This Immortal Coil, Part 4
Title: This Immortal Coil
Chapter: 4
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Summary: William searches for answers after a mysterious attack leaves Grell's life hanging by a thread, though he finds himself dealing with some long-buried emotions about his old friend.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: William, Ron, and Grell, brief reference to Ciel.
Word Count: 3,869
Warnings: Mild language and descriptions of a medical procedure.
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and recognizable characters belong to Yana Toboso.
This Immortal Coil
Part 4: The still-life of the party
15 of March, 1890
Reaper Dispatch Offices - London
7:19 p.m.
William materialized at the end of the infirmary wing and took quick steps forward. He needed to find Dr. Sutherland now; he didn’t want to think on what he would hear, he just needed to hear everything and immediately. He walked toward the main offices, growing more impatient with every second that passed that he did not see his contact.
“Mr. Spears,” a familiar voice said from down the hallway.
He looked up to see Dr. Sutherland waiting for him in the open doorway to the infirmary itself. The doctor wore a standard lab coat over a suit, he must have had the opportunity to change. His mouth was already curved into a wide smile. William resisted the urge to run in his direction and instead purposely slowed his step, taking a few subtle breaths and adjusting his glasses as he approached Dr. Sutherland. Compared to his hurried manner when they first found Sutcliff, this smile told William volumes already.
At last he was a few steps from him and already trying to form appropriate words for this moment.
“How is your patient, doctor?” William asked.
“Doing remarkably,” Dr. Sutherland said. “We got done about a half hour ago, but have spent most of that time testing his brain function; reflexes, pain reactions, et cetera. The surgery itself was one tense moment after another given what we were dealing with, though he was stable the entire time and reacted to everything perfectly.”
The doctor sounded as if he was trying to hide his giddiness. His tone was professional, but his elation sounded as if it would break through at any moment. This was beyond anything William could imagine. He would need to pay close attention to take it all in as it was coming.
“Every bit of that bleed was closed off, any brain swelling went right down, and his healing took right over,” Dr. Sutherland said. “As we had hoped, he needed nary staple nor stitch to close him up completely; which is a sign his base energy is as it should be.”
“What about his brain function?”
“All nerves and reactions working as normal, no signs of paralysis, no delayed reactions to certain stimuli. All his reflexes are in order. He’s unconscious, but he’s been having the usual eye movements of dreaming. In fact he had some moments of processing commands, like clutching a hand or moving a toe. This was very sporadic, which tells us he might have some moments of semi-consciousness.”
William tried to wrap his head around everything he was hearing.
“He pulled through with flying colors,” William said, his amazement leaking out.
The doctor smiled and took a few steps back into the infirmary, William following close behind. Dr. Sutherland stopped and leaned in a little closer.
“If you were so inclined you could call it a miracle, or simply medical science at its finest,” Dr. Sutherland said.
William kept his lower lip from trembling. An astute doctor with over 200 years of medical experience on both humans and reapers was now using the term “miracle.” He would need some time before the meaning of that would sink in. In the meantime he stiffened his posture even more and kept his calm demeanor as best he could.
“How is he now?” William said.
“We will have to monitor him closely,” Dr. Sutherland said, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “It looks as if the worst has passed for the time being, but we can never be too cautious. Though I can tell you just five years ago he would be permanently gone.”
William took a glance into the infirmary, immediately seeing a white curtain surrounding one bed. He could not see any silhouettes, but he was sure Sutcliff was in that bed.
“I’m nothing short of amazed,“ William said, relaxing his tone. “A Voice attack at that distance should have killed him within an hour.”
“He’s a tough little bastard I can tell you that, though we got to him just in time,” the doctor said, taking a few steps toward the bed in question. “The bleed was more manageable than even the scans showed. We relieved the pressure and stopped the bleeding easier than I thought we would, his healing is where it should be now; he just had so much in his favor.”
William stared at the curtains, now seeing the rough outline of a person.
“As I said he is showing normal brain function and reflexes,” Dr. Sutherland continued. “Given what we’ve seen, he will likely remain unconscious for the next few days, possibly going in and out of it. We will need to keep a close eye on him, watch for any seizures or any recurring bleeds.”
William nodded; Grell wasn’t out of the proverbial woods just yet. He was farther from the edge, but not away from it entirely.
“Can he recover fully from this,” William said.
“If he continues this course I see a complete recovery. There is potential for slurred speech or difficulty walking, but that remains to be seen. He will need some physical therapy to get his muscles moving a bit more. He very well could come out of this perfectly fine.”
A miracle indeed. William thought of one question he needed to know as a supervisor, though he personally wanted to see how much of a recovery was being discussed.
“Should he recover from this, would it be possible for him to return to normal duties?” William asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Dr. Sutherland said, an answer that made William’s heart pound a bit more. “Whether he’ll be as quick on his feet remains to be seen, though he could still be able in his duties. As I said, that is dependent on his recovery.”
“Everything is still very much in the air given the circumstances,” William said with a nod.
Dr. Sutherland merely smiled and nodded in response. He gently grabbed one corner of the curtain and pulled it aside a little. Sutcliff was lying in bed clad in the standard white nightgown, white sheets pulled up to his chest. William immediately noticed the white bandage wrapped around his head though that was the only thing against the pillow. His ears were fully exposed, there was no red, it was just a sea of clean white right down to his sickly pale complexion.
Grell was almost unrecognizable at first glance; his eyes were closed, glasses off, make-up cleaned off, his red hair gone; he looked like another sickly patient. Those impeccably sculpted red eyebrows caught William’s attention first then his pointed nose and chin. His mouth was slightly open, showing the basic outline of a few pointed teeth. William’s eyes then fell to Grell’s hands that rested by his sides; those red nails sticking out against the white sheets. These little features were the only thing that reminded William that this was Grell lying before him. That little hint of red from his painstakingly manicured fingernails particularly struck William; Grell’s personality still showing through the clean, clinical nature of his situation.
William watched as his chest rose and fell with gentle breaths, a truly wonderful sight. Grell’s lids fluttered for a moment but did not open, instead his eyes moved behind his lids.
“It looks as if he is in a dream state now,” William said.
“That’s normal, in fact it’s a good sign,” Dr. Sutherland said. “The damaged areas are reconnecting themselves, plus any areas we cut into might take a little while longer to heal. It’s a little longer process given his current energy level with the complexity the inner workings of the brain. As everything reconnects, he could have some rather vivid dreams. It is also common knowledge that many gravely injured reapers will replay their Cinematic Records in their minds, not just the reels from their current state but also a few slides from their mortal record.”
William nodded in understanding. The official human record for new reapers is cut per usual and a new record formed upon their recruitment and transformation. Their mortal memories remained in their brains as usual; memories imprinted in their minds like an image on film paper. In many cases the images fade over the decades like old drawings or photographs. William had met ancient reapers who had forgotten their birthdates or their parents’ names, yet some also would tell childhood stories of their lives in ancient civilizations. It was different for everyone.
“It is a type of instant replay,” the doctor said. “Some say that the injured or dying reaper will judge themselves, whether their continuing existence will benefit the world. Others simply need a reminder of how far they’ve gotten; it gives them encouragement to continue their course, or correct their paths. From what I know of Mr. Sutcliff, perhaps the latter holds true for him.”
William stared at Grell, watching his eyes shift under his lids and wondering what was going through his mind at the moment, though William really did not want to think on the particulars. The thought that Grell was judging his own life as he judged other lives was more than a bit unsettling; especially if it was like judging the lives of those women he killed. He had an enormous ego, meaning he probably thought the world would be a dreadful place without him. He did have a past history of self-destructive behavior; the thought that he doubted his life or was outright suicidal put a chill through William’s body. Grell, however, survived such a delicate operation with miraculous results, perhaps he had judged himself worthy of living. Maybe now he was watching a reminder of how far he had come, or was simply using his unconsciousness to toast himself.
“I’ll allow visitors for him on a limited basis,” Dr. Sutherland said, breaking William from his thoughts. “They will have to check into the Health Office first and receive permission dependent on his condition. You are excepted from this; you can go in when you feel like it, though check with one of us on his condition first.”
William nodded.
“I will probably be asking for updates on a regular basis anyway,” William said. “Would it be possible to allow similar access for Ronald Knox as well? He is Mr. Sutcliff’s Designated Junior and the two of them have grown close.”
“That can be arranged,” the doctor said.
“That would be much appreciated. I will be calling you first thing tomorrow morning for an update and then we will start the official inquiry.”
“I’ll have any records or information available that you or any of the bosses may need.”
“Good,” William said.
His gaze fell back on Grell, savoring the sight of his chest rising and falling and his lashes fluttering slightly with his dreaming. He was alive now and on a good course; that alone was cause for much internal celebrating.
“You mentioned Mr. Sutcliff and Mr. Knox are rather close,” Dr. Sutherland said. “I would be delighted to call Mr. Knox myself tonight and give him a personal update.”
“That would be most gracious of you,” William said, genuinely impressed with the suggestion. “I believe as of now he is in for the night, though he might be wondering about as he is prone to.”
“I will at least give him the message,” Dr. Sutherland said with a small chuckle.
“That would be most appreciated,” William said. “I shall leave him in good hands then.” He then looked at Dr. Sutherland and gave a small bow. “Doctor, words cannot properly express my gratitude for what you have done.”
“I was merely doing my job,” Dr. Sutherland said with a smile. “Words cannot properly express how glad I am at what has passed so far. We will take care of him, Mr. Spears; you have my word.”
William nodded.
“Contact me immediately if anything changes,” William said, walking around the curtain and toward the door with the doctor following.
“Certainly, and feel free to get hold of me if you have any questions,” the doctor said, leading him out of the room.
William allowed himself one more look back at his colleague’s prone form before prying his gaze away and walking out the door into the hallway. His legs ached, his head ached, he wanted nothing more at the moment than the comfort of his bed. Somehow he felt lighter, though it was the feeling of tense lightness after being gutted.
In the end Sutcliff would be fine, though William did not give into the mindset that all the worry and self-reflection over the past several hours had been all for naught. No, it was a tragic story that looked to have a happy ending. The story, however, was just beginning; Sutcliff survived miraculously, but he was not even close to fine. He was in the early stages of recovery and anything could still go wrong. He was not on the precipice of death, however; he had been pulled farther away from the edge.
William allowed himself a ragged sigh of relief. Grell was alive at the moment and looking to make an amazing recovery. That was all he needed to know now, the rest was up to the medical team and Grell himself. Everything else was out of William’s hands. His concern at the moment was starting the investigation tomorrow; he wanted nothing more than to throw open Ciel Phantomhive’s record and find out if the little bastard was lying to him.
That all would have to wait until tomorrow. All he wanted now was a nice hot cup of mint tea and his nightclothes.
----------------
8:05 p.m.
Ronald had learned the hard way before to not start walking or running after materializing in a new location; take one second’s breath to regain your bearings and then move. He had taken many bruises leaning this technique, though now was not the time for discretion. He materialized in the in front of the infirmary wing and ran forward, only to stumble over his feet for a second though successfully keeping himself upright and continue his forward sprint.
The wing was mostly empty this time of night. A nurse passed by, though Ronald barely nodded at her when he would usually throw a wink. At last he reached the infirmary, Dr. Ian said he would still be here for a little while and would escort him in and answer any more questions.
All Ronald could think about was seeing his senior alive. He had spent the day with a burning unease in his chest trying to keep his mind on his work and keep from seeing Mr. Sutcliff’s face in any of his prone clients. After his shift ended, he just wanted to be alone; there was no desire for a few pints and some conversations with the secretaries. Ron didn’t even want to see any of his cohorts lest someone else decide to make a cheeky comment. Instead he stayed in, balled up in his favorite ratty chair trying to keep his focus on a book while every nerve prickled.
This was one occasion where he was glad he didn’t have roommates. All reapers at the academy stayed in one communal living space that reminded him too much of a reformatory he was holed into at one point in not so distant history. Those reapers who graduated received their own cell; it was best if active reapers maintained their own schedules and were not distracted by roommates. It also meant spending downtime in a tiny room with barely a bed, a desk, and some shelves; the walls tended to close in a little after too much time spent in one’s room alone. This time, however, he felt as if he were comfortably buried, blanketed in the quiet of the walls. Then the phone rang with some grand news.
At last he reached the open door to the infirmary and practically stopped, taking only a few cautious steps forward. He carefully peeked his head in, seeing Dr. Ian standing off to the side signing a few papers on a clipboard. The doctor made eye contact with him and smiled, putting his clipboard on a wall hook and walking over.
“Good evening, Mr. Knox,” Dr. Ian said.
“Evenin’ sir, thanks’ for your call,” Ron said.
“Mr. Spears told me you are Mr. Sutcliff’s junior, I figured it was only courteous to fill you in,” Dr. Ian said with his usual pleasant smile.
“It’s much appreciated, believe me,” Ron said.
He then caught the sight of the white curtain wrapped around one bed on the end. Ron gave a quick look back at Dr. Ian, who nodded and showed him over. Ron tried not to run, instead keeping an even pace with the doctor though his legs shook. The doctor opened the curtain, Ronald immediately saw Mr. Sutcliff lying in the bed. He took a grip on a chair next to the bed and lowered himself down into it, allowing his legs to finally give.
Ronald just stared at him for a moment; oh God did he look sick. He looked so stripped down in that white nightgown. Ron’s gaze moved to the bandage wrapped around his head, his mind seeing the mass of red hair pressed down underneath. After second, however, he realized he was not seeing any of his hair; none on the pillow, none cascading from the bandage. He stared at his head, realizing there was nothing there but a bandage, not a strand on the side of his head. Everything was just clean gone, but Ron realized such was only necessary given the surgery.
“You had to shave his head, didn’t you,” Ron said, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
“Alas, we needed to,” Dr. Ian said.
Ronald gave a hard sigh, staring at the bandage and the emptiness around his senior’s head.
“But it will grow back,” Ron said, looking up at the doctor. “Hell he can grow it out when he wants to.”
“When he’s healthy enough, he can grow it out as much as he wants to,” Dr. Ian said with a wink.
Ron found himself chuckling a little, looking down at Grell’s face. He looked like he was just sleeping, but his pale complexion told the bigger story. All reapers seemed to look so weird without their glasses.
“Can he hear us?” Ron asked.
“As I said, he seems to be going in and out of it to some degree,” Dr. Ian said. “I don’t know how cognizant he is of everything around him, though I’m sure something’s going through. I do think one of the best things you can do for him is talk to him, get him hearing another voice might bring him out a bit more; though at least a little company is nice.”
“He’s a big talker, I’m sure he wants someone around to carry out the conversation,” Ron said.
“So very true,” Dr. Ian said. “Who knows he might even join in.”
Mr. Sutcliff never seemed to like silence, he was always going on about something. Yet now it was deathly quiet in his presence, it just didn’t feel normal.
“Well, as you know, I’ve had a bit of a long day today and I think now is a good time for some sleep,” the doctor said. “Take your time with him, laddie; the night nurse is in the next room if something comes up.”
Ron looked up, he wanted to rise but he could barely move his legs.
“You’re a great guy, Dr. Ian,” Ron said. “You’re a right wonderful man for what you did for him.”
Dr. Ian clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.
“I was merely doing my duty,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Knox.”
“You too, sir,” Ron said.
Dr. Ian gave one more nod before walking across the floor and out of the infirmary. Ronald watched him walk out the door, then looked back down at his senior. The two of them were completely alone, the quiet was plain creepy.
“For once, Mr. Sutcliff, you’re the bore of the party,” Ron said. “How the hell did that happen?”
He imagined Grell leaping up from bed to swat him whilst peppering the air with angry twitters. Such was not the case, he remained in bed completely still save for his light breaths. It chilled Ron to the core. Ron looked down at the rest of his prone form, immediately seeing a series of black and blue bruises on the inside of his exposed arm. He took a closer look and saw small puncture marks; they must have given him injections of something.
Ron’s tired eyes just trailed up his arm. He clearly shaved the hair from it, though it looked like he missed a couple of amber strands around his wrist. His nails were impeccably sculpted and painted a bright red, an interesting contrast with his bony knuckles. This was probably the first time he had really looked at his senior this close, seen him as real flesh and blood. He had seen him injured before in combat before and knew he wasn’t made of steel, though this was vastly different. He seemed so much more vulnerable now, so much more real.
Ron lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment, then giving a sigh and taking Mr. Sutcliff’s hand in his. This was such a womanly gesture, gripping the hand of an ill friend in desperation. He sure as hell wasn’t going to throw his head back and weep, though he couldn’t stop his hand from shaking. Ronald realized how happy he was feeling the light throb of his pulse, his skin was cold but corpses were colder.
Maybe the hand-holding thing wasn’t just a dramatic move, maybe it was an instinct for caring about someone. Ron never really cared about anyone before, he never really worried about anyone else. Out of all the people he would do this for, he never imagined he would be doing this for the sheer force of nature that was Grell Sutcliff; a creature older and crazier than he could comprehend even now. Perhaps this drove the point home a bit more that reapers, his new kind, were not that different from humans; they were just regular folk too with a job to do. Reapers could give a damn about each other like humans were supposed to do. He wondered if anyone had ever really given a damn about Mr. Sutcliff; he just needed to recall his earlier conversation with Mr. Spears to answer that question.
“Don’t get any wrong impressions, but then I’m just a young ‘un; not really your type,” Ron said. “But I’m gonna pop in from time to time, so you‘re stuck with me. If you don’t like it you better say something. Then again you probably like the attention, don’t you, even if it is from a scrawny brat.”
Grell remained still and silent, his eyes shifted a little behind his lids. This was going to take some getting used to, Ron just hoped he didn’t get too used to this.
Chapter: 4
Series: Kuroshitsuji
Summary: William searches for answers after a mysterious attack leaves Grell's life hanging by a thread, though he finds himself dealing with some long-buried emotions about his old friend.
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: William, Ron, and Grell, brief reference to Ciel.
Word Count: 3,869
Warnings: Mild language and descriptions of a medical procedure.
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji and recognizable characters belong to Yana Toboso.
This Immortal Coil
Part 4: The still-life of the party
15 of March, 1890
Reaper Dispatch Offices - London
7:19 p.m.
William materialized at the end of the infirmary wing and took quick steps forward. He needed to find Dr. Sutherland now; he didn’t want to think on what he would hear, he just needed to hear everything and immediately. He walked toward the main offices, growing more impatient with every second that passed that he did not see his contact.
“Mr. Spears,” a familiar voice said from down the hallway.
He looked up to see Dr. Sutherland waiting for him in the open doorway to the infirmary itself. The doctor wore a standard lab coat over a suit, he must have had the opportunity to change. His mouth was already curved into a wide smile. William resisted the urge to run in his direction and instead purposely slowed his step, taking a few subtle breaths and adjusting his glasses as he approached Dr. Sutherland. Compared to his hurried manner when they first found Sutcliff, this smile told William volumes already.
At last he was a few steps from him and already trying to form appropriate words for this moment.
“How is your patient, doctor?” William asked.
“Doing remarkably,” Dr. Sutherland said. “We got done about a half hour ago, but have spent most of that time testing his brain function; reflexes, pain reactions, et cetera. The surgery itself was one tense moment after another given what we were dealing with, though he was stable the entire time and reacted to everything perfectly.”
The doctor sounded as if he was trying to hide his giddiness. His tone was professional, but his elation sounded as if it would break through at any moment. This was beyond anything William could imagine. He would need to pay close attention to take it all in as it was coming.
“Every bit of that bleed was closed off, any brain swelling went right down, and his healing took right over,” Dr. Sutherland said. “As we had hoped, he needed nary staple nor stitch to close him up completely; which is a sign his base energy is as it should be.”
“What about his brain function?”
“All nerves and reactions working as normal, no signs of paralysis, no delayed reactions to certain stimuli. All his reflexes are in order. He’s unconscious, but he’s been having the usual eye movements of dreaming. In fact he had some moments of processing commands, like clutching a hand or moving a toe. This was very sporadic, which tells us he might have some moments of semi-consciousness.”
William tried to wrap his head around everything he was hearing.
“He pulled through with flying colors,” William said, his amazement leaking out.
The doctor smiled and took a few steps back into the infirmary, William following close behind. Dr. Sutherland stopped and leaned in a little closer.
“If you were so inclined you could call it a miracle, or simply medical science at its finest,” Dr. Sutherland said.
William kept his lower lip from trembling. An astute doctor with over 200 years of medical experience on both humans and reapers was now using the term “miracle.” He would need some time before the meaning of that would sink in. In the meantime he stiffened his posture even more and kept his calm demeanor as best he could.
“How is he now?” William said.
“We will have to monitor him closely,” Dr. Sutherland said, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “It looks as if the worst has passed for the time being, but we can never be too cautious. Though I can tell you just five years ago he would be permanently gone.”
William took a glance into the infirmary, immediately seeing a white curtain surrounding one bed. He could not see any silhouettes, but he was sure Sutcliff was in that bed.
“I’m nothing short of amazed,“ William said, relaxing his tone. “A Voice attack at that distance should have killed him within an hour.”
“He’s a tough little bastard I can tell you that, though we got to him just in time,” the doctor said, taking a few steps toward the bed in question. “The bleed was more manageable than even the scans showed. We relieved the pressure and stopped the bleeding easier than I thought we would, his healing is where it should be now; he just had so much in his favor.”
William stared at the curtains, now seeing the rough outline of a person.
“As I said he is showing normal brain function and reflexes,” Dr. Sutherland continued. “Given what we’ve seen, he will likely remain unconscious for the next few days, possibly going in and out of it. We will need to keep a close eye on him, watch for any seizures or any recurring bleeds.”
William nodded; Grell wasn’t out of the proverbial woods just yet. He was farther from the edge, but not away from it entirely.
“Can he recover fully from this,” William said.
“If he continues this course I see a complete recovery. There is potential for slurred speech or difficulty walking, but that remains to be seen. He will need some physical therapy to get his muscles moving a bit more. He very well could come out of this perfectly fine.”
A miracle indeed. William thought of one question he needed to know as a supervisor, though he personally wanted to see how much of a recovery was being discussed.
“Should he recover from this, would it be possible for him to return to normal duties?” William asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Dr. Sutherland said, an answer that made William’s heart pound a bit more. “Whether he’ll be as quick on his feet remains to be seen, though he could still be able in his duties. As I said, that is dependent on his recovery.”
“Everything is still very much in the air given the circumstances,” William said with a nod.
Dr. Sutherland merely smiled and nodded in response. He gently grabbed one corner of the curtain and pulled it aside a little. Sutcliff was lying in bed clad in the standard white nightgown, white sheets pulled up to his chest. William immediately noticed the white bandage wrapped around his head though that was the only thing against the pillow. His ears were fully exposed, there was no red, it was just a sea of clean white right down to his sickly pale complexion.
Grell was almost unrecognizable at first glance; his eyes were closed, glasses off, make-up cleaned off, his red hair gone; he looked like another sickly patient. Those impeccably sculpted red eyebrows caught William’s attention first then his pointed nose and chin. His mouth was slightly open, showing the basic outline of a few pointed teeth. William’s eyes then fell to Grell’s hands that rested by his sides; those red nails sticking out against the white sheets. These little features were the only thing that reminded William that this was Grell lying before him. That little hint of red from his painstakingly manicured fingernails particularly struck William; Grell’s personality still showing through the clean, clinical nature of his situation.
William watched as his chest rose and fell with gentle breaths, a truly wonderful sight. Grell’s lids fluttered for a moment but did not open, instead his eyes moved behind his lids.
“It looks as if he is in a dream state now,” William said.
“That’s normal, in fact it’s a good sign,” Dr. Sutherland said. “The damaged areas are reconnecting themselves, plus any areas we cut into might take a little while longer to heal. It’s a little longer process given his current energy level with the complexity the inner workings of the brain. As everything reconnects, he could have some rather vivid dreams. It is also common knowledge that many gravely injured reapers will replay their Cinematic Records in their minds, not just the reels from their current state but also a few slides from their mortal record.”
William nodded in understanding. The official human record for new reapers is cut per usual and a new record formed upon their recruitment and transformation. Their mortal memories remained in their brains as usual; memories imprinted in their minds like an image on film paper. In many cases the images fade over the decades like old drawings or photographs. William had met ancient reapers who had forgotten their birthdates or their parents’ names, yet some also would tell childhood stories of their lives in ancient civilizations. It was different for everyone.
“It is a type of instant replay,” the doctor said. “Some say that the injured or dying reaper will judge themselves, whether their continuing existence will benefit the world. Others simply need a reminder of how far they’ve gotten; it gives them encouragement to continue their course, or correct their paths. From what I know of Mr. Sutcliff, perhaps the latter holds true for him.”
William stared at Grell, watching his eyes shift under his lids and wondering what was going through his mind at the moment, though William really did not want to think on the particulars. The thought that Grell was judging his own life as he judged other lives was more than a bit unsettling; especially if it was like judging the lives of those women he killed. He had an enormous ego, meaning he probably thought the world would be a dreadful place without him. He did have a past history of self-destructive behavior; the thought that he doubted his life or was outright suicidal put a chill through William’s body. Grell, however, survived such a delicate operation with miraculous results, perhaps he had judged himself worthy of living. Maybe now he was watching a reminder of how far he had come, or was simply using his unconsciousness to toast himself.
“I’ll allow visitors for him on a limited basis,” Dr. Sutherland said, breaking William from his thoughts. “They will have to check into the Health Office first and receive permission dependent on his condition. You are excepted from this; you can go in when you feel like it, though check with one of us on his condition first.”
William nodded.
“I will probably be asking for updates on a regular basis anyway,” William said. “Would it be possible to allow similar access for Ronald Knox as well? He is Mr. Sutcliff’s Designated Junior and the two of them have grown close.”
“That can be arranged,” the doctor said.
“That would be much appreciated. I will be calling you first thing tomorrow morning for an update and then we will start the official inquiry.”
“I’ll have any records or information available that you or any of the bosses may need.”
“Good,” William said.
His gaze fell back on Grell, savoring the sight of his chest rising and falling and his lashes fluttering slightly with his dreaming. He was alive now and on a good course; that alone was cause for much internal celebrating.
“You mentioned Mr. Sutcliff and Mr. Knox are rather close,” Dr. Sutherland said. “I would be delighted to call Mr. Knox myself tonight and give him a personal update.”
“That would be most gracious of you,” William said, genuinely impressed with the suggestion. “I believe as of now he is in for the night, though he might be wondering about as he is prone to.”
“I will at least give him the message,” Dr. Sutherland said with a small chuckle.
“That would be most appreciated,” William said. “I shall leave him in good hands then.” He then looked at Dr. Sutherland and gave a small bow. “Doctor, words cannot properly express my gratitude for what you have done.”
“I was merely doing my job,” Dr. Sutherland said with a smile. “Words cannot properly express how glad I am at what has passed so far. We will take care of him, Mr. Spears; you have my word.”
William nodded.
“Contact me immediately if anything changes,” William said, walking around the curtain and toward the door with the doctor following.
“Certainly, and feel free to get hold of me if you have any questions,” the doctor said, leading him out of the room.
William allowed himself one more look back at his colleague’s prone form before prying his gaze away and walking out the door into the hallway. His legs ached, his head ached, he wanted nothing more at the moment than the comfort of his bed. Somehow he felt lighter, though it was the feeling of tense lightness after being gutted.
In the end Sutcliff would be fine, though William did not give into the mindset that all the worry and self-reflection over the past several hours had been all for naught. No, it was a tragic story that looked to have a happy ending. The story, however, was just beginning; Sutcliff survived miraculously, but he was not even close to fine. He was in the early stages of recovery and anything could still go wrong. He was not on the precipice of death, however; he had been pulled farther away from the edge.
William allowed himself a ragged sigh of relief. Grell was alive at the moment and looking to make an amazing recovery. That was all he needed to know now, the rest was up to the medical team and Grell himself. Everything else was out of William’s hands. His concern at the moment was starting the investigation tomorrow; he wanted nothing more than to throw open Ciel Phantomhive’s record and find out if the little bastard was lying to him.
That all would have to wait until tomorrow. All he wanted now was a nice hot cup of mint tea and his nightclothes.
----------------
8:05 p.m.
Ronald had learned the hard way before to not start walking or running after materializing in a new location; take one second’s breath to regain your bearings and then move. He had taken many bruises leaning this technique, though now was not the time for discretion. He materialized in the in front of the infirmary wing and ran forward, only to stumble over his feet for a second though successfully keeping himself upright and continue his forward sprint.
The wing was mostly empty this time of night. A nurse passed by, though Ronald barely nodded at her when he would usually throw a wink. At last he reached the infirmary, Dr. Ian said he would still be here for a little while and would escort him in and answer any more questions.
All Ronald could think about was seeing his senior alive. He had spent the day with a burning unease in his chest trying to keep his mind on his work and keep from seeing Mr. Sutcliff’s face in any of his prone clients. After his shift ended, he just wanted to be alone; there was no desire for a few pints and some conversations with the secretaries. Ron didn’t even want to see any of his cohorts lest someone else decide to make a cheeky comment. Instead he stayed in, balled up in his favorite ratty chair trying to keep his focus on a book while every nerve prickled.
This was one occasion where he was glad he didn’t have roommates. All reapers at the academy stayed in one communal living space that reminded him too much of a reformatory he was holed into at one point in not so distant history. Those reapers who graduated received their own cell; it was best if active reapers maintained their own schedules and were not distracted by roommates. It also meant spending downtime in a tiny room with barely a bed, a desk, and some shelves; the walls tended to close in a little after too much time spent in one’s room alone. This time, however, he felt as if he were comfortably buried, blanketed in the quiet of the walls. Then the phone rang with some grand news.
At last he reached the open door to the infirmary and practically stopped, taking only a few cautious steps forward. He carefully peeked his head in, seeing Dr. Ian standing off to the side signing a few papers on a clipboard. The doctor made eye contact with him and smiled, putting his clipboard on a wall hook and walking over.
“Good evening, Mr. Knox,” Dr. Ian said.
“Evenin’ sir, thanks’ for your call,” Ron said.
“Mr. Spears told me you are Mr. Sutcliff’s junior, I figured it was only courteous to fill you in,” Dr. Ian said with his usual pleasant smile.
“It’s much appreciated, believe me,” Ron said.
He then caught the sight of the white curtain wrapped around one bed on the end. Ron gave a quick look back at Dr. Ian, who nodded and showed him over. Ron tried not to run, instead keeping an even pace with the doctor though his legs shook. The doctor opened the curtain, Ronald immediately saw Mr. Sutcliff lying in the bed. He took a grip on a chair next to the bed and lowered himself down into it, allowing his legs to finally give.
Ronald just stared at him for a moment; oh God did he look sick. He looked so stripped down in that white nightgown. Ron’s gaze moved to the bandage wrapped around his head, his mind seeing the mass of red hair pressed down underneath. After second, however, he realized he was not seeing any of his hair; none on the pillow, none cascading from the bandage. He stared at his head, realizing there was nothing there but a bandage, not a strand on the side of his head. Everything was just clean gone, but Ron realized such was only necessary given the surgery.
“You had to shave his head, didn’t you,” Ron said, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
“Alas, we needed to,” Dr. Ian said.
Ronald gave a hard sigh, staring at the bandage and the emptiness around his senior’s head.
“But it will grow back,” Ron said, looking up at the doctor. “Hell he can grow it out when he wants to.”
“When he’s healthy enough, he can grow it out as much as he wants to,” Dr. Ian said with a wink.
Ron found himself chuckling a little, looking down at Grell’s face. He looked like he was just sleeping, but his pale complexion told the bigger story. All reapers seemed to look so weird without their glasses.
“Can he hear us?” Ron asked.
“As I said, he seems to be going in and out of it to some degree,” Dr. Ian said. “I don’t know how cognizant he is of everything around him, though I’m sure something’s going through. I do think one of the best things you can do for him is talk to him, get him hearing another voice might bring him out a bit more; though at least a little company is nice.”
“He’s a big talker, I’m sure he wants someone around to carry out the conversation,” Ron said.
“So very true,” Dr. Ian said. “Who knows he might even join in.”
Mr. Sutcliff never seemed to like silence, he was always going on about something. Yet now it was deathly quiet in his presence, it just didn’t feel normal.
“Well, as you know, I’ve had a bit of a long day today and I think now is a good time for some sleep,” the doctor said. “Take your time with him, laddie; the night nurse is in the next room if something comes up.”
Ron looked up, he wanted to rise but he could barely move his legs.
“You’re a great guy, Dr. Ian,” Ron said. “You’re a right wonderful man for what you did for him.”
Dr. Ian clapped him on the shoulder and smiled.
“I was merely doing my duty,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Knox.”
“You too, sir,” Ron said.
Dr. Ian gave one more nod before walking across the floor and out of the infirmary. Ronald watched him walk out the door, then looked back down at his senior. The two of them were completely alone, the quiet was plain creepy.
“For once, Mr. Sutcliff, you’re the bore of the party,” Ron said. “How the hell did that happen?”
He imagined Grell leaping up from bed to swat him whilst peppering the air with angry twitters. Such was not the case, he remained in bed completely still save for his light breaths. It chilled Ron to the core. Ron looked down at the rest of his prone form, immediately seeing a series of black and blue bruises on the inside of his exposed arm. He took a closer look and saw small puncture marks; they must have given him injections of something.
Ron’s tired eyes just trailed up his arm. He clearly shaved the hair from it, though it looked like he missed a couple of amber strands around his wrist. His nails were impeccably sculpted and painted a bright red, an interesting contrast with his bony knuckles. This was probably the first time he had really looked at his senior this close, seen him as real flesh and blood. He had seen him injured before in combat before and knew he wasn’t made of steel, though this was vastly different. He seemed so much more vulnerable now, so much more real.
Ron lifted his hand, hesitating for a moment, then giving a sigh and taking Mr. Sutcliff’s hand in his. This was such a womanly gesture, gripping the hand of an ill friend in desperation. He sure as hell wasn’t going to throw his head back and weep, though he couldn’t stop his hand from shaking. Ronald realized how happy he was feeling the light throb of his pulse, his skin was cold but corpses were colder.
Maybe the hand-holding thing wasn’t just a dramatic move, maybe it was an instinct for caring about someone. Ron never really cared about anyone before, he never really worried about anyone else. Out of all the people he would do this for, he never imagined he would be doing this for the sheer force of nature that was Grell Sutcliff; a creature older and crazier than he could comprehend even now. Perhaps this drove the point home a bit more that reapers, his new kind, were not that different from humans; they were just regular folk too with a job to do. Reapers could give a damn about each other like humans were supposed to do. He wondered if anyone had ever really given a damn about Mr. Sutcliff; he just needed to recall his earlier conversation with Mr. Spears to answer that question.
“Don’t get any wrong impressions, but then I’m just a young ‘un; not really your type,” Ron said. “But I’m gonna pop in from time to time, so you‘re stuck with me. If you don’t like it you better say something. Then again you probably like the attention, don’t you, even if it is from a scrawny brat.”
Grell remained still and silent, his eyes shifted a little behind his lids. This was going to take some getting used to, Ron just hoped he didn’t get too used to this.