Holes in The History of The Universe

12: Domestic Life and Death

He stayed an obedient child that night, and allowed Alastair to sink into his moroseness, often watching Chatton a bit longer then he had expected to while his mentor got caught up in thought during his chores.

He slept alone, falling asleep to the soft sounds of Alastair sitting crossed legged beside the bed feeding Chatton between whines and coos, and awoke to the sounds of the night, along with screaming. He sat up with a start and slowly climbed out of the bed in confusion, pulling on his shoes with haste and rushing out the door as the yells continued, without so much as bothering to put on his robes.

Alastair was sitting in the field beside the hill in his full doctoring outfit, only half of his body visible from behind the tall, swaying grass.

"What's going on?" Samual asked, inching himself closer, not knowing what to make of the situation, "are you okay?" He plopped onto the ground to shuffle closer to his side, and saw a lump of fabric lying in the dirt, then, with another shift, an infant lying limp in a mattress of collapsed vegetation.

Alastair's lifeless mask shot into his gaze, "go," he hissed between hyperventilated gasps, "into the house, now."

"Why is Chatton here, is he sick?"

"You're unmasked, Samual please," he had to set a hand on the ground to remain sitting, "please, I beg of you. Why-" a guttural cry into the endless sky, enough to make anyone feel hoarse for days, escaped his lungs, followed by an odd mix between a cough and a sob, "Samual, oh dear Heavens, please leave, I-I can't lose anyone else."

Samual took several panicked steps back, "Uh- hold on, I'm going to get my robes and mask, just stay there," and he ran off into the house.

Upon returning, he found himself grabbing Alastair by the arm to check for black spots, and even after he realized he didn't feel warm enough for that, he kept holding onto it, as though it would bring some sort of good. "What's happening, are you sick?"

Alastair shook his head, and gazed at Chatton, who's night black hand was hanging from the blanket. "I couldn't, he just kept- I nursed him the best I could and yet..." He took several gasps and sniffed, "I took him outside to keep you safe... " the statement was repeated in a whisper several times, and his head collapsed downwards, 'oh, Samual," his voice was hardly audible.

In truth, Samual wanted nothing more than to remove himself from the situation, but the hysterics suggested that it was simply not an option. "Okay, um, for now, let's just get inside, we'll leave Chatton by the door for the collector, and then we'll just use the rest of the night to try to calm down, okay?"

He expected the action would fail horribly, and, truth be told, it did lead to an even more shocked appearance, but Alastair found himself able to stand, and step slowly to the house, where they both slept late into the morning to make up for the hectic night, for secretly, Samual was just as shaken.

The afternoon of the next day, after finishing all their usual duties, Alastair finally worked up the courage to check on his sister, and was greeted to the smell of her sickly, newly dead corpse filling the room. He didn't scream that time, but simply stared, with eyes that could have melted rubber even through his mask's perminatly fogged up lenses.

Samual stood behind him at the doorway, "it can happen that fast with an adult?"

"Yes, my boy, if things are bad enough, it can most certainly happen that fast with an adult," he squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them, "let's just get her outside."

Not another word was spoken by him except in prayer, until they had long gotten home, and were cleaning up after dinner. It came entirely out of nowhere.

"Samual?"

Samual's hand paused in midair as he reached for his plate, "yeah?"

He sighed, "nevermind, it was selfish of me to even attempt to ask you."

"No, go ahead, it's fine."

Alastair managed a small smile "goodness, you're such a willful child. I was going to ask you how long you think it would take before you could start your own life."

He frowned, "why do you ask."

Alastair's fists clenched ever so slightly, yet he remained calm, "Samual I..." his eyes closed, as though to prevent him from seeing his student's reaction, "I have been considering taking my own life for a long time now, and as much as I feel your time here is best preparing you to become a plague doctor, I don't want to leave you with the emotional burden, goodness, I wouldn't want to leave it to anyone. I just feel..." he exhaled, "I'm done. You haven't any idea how hard I've been praying to just let it be over, and now-" there was a sharp crack in his voice, followed by a gasp, "I think that time may be approaching.

"No." Alastair looked up, "I'm not ready to live on my own yet, and frankly, wouldn't live too long if I had to,so put your suicidal thoughts away, the answer is no."

The very next moment, he threw his arms around him, as hard as a person could without hurting the other, "what did I do to be blessed with you?" Samual simply held on in response, part of him worrying that if he let go, Alastair would disappear, sending him tumbling onto the floor in the cold, empty house.