The Funambulist

Chapter 5: The Lion, the Finch and the Wardrobe

This one is for Sreed09 <3 Not only do we happen to share the same birthday, but she's so so sweet and supportive with this fic. You rock sis

Though the rain had long since dissipated, the heavy clouds outside cast a gloomy shadow over the small, pathetic-looking crowd outside the hospital. Scott wondered vaguely what time it was, for the chilling darkness outside hardly served as any kind of indication of the hour. Perhaps it was very early in the morning; his stomach definitely deemed it to be a possibility. Under normal circumstances, Scott would've probably grabbed his keys and slipped into the 24-hour diner across the street from his small apartment in Arlington; it definitely wasn't the best restaurant in the world, but it was fairly cheap and more than sufficient for his odd, early-morning hunger pangs. He had grown to love the sticky counters and dingy lighting, for anything that was of habit had always become home to him, one way or another.

Scott squinted as he scanned the huddled group of people, eyes eventually falling upon Kevin's broad shoulders and Avi's black coat. The ringmaster looked exhausted – his eyelids looked heavy, his shoulders were slumped; the eccentric presence that had grazed the stage was gone, leaving this battered-looking man as a memento. He seemingly gave up on explaining the situation to the numerous fans; Kevin appeared to take his place, hands moving wildly as he spoke as respectfully as he could to the stuffy faces around them. They both looked beaten and fatigued. Heck, everyone did – traumatic experiences went down like thick bile, and Scott was still retching on it.

He debated about approaching them, as he feared that he would be a disturbance, but Avi soon caught his eye and ducked back in his direction. His arms swayed slightly, back and forth, stiff-looking legs heaving him in Scott's direction; one leg thrust forward as the other tried, rhythmically, to catch up. He was melting to the ground from exhaustion, and Scott felt an instant wave of guilt consume his desire for answers.

"Scott." The ringmaster paused before him as he spoke, eyes flat and void of character. Scott just now remarked how cracked and dry his mouth looked, lips flaky like sandpaper and yearning to be quenched by distraction. "Any change?"

"No. He's in surgery now though." he shook his head sadly. "Um, can I talk to you?"

"I suppose. I'm not much help out here anyway at this point."

The two men walked solemnly in the perimeter of the hospital, as they both reached a silent agreement that entering the double doors was out of the question for their current state.

"So I wanted to ask you about something specific." The blond paused in front of the hospital gardens, eyes distant. "This might seem like a weird question to you right now, but does this, uh, mean anything to you?" he opened his palm to display the pack of chocolates that Swan had given him, waiting anxiously while Avi shot him the blankest stare he had ever seen. "I'm sorry if this is really weird. Shit. This probably seems really, really weird to you. Um. Listen, Avi, uh, I'm sorry for pulling you away from –"

Avi gently plucked a piece of chocolate from Scott's fingers and placed it on his tongue, much to both Scott's relief and utter confusion. "Well, it certainly tastes nice. Doesn't seem to be expired or anything."

Thank you so much, Gordon Ramsey. "I mean like –" Scott said. "has Swan mentioned these before? Like in passing?"

"Reese's chocolate? He's a fan of sweet things. Never really talked about Reese's in particular, but he always has sweets in stock for the little kids in the audience after shows." he said. "Why do you ask?"