Lips That Lied || hs

Forty-Four

Edinburgh, United Kingdom
March 1852

Harry awoke with a start, his heart racing and his eyes open wide. He had been dreaming that he was chasing something through the woods, a doe, but just before he could reach her, he fell and was brought to consciousness again. Harry groaned as he lifted his head from the desk in front of him, bringing his hand back to rub the sore muscles in his neck. Despite being engulfed in darkness, Harry shut his eyes and tried to clear his mind of the dream he had just had. It reminded him of Jane and the chase for her that he had lost, and he didn't want to think about it anymore.

Exhausted from his late night of working, Harry stood from his chair and clumsily made his way into the hallway, where he could see the beginnings of the sunrise peeping through the curtains. He sighed knowing that he had spent most of the night asleep at a desk, as he was certain he would not have much time to sleep once Thomas woke up as well.

Ever since their rather aggressive conversation the month before, Thomas had actually become rather strict with Harry and how he spent his time. Harry himself had agreed to work for Thomas; however, in doing so, he had unintentionally surrendered all his time to him. He was to rise at a normal hour, report to Thomas when asked, and put in a full day of work regardless of his sobriety. To Harry's dismay, he was given no grace amidst a morning after drinking, and so, the occasions of such self-destruction had grown increasingly rare.

Resisting the hold alcohol had exercised over him was no easy feat. Though he knew that to lose himself in oblivion would be a mistake, Harry longed for the numbness the drink brought upon him. He longed for the darkness, the clearness of his mind, and so when given the opportunity, he did surrender himself to it.

Such occasions of surrender did not occur often, for most of the time, Harry spent his nights in the same manner as he had spent this one. He rose early in the morning, set straight to work as Thomas instructed him, and worked into the night to the point of exhaustion. There was no time for him to pursue oblivion, for it would sneak up on him and take him when he least expected it.

That, Harry supposed, was a good thing about his situation. If he couldn't find solace through means of his own choosing, at least he could do so through the requirements made of him by Thomas. Exhaustion was just another physical ailment that kept his mind off of Jane, and as long as it work in achieving that end, Harry didn't really care that he was being controlled by the man whose fault it was that Jane had been taken from him in the first place.

Harry still believed that Thomas was to blame. Despite the fact that Harry obeyed his every command, Harry regarded Thomas as a villain in his life. Though he had been right about finding useful distraction to avoid thinking of Jane, Harry still held him in contempt for ruining their plans. If not for Thomas taking Harry to see Henry on that frigid night in January, they might have been in Calais with Jane instead of the dreary city to which they were imprisoned.

Of course, Thomas was well-aware of Harry's true feelings towards him. It made him sad to think that the man who had once been like a son to him no longer wanted anything to do with him; however, he supposed that the civility that now existed between them was something to value. Better to be civil coworkers than hateful enemies.

Harry was right in supposing that Thomas would wake him up shortly after he made it to his bed to rest. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his clothes, and scarcely had he shut his eyes before the knocking came at the door. Each knock at the wood resounded in his skull, intensifying the already aggressive headache that had developed in the face of his exhaustion. He couldn't even groan as his restless sleep came to an end, and so Harry silently pushed himself up off the mattress, knowing that if he succumbed to the heaviness of his eyelids, Thomas would likely burst into his room again and douse him with water. Such a wake up call was not worth the few moments of sleep he might receive if he stayed in bed.