*Content Warning: Graphic descriptions of injury/suffering*

They stay that way for a while. Adrian slept some, not much. She couldn’t tell if this was pain or rest.

She dared not touch his neck. Normally she would. The crevice where his collar bone met his neck was a favorite place of hers to rest her head when they were snuggling. She’d covered as much of it with damp cloth as she could, taking special care to keep it loose. She thought perhaps this was a small thing that could keep him from feeling like he was free from the chains only to be strangled by a tea towel in her kitchen.

She knew on some level that even though he had not said anything about the discomfort directly, he would likely feel a lot that he was not going to reveal, possibly not ever.

The first day she found him in the barn sprang to mind. He had been so reluctant to even admit that he had been forced into such a state of despair. He had been so brave for so long. The blood and pus on his neck had spurted and dried several times over on his skin, to which the chain had fused. Separating it proved arduous. He was nearly weeping by the time she had gotten enough of it off and away enough that she could get the cloth strips between the chains links and what remained of his skin.

But the look on his face the second the ointment soaked cloths made contact – sheer relief. A brief peace, however fleeting. The muscles around his eyes and in his face softened, and he opened his jaw.

He had told her that he’d been having spells of lightheadedness from the chain pressing on his airway, which would dissipate instantly when she would get it away. His own fingers were so sore, the strenuous task of holding the chain away from his neck constantly had worn him into compliance. He only pulled it away when a spell overcame him. If he didn’t lose consciousness first.

After seeing how much relief the cloth strips brought him it shattered her to remove them when she’d been forced to leave the barn. Knowing he was here with her now, out of the barn, brought her a similar degree of peace.

Thankfully, this look had returned to him as well. She had been trying so hard to imagine his inner state in this moment. That he was no longer being held against his will in that way. To go outside after all those nights and days, what had it felt like? To clean after so long.

Surely he’d like to forget. How awful it all had been, undoubtedly. How much pain he must have been in each and every day. Even now, with his body in such a condition as this, how did he manage to find himself within all that? To what dark place did he have to go?
Their peace was not long lasting though. Emma had traveled several hours away to retrieve the surgeon. She was grateful, for Adrian’s sake, but she also dreaded his retuen to anguish that was certainly on its way.

She gently woke Adrian when they gathered around him. Confused, he leans over to her, his eyes filled with worry.

“Did you tell them what happened?” he nearly whispers.

Her heart breaks. The state farms. Did he think she was having him sent away?

“No, no. I thought less information would be better. That was what you wanted, remember?”

“Thank you.” He lays his head back and looks up at the roof.

The surgeon presses their hands into Adrian’s legs, listening intently as he whimpers and cries out in pain. Grace tried fervently to distract him.

“Is this necessary?” she hisses, her need for answers trampling her manners.

“I’m afraid so.” The surgeon states, unaffected. “Once I can isolate the breaks it’ll be easier to tell you what we’re looking at. Is he yours?”

Grace looks over to Thomas, who stands.

“Mine.” Thomas holds his hand up and shows the surgeon his ring. The surgeon nods, making a note of this. She resented that Thomas had a say here. Adrian trusted him, yes, but what about her?

That wasn’t fair. She owed it to Adrian to honour his wishes. Thomas has no more control that she did though. He hadn’t inherited yet. Regardless. It wouldn’t matter, so long as Adrian got the care that was needed.

She refocuses her attention to distracting Adrian, though he does not take to it. The pain clearly too much for him to manage.

After a time the surgeon backs away and state what she thought to be obvious.

“There is a break at the femur and knee on the right leg, and at the knee, shin, and the ankle on the left. I can reset them both, but it will be painful.”

She looks over to Thomas and sees the stress fall from his face, grateful.

That being said, there are a number of other issues. The neck is infected, as are several wounds on the back. The genitals look infected. Does anyone know if there’s any pain or burning with urination?”

Thomas looks away.

“Yes, he mentioned both.” Grace says quietly, her hands fiddling with each other in her lap. Why did they have to ask so many questions? Must they be so undignified?

“That’ll add to the cost. As I said I can fix it but its not going to be cheap. Seventy five for the left, one hundred fifty for the right.”

Emma covers her mouth. Thomas sits back in his chair, defeated.

Grace places a hand on the table, close by.

“What about his pain? Can anything be done about it?”

The surgeon waits for Thomas, who does not respond. They nod and redirect to Grace.

“That would be unusual. But yes, I can prescribe something. It will be extra though.”

She nods. The rest of the room falls silent.

“Look.” The surgeon speaks to Thomas. “Are you using him for labour? If I amputate the right and set the left, you could have him working again sooner. It would knock about a month off the recovery time. It would also lower the price substantially. It depends on your priorities, and your budget. You could have the remaining leg fitted for a prosthetic if that would suit. It depends on what you’re doing with him.”

The room contemplates this for a time. The surgeon looks over Adrian blankly, detached. He stares at the roof, his eyes watery. He was being humiliated, his shame on display in front of all these people. Her heart ached for him. She longed to pick him up and take him out of this awful room, upstairs, where they could rest together and be alone and he could heal. At last. After all these intrusions. She could not contemplate how inconsiderately the surgeon behaved. Did they not understand that she loved him? Why should Thomas decide what happens? Who was this surgeon to ask Thomas what Adrian was for?

Her eyes drift downward and rest upon him. His expression hardened, the discomfort crept nefariously back into his facial muscles, the peace of an hour ago completely vanished. He wouldn’t look at her. She wanted to scream. This was worse than in the barn. How could she comfort him when they were being subjected to this?

“You’re confident that setting them both will fix it? You can treat the infections, he will heal and be able to walk again?” she asks, trying to remove the emotion from her voice. First-borns are meant to lead in these situations, or so her parents so reminded her.

The surgeon eyes Thomas again, a fleck of uncertainty in their otherwise poised expression.

“I’m certain,” they recite, monotonic, their tone giving away suspicion. “If you complete the gradual physical therapy after enough healing has happened. In four to six months you could have him back in your field. The strength will come back quickly if it was there before this injury. Especially if the breaks are tended to appropriately.”

“Of course.” She feels around beneath her and clasps Adrian’s hand. “How much is this going to cost?”

“Ten per visit, likely twelve or so visits, but that depends on progress. Add in the medicines and my supplies and time, and you’re looking at about four hundred. Probably five after prescription refills and the check ins. Not including the loss of whatever wage he fetches.”

Thomas lets out a huge wave of air and stands, his fingers clasped together on top of his head. She watches him with worry. Was he going to not do it?

Grace clears her throat and sits up straight, doing her best to appear professional. Unaffected. All business.

“We’ll need a moment to discuss it, if you don’t mind.”

The surgeon nods and steps out of onto the porch.

“Thomas.” She calls, her voice cold.

He approaches her quickly, his eyes reddened and unable to focus.

“Thomas can you pay for this? Any part of it?”

In his eyes she sees only bewilderment and grief.

“I…I don’t think so, no. I can’t sign off on that large a sum without approval.”

Grace says nothing. Thomas watches Adrian, he reaches out for him but forces himself away. Grace averts her eyes. She grips Adrian’s clothing. He looks over at Thomas and for a brief, intense moment they lock eyes.

“I’m sorry, Adrian.” His voice a strained, meager quiver that he fights to keep steady. “I’m so sorry. We don’t have the money for this. I don’t know what to do.”

She watches the realization hit them both.

Thomas’ composure breaks. “I love you, so much.”

Adrian’s eyes dry out and he takes several deep breaths.

“I love you, Tom.” His voice cracks. “I understand.”

Thomas approaches the table and rests his head on Adrian’s forehead. He slides his arm over him and together they take several long and purposeful breaths. Adrian reaches up and holds Thomas’ arm upper arm, folding his hand around the shoulder.

Thomas kisses his brother’s forehead and lifts himself slightly, looking into his eyes.

“You’re okay.” He murmurs under his breath.

Adrian slides his hand up and down Thomas’ arm.

“I’ll be okay.” He replies, “It’s okay.”

Thomas lingers another moment. Adrian looks up to him.

“For you too, yeah? It’s okay.”

Thomas stands to his full posture, keeping his hands on Adrian’s face. They nod to each other, reassuring.

He steps away from the table.

“Thomas do you think you could you give us a moment?” Grace asks, softening her voice for his sake.

He agrees. “I’m going to go get you some clean clothes, maybe some food. I’ll be back though.”

He kisses Adrian on the forehead one more time before walking out.

They sit in silence for a minute or two after the door closes. She watches him watch the door, the light from his eyes fading as Thomas grew farther away.

“My love.” She scoots close to him and he rolls his head toward her. “What do you want to do?”

His eyes widen, watering. “I don’t think this is my choice, Grace. I don’t think my Dad will pay for this. We have to wait for Tom.”

She feels her anger bubble up to the surface, but she pushes it down. “He can’t. You heard him.”

He lets out a raspy, strained sob, weary.

She grips his hand, taking her turn to steady him.

“Why don’t you stay here with me? Let me take care of you. I’ll…I’ll see to everything and you can just focus on resting and feeling better without any worrying.”

A flicker of relief cross his face before he darts his eyes away, ashamed. “I can’t ask you to.”

“I want to. Please.”

She smiles. “It’s okay.”

He takes a moment to respond but eventually nods slowly.

“Good.” She caresses him for a few moments. “Now. What do you want to do about your legs? It’s entirely your decision. I will support you no matter what you decide.”
He takes a long time to think about this.

“You’ll take care of it?” he asks, “the bill?”

“Yes,” she kisses him. “I don’t want you to worry about that. Just focus on resting. You need it. It’ll all be better soon.”

He rubs his face against hers. “I want to… I want to keep my leg. I want to do the reset of both.”

“I’ll get the surgeon back in then.”