Sitting next to Serenus, Gaius had gone rigid at the sound of Sirius' voice, caught unawares as pain and anger knifed through him despite the Calming Concoction he'd taken. His life had become a nightmare that never ended, it seemed, and he had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from making an outburst repudiating anything of Sirius'. How could he take those things, when all they would do was remind him every day of what he had lost?
He knew that Sirius hadn't had a great deal of money, but he didn't want that, either; let Faelan have the lot, the poor lad needed it more than Gaius did anyway. As for the rest... maybe he could get Serenus to pack it away somewhere, out of sight, until he was ready to deal with it. If that day ever came, of course; it was difficult to imagine making peace with Sirius' death when he still felt ripped apart inside.
The worst part, of course, was the thought of the fantasy room, the place Sirius had created especially for him, an Arabian wonderland where they'd made love again and again. He could bear to take a single thing from it, and yet he couldn't imagine anyone else in there, either, not even Harry. Perhaps it would have to be boxed and stored as well.
Gaius glanced over at Serenus, knowing that he was merely focusing on such trivialities to distract himself. It had gotten to be too much, and he was going to have to do something about it soon. He could feel himself becoming more and more brittle every time he was out of cat form, and soon he would simply shatter from the force of his feelings.
He couldn't find his voice, and so he simply reached out to take Serenus' hand; this was simply another nightmare to be gotten through, and he was more grateful than he could say for his brother's steady presence at his side. Serenus might never know it, but being there had probably saved Gaius' life.