Remember Me- an Alias Grace Fanfiction

Part 13

A/N
I rewrote the last chapter and deleted the og 13th part cause I forgot I needed to add some more stuff. Im not gonna just republish the old part bc it won't fit the story anymore so sorry about that
Xx

Grace had the rest of the day to do anything she pleased but even then she wished she could see Simon. She knew it should be a nice break from weeks of talking and going over things with him but this new time she had was not welcome in the slightest. Every second was spent thinking of him and the time they spent together and it was just going in circles.
Last night was the strangest thing of all. She tried to recall the event exactly but so much of it was a blur. Could the doctor have really drugged her or could she really not remember going up to her room that night? If she couldn't remember other things it could be why she could also not remember coming upstairs. Or they both could be caused by some tampering. She had no idea and Eliza had made it quite clear her confidence in the doctor. And what of Eliza? Could she be trusted? Of course she could, Grace was only being paranoid.
She decided to explore the house more since that was a blunder of hers the night before.
She followed the hallway next to Simon's study, going down to the furthest end where she found the staircase. But when she reached it she saw that a door had been closed over it. She hadn't noticed it before but there it was and it was firmly locked. Instead of trying to pry it open or maneuvering the lock, she just left it and went to another door nearby. Closest was a room with double doors. She opened it and found a huge library with cases of books that looked to almost swallow the room entirely. Every wall was filled with books, save for one furthest forward which had a large window that looked much like the greenhouse glass. That reminded her of Leonard from the garden. She must visit him at some point, he had said he liked to have company.
I should never have gone...
Simon's words ring in her ears. What could he mean? Could he have remembered something from before? Grace was itching to see him, and now of all times felt almost essential to see him, now that there was a very strong possibility that he could recall something.
Should never have gone. It burns into her, the pain in his voice, was it true? He shouldn't have left and she was not going to forgive him just because he regretted it now, and even not because he couldn't remember having done it. He did leave and he could still— he is the same man after all. But she had to speak to him. Where would he be anyway? In his bedroom? He could be but she didn't even know where that was. For all she knew, he slept in this very room. She closed her eyes, trying to map out the house from where she stood on her balcony. If she could see his window down to the right of her and there were four windows between him and the end of the house... she shot up. She knew where his room might be. But she couldn't check now, it might be best to first try at seeing from her balcony for a safer position.
She steals another glance around the room, admiring its enormity, and leaves it behind her, shutting both doors.
Once on the balcony, she leans over the rail, squinting at Simon's window but is unable to detect anything inside because of the sun glaring down. Instead of looking from
Inside, she might try going out onto the lawn to see. It would be a bit of an odd attempt but she knew she had a better chance in that point of view. She ran down the steps and to the back door in the sitting room. Once she reached it she went through and began her short walk to where she found his window.
His window was not exactly level with the ground but she could vaguely see the inside of it, mostly the ceiling. She saw the high bed posts and curtains but hardly anything past it. She would have to go inside after all.
"Grace!" She turned around to see Leonard waving her over just like the day before.
She waved back with a slow growing smile, "hello, Leonard!"
She hastens toward him, meeting him near the entrance of the treeline paths.
"How 'as it been up in the house?" He grins widely at her and she sees he is holding a brown sack and garden hoe.
Confiding in him about all that has happened would not be smart, but there is an urge to do it regardless.
She hesitates, "it has been as well as usual..."
His eyebrow shoots up, "is that so, dear?" He doesn't seem convinced, "will you come join me on my walk to the garden? We can talk all about it then."
She cannot help but abide, his nature is so inviting.
And so they walk together beneath the arching branches and she offers to carry his hoe so he can have a better grip on the sack.
"So what has come about?" He glances at her with a quiet hum.
Grace does not respond immediately but does at last let out a small sigh, "I am worried that something odd is happening with Simon." She shocks herself, hearing the words come from her mouth to this man she hardly knows. But his demeanor is so kind, so consoling, so encouraging and comfortable, it is difficult not to allow her whole heart to pour out to him.
And before she can stop herself, more comes out, in a rush with no bearings, "I don't know if anyone in that house is reliable— How is it that he became fully recovered just to regain every symptom after so much progress? And what is that doctor doing to him in that room? It can't be anything good if I am not allowed to see him," she takes a deep breath, "but then again, how terrible could it truly be if even his own mother allows it?"
Leonard looks thoughtfully, "ye raise some good questions, miss, some I have even thought of m'self." He shakes his head in discouragement, "I just don't know what could be done if anything were happenin'."
"Then what? What can—?" She stops herself because there is no question to be asked. What can be done? Nothing. But another question raises to her mouth, "what will I do?"
The old gardener takes one of her hands in his, setting the bag on the ground, "you cannot always know what ye should do, miss, and there is no harm in that."
Her eyes begin to well up but she blinks it away. What was she even saying? The doctor was hurting him? His mother was lying to her? If she was the only one who thought something was wrong then maybe there wasn't anything happening afterall.
Leonard slowly pulls his hands back down to pick up the sack and they begin their trail to the garden gate once again.
Once they reach it, he hands Grace a pair of old gloves from his pocket, "would you like to help me pick some o' these weeds?"
Grace nods her head vigorously. It gave her something to do for the rest of the day, just to take her mind off of what might be going on in that house.
"Alright, and while ye do that ye can tell me more of where you got these suspicions from," he tosses her a spoon for digging up tougher roots.
She begins with the events of last night, starting with the noises she heard, continuing as much as she could with her blanketed memories.
"...When I got down to the end of it, I found this door but it was locked and so I tried to open it— or maybe I knocked... I cannot remember. But I heard this yelling inside and it worried me so I wanted to know what was happening," she leaves out the exact words Simon spoke, "when the doctor came out he was acting so strange and he wouldn't let me in, he said something to me about Simon having one of his 'episodes' and then I— I think I must have gone upstairs and forgotten about it all because when I woke up I could not remember anything of what happened after that..."
She trailed off, trying to recall what could have happened, how she might have forgotten something so trivial.
Leonard had stopped what he was doing and looked at Grace with questioning brow, "ye mean you can't remember a thing? Not at all?"
"No. Nothing but what I just told you."
"That's very curious," he thinks for a beat, "ye ever had that sorta thing happen before?"
Grace was about to deny it, it had not happened ever, but then she remembered. Of course it had happened before, of course it had.
"It has, actually," she says in a lowly voice, picking meaninglessly at the dirt in her hands, "when I was sixteen and—" she wasn't going to tell him what this memory blank had caused her but she tried to recall any other times in her life when this fog cluttered her mind. She'd known in the moment when she'd blanked out but never kept a solid track of when or where. The only reason it was so easy to recall her age when those blackouts happened was because of the murders and the constant exposure to the timeline of events and importance of accuracy.
"And, a few other times that I cannot recall exactly," she finishes.
"Well then, you can calm yer nerves in that area, at least ye know he didn't drug ye." He lets out a snort.
Grace nods, "yes, I s'pose you are right."
It's a strange thing to be calmed by the proposition of natural memory loss.