So I stare until you shout, wondering why you can't figure me out Who: Graham and Jezebelle Where: Their home When: Shortly after this
How Graham actually found his way back home was beyond him. A lot of things were beyond him that moment, everything swirling out of his grasp, along with reality. He reached the road the house was on, exhausted from blinking. Exhausted in general. When was the last time he slept? He couldn’t remember. Dark circles hung heavy under his mad eyes, limping towards the house, his body broken and covered in both blood and rain. By the time he reached the front yard, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, collapsing onto the pavement.
Kismet had been inside, grumbling to herself over her master refusing to bring her along again. She was curled up on the couch, keeping to herself when she suddenly sensed him. Her antennae perked up, fluttering over to the door, cooing in hopes to have it open and thus she could snuggle with her Graham. But the door never did open. She could feel him. He was here. ...Graham? Fluttering over to the window, she peered outside, only to catch sight of her master passed out in the front yard. With a terrified gasp, Kismet began flapping her tiny wings in a hysterical fit. JEZEBELLE! WHERE ARE YOU?! GRAHAM NEEDS YOUR HELP! HURRY!
It was amazing how strong a voice a little moth could have. Even with an increased sense of hearing, Jezebelle wouldn’t have expected to hear Kismet over the rain and the sound of the washer and dryer. But there she was, screaming so frantically that Jezebelle blinked into the living room with a thud, almost losing her balance and toppling over. “What’s wrong? What happened?” she asked, rushing to the window where Kismet fluttered. One glance outside and she was out in the rain, kneeling beside him and just as panic stricken as his familiar.
“Graham! Oh God, what happened?” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled him into her arms and began to carry him into the house, thankful that she had the strength to do so. She’d never have accomplished such a feat as a human and blinking with him seemed like a bad idea. The less she jostled him, the better, and she couldn’t guarantee she could blink without dropping him in this condition. Jezebelle rushed him down into the basement, the quietest place in the house and the only place with a floor drain. With the amount of blood he was losing, it seemed a smart move, though it filled her with dread to think of. “Talk to me,” she said as she laid him on the floor. If he would wake up, she could feed him, and that was the best she could do to heal his wounds.
By the time Graham slipped back into a conscious state, his eyes opened, heavy and weak as he felt the room around him spinning. He spotted Kismet flying above him, whimpering as he bleed on the floor, twitching at some of the bones in his body slowly mending, albeit excruciatingly painful. Hissing in a breath of air in hopes to ease the tension, he tilted his head back to realize he was in the arms of his sire. Everything was hazy, like a dream, and Graham couldn’t piece anything together. Blinking, several red tears rolling down from his eyes, he tried reaching out to her with his wounded hand, the hole still gaping and bleeding profusely. “...Jez,” his words were barely above a whisper. “Where am I?” Last he remembered, he was in that one room, with the windows, with the writing. Why wasn’t he back there? Why was he in pain? Why was he bleeding? Why couldn’t he remember?
He was a mess, so much so that it was putting Jezebelle in a state of panic she rarely experienced. She hurriedly pulled his arms and legs out straight, not knowing what was broken and what was not, but aware they would heal wrong if she didn’t align the bones. When he spoke, she crawled up his body, her hair falling in her face as she looked down on him. His tears made her own eyes sting and she stroked his face gently with his hand. “You’re home, love. In the basement. Be still, I need you to drink something,” she said, disappearing with a flash and then reappearing only seconds later, a bottle of blood in her hand. It was cold, but it would have to be so, as she wasn’t going to waste time to warm it up. “Come on, sit up,” she said, pulling him back into her lap enough that he was laying at an angle. “Drink this and let me see your hand.” Shit. Shit. There was a fucking hole in his hand. Damn this was going to be difficult.
Graham screamed in pain as she straightened one of his legs, feeling the bone snap into place as it aligned perfectly. So he was home, just not where he last remembered being. Lying on the floor, he waited for Jezebelle to return, the moment she was gone feeling like an eternity. The voices still haunted him and he tried his best to focus on her voice instead. It was the only thing holding him back from falling into that pit of madness again. Once in her lap, he struggled to bring his hand back up, the pain completely unbearable at the moment. He knew his body was healing. Incredibly slowly, considering all the damage he took, but it was healing. The hand would take the longest, seeing there were chunks of bone and muscle missing from inside. All he could take was several gulps of the blood before pulling away, shaking in her arms. “Why am I wet?” His good hand tugged at the clothing clinging onto his skin, completely drenched. The chill surrounded him, making the moment even more unbearable. “Why can’t I remember anything...” He buried his face into his sire’s chest, not wanting to show his teary face to her.
His screams tore through her, goose bumps littering her skin as she grit her teeth and continued. As much as she hated to cause him pain, it would be so much worse if his bones healed wrong and had to be broken all over again. As she looked at his hand, she wondered what she could do to help it, but few thoughts came to mind. Cleaning it and bandaging it was the best she could do, and that was only to prevent more blood loss during the healing process. Reaching for a box under her lab table, Jezebelle began to rummage around for what she might need. Bandages were not something she used often, but scissors she did find. “You were out in the yard, in the rain,” she answered as she began cutting off his shirt. “When was the last time you slept?” She had the feeling she knew the answer: days, before the rain started. It always got bad before she realized there was a problem, forgetting that the rain impacted Graham differently than herself. He was so quiet about it, she never expected the madness that crept up on him.
Outside in the rain? That didn’t seem like anything he would do in a million years. Graham wanted to be out of the rain and someplace where it was dry and warm. Instead, he was completely broken and bruised, unsure if he could even stand on his own at that point. Everything hurt, even the removal of his shirt. He kept reminding himself to focus on Jezebelle’s voice, knowing that it was real and not a hallucination. Bringing his face away from her body slightly, he thought over her question, unable to produce an answer. All he did was shake his head, visibly displeased. “I don’t know. I don’t know how fucking long it’s been or what the hell is going on.” Graham clung onto Jezebelle, his hand squeezing at her to reassure himself that this was real. Sleep would be good right about then and at the rate he was going, he was about to pass out from exhaustion. No, hang on a little bit longer. Swallowing, he flinched at the pain throbbing in his body, catching sight at the amount of blood he was losing. “Am I going to die?” He wasn’t too certain how this worked for vampires, but this was the last thing he wanted.
The holes in his memory were a bad sign and a pretty sure bet that it had been too long since he’d slept. Jezebelle had never experienced the loss of sanity that came without sleep, and from what she was seeing she hoped she never did. Graham was a mess, bleeding from all over with no recollection of how he’d gotten there. That was frightening, for whatever did this to him had to have taken a beating as well. Perhaps she should go turn on the evening news. “A Shade can’t go without sleep,” she told him, kissing his temple before bringing the bottle of blood up to his lips once more. “It drives us mad.” The blood wasn’t his type, but it was better than nothing, meant to replace all that he was losing. He might be broken, but at least the only hole in him was in his hand. “No. No, love. If you wake up in a coffin, it’s only because you need the rest.” She hated to do that to him, but she couldn’t think of anywhere else that Graham could go that he wouldn’t hear the rain. The coffin in the basement would have to do, and she’d stay with him till he woke once more.
Graham drank greedily from the bottle, knowing somehow that this would help. With each gulp, it seemed to soothe him, though forcing himself to down the blood was a tedious task, just as it was to keep his eyes open. “I’m sorry,” he uttered as his lips pulled away from the bottle, twitching on and off as the pain jolted through his body, especially in his hand. “I didn’t know.” There were many things he didn’t know, being a new vampire and all. Nuzzling lightly into his sire’s body, the bloody tears quietly fell down his face, unable to help his emotions at that point. The part about the coffin didn’t scare him, at least not in comparison to knowing that lack of sleep could truly drive him mad. This wasn’t what he wanted and he damned the rain to hell for keeping him up. Holding Jezebelle closer to him, even if it meant agony to his body and excess blood leaking out, he whimpered lightly, “Don’t leave.” He simply wanted her by his side, knowing her presence was the only thing soothing him.
“You don’t have to be sorry,” Jezebelle said, gently brushing his hair from his face. “I should have told you. I should have explained.” Because it so rarely happened to her, she was prone to forget that detail and now Graham was paying for it. She wondered what he’d been up to, who he’d fought with that had been strong enough to do so much damage, but the mystery could wait a few more hours. If something showed up on her doorstep, she was well equipped to deal with them. “I’m going to have to move you,” she said, a word of warning so that he could mentally prepare himself for the pain. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. It might be a tight fit, but we don’t need air, just silence and darkness.” She waited till he’d finished draining the bottle before she lifted him, half carrying-half dragging him towards the coffin in the corner. It had been years, maybe decades, since she’d needed to make use of one, but it was for times likes this that she had one at all. “I’m gonna need your help to get you inside,” Jezebelle said with a sad little smile. “Then I’ll climb in with you and shut the lid.” It was a good thing they made these things roomy inside. It was as if coffin manufacturers knew that vampires might need them, even before they believed they existed.
Upon hearing that he would have to move, Graham whimpered at the thought. He wanted nothing more than to finally get some sleep, exhausted as hell. He forced himself to down the rest of the blood and then he found himself being lifted by his sire. Graham immediately howled in pain, clinging onto her as he moved. He didn’t want to do anything, even if it was climbing inside this coffin. Oh god, he had to be in a coffin. That bit of reality finally sunk in and Graham wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Part of it reminded him of his days in prison, locked up in solitary confinement. It’s not that, he reminded himself. Jez is here with you. She promised she wouldn't leave. How he wished she was there for him while he was in prison, an angel comforting him in the darkness. Swallowing hard, he kept that image in his head, forcing himself with whatever strength he had left to slip into the coffin. With a loud groan, he fell in, feel a couple bones crack into place as he rested on his back. He thought he saw Kismet flying around from above, whining lightly of how worried she was. He trusted Jezebelle. He wouldn’t die. At least not now. Looking over to his lover, he extended his wounded hand out to her, only wanting her to join him.
The sounds of pain that he made brought more tears to her eyes, but she told herself that this was what he needed. Letting him lay on the floor would not help heal his mind and his body just needed time. This was the best she could do, no matter how much she hated to ask it of him. “Let me know if I’m squishing you,” she told him, taking his hand as she climbed in beside him. It was a tight fit, but it would have to do. She refused to leave him. Once in, she pulled the lid shut, drowning them in darkness. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing his cheek as she shut her eyes. Sleep would not be coming to her, not tonight, for she was keeping vigil. Graham needed his rest and if this didn’t work, then she would be racing to find something that would.
Holding Jezebelle tight to him, he ignored the pain of someone on top of him. He would heal in time, but right now he needed the comfort of his sire. Knowing that she wouldn’t leave him was enough to put some of his mind at ease. A gentle coo left his lips as he nuzzled into her face. “I don’t care as long as you don’t mind me bleeding on you.” Closing his eyes, he found Jezebelle’s face and kissed her nose. “I love you so much... I don’t know what I’d do without.” Because if he didn’t have her to run back to, then he didn’t know what to do. Perhaps bleed to death on the yard, wait for morning and have the sun roast him alive. The coffin was more welcoming than that image. For now he ignored the voices in his head, ignored the agony in his body, and focused on Jezebelle, stroking her hair while he rested.
“It’s not the first time I’ve been bled on,” she said with a tiny little smirk. It was easier to make light of the situation than focus on the alternative. Graham had almost died tonight, something she didn’t think she could bare had it happened. Jezebelle would have gone on a rampage, tearing his killer to pieces before falling apart. It was painful just thinking about it. Instead she listened to his breathing, knowing it as an automatic response more than a necessity. It was so quiet in the coffin, with neither of their hearts beating, and she knew that when he finally stopped breathing he would finally be asleep. Then was the time to wait, to hope he would heal both mentally and physically.
Typically, he would have chuckled at her, finding the moment humorous, but instead Graham remained silent. He knew he had scared her and knew that he never wished to do such a thing to Jezebelle. His chest kept rising and falling with each forced breath of air, the action reminding himself that he wasn’t dead. It took his mind off the overwhelming pain in his body for the time being. Graham kept his face nestled against hers, nuzzling into her on and off while his lips brushed over her skin. “Thank you,” he whispered lovingly to her, squeezing her lightly to let her know just how much he appreciated having her there that moment. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of anyone else who would have shown this much hospitality. Perhaps Uli? Even then, he didn’t want to make his kid sister cry. Or even Jezebelle cry, for that matter.
It seemed like too long passed and Graham was still breathing, still awake in some capacity when Jezebelle had hoped he would fall asleep. She couldn’t tell if he was healing, though hoped that was the case, even if it was the mending of his body that was keeping him up. It had to be painful, especially seeing as how much damage he’d endured. Would he know what attacked him when he was finally whole again? Maybe, but maybe not. The mind didn’t necessarily repair itself the same way the body did and she might never know exactly what Graham had been though earlier that night. The news might give her a piece of it though, and she intended to watch it as soon as he was ready. Gently, her nails stroked along a small patch of skin, hoping to sooth in any way she could. Her mind continued to come up with questions, but she’d have to wait for answers. Now was not the time to ask them.
Everything that Jezebelle did simply soothed Graham, an approving coo barely slipping past his lips. With a heavy sigh, trying hard to ignore the cracking in his ribs as he did just that, Graham closed his eyes once more in an attempt to rest. He couldn’t even hear the rain from where they were, surrounded completely by darkness as he felt himself gradually drift into sleep. His chest stopped rising, coming to a stand still as he continued to hold Jezebelle close to his body. Having her in his arms was enough to put his mind and body to rest. Graham wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know what happened that night, but as long as he woke up with his sanity in tact, he didn’t really give a shit. Jezebelle wouldn’t leave him and reassured him she’d stay by his side. That was all that mattered in the end. She didn’t judge him - only loved him. And he reciprocated that very sentiment.