Chapter 12 - Hot Feaver
"It's rather unusual for the Lord of the house to take care of an ill servant." The voice was foreign but not displeasing.
"I know, but my other servants are old and I don't want them to catch anything." He knew that
voice, it made his stomach prickle with every word.
"A wise attitude, though like I said not very common. Don't you fear to get infected as well?"
"I never get ill. Don't worry about me."
"Well... still, do wash your hands every time after you have touched him. With soap and hot water is best. And make sure that he doesn't cough in your direction."
"I'll take care of that."
"Do you know if he ever had a more serious disease before?"
"I don't know... He's only been in my service for a few months... he mentioned getting the flu, though. I think it was a year ago or so."
"Hmh, well, if he survived it once his chances are high to get through it this time..." The voices washed together in one big blur as the fever rose again in his head. He was so hot on the inside that he wanted to pull the thick and heavy blanket away from his body, but his limbs did not want to move as he wished them to. A strange heaviness had befallen his arms and legs and a big weight pressed down on his breast.
"Poor Zexion..." Demyx murmured as the young doctor left the room to give Artur the receipt for the medicine. He knew that he couldn't get a good hold on the strings of the boy, but despite that knowledge, he tried again, placing his hand over the feverish, smoldering eyes and searching for the strings of will. And again they were moving fast and were slippery and he just couldn't grab them. Zexion whimpered at this and Demyx pulled his hand away. The boy threw his sweaty head from one side to the other, seeing demons only visible for his fever tortured mind.
Demyx's guts cramped as he saw Zexion like this; the boy's pain hurt him as well.
The vampire had always sought the company of humans, through the decades and centuries he had always lived with humans, next to them and their hearts. Though he had never gotten so attached to a single human like this. He loved Mireille and Artur more than he could say, but they were connected through blood and war and time. Zexion had only been there for a brief a part of his life and yet the boy was that precious to him.
The brooding over the feverish child's bed was no help. It had been two week since he had last drank from Zexion and sometimes during the day he could hear faint whispers in the dark places of his mind, voices trying to rise out of their hiding place as consequence. But he would rather spent a whole day in the bright sunlight than drink from the ill child.
Hm, love is a strange thing, he thought as he left the small room, sometimes it can save you. And sometimes it kills you.
"Demyx?" He looked up and saw the little figure of Madam Mireille against the dim light of the late afternoon. For a moment he saw again that young and beautiful bride, who he had guided to the alter himself. "What did the doctor say?" Her voice hold concern, too many people had been lost in her life.
He rubbed his eyes tiredly to rid himself of the hunting ghosts of the past. "He said that he'll most likely make it. He's young and in a healthy shape. But you and Artur shouldn't go near him. I don't want you to get infected-" he stopped as he noticed what he was about to say.
"Yes, we're getting old, aren't we?" she asked but smiled also at this. "What a life," she sighed more to herself, "I'll go and make some broth for us, you can give it to our little plum later. When was the last time you got some sleep?"
"Hmh, don't worry about me. I'll be fine." She threw him a more than sceptical look, which said 'I don't believe one word' but turned around. As soon as he was out of eye and earshot he let himself fall against the wall. The vision of the young Mireille was no good. Like little waves on a normally quiet lake tiny voices rose up to fills his mind.
"Don'ttakemylife!Spareme!letgoletgoletgooo!" Demyx gave a pained sound and rubbed his temple feverishly. He rose to his feet and stumbled to the staircase, acting as if he were under a fever like Zexion was. So now he even heard faint words again. It won't take any longer till his full curse was back to torture him. He just wanted to lay down in his bed, bury himself in the blankets and fall into a deep and heavy sleep for some weeks. The voices would still be there, but just like a mere human nightmare.
But he had to care for Zexion, he could never bear it if Artur or Mireille got infected. So all he could do was bear it.
As Zexion woke up he felt incredibly light. His mind was weightless and slow like a feather dancing through a room. The bed was still warm and he felt comfortable. As his feet met with the wooden floor he felt an equally comfortable chill.
Judging from the plain white light entering the little room it had to be early in the morning. Zexion was rather surprised that he never had seen the beauty of the young day before. Everything was calm and serene, light and clean. The whole house wassilent and peaceful. He sat down on the first step of the stair and let his thoughts wander without even thinking. Had it not been for the cold that slowly crawled up his legs from under his nightgown, he would have sat there for ever.
He reluctantly got up and made his way slowly down the stairs to enter the kitchen where Madame Mireille sat next to the bright window, knitting something, and watching the white beauty of the snowy garden.
The only noise filling the room was the clattering of her needles in a steady rhythm. She herself seemed to not be aware of her surroundings, her eyes were glassy as she examined the outside garden. As Zexion made a movement she looked up.
"Zexion. What are you doing here. And why are you out of bed?" The calm morning had also its effect on Madam Mireille, or at least it appeared so.
"I got hungry, Madam Mireille," Zexion answered and sat down next to her on a wooden chair. They remained a little there, both in their own thoughts. Mireille's seemed far away, while Zexion's still had the consistence of syrup. As the light turned yellow and the sun was finally up the silence suddenly passed and Madame Mireille stood up.
"Well, well, my little plum. You seem to be better. But you still need to stay in bed. Get upstairs and I'll bring you some broth. Hurry!"
It took Zexion two more days of deep sleep and much more broth to recover completely. Judging from how happy Madame Mireille was about his well-being, he had been in a very bad condition. He still tried to restore his lost memories from the past week. Everything seemed to be a blur.
To help him recover faster, he was freed from the housework for the next week, though Ms. Venable started her lectures on an easy level the first day he was allowed to leave the bed.
"Zexion, dear, be so nice to bring Master Demyx his pies and the tea, I have to tend this goose or the flesh will be as hard as nails." She gestured to a silver ray with a nice porcelain tea pot on it, the matching cup upside down next to it, and again the already well-known very sweet pies.
"Of course, Madame Mireille," escaped his lips, though he suddenly felt ncredibly nervous. Not that it was the first time that he brought Demyx tea. At this time of the day, it was late afternoon, he would probably be up and playing one of his numerous instruments.
But as he stood in front of the door that lead to the vampire's chambers he heard no music from behind. So he knocked, though he knew that the vampire would've probably already heard him when he started his way up the stairs.
"Master Demyx, I brought you the tea" he called out uncertainly after entering the saloon. Nothing seemed to have changed, but Zexion still could sense it in the air. The thought had come to him earlier: Demyx hadn't drunk his blood for two weeks as he had gotten the flu, and now had been out for another week and a half. Whatever it was, that was torturing the vampire it sure hadn't been lost during those last weeks. He placed the tray on the table and neared the bedroom door to see if the vampire was still asleep.
To his surprise, the door was wide open, revealing a unmade bed and dusty air. The thing Zexion had sensed while entering the room was here stronger. A strange smell of metal in the air.
There led two doors to the bedroom. The one Zexion had taken seconds ago came from the saloon, while the other led to the bathroom. Zexion had learned to hate that room, thanks to Madam Mireille's obsession of cleaning. The whole bathroom was larger than his own chamber and from bottom to ceiling paved with white tiles, in the middle of the room was a large round tub, embedded in the floor.
Now the door to said bathroom was open, or at least the wood didn't connect with the frame. But behind that it was dark. With trembling fingers Zexion's hand moved out of his own to pull the doorknob and to open it. Why was the dark bathroom and the metallic scent in the air so attractive for him?
Zexion could swear that he saw a dark spot on one of the white tiles, before a hand slipped into his vision and his heart practically stopped.
"There're things you shouldn't see, little Zexion."
Zexion's breath was briefly stolen from him, "Master Demyx...!" he whispered. With gentle force Demyx lead him back to the saloon and closed the bedroom door before he placed the boy in a chair in front of the tea.
"My, you're white as a ghost, have I really scared you that much?" With still trembling fingers Zexion accepted the warm cup of tea and he just shook his head. Wearily, he eyed his master, and again his breath stopped. Since Demyx had called him pale, he probably hadn't looked in a mirror lately (still Zexion had to find out if this myth was true about the vampire). He was as white as the wall. As if he had powdered his skin with chalk. The eyes had sunk low into their sockets and they seemed to glow from an invisible light. The most frightening thing were Demyx's hands. Of course he had always noticed the claw-like nails, but now with the incredible long and skinny fingers it looked as if a demon of hell was taking one of the pies.
'He hasn't drunk anything,' shot into his mind, before he could even register all the changes in Demyx' appearance.
"So, I see you've recovered well from the flu. The doctor I called said you had a good chance, but it stays a serious illness. How are you feeling?"
"Good," he whispered and then cleared his throat, "though I can't recall anything from the time of my sickness. Madame Mireille told me that I've had a fever for one week, but the last thing I can clearly recall is the Christmas Party." He eyed the vampire warily and decided to go in another direction. "But today I'm feeling really fine. I could run an errand for you." Demyx smiled and it was a smile that told him his strategy had been seen through.
"That's very nice of you, but I think I'll let you rest for at least another week. You need to get back to your old strength. Not curing a disease at this young age can bring serious problems to you, when you get older-"
"Master Demyx! You have to drink something!" Zexion shouted out to interrupt his master's flow of babbling. The vampire hesitated for a second and then swirled his cup in his left hand with a smile on his lips.
"But I am drinking. You see it. Right now. Sweet tea."
"Master, that is not what I meant. And you now that." Zexion felt cheated and he got angrier the more he saw the little smile of the vampire.
"And what exactly is it, that you are talking about?"
Zexion pouted and blushed a little at this. How unfair of his master to play such nasty games with him! "You now exactly what I mean," he mumbled under his breath, but he was sure Demyx could hear him.
All he heard was a deep sigh. Demyx put his cup down and lay his hand on the tiny shoulder. "Zexion, you may not believe me but you grew precious to me. As a human and not as my solution for my problems. And I care about those who are precious to me. So there won't be any discussion. You're resting for another week and then we will see. Right? Good. And now let's share this cake here."
Later in the night while the master was out, something stirred in Zexion's stomach. It made him twitchy and warm inside. You grew precious to me...
Happy New year to everbody! Thanks to Emmy again, who beta-ed this chapter within the speed of light!
2009 was a year where I made huge steps forward in cosplay an writing as well. It's three days of the new year and I already have two new cosplays xD I'm going to compete in the national cosplay competition in my land this years with a partner cosplay. I also intend to finish this and the other fanfiction as well and I also have spin-of story to this one in mind.