LEARNED BEHAVIOR
It was only a fifteen minute nap, maybe less. Sleep had come in unpredictable waves since Tenma had reached Prague, waves so unpredictable that even fifteen minutes was a blessing. Roused, he realized the bed was warm, and soft. It was relieving. Even in a few minutes of sleep all he'd felt was cold and hard. Memories of icy blue eyes and the loveless steel smell of guns. In the flickers of memory, even the fire in Munich felt cold. Cold, because in Tenma's subconscious everything centered to Johan, and stayed there. He was haunted, and he knew it. Would he admit it to anyone? Probably not. He assumed that everyone could see the reflection of Johan in his eyes. He took his own demons for granted. It was probably why he felt the distance he did, in the middle of a thriving city, but miles away from anyone. Fatigue could also account for that, but he felt like placing blame. He was getting stubborn after so many months on his own.
He reacquainted himself with the long, heavy feeling of the frown on his face as he fidgeted a little on the covers. The bed was very warm. He stretched out one leg and it collided with his duffel bag, jarring him a bit more forcibly into reality. Reality, and subconscious. He didn't like either of them. It was only in the not-quite-either time between sleep and waking that he managed to find comfort. But that time was over. The bed was warm, but it wasn't familiar. Nothing was familiar. It was all distant. Cold. Even the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.
They'd been largely silent while they made it to the dark little hotel; there had been so much he'd wanted to ask Grimmer, but every time he tried, he froze. It had always been in his nature not to enjoy having his illusions shattered, even in this state of perpetual loathing that found him assuming the worst before it even happened. But Grimmer…why had he never expected those words to come out of his mouth. Kinderheim 511. Tenma felt that everything was running away with him now, going so far as to turn one of the few people he trusted into yet another cog in the machine. The connotations were brutal, and inexorable in his own mind. Kinderheim 511, and everything that had happened. Dieter. General Wolfe. Johan.
Mostly, he wondered why it had taken so long for the truth to come out. Why the shock, and the blood, and the terrible feeling welling in the pit of his stomach before Grimmer even admitted it? At the very least, Tenma had wanted the blood to be gone before probing any further. Betrayal wasn't something he really felt anymore; all those emotions were replaced by numb almost-vibrations in his heart. But nevertheless, he wanted to know. Even if he didn't trust Grimmer after what would no doubt be a half-hearted interrogation, he'd not leave the room without a little more insight at the very least.
So why follow in the first place? Why trust, why be comfortable enough to sleep in the same hotel room, even if only for fifteen minutes? That his radar for inherent good or evil was still so attuned seemed unlikely, and so Tenma could only explain it as one thing.
He gripped the blanket tightly in his fist. I He believed in me. He helped me. Nothing about him seems false. I actually— his brow knitted but he managed to finish the thought without any major crises of character --believe in him.
In a flourish of sudden, rash consciousness, he reached out for the night-table and found the remote control. The power button was easy enough to distinguish, and he mashed it firmly, tossing it to the floor just as soon as the noise of television commercials in an unfamiliar language began to drown out the shower. He rolled onto his back at first, and focused on the ceiling. The bed didn't feel warm anymore. He really was in another world, these days. He was turning soft things hard, warm things cold, and all things uninviting. A badly injured part of his psyche, which he usually succeeded in hiding, actually couldn't wait for Grimmer to come back into the room. A part of him, ridiculous as it sounded in his own mind, didn't want to be alone.
News reporters always sounded the same. Tenma sat up when he heard the studio-perfect lilt of a Czechoslovakian woman reading from a news brief. He checked the clock. It was time for the evening news, all right. Not a word made sense, but he waited, wondering if he'd see familiar scenery, familiar faces…maybe hear a familiar name.
Top story. His afternoon was the top story. Of course his name never came up, nor did Grimmer's, but all the clandestine familiarity of it was unnerving. Suk's name was mentioned, as his picture flashed briefly on the screen, and Tenma listened hard enough to pick up on the name of the hospital. Jakuba Zimy Memorial. He had no idea where that was. They may have been thirty feet away or thirty miles for all he knew. His stare focused blankly on the screen as the female newscaster handed the story over to a reporter on the scene. Tenma didn't even flinch when the bathroom door opened and Grimmer's voice called out:
"What are you watching?"
He explained. Calmly, coldly, with the knowing sad distance in his voice, he explained.
The diminutive interrogation, he got that. As well as the weight of a thousand more souls in the next packet of days, which left him with a bit more room to breathe in Grimmer's company. The enemy, he learned from the things he was quietly allowed to observe on the hunt for Suk, the tape, Milos…it was all Kinderheim 511 to begin with. 'The roots of the Monster', was that how Ranke had described it all? Not even one hidden recess in Tenma wanted to exonerate Johan based on the fate that had been thrust upon the boy, but he supposed that was why he'd ended up in Prague, in the city of the boy's birth. To find out if it could be possibly for a human being to have been born evil. And in Prague, he'd managed to find only more riddles to mull over regardless of sleeping or waking. Emil Scherbe and the Red Rose Mansion. The only constant besides change had been Grimmer with him, even when he didn't expect him to have stayed along for the horror show.
Prague was slowly becoming a city he knew, by the night he watched Grimmer cry over Milos in the pouring rain, but there was a steady tightening in his heart, a wire being pulled to shut the trapdoor that had opened up that place…that place that didn't want to be alone. But he was alone, wasn't he? There was camaraderie, casualness, and an ease of being with Grimmer, but with all he knew, Tenma couldn't actually understand if he was with another person or not. A person who didn't know his own emotions…a person who had to learn how to smile…the effects of Kinderheim 511 couldn't have possibly gone as far as to rob someone of his soul, surely. Tenma hoped.
They dropped off Milos at the Ceske Orphanage and, with the rain still coming in a steady shower, they started back to the hotel, and the room they'd been sharing. Numbness, still, in Tenma's body, not even registering any particular joy at the promise of the warm bed waiting for him at the end of their walk. He kept watching Grimmer. Watching, wanting to speak, waiting. The rain made the silence bearable, and their footsteps splashing on the sidewalk underscored the discomfort. The trapdoor was closing too quickly. He wanted to ask the questions before he was left cold and unfeeling again by his own logical nature.
"Human beings can't be taught not to feel. I don't believe that."
"What? You know I can hardly hear you."
It was true, he did tend to speak with a hushed voice, even when he knew he shouldn't. Tenma closed the space between them and was walking close to Grimmer when he continued. "I'm sorry, I do that. It's learned behavior, but that's all. I can still speak up if I want to…" he felt a little odd to be saying it. A preface to what he really wanted to say. Especially with the way Grimmer eyed him, smiling but curious, he felt uneasy. He looked down at the wet concrete before continuing, "…I think you can still feel if you want to. Just like you did with Milos, at the bridge. That wasn't learned, that was instinct. And I think you genuinely care about the boys from that Orphanage, even if you think you're incapable. I wanted—" he looked back up, and suddenly lost his words when their eyes met, "—I mean…that is…"
"I think I've needed someone to tell me that," Grimmer had the courtesy to look away, seeming as if he knew he'd knocked Tenma's concentration awry, "but for some reason I didn't think it would be you."
Tenma allowed several moments to pass before asking, "And why is that?"
The shoulder that wasn't burdened by his duffel bag shrugged, and Grimmer smiled down at their feet. They were walking in step, now, though Tenma had to stride longer to keep up. "You want to talk to me about emotions, but you seem so deep in them that you can't express a single one, either. Everything that goes on inside of you…you keep it inside, don't you? Just like I wish you'd told me about Johan and your connection with Kinderheim 511 earlier. You keep it inside because you just think it won't matter…you're on a quest, and there's this notion in your head that you're going to get there without any help."
Tenma was conspicuously silent. The trapdoor…he was battling against it. I Not just yet. Don't close just yet. /I It was the closest he'd felt to a genuine feeling…a I good /I genuine feeling…since he'd left Munich. Dieter, Nina, and Dr. Reichwein…how close had he allowed any of them to come? He didn't want them involved – even if they made themselves involved, he still fought it. He wanted desperately to get there alone, and for no one else to be hurt in the process, but…
"You won't." Grimmer added to his statement after assessing that Tenma's silence would continue.
"I know that."
"You're not speaking up anymore."
"But you can still hear me."
"Yes."
They walked in silence the rest of the way to the hotel, and both held up the appearance of not wanting to stumble as they made it, exhausted and waterlogged, into the room. Tenma shrugged off his heavy coat and moved to hang it on a hook in the closet. As he walked past Grimmer, though, he noticed that he was just standing there, staring down at the bed. "…Mr. Grimmer?"
"If I sit down, even for a minute, the bed's going to get cold and wet. Or the chair. That wouldn't be very comfortable," he sighed, and turned around, smiling in a way that didn't surprise Tenma in the least. In fact, it brought a tiny smile to his mouth as well. He was getting used to these little smiles, the brief reprieves from all the searching and shock, "and you're a doctor, you know well enough that we're increasing our chances of catching a cold the longer we stand here. You're shivering…" He touched Tenma's shoulder as he moved past him to grab a towel out of the bathroom.
"I hadn't noticed," Tenma half-whispered, certainly not expecting the touch, "I think if we're at risk for catching cold, we've done it already."
"But it just isn't right to have one of us wait, and be cold and wet, while the other takes a nice hot shower. Here," he pitched the towel at Tenma, who caught it mutely, and began to dry out his hair as Grimmer went on, "the way I look at it we have two options. Either we share the shower now, or we share a bed tonight."
Though noticeably bracing himself at both suggestions, Tenma wasn't particularly phased by the thought of either. Aside from the expected embarrassment at the mere suggestion, of course. "What's that?"
"Well, if one of us stays out here, he's going to have to warm up a bit…that'll mean the blankets from one bed. The only way to avoid that would be to share the shower now. But if I go ahead and jump in the shower," he pointed at Tenma's chest, actually making contact with his finger. Again, the unexpected touch startled Tenma a little, but at the same time it made him smile, "you can get out of those clothes and stop shivering. Wrap yourself up in the blankets, and then move into the dry bed with me when you're out of the shower." With this explanation, Grimmer lifted his sodden wet sweater over his head, and sneered as he let it plop onto the floor. "I suppose I'd actually better hang that up." He bent down and retrieved it, breezing close to Tenma as he went for the closet, as well. This time, the conspicuous silence, and the way Tenma looked down at the floor, was not going to go by without being remarked upon. "Well? What do you think of my idea?"
"That's…certainly a good idea. I mean, if you're not uncomfortable with it…"
"I'm not uncomfortable if you're not uncomfortable."
"Of course I'm not uncomfortable." He was barely above a whisper, with that one.
"Then get undressed. You can have the shower as soon as I'm done, but now your teeth are chattering, too, and I just can't abide that. Here." The next couple of seconds passed in the blink of an eye, and Tenma didn't even know what was happening. He felt Grimmer's arms fold around him, stronger and protective, and he looked up just in time to be kissed. Kissed. His lips, numb from the cold, were suddenly warmed as Grimmer kissed them, first the top and then the bottom, and lingered long enough to open their mouths together, replacing the icy remnants of the rain with sudden, wonderful heat. Tenma melted for a moment into the posture, before he realized what he was doing, and stepped back.
"I'm sorry!" Was all he could think of, immediately, to say.
Grimmer had already turned his back, and was walking into the bathroom. "Don't apologize for that. I thought I'd be the one who'd need to apologize."
He was smiling around his words; Tenma could hear that much. And not an affected smile, either. This one was genuine.
Tenma made his way to the bed, shocked, and finally noticed he was shivering as he began to undress. But by this point, he didn't know where the shivers were coming from. As he pulled the blanket from his bed around himself and curled into the slowly dampening warmth, he frowned again. Cursed himself for the momentary lack of control. He didn't even meet eyes with Grimmer, didn't speak, as they switched places and he moved in the cloak of his blanket to the bathroom.
There were no dry clothes; not for either of them. Tenma clutched a towel around his waist and was at least thankful that the lights were off in the room when he came out of the shower and pushed open the bathroom door. Only bluish shadows were visible, though he was able to make his way to Grimmer's bedside with little effort.
"Felt good, didn't it?"
"Yeah," part of him had hoped that Grimmer would be asleep. He slid onto the edge of the bed, beneath the warm blanket and the dry sheets, and turned toward the wall, "I actually haven't been showering as much as I should be. It takes energy. I haven't had a lot of energy. Haven't felt that self-conscious, either."
"So that shower must have felt particularly good, then."
Tenma sighed, almost pleasantly. "It did." He could feel the presence of Grimmer's body on the other side of the bed, warming him through the small opening in the covers swathed between them. It was…actually nice. "You know, you always smell really good. I don't know if that's a weird thing to mention, but…it's nice to be around someone who smells good all the time."
"Well, unlike you, I take two showers a day." Grimmer shifted, and as he chuckled softly at the comment, Tenma was aware that they were now facing the same direction, no longer turned toward opposite walls. He halted his chuckle, and cleared his throat, trying not to clutch the blanket too tightly, trying not to seem uneasy. Two minutes passed, but Tenma knew the entire time that neither could possibly believe the other had fallen asleep. Not with so much left unsaid. Grimmer finally broke the silence, his voice sounding too close and yet still too far away. "You're not…mad that I kissed you?"
"I wouldn't get mad at you for that. I was surprised is all." He smiled to himself in the darkness, his grip on the blankets going lax for a moment as he thought back to the comfort of that kiss.
"I got the distinct impression…that is…I hope this doesn't sound presumptuous," Grimmer sighed briefly, and Tenma braced himself for whatever remark might follow such an interesting build-up, "neither of us has been kissed in a very long time."
"You're right. Not for…not for ten years, actually."
"Mmm. Me too," that was a small comfort, at least. He wanted to simply enjoy that moment, those confessions, for what they were, but Grimmer added to them, "but back then, it was what you were talking about before. Learned behavior. Tonight…I think there was actually some feeling behind it. I tried, at least. To express what you talked about. Feelings I still have. Instincts, I guess. The feeling that you care about someone…I mean, this is something that's beyond me, isn't it? I'm no longer just putting on a smiling face when I'm around you, I'm…I'm actually smiling."
"Grimmer…"
"It's been a long night," Grimmer groaned softly, sounding a little out-of-sorts, "sorry if I'm talking nonsense."
"You're not. Please…please go on." He turned a little, glancing back over his shoulder. His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness, that he could see Grimmer's features, however faintly, under the bluish shadows. He swallowed hard and tilted his head back into the posture, resting it on the pillow. That he was daring to venture into the bed beyond the edge was surprising him, but a comfort was compelling his body. The memory of the way those arms had felt around him, maybe…or maybe it was a much more concerted attempt to keep his heart open and his lips able to smile for as long as he could.
"Well…I just mean that's it's strange we met each other, and that fate brought us together, again. And kept us together. Just long enough, maybe, for both of us to realize…it's not too late."
"Not too late for what?"
"To care about someone. We care, certainly. Neither of us would do what we do, and say the things we say, if we didn't have our natural humanity. But…you should know it was an impulse, when I held you…kissed you. It was an impulse but it was exactly what felt right. Because I care about you. What happens to you, where you go after this. We'll still have our own missions, I'm sure, but I want you to know those words you spoke to me…they meant a lot."
Tenma sighed. "I'm glad. You've…helped me a lot, too."
"There's still more I can do, though, isn't there?"
"Hm?" Tenma was confused at his exact meaning. His voice sounded almost sad when he suggested it.
"I thought I had been put in a place that made me incapable of emotion. But you've trapped yourself there, you feel like you've fallen into that place on your own. I can help you, I think."
"How can you do that?" But Tenma already knew the answer.
"You know." Grimmer said softly. Tenma closed his eyes and let his mouth twitch. His feelings were being tossed around now, and he didn't know what to think. "You know there are people who care about you, but you've left them behind. You don't know if you'll ever return. For the moment, though, I'm here. I care about you. All I've heard…I care about Doctor Kenzo Tenma. I've made it a point to help you this far, half the time not even knowing who you were, deep down inside. Now that I know…or at least I think I do…I'm even more determined to help you. Because you need me to. Don't look so sad, Tenma…I can see your face in the dark. You're frowning again. I like the fact that I can make you smile. Since I met you, on the train, even before I realized who you were, it was my first instinct. You looked so lost, so hopeless. But I told myself, 'I will make that man smile.' And I did."
"Mr. Grimmer…"
"Let's not let a chance like this pass by, Dr. Tenma. If it's been that long since either of us has even been kissed I can't imagine how long it's been since we've fallen asleep in someone else's arms."
He understood, completely, and without a conscious decision he found his body moving toward the center of the bed, toward Grimmer. He felt the strong arms envelop him, felt their bodies rest softly together and their legs lock. He tilted his head against Grimmer's shoulder, and rubbed his nose on the skin. "You really do smell nice."
"Thank you. See," Grimmer's fingers were under his chin, and Tenma let himself look up the short distance to meet the eyes that were so close, "you're smiling. I knew I could do it."
Tenma stretched into the embrace, still smiling, and forgetting about the cold, hard memories for a little while. When he drifted to sleep, it was easy and peaceful. There were no haunting demons, no frightening words in a tape loop in his mind, as usual. There was only warmth, and nothingness, and the feeling of someone else's arms…someone who cared. Someone who wanted to see his foolish smile.