Hospital For Souls (M i c h a e l i s) [Kuroshitsuji 3]{Completed}

Chapter XI : One Silent Friend

Why explore the universe

When we don't know ourselves?

"Agh... I can't, I am sorry."

"It's alright," Sebastian said patiently, as the spoon fell back into the bowl with a clank; however, I could see a muscle jumping away in his temple. "Try again."

"It is so difficult," Grace sighed, putting a hand to her temple and rubbing her forehead very gently. "Herman and Undertaker, they did everything for me. I can't remember the simplest things, it's like I'm a child!"

Ciel, probably knowing that it would frustrate him to no end, had given Sebastian the job of teaching Grace how to look after herself again, the basics. I was still working as a secretary; I had piles of letters to seal, stamp and send, reams of documents to read, and for an hour every day, I sat with Grace and wrote down simply what she could remember.

It was coming back to her in pieces – she would describe scenes at this Undertaker's parlour, and the woman, Charlotte – snatches of information she had heard from Greenhill, worrying to himself in the office below her room. Grace was frustrated with herself, and emotional all the time; she longed for this man, this Violet, who was apparently dead.

And good riddance to him.

"Can I perhaps offer my assistance?" I chimed in from the doorway, and Sebastian's head turned to the side, his dark red irises widening slightly.

"If you would be so kind, Lady Celeste."

"Please. The pleasure is mine." I crossed over the threshold, holding out my hand for the spoon, and Sebastian stood again, to tower over me. As he brushed past me, I whispered in his ear – "You owe me one."

"Isn't that always the way?" He said, with an amused twist of a smile, and slipped out into the hallway.

I sat down opposite Grace, who was gripping the edge of the table in front of her as if for dear life. She was staring down into the bowl of soft porridge in front of her, and I only noticed the tears dripping down her face once they had made small craters in its permeable surface.

"Grace?" I asked, very quietly. "Is there something wrong? Please, Sebastian cannot help getting frustrated. These days, he seems to be quite short tempered." Between Grell, his accident-prone servants, and my 'unwitting' flirtatious manner, I am sure he was getting rather hot underneath the collar.

"It's not Sebastian," she wept, bringing her hand up to wipe roughly at her eyes. Her insistence upon long-sleeved gowns had been caused by the pattern of scar tissue criss-crossing her pale arms. "It's just – I'm sorry. I can't get him out of my head."

"Gregory?"

"Violet." That brought a small smile to Grace's face. "He would have hated if you called him that. It reminded him too much of his father."

I smiled back, reaching forward to pick up her shaking hand and wrap her fingers around the handle of the spoon. "Alright. You give this porridge another go, and I am going to tell you something about me, since you surely must be sick of relaying your life story to me by now."

"It helps to talk," Grace said, but tried again at scooping up some mush, her eyes still trained on me. I had her attention; she was curious.

"His name was Dorian," I begun. "Dorian, as in the Picture of Dorian Grey – it was a story, by a man called Oscar Wild. A marvellous Irishman. And the main character, he was a young man of impeccable beauty who seemed to be forever young. A very fitting name for an attractive demon, don't you think?"