Vivian & Rugir Part 3

Sick. Sick. Always. sick. 

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The med.icine was. h.ard and it. went down. har.d and they. wanted him. to talk, they. wan.te.d him to. explain him.self, they. wanted. him to t.alk about voices. and pain. and delusion. The voices. were there’s. The voices. told him to. strip and lay dow.n and t.ake and ta.ke and tak.e and that. wasn’t here. That w.asn’t happe.ning. 

The hand. on him w.as soft and. kind and. nice. His head wa.s held as a. spoon was brought. to his. lips. He was. not handed the. bowl. and expecte.d to know h.ow to eat. His. hair was pulled. back when. he threw up. He was. not beaten o.n the floor in. his own mess. He was. wrapped in warm. blankets. and. soft. hands. He was. not left. in a. freezing cell. with clothing that. itched. 

It was. quiet now. There. was only th.e sound. of his own sic.kn.ess, his own. breathing, and a ma.n’s voice. He. did not know. the man. The man was. not a doctor. The ma.n was kind. He did not. understand. the words. 

He was sic.k but. he wa.s ge.tting better. He. could feel it. He wanted… He wanted… 

They had gotten the arsenic down to a more manageable level and the ergot was at a half dose, the strophanthin was almost completely out of Rugir’s system. He was eating more, still unable to hold a fork on his own but when Vivian put something to his lips he could at least bite into it, chew and swallow it, and keep it down. He was still terribly thin and silent, he didn’t look at Vivian but through him. It was their third week together and Vivian was worried that this was as good as it was going to get, not that it was all that bad, he would have loved his brother even if he needed Vivian to breathe for him. 

“Come here, Lily, I want to show you something,” he said it as if Rugir had any choice in the matter, in where he was looking, in what he was seeing. He put his hand on Rugir’s opposite hip and directed him, pulling Rugir’s thin arm over his broad shoulders. He wasn’t quick at walking, he didn’t even go in a straight line, it was only Vivian’s guiding that kept him on the path down the hall. 

At the stairs Rugir picked him up but he set him back on his feet at the bottom. He needed to walk on his own, he needed to get his strength. He was doing so well. 

Vivian kissed his temple and told him so, “You’re doing such a good job. Just a little bit further and you can rest.” 

Another corridor, in the opposite direction. Rugir had only been on the bottom floor of the small home once and that was when Vivian had carried him in for the first time. He didn’t recognize the portraits on the walls, didn’t look at the newspaper articles, or their father’s medals. He didn’t see the weapons and tools. He didn’t notice the scent of burnt wormwood or old laudanum. Even though Vivian felt like an addict some nights, he had not had a sip since Rugir had come home. 

“Almost there. Almost there, Fiore, you’re going to love this, I promise.” 

He opened the door for Rugir and held it, letting the sun come in from the small backyard. It had been many things but, between the time of their father’s untimely death and the loss of the house staff, he had thrown himself into projects, looking for anything to distract himself outside of his tinctures and work. He had torn out the herbs for their father’s work and replaced a great deal of it with his own, growing his own hemlock, wormwood, tobacco, and wisteria. He remembered the plants that their mother had grown when they were children and brought those in as well, rosemary, mint, lilies, and columbines. 

They had grown wild with Vivian’s attention being on Rugir instead of them, but the sun and rain had kissed them in turn and the weeds filled the spaces between the plants with different levels of greenery. He walked Rugir out and among them, to a lounge chair that he had put the cushions on while Rugir napped. 

He sat his twin down on them and there was something, something new, a little bit of life in those glassy blue eyes. He seemed to be looking around, though his eyes couldn’t focus on anything. He was more lost than understanding what Vivian was showing him, but this was growth, this was working in ways that Vivian hadn’t expected. If Rugir had just stared at the sky, Vivian wouldn’t have cared, but the sun and the flowers seemed to be doing something. 

“Here, here, let me show you everything, oh darling, you know what’s happening, don’t you? You know that we’re outside, do you enjoy the sunshine?” He was asking all sorts of questions. 

Rugir’s mouth fell open, just a little bit. His mouth was moving, nostrils flaring, as he smelled the spring air. Vivian was grinning. 

He left Rugir there as he dashed about the garden, picking the benign flowers and herbs, bringing them back to Rugir and holding them to his twin’s nose, feeding some of them to him, asking which he liked, telling him of the colors and how he grew them because he knew that Rugir had always loved the garden. Vivian had always wanted him to come home. He had missed him so terribly. He loved his brother so much. This was so much better, they were doing so much better than they had been separated. Vivian was on his knees, looking at how Rugir breathed and blinked. It wasn’t much, it could easily be Vivian’s imagination, but he could swear that Rugir was more together here then he had been in so long. 

Soon enough Rugir was asleep and Vivian opened a parasol above him, keeping that fair skin from burning. He weeded the garden as Rugir slept, deciding that, if this was what Rugir needed, he would make the garden a perfect sanctum for him.