For Curtis, dated 10/27

[silenttrainbaby]

Even as they walk away from that horrible, sterile place that Grey vows never to go back to, he's flexing his left wrist, moving it, twisting both hands, because he can. The cast is finally off and he has both hands back. The nurse had made some sound when she'd cut it, about how dirty it was, about the dried blood perhaps, but he doesn't care. He flexes his hands, splaying his fingers. Finally, he can climb again, fully and truly and he gives Curtis one look before he dashes ahead, grabbing on to a post with a light on top and spinning himself around just because he can.

It hurts, twinges, really, but he's not supposed to do that, he's sure. But he doesn't care. The cast is gone and he has his sweat-jacket-sleeve pulled down to hide the pasty gray of the skin underneath the cast.

He lands on his feet and faces Curtis, his face almost lighting up. They can spar now, if Curtis wants, they can train. He can join that gym that Tris is at, if Curtis will help him. He's just that little bit more free than he was an hour ago.

Comments

[manwiththeknife]

"Hey, take it easy," Curtis said, but he was struggling against a bark of laughter, an actual, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

Grey-- fucking deadly Grey, was just a kid. It was easy to forget.

"How's it feel?" he asked. He already knew the answer.

[silenttrainbaby]

Spinning his wrist again, Grey shrugs. It feels fine. It'll feel better. He can do pull-ups again, now. Push-ups. He feints at Curtis in a kind of slow-motion, wrapping an arm around his waist, turning him on the sidewalk.

It's more than fine.

[manwiththeknife]

"Watch it," Curtis said, another one of those almost-laughs punching its way out of his chest.

He was still off balance, out of practice, feeling clumsier than he had in his life.

"You wanna kick my ass, right now, I'm not sure it'd be much of an accomplishment."

[silenttrainbaby]

No, Grey doesn't want to. But he has both hands, both arms back and he didn't expect it to feel so good. He lets go, bumping his shoulder against Curtis's as they walk again. He fishes out of his pocket then, the much-folded waiver for Tris's gym. He unfolds it and shows Curtis all the blanks: last name, date of birth. Guardian.

[manwiththeknife]

Unthinkingly, Curtis reached out and ruffled a hand through Grey's hair. It was something he'd watched Gilliam do a hundred times before.

Squinting down at the little folded scrap in Grey's hand, he said, "A gym membership, huh? Okay. We'll figure something out."

Some of the questions were unanswerable. They'd have to make something up.

[silenttrainbaby]

There was the slightest pause when Grey felt that touch: a memory and a welcome touch; something he's still hungry for.

The gym, though. He catches up that half-step and gestures with both hands: climbing, there. Running, jumping. Like on the train, but entirely different.

[manwiththeknife]

"Yeah, all of that," Curtis nodded, thinking maybe he ought to consider getting a membership, too. Or at least make an effort to go to PT, like he was supposed to.

"You'll have a hell of a lot more room to move."

[silenttrainbaby]

Yes. Grey's eyes lit up just thinking about it. And an elbow too - Curtis could go, yes? They could do it together?

[manwiththeknife]

"Fine, all right. I'll go," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "We'll fill it out, and then we can go check the place out tomorrow, okay?"

He knew Grey was used to doing as he was told, but Curtis was trying to give the kid choices.

"Give the arm a day to breathe before you start overworking it." His lips twisted into a wry smile.

[silenttrainbaby]

Good! Grey folds the paper and sticks it back into his pocket. Still, even as he walks, he's rolling that freed wrist back and forth. Here, they can be anything, can't they? He finds himself looking up and around, still. It's still overwhelming at times.

[manwiththeknife]

"Where to?" he asked, watching Grey look around them with those big, curious eyes.

"You hungry?"

[silenttrainbaby]

Food? Always. Grey nods. He can always eat. No Chinese though - that was so greasy, his stomach rebelled. Bread, though, he loves. He taps Curtis's shoulder. He chooses (of course).

[manwiththeknife]

When they'd first arrived in the city, he'd assumed they'd gorge themselves on junk food, on hamburgers, on pizza, and sugary treats and all the things they'd been deprived.

But after nearly twenty years, their stomachs couldn't handle anything so rich. They'd been introducing things into their diets slowly, hugging the toilets when they got a little too bold.

There was a diner and bakery down the street serving comfort foods and homemade baked goods. It was as good a place as any.

As they approached, he could see that it was decorated elaborately for Halloween, strung up with fake spider webs, orange lights, pumpkins and skeletons. He'd forgotten half of these stupid traditions, but seeing them on display, now, made his chest ache for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely.

When he pulled open the door, an electronic sensor set off a little plastic skull just inside. Its eyes lit up and it cackled, maniacally gleeful. He gave it a sidelong glance and stepped aside to let Grey in.

[silenttrainbaby]

What is that. Grey flinches, hand halfway to the knife before even giving it much thought.

What's all this?! He doesn't like it.

[manwiththeknife]

"Hey," Curtis murmured, putting a hand on Grey's arm. The decorations, it seemed, were mostly limited to the front. Near the back, it was quiet and resting a hand between Grey's shoulder blades, he led him toward a booth.

"It's Halloween in a few days." October 31st, he remembered. "It's... A tradition. Kids carve pumpkins," he said, pointing one out that sat festively on top of the bakery case. "Go door to door asking for candy. Dress in costume. Teenagers get drunk and pull pranks on strangers. It looks like it's pretty big, here."

He sat down in the booth, sliding a plastic menu over toward Grey's side. A good thing about this place is that most of the menu consisted of pictures.

[silenttrainbaby]

Holding the menu (the edge of it feels strange against his freed hand), Grey puts what Curtis is saying together with what Rat said about Halloween, and this makes him no more likely to embrace it.

Why? He points to the word on his arm.

[manwiththeknife]

"I don't know."

Maybe he didn't remember or maybe he'd never known. It was just something that was, as far as he knew.

"For fun, I guess. And the free candy." Most kids weren't gonna pass up free candy.

[silenttrainbaby]

Fun? It doesn't sound like fun. Grey wrinkles his nose. Does he have to? He can get candy in trade for coins or face paper, he knows.

[manwiththeknife]

Coughing out a laugh at Grey's reaction, Curtis turned his attention to his menus, murmuring, "You're a little old for trick or treating, anyway."

The waitress came over, smiling brightly and setting down two waters. "Can I get you boys anything else to drink?" She was pretty, blonde and bubbly and maybe a little too loud. Everyone seemed too clean and too bright and too much, in Darrow. They hadn't been crushed inside a metal tube their whole lives.

He smiled thinly. "I think we're good. Can you give us a minute?"

[silenttrainbaby]

"Sure!" she smiled again and seemed to bounce off. Grey watched her go. Then he looked down at his menu, studying the pictures. There was a sandwich with three layers, it seemed, or three pieces of bread, very little green food. He'd have that. He set his menu down, watching Curtis instead.

[manwiththeknife]

They had mac and cheese. Oddly, he could recall the smell of it. The comfort of the silly-shaped shells from the blue box. The buttery, gooey, homemade version, warm from the oven and crunchy on top.

He clinched his teeth and when the waitress returned, he settled for a BLT and fries.

[silenttrainbaby]

Pointing to the picture of what Grey learned was a club sandwich, he then settled back in his seat and watched Curtis's face. Was he all right?

[manwiththeknife]

At the look Grey sent his way, Curtis nodded. He was fine.

Before she could leave, he asked the waitress, "Could we get a pen?" With a confused smile, she pulled one from her pocket. "Oh sure!" she chirped, setting it down on the table before she disappeared to put in their order.

"Let's see that form," Curtis said to Grey, once they were alone.

[silenttrainbaby]

Fishing the paper out of his pocket again, Grey unfolded it and slid it across the table to Curtis. What he had been able to fill in, he had, his handwriting blockish, childlike. But he had no last name, no date of birth. He needed a guardian, an emergency contact. Hope was naked on his face as he looked at Curtis.

[manwiththeknife]

"Okay, let's see this thing," he said, taking the paper and pen, quickly reading over what Grey had already filled in.

"What do think you are, seventeen? Eighteen?" Curtis guessed, looking at Grey with a thoughtful frown. Honestly, he couldn't remember when the kid had been born. He remembered him, small and curious, always in Gilliam's shadow, but as for dates? They'd have to make something up.

[silenttrainbaby]

Up and down went Grey's shoulders. He didn't know. Memory wasn't something stressed on the train unless it was for fighting technique. He needed to be eighteen to not need a guardian. Could he be eighteen? His fingers splayed - ten, then eight fingers with a questioning look.

Could he have a birthday?

[manwiththeknife]

"We'll say eighteen."

If nothing else, it made things simpler.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and said, "I'll put my name down under guardian, just in case."

They basically lived together, after all, and if something ever happened to the kid, he'd want to be the first to know.

[silenttrainbaby]

Good. Grey leaned on the table and tapped the day and month of his new birthday. He would have a birthday now. But what month? What day?

[manwiththeknife]

"It's up to you, kiddo," he said, sliding the paper toward Grey and holding out the pen.

It seemed like something he ought to pick for himself. One small step toward claiming his life as his own.

[silenttrainbaby]

This was too big for someone who'd had so little choice. Twelve months, he knew. Nearly 30 days in every month.

Grey swallowed hard, searching Curtis's face. If he wanted, he could make this very day his birthday. Tomorrow.

He took the pen, holding it.

[manwiththeknife]

"Think it'd be too cheesy, picking the day you turned up here?"

The last day of the train, but he wasn't going to bring that up.

[silenttrainbaby]

Those were different days, Grey knew somewhere in the back of his head. January 1st. September 15.

If he picked September 15, he'd wait a long time to have a birthday. There might have been the smallest tell-tale pout. But Curtis did have a point.

Finally, he wrote that down, remembering the date from the paperwork from the hospital.

September 15th was now Grey's birthday.