sometimes softly whining in his sleep, but each time, Mihael would hug him and stroke his back, and the redhead would calm down.
Mihael sometimes let the tears roll from his eyes during that night, tears of joy that would faintly dampen Mail's hair as he held him close, trying to catch back everything he had missed so much, the touch, sweet and warm, the sounds, Mail's heart beating against his, his soft breathing, the words he whispered in his dreams, the scent, citrus and, finally, smoke. No matter if this one came from a deadly addiction, Mail finally smelled like Mail, and Mihael, for the first time in a long time, slept without nightmares, without starting wakes, without missing a part of himself...
January 23th, 2007 (Mello is 17 and Matt almost)
Mihael woke up with a strange feeling. He opened his eyes, and realised that it was not only a feeling, but a reality: Mail was staring at him, sat crossed legs on the bed beside him.
Mihael slid in a sat position, facing Mail, and smiled as he tried to tame the dishevelled red locks of his boyfriend. He let his hand fall back in his lap as Mail kept on looking at him straight in the eyes, wondering what this penetrating gaze meant. It was almost disturbing with intensity.
Mail's hand rose, and his fingertips lightly brushed over the scarred skin of Mihael's face. He traced the contours of the burn, but his eyes were locked with Mihael's and he wasn't really looking at the healed wound.
I want to remember... I need to... but I'm not sure I've already seen his face. It looks familiar though... I love his smile...
Mail smiled too, as he stopped touching Mihael's face. He then stood up and headed for the bathroom, and not long after, the blond heard the water run. How he hated these switches, one moment, Mail seemed to be coming back, and the second after, he was just numb again.
Mihael went to the kitchen and came back with a full tray for breakfast, Mail already sitting and waiting for him at the table.
A few minutes later, Vern arrived to see if everything was alright.
"Hello Mihael, hello Mail!" he greeted cheerfully, with his low pitched resounding voice.
"Hi Vern!" Mihael greeted back, "Want some coffee?"
"Why not!" the tall black man replied, sitting in his usual armchair in the corner of the bedroom. Mihael handed him a full mug.
"So, how was that night? Nothing happened?" Vern questioned.
"No, everything went fine, he had a few nightmares but nothing bad, I could comfort him." Mihael stated while finishing his toast, "Vern, I read about something on the internet, but since it's on the web, I wondered about the accuracy of the facts. They say that sometimes, to help people that lived traumatizing events and suffer from memory loss, it's good to confront them to things related to these events. Since the delay needed by the drugs to get out of Mail's system is over for more than two days now, I thought that, if this statement is true, we could try something like this, what do you think?" he added.
"Well, Mihael, it's true, but it's also very risky, I mean, since we don't exactly know what happened to him..." Mihael cut him.
"We know at least what happened at Wammy's, and I was there. I want to take him there, it may be worth the try..."
"Mihael, I can't say it wouldn't have any positive effects, but you should be aware that it can also ruin all the progress he made until now. Do you really want to take the risk?" Vern asked, worried about the teenager's plans.
"I want to take the risk Vern, he trusts me, I can comfort him, it's not like he's alone."
"Well then, ok, but I'll make sure to have a tranquillizer ready, and I'll use it if it's required, that's my condition, Mihael." the man warned him.
"Thank you Vern, I hope we won't need it though..." the blond sighed, "Can you stay with him while I go back to my room? I won't be long, fifteen minutes maybe." Mihael left the room as the nurse nodded, while Mail finished sipping his coffee.
When Mihael came back, he was wearing his usual leather pants and zipped vest, along with a leather jacket, gloves and a scarf.
He had explained his plans to Marty, Taka and Linden before coming back in the nursing room, and they readied themselves as Mihael rummaged through the bags containing the previous day's shopping, and pulled a furry jacket out of it, striped woollen gloves and an assorted scarf. He managed to get Mail wear all of this, and then, taking his hand, he dragged him outside to the car, where Taka was already waiting. Marty and Linden soon arrived, followed by Vern carrying a small doctor purse.
They all took place in the limo, that for once they would take, so they could all be together. They usually used more conventional cars though.
One of the henchmen was driving, as they all sat at the back. Mail was playing on his DS, totally absorbed by the game, while Mihael looked silently by the window. The men chatted, but everyone except the redhead was tensed, Mihael more than everyone. Going back to the orphanage in Winchester was wringing his guts, although the outcome of all these events had finally been positive. Remembering the place and events was one thing, seeing the remains of the building was another.
Mihael felt a wave of nausea as, five hours later, the limo parked along the iron fence of Wammy's. The whole barrier was still surrounding the orphanage, standing high and untouched, but the old house itself was nothing more than a pile of ashes, cements pieces, rocks and broken and burnt wood. White and red plastic ribbon was encircling the disaster, contrasting with the morbid shades of grey.
The car emptied of its occupants, excepted the driver, who opened the window and lit a cigarette, waiting.
Mihael took Mail's hand, and he leaded the group inside of the delimiting fence.
"Please, wait here, Mail and me need to go alone." Mihael whispered, his voice trembling, as he and his boyfriend approached the porch, poor piece of wood standing alone in the middle of nothing, the door open and half eaten by flames, covered with soot. The place where their way had separated weeks ago...