Get Well Soon, Bocchan

"Young master, it is time to…" I paused in the doorway, slightly alarmed. The scent in the room this morning was my master's scent, but there was something…wrong. After living in his house for several months, cleaning his rooms, tending to his clothes, and taking care of him, I'd become well-acquainted with his scent. (It still made my mouth water.) The scent permeating the room now was still his, but there was some aroma in it that told me something was different this morning. "Young master?"

He shifted under the blankets as I opened the curtains. "Hmm?"

"Is there something wrong, sir?"

He sat up and glared at me. "What would be wrong?"

It was a valid question and I had little idea how to answer it. His voice sounded…different. It sounded thicker. "You don't sound like yourself and…your scent's wrong, sir."

He glared at me. "Only you would make a statement like that." He flopped back into his pillows and groaned.

This was new. Usually he didn't do such things. I had never heard him groan before. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Mmmph. I think I have a cold."

"A cold?" I didn't know just what he meant. Cold was… cold, wasn't it? How could someone have a cold?

"A cold is an illness humans sometimes get," he said, rolling onto his side and rubbing his forehead. "It isn't anything serious. It just makes one feel miserable."

"I see, young master," I said, preparing his morning tea. I didn't quite see. Why on earth did they call it a 'cold'? Was it because they felt cold while they had it? Because the cold gave them this illness? This was the first time, since the formation of our contract six months before, that he'd actually been ill. Nightmares and catatonia did not count, in my opinion. "Do you know how long it will last?"

"A week or more," he said, sitting up and taking the cup of tea. "I'll be all right. What's for breakfast?"

"This morning we have poached eggs, scones, and a fruit salad," I told him. Briefly I reflected on the fact that I had no idea how to care for a human who had a cold. If he was ill, shouldn't I do something differently, like preparing special food or making him rest? Before, when my other masters had become ill, other humans had taken care of them. For some reason, none of my masters had wanted me to care for them during such times, but right now I was the only one here. Mr. Tanaka had been sent to Yorkshire for a week or so to oversee the factory there and I had yet to hire more servants. I was an idiot to have let the task go for so long. Another human in the house would have known what to do for a cold.

"And the schedule?" he asked, getting to his feet so I could dress him.

"You have lessons this morning with Madame Bright and Madame Rodkin," I said, laying out his clothes and helping him off with his nightshirt. "At two o'clock you have a meeting with two of your senior staff and those gentlemen will be staying to tea."

He didn't say anything else but waved me on my way once he was dressed. I took the tea tray back to the kitchen and went to the dining room to await the young master, but half an hour passed and he did not appear. That was not…normal. Breakfast was getting cold and if he did not hurry he would not have time for a leisurely meal before the governesses arrived. What was taking so long?

I put the master's plate on the hob at the fire so it would stay warm and I went back upstairs. As I neared the master's room I realized how very quiet it was and I hurried to check on him. When I opened the door I saw the strangest sight I'd yet seen with this master. He was slumped on his side, lying on his bed, still fully dressed and deeply asleep. I'd never seen him do that before. "Young master?"

He stirred, rolled over, and sighed. Quietly, I approached the bed, certain that something was really wrong. I did not lie, but I knew that humans often told lies for several reasons. One of the more common reasons was that they didn't want to appear weak in front of others. Had my master been lying when he'd said 'I'll be fine' just so I wouldn't think he was weak? "Young master?"

Nothing.

I pitched my voice louder. "YOUNG MASTER?"

"What?" He sounded sleepy and supremely grouchy. I would have to tread carefully here.

"You didn't come down to breakfast, my lord. Are you sure you're all right?"

" 'M fine, Sebastian."

"With all respect, sir, you do not sound fine." Indeed, he did not. He sounded as if he were trying to talk around a wad of cotton in his throat.

He flipped over and glared at me. "I'm fine, Sebastian. I'm not really hungry. Let me be for a while longer. Understand?"

I bowed. "Yes, sir." What else could I do? I was the butler, he was the master, and he'd given me an order. I left.

As I headed down the hall, I was thinking. There had to be someone or something that could tell me what to do for his cold. When they were ill, weren't human children taken care of by the adults around them? Right now, I was the only adult around, human or demon.

Before I could pursue my quest for answers, I telephoned the governesses and my master's business associates to inform them of the situation. I knew that my master would agree to miss his lessons but a business meeting was a different matter. The one time I'd suggested he cancel a meeting he'd nearly taken my head off. His rant about the matter had amused me to no end, but I'd been very careful to present a serious and somewhat contrite face to him. I was more than willing to be amused by such a thing again in the future, but a rant often put us behind schedule, so I wished to avoid them solely for that reason. A butler had to ensure the master fulfilled his schedule, after all.

Madame Bright and Madame Rodkin both expressed their regrets at my master's illness and sent their good wishes and the gentlemen agreed to come at teatime rather than before it. Once my telephoning was complete, I went to the library to consult the books there. My master had a comprehensive library and I knew that there had to be at least one book that could tell me what to do for a cold.

After a half-hour or so of searching through books, I found what I was looking for. I blessed the author of "The Young Housekeeper's Friend" since that book had given me exactly the information I'd needed. I knew now that I had to keep my master's bedroom filled with sunlight and keep his surroundings cheerful while he was ill. In case he had a fever, I would have to provide fresh bed linens every day and I would have to make sure the room and his bed were aired daily. A daily bath would be beneficial and...there was so much information that I felt as if I'd stumbled upon a treasure trove!

Also, I finally had some answers on how best to care for children...That fib he'd told me ages ago about children often needing sweets like cakes and pastries!...oh, there would be some reckoning on that! It was not a dietary requirement that children had, as he'd told me. Indeed, the author was against children eating such things. Rather, the author felt that such sweets were not beneficial in the slightest and could be injurious to a child's health if eaten.

Sternly I returned my mind to the problem at hand. While my master was ill, it was paramount that I see to his comfort, and I doubted very much if he was comfortable lying on his bed fully dressed. No, what I had to do was provide fresh linens and put him back to bed. The book had mentioned the importance of making sure the patient had enough to drink, so once he was settled in bed I would have to make him something to drink. The author of the book, M. H. Cornelius, wrote that any craving for fresh drinking water in one who was ill should be satisfied and the patient should have a good number of nourishing drinks, soups and light meals during the day. A book entitled "Invalid Cookery" provided even more recipes for such things than "The Young Housekeeper's Friend." One, titled Lait de Poule, and consisting of chicken broth, egg, and milk, sounded perfect for the young master's first nourishing drink. Taking the books with me, I went to the kitchen and began to make the hot drink for his breakfast. The young master did not know how many nights I'd spent reading cookbooks and practicing in the kitchen, but now I was glad I'd spent the time in such pursuits. Knowing how to go about things made everything easier and in short order I had a small bowl ready. I put it, some toast, a pitcher of fresh water, and a hot lemonade on a tray and carried the lot upstairs to my master's room.

He was just where I'd left him, but he looked a bit paler. I put the tray down, moved my master to the settee, and began to remake the bed with set of fresh linen. I was just tucking in the last sheet when my master stirred and opened his eyes. "Sebastian?"

"Yes, young master?"

"What are you doing?"

"Remaking your bed so that you'll be comfortable," I answered, turning down the blanket and top sheet and plumping the pillows. I fetched a fresh nightshirt and began to undress him.

"I told you I was fine, Sebastian," he croaked as I unbuttoned his jacket. "Stop that."

"Respectfully, sir, you are not fine," I said flatly. "You sound terrible and it's clear that you don't feel well. Your head is stuffy and your throat is sore, correct?"

"I can live with that," he said as I managed to wrestle him out of his clothes and pull the nightshirt over his head. Why did he feel the need to squirm like that? Usually he would hold still until I'd finished dressing him.

"You do not have to," I countered. "I have already called your governesses and informed them that you are ill and unable to attend your lessons today. Your business associates will be here at tea time for your meeting, so you have until then to rest."

"Who gave you leave to do something like that?" he snapped fiercely.

"As your butler, young master, I was merely fulfilling my duties," I said, keeping my voice as bland as possible while I put him into bed. "Part of my duties is to protect you and take care of you, isn't that right?"

I could see that he was thinking about this. Within three days of the beginning of our contract he'd called me to his study to talk to me. He told me that while he was the master of the estate now and my master, he was still a child in some ways and he needed an adult to supervise his days. That meant I would have to ensure that he followed his schedule so he accomplished the tasks he needed to do, arrange for instructors so he could continue with his lessons and I would have to serve meals at regular hours in addition to waking him in the morning and seeing him to bed at night so he would have the nourishment and rest he needed. In short, he needed me to take care of him the same way a human adult would take care of him.

I knew that he was thinking about that talk as he nodded. "Yes, that's right, Sebastian. Thank you for reminding me."

"No thanks are necessary, young master," I told him, pulling the blankets over him before fetching the tray.

"What's this?" he asked, eyeing the tray's contents as I positioned the tray across his knees.

"Lait de poule," I said, spreading a napkin over his lap. "It is something that is said to be a very nourishing recipe for colds, young master."

He glanced at me before sampling it. He was always cautious when faced with a dish he hadn't had before, but a few more swallows of the warm concoction ended his hesitation. I could tell that he was enjoying it and it wasn't long before he was dipping the toast in it and munching contentedly. I was very pleased when he polished off everything on the tray. I left him the pitcher of water and a full glass in case he was thirsty and he curled up in his bed while I took the tray back to the kitchen.

It was clear to me that having a cold made my stubborn master a bit more tractable. Part of me wished it would linger so I could enjoy such a state of affairs for longer, but the butler in me made me hope for my master's speedy return to health. It wouldn't do for a Phantomhive butler to wish for anything less.

By lunchtime I'd made and set aside several broths, teas, milks, and other small dishes meant to help my master back to health. For lunch today he was having a light beef soup with mushrooms and feather-light dumplings, a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice (the price of such things this time of year was prohibitive, but the house accounts allowed for that, thank goodness), and a rice pudding sweetened with honey. The soup and pudding would soothe his sore throat and the orange juice would refresh his palate and help him feel better.

When I carried the tray into his room I woke him out of a light doze. "Sebastian?"

"Yes, my lord," I said. "It's lunchtime. Are you hungry?"

"A little," he said, sitting up.

"How are you feeling?" I asked while I put the tray across his lap.

"Not much better, truthfully," he said. "My head hurts."

One of the remedies suggested for a headache was willow bark tea and I was glad I'd made some. I put a hand over his forehead and as I'd suspected, he had a slight fever. The tea would take care of that. Another remedy to relieve the symptoms of his cold would be a hot tea made with purple coneflower root, peppermint leaves, hyssop leaves, yarrow leaves, elder flowers, and shizandra berries. To relieve his sore throat I'd made a sage gargle and honey cough syrup, and those remedies were only the beginning. I had an entire cabinet full of dry and bottled teas, syrups, tablets, tinctures, salts, rubs, oils, and bundles of herbs to use for fragrance and in bath water. I was well-prepared to nurse him through this illness of his. A butler who couldn't do that much wasn't worth his salt. "Once you are finished with your lunch I will bring you up a tea that will take care of that headache, young master," I promised.

He took a spoonful of soup and looked at me. "Tea?"

"Willow bark," I elaborated. "It is good for headaches and fevers."

He put down his spoon and stared at me. "How do you know about that? I didn't think a demon would know about something like that."

"I have been looking through a few books, young master," I told him. "They've been most interesting."

"Is that aesthetics or your own interest?" he asked. He knew that I liked to fulfill each duty of a butler simply because it fit my sense of aesthetics.

"I'd have to say a little of both, bocchan," I admitted. "Reading about the uses of plants for healing seemed to be what any good butler would do, but then I found myself engaged by the material. I can now recommend several good works on the subject."

"I don't doubt that you can," he said, picking up his spoon. "Just make sure you add a teaspoon of honey to that tea when you bring it. Willow bark is bitter."

He'd managed to surprise me since I'd had no idea that he knew anything at all about the topic. "How did you know that, young master?"

"Madame Red used to dose me with that stuff when I was younger."

"Oh, I see." As a doctor, Madame Red would know about such things, but from my master's tone of voice it was clear that he hadn't enjoyed taking any willow tea she'd brought.

I might have to add two spoonfuls of honey.

I was to learn in a very short time that taking care of a child with a cold was far more than just making special meals and drinks and medicines. I had forgotten that he was human and that humans became very fretful when they were ill. I learned very quickly that he was not a good patient and that he hated having to stay in bed. More than once I would go upstairs and find him trying to dress himself, and when I protested, he snapped that he had too many things to do to stay in bed. More than once I had to wrestle him to a stand-still and back into his nightshirt and back into bed. Whenever I did that, he was furious with me, heaping me with abusive words and ill-defined threats of punishment. (I knew that I could safely ignore such statements.) Often I would have to bargain with him or cajole him to get him to stay in bed, but that was only a slight improvement. I was kept at a run fetching this and that over the next few days and I even had to send to Harrods for more handkerchiefs. All day long I could hear a cacaphony of coughs and sneezes from my master's room, so I had to be on hand with a stack of handkerchiefs, tea, throat drops, and the like.

My master had no trouble falling into a doze during the day, but at night sleeping properly was difficult for him. I never allowed him to nap for more than an hour at a time so he would sleep at night, but that made no difference once it was dark and he had to go to sleep. His cold and fretting at his illness kept him awake. I'd read several articles about colds and their progression and treatment and it seemed as if his worry about it was out of proportion. Why should a cold concern him so?

Whatever was worrying him about his cold, he didn't discuss it with me. Instead, he wanted me to talk with him and distract him from how he was feeling. I had to keep him well-supplied with books and magazines, and if his head hurt, I had to read them to him. When he wasn't in the mood for reading or being read to, there were games-draughts, chess, board games, jigsaw puzzles, and card games. If he wanted to play a game, I had to leave what I was doing and play with him. When he didn't wish to be read to or play a game, he would ask me to tell him stories. When he'd come out of that frightening catatonic fit I'd begun to distract him whenver he seemed stressed or upset by telling him stories. I flattered myself that my doing so had helped stave off further episodes. I'd heard countless story-tellers all over the world and I could remember all the stories they'd told word-for-word. In addition to those stories, I had stories about my own life and sometimes it amused the master to hear about some of my previous contracts and about my travels. Sometimes distracting him in such a way lasted long into the night, and only once he fell asleep was I able to return to the tasks I'd left undone. Frequently I would still be working on them into the next morning. On top of all that, I still had meals and and special drinks to prepare and the master's secretarial work to do.

I felt that it was a good thing I did not need sleep. If I'd been a human butler, I would have collapsed from overwork.

One thing that did worry me was the fact that he began to ask me to sit with him. I did not have to talk or amuse him, I simply had to be there, even while he was asleep. (That made completing my work rather difficult sometimes.) One night, close to a week after he'd caught his cold, he asked me to sit with him during the night. I did as he asked, but it appeared his sleep was not restful. He tossed and turned while he slept and muttered under his breath and I knew that he was having a nightmare. If he did not sleep well, then he would be ill-rested, and that would mean that he would be at the mercy of other illnesses. There had to be something that I could do to help him rest better, but what?

I'd read countless books in my lifetime and some of them had had to do with human health, and all the books I'd read lately had been on that subject. All of them had mentioned how vital it was for humans to have adequate rest, but they offered very few remedies on how best to deal with nightmares. What could I do?

Suddenly, my young master jerked and made a noise that was halfway between a sob and a keen. He began to twist and thrash under his blankets and a sudden fist flying at my face startled me so much that I grabbed hold of it. I turned and flexed his hand so that I was no longer holding his fist but an open hand.

"It's all right, bocchan," I said softly, holding his hand in both of my own and stroking the back of it with my fingers. "It's all right. I'm here."

Incredibly, he relaxed. He was still asleep and he seemed to slip more deeply into sleep while I held his hand. Could something so simple be what he needed? He just needed contact with another living being? Curious, I began to pull my hand away, but his grip tightened and he made a sound in the back of his throat. I was sure that I could take this as evidence that he did not want me to let go. I thought about all the humans I'd observed over the years and thought about how they'd comforted their children when they were distressed.

"It's all right, young master," I said, putting my observations into play immediately. "Nothing will harm you while I am here." I shifted to sit on the bed and I picked my master up, holding him the same way I'd once seen a father hold his child. To my absolute shock, he actually leaned against me, settling into my arms as if I were another human. An even bigger shock was the way he rested his head against my shoulder, seemingly content to stay there. His hand relaxed and released mine, so I continued comforting him. I rubbed his back, hummed a lullaby, and every now and then I smoothed his hair. By the time I'd finished smoothing his hair he was so relaxed that his body was limp. I doubted even a thunderstorm could wake him, and I knew how he felt about thunderstorms.

His scent had slowly returned to its original state as he gained in health, so I indulged myself by breathing it in. Ah...it was very sweet. When the contract was fulfilled, his soul would be absolutely delicious...

My master jerked in his sleep and quickly I began to rub his back again to calm him. It seemed that after days and nights of dozing and fitful sleep, he was actually getting the rest he needed. He was cuddled in my arms like a fledgling under its mother's wing and I had a good feeling that he would be more than happy to stay there until morning.

"Sebastian."

All right, maybe he hadn't been asleep. "Yes, young master?"

Silence. There was no sound but his heart beating and his breathing. Perplexed, I twisted my head so I could look at him and his eyes were closed. He was deeply asleep. I felt a smile start. He was talking in his sleep! There was no other word to describe such a situation but adorable.

"Stay here," he murmured, nestling his cheek against my shoulder as if it were a pillow.

I smiled and wrapped my arms more securely around him, much the way I would hold a demon child. "Yes, my lord."

A few days later and my master was back to his old self. Indeed, it was as if he'd never been ill. I was kept busy running back and forth, up and down carrying out my master's orders. We had business meetings, social engagements, lessons, and projects to see to, and we had no time for nonsense, according to my master. Not only did I have the master's social calendar to overlook, I had to carry out the household duties as well. When I had a spare moment I would spend it looking over references from employment agencies. There were plenty of people out there looking to enter domestic service, but I needed people who were not only domestics but were also trained fighters. I required a staff who would be able to fulfill domestic duties but also would be able to protect the young master as well.

I'd seen countless files on well-qualified housemaids, cooks, housekeepers, and gardeners, but not one of them could boast any fighting ability. It looked like I might have to locate some on my own. How tiresome.

I was deep in this pursuit one night when my master rang for me. When I entered his room it looked as if he'd been having a restless night. The blankets were in a tangle, the pillows were scattered over the bed, and he looked thoroughly put out.

"I can't sleep," he complained. "Nothing I've tried works!"

I knew what to do. Quickly I smoothed the sheets, straightened the bedcovers, plumped the pillows, and deposited my master into a cozy cocoon. "Would you care for a story, young master?" I asked. "Or perhaps you would like me to read to you?"

"No, thank you, Sebastian," he said. He shifted under the blankets and looked perplexed.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

He crossed his arms and looked away. "I don't know."

I did something that I rarely did: I acted on impulse. I sat down on the bed, plucked him out of his cozy nest, settled him on my lap, and wrapped my arms around him.

"I'm dreaming, right?" he said, looking quite confused. It was clear that he thought I was doing something rather strange.

"No, you are not dreaming, bocchan," I assured him. "Sometimes humans need to be held in order to relax. I think you're having trouble sleeping because you can't relax. Am I right?"

"I am a bit preoccupied with that new line that hasn't been selling well," he confessed. "But what does that have to do with you holding me?"

"I'm trying to help you relax," I explained. "I have a request, young master, if you'll be good enough to grant it. For tonight, let me do all your worrying. I just want you to relax and let me hold you until you fall asleep."

For a few moments, I was sure that he was going to say this was ridiculous and that he didn't need me to do any such thing, but I felt his muscles loosen and he leaned against me. "Very well, Sebastian. Since it's a small request, I shall grant it."

I smiled as he settled his head against my shoulder. "Thank you, my lord."

I kept smiling while I held him and I was still smiling when he fell asleep. My smile only grew wider as I tucked him into bed. "Sleep well, bocchan," I whispered fondly. "I am glad you are better."