Authors Note: This was inspired by a headache that decided to settle right behind my left eye the evening I wrote with, and a poem I've been a bit preoccupied with in regards to my dear OTP. I don't know that the poem suits the story per se, but I looked for others and in the end it felt wrong not to use this one. Its presence adds a bit of nostalgia to the whole thing, I think.

The trouble with spring, really, was that the snow wasn't snow anymore; it was rain. You couldn't go out in the rain like you could with snow. Or you could, but it wasn't a good idea. Especially a heavy, chilling rain like this. You could get pneumonia and once you got pneumonia you could die, not to mention all the mud and also there were worms. It was an unpleasant experience on the whole, no matter what you did with it. Even if you did have proper boots for puddles.

And it ruined plans. Which was why Liam and Miss Sharon were staring forlornly out the window. Ruined plans.

They would have to be confined to the playroom today. The playroom was an excellent place to be, particularly if you were a young girl of the sort that Miss Sharon was, but they were giving themselves a moment to indulge in their depression before they got to business. Their plans had involved the reenactment of a particular fairy tale and would have taken the whole day, and probably the whole lawn, and as it was the sort of story that required you to slay dragons and go on daring horseback chases it just couldn't be done inside the halls of a distinguished mansion like the Rainsworth Household.

To add insult to injury, they were missing their third companion.

"Mister Break knows to come to the playroom in the event of unfortunate weather," Sharon said presently. She had been learning lots of new vocabulary in her recent lessons and was on a "speaking in a grandiose fashion" kick.

"I think so. We've never had to start here before, but he knows where the room is and all." Liam, who had no inclination at all to speak fancy in the face of such weather, paused to adjust his glasses. "Maybe something came up."

"Things have come up in the past and he's always stopped by to let us know. He's very good about that."

"That's true."

Sharon, who had been leaning against the sill with her chin in her little hands, straightened suddenly. She was making the determined face that usually preceded one of her more tyrannical ventures and Liam braced himself.

"We should go and find him, in order to a — ascert — discover what is keeping his presence from us," Miss Sharon announced. Then she turned and strode out of the room, head held high. Liam ambled after her and offered his arm to her as a gentleman should, so that she wouldn't be too embarrassed when she remembered she didn't know where Mister Break's room was.

The door to the room, when they reached it, was not quite closed all the way. Liam knocked and called politely for the room's occupant; when a muffled "Yes?" drifted out, Sharon shoved her way in before the boy could do anything about it. But when the girl stopped short and let a hand fly to her mouth, Liam followed readily, hoping he wasn't about to find Mister Break bleeding all over the floor again.

He wasn't, thankfully. He was curled up on the bed, left side down, one hand over the bandages that still covered his empty eye. He was dressed and the bed was made, if a bit sloppily; but he didn't have any shoes and his hair was tangled. It was like he'd honestly tried to face the day and given up.

Little Miss Sharon trotted to his side, Liam in tow, saying, "Are you alright? Should we fetch a doctor? Are you —"

"It's fine, it's fine," he said, giving the girl a pained smile. "It's —"

"You haven't been picking at it again, have you?" Liam blurted. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth.

Break only snorted, to Liam's relief; a few weeks ago he'd still have been snapping. "No, and it hasn't reopened on its own. The bandages will come off soon. The cold and the wet make it ache, that's all."

"Like how Grandmother's knees ache in this weather?" Sharon asked, already looking considerably calmer.

"Yes, like that. It happens to younger people too, sometimes, especially with wounds like this. It'll probably fade the more it heals."

"I see," said Miss Sharon.

"Would you like us to fetch you anything?" Liam asked. "You can't have eaten breakfast yet."

"I'm not hungry just now, thank you," said Break. He let his eye fall shut for a moment. Liam was struck by how weary the man looked. The rain had started early in the morning, long before sunrise — had he been in pain that long? Though, if he didn't need a doctor, rest was probably the best he could do for himself.

"We ought to leave him be," he said to Sharon, only to look down at her and see her tyrant face working its way back onto her features again.

"Would you like a snuggle?" the girl asked. Liam stuttered at that, but she pressed on, "I often snuggle with Mother when she isn't feeling well. She says it is a considerable help."

"Oh, I couldn't ask that of a lady such as yourself," Break began.

"Ah, Miss Sharon —"

"Nonsense. It is the duty of a lady of the house to have care and compassion for its servants." And with that the girl kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed with Xerxes Break. He lifted his right arm reflexively to allow her to crawl underneath it, making a face somewhere between bemused and resigned.

"This will make you feel better," Sharon declared. "And perhaps, in the meantime, Mister Liam could read to us."

"I suppose I could go fetch our fairy tale book," the boy offered, when he'd recovered from this latest display of Sharon's forwardness.

Above Sharon's head, Break actively cringed. "Book of poems on the nightstand," he said.

He had a point. It really wasn't going to be a good day for fairy tales if their knight was indisposed.

"If you're sure you don't mind us here," Liam started; Mister Break waved his right hand at him, letting his eye fall shut again. His left remained firmly over his missing eye. He hadn't moved his head an inch since they'd come in. Probably he was doing his best not to jostle it. Liam mentally ordered Miss Sharon not to fidget, if she absolutely had to be snuggly.

The book was where Break said it would be — a thin volume by some author he'd never heard of — but Liam noted with some dismay that there weren't any extra chairs in the room. He would have to yell upwards if he sat on the floor and he doubted very much that Mister Break would be happy about that, so there was nothing for it but to join them on the bed. Climbing over the other two was asking for trouble, so Liam wandered to the foot of the bed and crawled up to sit at Break's back, trying his hardest not to shake the bed too much.

"Would you like me to start from the beginning or from where you've marked it?" he asked.

"No matter," came the lazy response.

Liam started from the bookmark. If they were going to entertain Break while he rested, he may as well get to hear some inew/i poems.

And they were nice poems. Liam couldn't quite understand all of them and he wasn't very good at reading to the rhythms the words held, but they seemed honest and pretty. He read to the end of the thin book without feeling too awkward, and then he turned to regard his companions only to find that they'd both dozed off on him. The boy laughed a little. Sharon had fallen asleep on Mister Break a couple times when they read late at night, and Break often retreated to his room to nap before dinner, but this was new.

It also left Liam without much to do, unless he wanted to leave the room and find some more books to read — there weren't any nearby. Maybe later. It was still possible Mister Break might wake up and need something, and it was the least Liam could do to be available if that happened. He was sure Break had better things to do than follow two kids around all the time.

Gingerly, the boy scooted down until he could lay back comfortably, and moved to the front of the book so he could read the poems he hadn't seen yet.

oOo

Lady Shelly learned of her newest servant's ill health from the maid who'd fed him that morning. She noted also that her daughter and her young playmate seemed to have gone missing. Following a hunch, as soon as she was able, Shelly dropped by Break's room to check on him.

Her hunch was correct. Her daughter was nestled against Break's chest, the two of them sleeping peacefully. Liam was asleep on Break's other side, his back up against the white-haired man's. The boy didn't strike her as much of a cuddler; he'd probably shifted closer for warmth and stability after he'd fallen asleep, and falling asleep in the first place had been an accident, if the glasses that were still half on his face were any indication.

She removed them, gently, not bothering to hide her smile. When she left, she shut the door quietly behind her. No need for them to be disturbed. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the rain thrumming gently against the window glass.

"When you are old and gray and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars."

~WB Yeats