Work Text:
He couldn't move. His body didn't answer his impulses and he felt a sudden panic installing in his mind. Where was he? Then, he heard voices.
"No, Jesse, I refuse to leave him alone, even if for a minute. Would you please bring me something to eat?" The voice sounded like Grace. Why doesn't she want to eat?
"Grace, I promise you that Christopher would want you to care of yourself, even if it meant leaving him alone for a couple of hours." Jesse sounded like he was tired.
There was a pause. Kit wasn't quite sure if it was a minute or an hour, but then he heard a door closing and felt a hand brushing through his hair. Then, the sobs started. Grace was quietly crying like she wanted to keep it a secret.
"Christopher, I am-" She started to say.
Before he could hear the entire sentence, his conscience slipped again. It felt like falling, and then it started burning and all he could think about was how much he wanted it to stop. And then, suddenly, it stopped. He could feel a grasp of cold wind on his face, and then he noticed the sound of someone crying. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to get up. Hoping it would work, he tried to open his eyes. And there she was. They seemed to be in the infirmary, it was darker than usual, illuminated by a single candle, and by his bed, sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, was Grace Blackthorn, still crying quietly and trying to make her sobs minimal, while holding a stele in her hand. She had just made an iratze on him. He was painting and his face was contorted with pain and she just knew she had to help.
"Grace? Why are you crying?" said Christopher, his voice sounding lower than the usual.
She raised her head, and he could see her clearer. Her eyes were puffy and red, there were dark circles under them and she looked at him with some uncertainty for some seconds. Then, she put the stele on the bedside table and got up.
"Oh, Christopher, I'm so sorry. I know I shouldn't be here and I am probably the last person you want to see, but I couldn't leave your side, even knowing that you would probably hate me by the time you were awake. I was so worried." She took one step in the door's direction, planning to get out, and Christopher couldn't be more confused.
"Wait," he said as loud as he could, as he tried to sit up. "Grace, why would I hate you?" He looked like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
Grace blushed.
"Because my mother did this to you and I couldn't do anything about it but wait and hope that you would make it out alive." She said, as calmly as she could, trying not to cry again. "Please don't hurt yourself trying to sit, you should rest."
"Grace, I wouldn't ever hate you. I don't think I'm capable of that. I don't understand why people don't see that you also were Tatiana's victim. You don't have to apologize for your mother's doings. Come here, sit down." And he pointed to the chair beside his bed.
She seemed embarrassed but sat down anyway.
"How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Water, food, a book?" She said, after a couple of minutes of silence, realizing that he was unconscious for three days and must be starving.
Then, he first noticed how dry his throat was and how his stomach felt like a knot.
"Now that you mentioned, I would like some food and water." He said, chuckling at the end.
Grace blushed a little more and proceeded to get up. She was about to walk away when Christopher caught her wrist. Her dress was a pale yellow, with its sleeves not covering her forearm and, therefore, her wrist. He could feel her smooth skin and her pulse getting faster.
"Grace," he sounded kind of shy.
She turned to look at him, still flushed.
"Thank you for staying by my side and taking care of me when I couldn't do so myself. You don't have to feel like everything is your fault. We all know it was your mother's fault. You don't have to carry that burden, alright?" He said, still holding her wrist.
She stared at him for a couple of seconds. Then, she hugged him, wrapping her hands around his neck. He hugged her back. How has no one shown kindness to this girl? Why didn't anyone lift her weight? She's not a villain, she is only a girl.
After some minutes, she started to unwrap her arms and stood at the side of the bed.
"No one has ever shown me the kindness you do. I never used my curse on you, but you knew about it and you still treated me like someone worthy. Christopher, you are the kindest person I have ever known." She grabbed a tissue and tried to dry her face, which was wet because of her tears.
Before he could say anything else, his mind still slow from just having woken up, she turned away and got out through the door. How could such a gentle and caring woman feel and talk so badly about herself? She was only a child back then, she did what her mother commanded. Even after a decade of being submitted to a mad woman, Grace managed to be kind. Christopher couldn't put his finger on what, but he knew that in the last few minutes, something changed between the two of them.
She came back a few hours later, he wasn't sure, having spent his time reading a random book someone left beside his bed. This time, Grace was wearing a different outfit, a pale green dress, it seemed to be the same model as the other one, with her forearm still exposed. She seemed put together, her hair brushed and her eyes more vivid. On her arms was a silver tray, containing a kettle, a plate with what he thought was a sandwich, and Uncle Will's ship biscuits. The tray was positioned on his lap by a very nervous Grace, that kept bouncing from one foot to another. It was kind of funny for Christopher to see Grace like this.
"Grace, would you like to sit down?"
She looked uncertain but sat down. He started on the tray by the sandwich, while they kept quiet, but it didn't feel uncomfortable. After a few moments, she noticed the book was open on the bedside table and picked it up.
"Have you been reading it?" She asked, feeling embarrassed. She thought Christopher saw her as a scientist, a woman of numbers and logic, and didn't want him to see her as a little girl who likes to read silly romance books.
"Oh yeah." He tried to say while still chewing, only hoping that she would understand.
"Did you like it?" She couldn't help feeling surprised.
"I think the main character is a clever girl, who at first shouldn't submit herself to such a thing as a fake engagement, even knowing that they'll probably fall in love and the engagement will become real. But Odette is such an interesting girl, she shouldn't settle for society's standards, because in the end, all that matters is her happiness."
"You don't understand. She is an orphan being raised by an evil Aunt, that speaks badly of her in front of the entire High Society, trying to prevent her from finding a good husband and finally having a good life, which is her Aunt's worst nightmare. Finding a man that agreed to help her was a miracle, she needed that and I won't judge her. Her reputation had never been worse, and he turned up to like her for herself."
By the time she finished talking, he had already eaten everything on the tray and was currently drinking a cup of tea. Looking like he was considering what she said.
"Grace." He wanted to say something because he knew she wasn't talking only about Odette, but the words didn't seem to come out. So, he did the second best. Who cared if it was inappropriate? They might as well die tomorrow. He sat up on the bed, leaving his legs on the side, almost touching Grace's dress, and then reached for her hand, which rested on her lap. She just let him take her hand because she didn't think she wasn't able to deny him anything. They stayed like that for a minute. Christopher stroked her hand gently, almost as a caress.
They looked at each other, and for the first time, she felt seen. He saw her, not her mother's cruelty or her curse. He saw Grace, and he never wanted something as much as he wanted to touch her. So he did. He got up at the same time she did, not even thinking about the ridiculous pajama he was wearing, and held her chin to make up for the height difference.
Kissing Christopher was exactly like she imagined. Soft, tender, and calm. She couldn't care less about etiquette. He pulled her by the waist, feeling the need to get closer. She felt like falling, her knees getting weaker as her hands traveled through his hair.
Then they came back to reality, and Christopher started blushing. "I'm sorry if it was… bad. I don't have this kind of… experience." He seemed embarrassed, and she blushed at the thought of being his first kiss.
She took his hands, staring at the floor. "It was great, and I am happy for being the one you chose, but I think we need to talk."
He looked at her and sat down on the bed, still holding her hands. "Grace, I know it might be complicated, but I would like to give us a try. I really like you and I don't think James would see it as a problem."
She chuckled. "I don't worry about James, I worry about you and me." Grace finally looked into his eyes. "Just as Odette, my reputation has never been worse, you must like me for me. I don't have anything or anyone and I can't bear the thought of dragging you down with me."
"I don't care about what anyone thinks. You are a smart, kind, selfless, and beautiful woman and I really care about you." He seemed almost as if he was hurt by her negative thoughts.
"People will start talking, putting us through our paces and I don't think anyone could take it." He still looked at her like none of it mattered. "Even in my worst times, how can you still see the best in me?"
"Because I don't think you have anything bad inside you."