The Things You Find You Didn't Know You'd Lost

Shula loved that her days off came at the same time, like a weekend in the middle of her week. It made things so much easier to plan for. She could catch up on her chores and errands and come back to work fully rested. Or, in the case of this weekend, spend a day going to her IV infusion treatment and spend the other day resting as much as she could so she was functioning by the time she went to work. Yesterday's infusion hadn't been too bad, but today she was really feeling it, but unfortunately in the battle between sick and restless the restlessness often wins out and prompted Shula to go for a walk downtown. A little window-shopping and fresh air would get the colour back into her soft brown cheeks.

And she was right. As long as she took the walk slowly, it was doing her good. She loved the house her grandfather had bought for her to stay in, but being alone in that house while she was sick made her feel so.. trapped. It was too much like the rest of her life, bound to a single confined space and feeling too sick to go anywhere. Forcing herself out, even when she didn't feel well, would make her stronger she figured. And what better place to feel better than in her favourite place... an antique book store run by an old man and his wife. Shula had found it on her first day there just before she met Acra, and loved it there. It reminded her of her grandfather's vast library, walls of ancient text books and manuscripts, the secrets of the ancient worlds, thick fiction novels from writers the world had forgotten...

A small stack of books were being piled onto the little table as Shula browsed the endless shelves. A book of Amestrian fairy tales that was easily over a hundred years old (and certainly not for children), and another about a madman who successfully brought a corpse back to life only to have him reign havoc on the village that was equally old... But the one Shula was unable to take her eyes from rested in the glass case of precious books in the nonfiction room with the textbooks. It was very, very old, its brown pages cracked and tearing on the sides slightly, and the binding on the spine looked ready to give as the last threads clung to life. The book was in tatters. But it was Ishvallan. But the faded ink writing was just dark enough for her to understand. An Observation On Alchemy Ishvallans didn't practice alchemy; it was forbidden, and against God's will since it changed what was already perfect. So to find a book this old specifically stating it was observing what was forbidden simply gave her chills. Sure, it probably was just condemning everything they saw, but still! To know what it was that they observed! What she could learn!

Her little heart sped up at the thought, and Shula was about to ask Mr. Waters if she could look it over and how much he might part with it for when as she drew in a breath it caught, only to send her little body doubling into itself with a violent coughing fit. Too much dust and excitement. The coughing was making her dizzy, still weak from the infusion all day yesterday and she held onto the cabinet, her other hand covering her mouth as she coughed violently, struggling to catch her breath. Damn scarring.

Ever Goodnight's off-days were meticulously planned long before he awoke to the blindingly radiant rays of the sun. The blinds were parted precisely at 9:00am on the dot, allowing the creamy splinters of morning to come filtering in. In the past, Ever had never been much of a morning person, but the body adjusts even when the mind does not. By the time he tossed once, he tossed again and was greeted with the hazy cloud of slumber as it momentarily passed before his eyes and addled senses. The pink-and-black blob at bedside, he instinctually knew to be his personal assistant – Cossette. She was a faithful attendant if nothing else, up before dawn, at his home before morning broke, and his coffee already poured, steaming, and offered on a tray with a cheese Danish and provisions for sweetening his morning drink. As his vision oriented, he sat up and ran a hand through his curly black hair.

"She's dilligent. I'll give her that much. I doubt I'd be where I am now, if not for Cossette. My ever-faithful pet."

Ever took the tray and sat it to his side, stirring slowly in his sheets until most slipped free and spilled across his granite-colored flesh. Cossette rarely spoke outside of what was necessary for her receptionist image. She never faltered in her tasks, and surprisingly, never flushed or batted an eyelash at the sight of the Good Doctor in his full morning glory – stark naked and harder than any tree trunk for miles around. Whether or not the girl acknowledged it or not was forever a source of much speculation, as she often stared directly at him, but registered absolutely no change of expression outside of quirking an eyebrow for the moment. "Good morning, Lord Goodnight. I trust you slept well?" His groggy nod spoke volumes; he'd rather return to the land of Nod, undoubtedly. "…very good, sir. You've got a fair amount of leisure at your disposal today. Nonetheless, it is best that we get an early start on the morning. You've a meeting at around three with the CEO of the Vexxen Trading Company; their cooperation is essential if you ever hope launch Goodnight Pharmaceuticals nationwide. Oh, and you might want to do something about that…" she mused, teasingly aiming a finger toward his rather impressive case of morning wood.

"Cute, Cossette. Very cute. I know just where to put it."

The girl suppressed a giggle at the sour look he gave her, to which Ever begrudgingly bit into his Danish as if it'd somehow insulted his pride. This woman was his sole frustration, as were any who were naturally immune to his enigmatic charm. Truthfully, he knew Cossette's true love—money. When he was broken and homeless in the dregs of Kanama, it had been her who discovered him and deemed his 'good looks' too unfit for a place like the slums. And it was Cossette who built his practice around a fundamental business sense, making the Doctor what he was today. She was one half of the equation, the application of all the Doctor's many talents. It was only natural that the snake-handler be immune to the viper's poison, no? Ever finished his coffee and tossed the sheets away before standing up, baring everything to the morning sun and, by default, his young assistant – who rolled her eyes and just continued to sustain the most masterfully crafted poker-face known to man. "Cossette, if it's so offensive, I could always have you quell the beast below, couldn't I?"

"This is our morning routine. Every day. I bite and the mongoose dodges."

"If you wish, my lord." Neither of them were taken aback by her answer. Long ago, she had sworn fealty to him. Cossette would do any task he required of her, without question, without fail. Even if it meant satisfying him sexually, which he knew she were more than capable of from her days as a local whore in Kanama. He needed only order her to; and yet, somehow, he'd never touched her despite the desire to. Cossette and the Doctor both knew the reason why. He wanted to crawl deep inside that head of hers and let his venom corrode her from the inside out, to break her will and toy with her until there was little of interest left. That was just the kind of man Ever Goodnight was, cruel, captivating, and flawlessly evil. She admired that in him, just as he mutually loved and loathed how her mind was like that of an iron wall. Impenetrable. Cossette slowly knelt before him, puckering her pouty ruby-coated lips, reaching for his hardened affliction.

"She knows my weaknesses well, my pink-haired mongoose. She could kill me at any moment…yet she toys with me as I too toy back in like kind. This is the bitter game we play. Two predators at each other's throats, always. I love Cossette. I hate Cossette."

"Stop this foolishness, Cossette." He slapped her hand away and stormed off to dress himself. The girl grinned coquettishly, silently chalking another point to her exorbitant score. She was in the lead these days. As she stood, she righted the wrinkles from her black miniskirt and frilly white blouse.

"…as you wish, my master. Another time, perhaps?"

"And thus, her fangs pierce my tender flesh. I am bleeding to death once again…well done, my mongoose…"

The two of them had made most of the rounds by noon; Ever was frighteningly efficient and Cossette's pocket-watch was scarcely ever plucked from between her revealing cleavage, nor was it necessary. It would have drawn more unnecessary attention, if the girl with shockingly pink hair and a mini-skirt that revealed London and France weren't already enough of an attention grabber. Even now, Ever wondered if she had even bothered with undergarments today. There were days where she didn't. Goodnight put the thought aside for later and decided to make a slight detour now that they were ahead of schedule, gesturing with a nod toward a local bookstore he had been dying to peruse for months now. He'd heard good things about it, as it was a family-owned business that had somehow managed to stay afloat without selling into the more popular franchises. Cossette said nothing of the excursion, as there was more than enough time in the day to spare a side-trip for a few books. Who knew, perhaps she'd find a book with some helpful marketing advice.

"My blood is warmer than I expected…"

They spent a few minutes exploring before Ever found his selection, tucking a particular romance novel beneath a stack of medical books so that Cossette wouldn't notice. She noticed, of course, but kept her lips playfully sealed…for now. But as they were leaving, there was a loud rumble as one of the cabinets rumbled just off to the side. He peeked around the shelves, noticing a young woman doubled over and struggling against herself to achieve the otherwise simple task necessary to remain alive. She couldn't breathe. He rushed over, kneeling carefully at her side. Attempting to offer dialogue was pointless; if she couldn't breathe, she definitely couldn't speak and getting her to do so would waste unnecessary breath. He had no medications on hand, no inhalers (what doctor normally carries around such things on an off-day), and even if he did—he had no idea of her allergies and whatnot. He did the only thing he could at this point, placing a hand carefully at the small of her back and offered a soothing rub up and down her spine, speaking in a calm tone. "Madomoiselle. Try to relax yourself completely, knowing that no matter what…you can breathe. Absolutely nothing is stopping you from breathing." he assured her. It was a Xingeese technique he'd picked up, positive mental reinforcement that typically came before inducing trancelike states of cleansing meditation. If you honestly believe you can breathe, it should be wholly possible despite any ailment. That was the theory, anyhow.

"…there, there. Try to breathe slowly."

The world seemed to vanish around her as Shula coughed deeply, the force and vibrations going deep into her chest and making her diaphragm ache and her throat sting. Great Sun, why did it have to hurt like that? The lack of air made her dizzy for a moment as she leaned heavily down on one knee and held onto the little display case for support, struggling against herself in a battle of willpower versus inflammation. She hardly noticed there were other people in the small bookshop until the gentleman was kneeling at her side and didn't hesitate to begin rubbing the small of her back to try and calm her.

His accent was foreign and set heavily on the Amestrian words, but they gave her something to focus on other than that she couldn't breathe. Slowly she let his words sink in, his voice calming and piercing through the deep coughing fit. If she calmed down, stopped being afraid of not breathing..Slowly she did as he said, and even though the seconds always crawled by when she was like this, Shula's coughing slowly ebbed. There was a faint, raspy panting noise as her breathing slowed once more. She'd been told many times in her life that if she convinced her mind that something already was taking place she could overcome most anything, including a lot of her physical pains and problems. Granted, to an extreme that was just silly thinking; believing she was better wouldn't give her more white blood cells magically. But mind over matter was a usable technique under the right applications.

Panting and shaking slightly, Shula's hand moved from her mouth to her chest, waiting for her heart to calm down. Adrenaline was rushing as her body had started to panic, and she nodded softly, trying to signify that she was fine despite not quite having breath to speak properly yet. Her breath shuddered, tapering in faint sounds that to most would sound only of a lingering cold, though Shula knew better. The deep coughs hurt and pulled at the scars that were forming in her lungs and up her bronchials from years of respiratory infections.

Finally red eyes and a weak, tired smile glanced up to Ever, Shula's hand still pressed to her chest. "Thank you, Sir," Shula said quietly, her body trembling a little from the sudden attack and its departure. "Sorry about that.. I think the dust just got to me is all."

Ever didn't know what to make of this woman. Body language signaled she was feeling somewhat better, what she said mere seconds after steadying her balance left the Good Doctor skeptical. What sort of dust caused a crackling wheeze like that, or left chest pains akin to that of a collapsed lung? If he said nothing and simply watched Shula transition from phase to phase of slow recovery, the little subconscious things she did told her story back to him, after years of neglect. Every strained cough, every suppressed spike of fear or uncertainty as her breathing realigned to a natural pace, every forced word of reassurance despite the fact that she struggled just to stand – Ever knew it all in vivid detail. All because of one summer so very long ago; one fateful summer where a long-lasting friendship of three had been forged through the memories of three very young, very naïve children. Frightened by the recollection he never thought to experience again in his new life as 'Ever Goodnight', the dapper gentleman's gray face paled slightly, a look of shock emphasized by an ever-slackening jaw and golden eyes wide with disbelief. He knew this young woman.

"Shula Brighton. It can't be…"

Fate is an amusing thing; it bridges chasms, indifferent to things such as distance, age, or even death for reasons unknown, bring back together lives destined to play out apart. And to what ends remain the enigma in question, one Ever now mulled twice over in his mind. Never once had he imagined he would see her again, the woman who had impacted his career as a physician, the puzzle he and his father had done naught to solve. Ever's posture stiffened as he kept a hand at the small of her back, unsure of what to do next. Proper edict as a gentleman proposed that help a lady to her estate in the absence of her retainer or mate, especially after such an ordeal. But given his mutual meltdown of the mind, Ever hung there in complete lapse of thought, long after the moment to speak or act had passed. Cossette was quickly there at his side, her small hand at the young Ishvallan's side, offering more aid where necessary. "…are you sure that you are alright, miss?" The gothic lolita's voice cut straight through the doctor's confusion like a knife, as it always had. Cossette was there, like a crutch for the wounded leg. Her faux-French accent filtered on at some point, cueing the little act that the Viper and Mongoose would play off from at their clinic.

"My mongoose is clever. She shields me with her thick fur, even though I intend to someday strike her down with my venom. 'Tis an irksome game we play."

After making sure that she could stand, he stepped back and swept a grand bow, crossing his arm over his chest with the brim his top hat still neatly pinched between his index and middle fingers. His fear was ebbing away quickly, washed away with the tick of every second off the clock. With his newfound complexion, having lost all these years to obscurity, he felt no fear of Shula ever recognizing him. And without that possibility, he could remain 'Ever Goodnight' for as long as necessary in her presence – despite the niggling desire to reach from beyond his isolation and embrace the girl in a long overdue hug. She was no longer a child, and neither was he. If her brother hadn't recognized him, he knew that Shula never would. He finished the bow, an almost sinister grin spreading from one ear to the other. "I can't say that I know of any dust that would have caused such a display, my dear girl. However…" He rose back to his full height, his features pulling into a smug look of self-assurance. He reached out, gently bracing her small chin between his index and thumb, softly tilting her lightly flushed face up to inspect.

"I can read everything on this woman's face and her body language is simple. Nevertheless, she eludes me…and my diagnosis. She always has."

"Hrm…slightly watered gaze, eyelids puffy and slightly swollen, full facial flush…likely from the strain than from a certain handsome gentleman's proximity, I suppose. Unless you would care to correct me on the matter, hmm?" Ever teased, leaning down – he had to considering their height difference – so that he could get a closer look into those blood-colored eyes. For a moment, their noses almost touched, the would-be dandy now breaking all the conventional rules of the unspoken gentleman's code and revealing what he truly was. A venomous snake waiting in tall grass. "…I suppose this is how-you-say…'fate', no? Allow me to introduce myself, mademoiselle. I am the Enigmatic Doctor…Ever Goodnight. And I can cure any ailment, one-hundred percent guaranteed. Or your money back."

"I am your new god."

As Shula's body returned to normal, she was slowly helped back to her feet byt the beautiful lady that was with this strange doctor she was lucky enough to be found be. Shula looked Cossette up and down for a moment, curious, awed and a little shy of how she looked; she'd seen teenagers near the high schools in what someone had explained to her was goth, even though it didn't make much sense to her. Yes, life was short and everyone was just going to die eventually anyway. And it was true she already had her will written and signed by a lawyer, but that was standard in the military. But living in the dark moping and dressed waiting on your own funeral didn't sound too appealing. The woman that helped her up though was quite beautiful, though, her face and style of dress making her seem like a rare pink-haired doll of some sort. She gave a soft, sweet smile to Cossette as she nodded, trying to reassure her that she was fine before looking to the tall man who was also helping her.

Those gold eyes were absolutely piercing, making it almost impossible to look away as he straightened himself up to his full height and bowed with a grin. For a moment Shula was very glad her cheeks were probably still flushed from coughing lest he see her blush at the gesture. Older men held gentlemanly standards and would bow for a lady, as her grandfather had many times upon meeting them, but few people in her age bracket did the same. Then again, given his dress and accent, and the way his eyes were such a bold contrast to his almost gray skin it all did add a certain allure to him.

"I can't say that I know of any dust that would have caused such a display, my dear girl. However…"

Well, shit. Most people would have just accepted that answer, but then again, most people don't like getting involved in the problems of others beyond politely asking if they're okay or offering minor assistance. But as her chin was tipped upward she was quickly assessed; though as he mentioned it the closeness did make her blush creep up over the tops of her cheeks. His face was very close to hers, manners, shyness and a little fear fighting with the girl to make her want to pull away just slightly. Shula smiled a little nervously yet sweetly, stepping back slightly and moving her right foot behind her to return the polite yet antiquated gesture with a modest curtsy. She let her left hand slip into obscurity in the folds of her clothes, working to not draw attention to it and try to not let the doctor notice the slight bruising or puncture mark from yesterday's IV.

"It's nice to meet you, Doctor. My name is Shula," Shula said politely, her friendly smile sincere if not a bit shy. "But there really is no need for concern. The cough was just brought on by dust and aggravated by a bad chest cold that's still going away, that's all... I do appreciate it, though." Shula was incredibly curious, though, and the look probably shone through in her eyes; her family often teased her about how easy it was to tell what she was thinking by her face and eyes. But to make such a bold claim that you can cure any ailment without even knowing what it was...? The man was either a miracle worker, Mephistopheles or just selling snake oil. As it was most of her monthly paychecks went to her treatments, refusing to spend any money given to her by her family for that purpose and secretly putting every last coin of it into savings to give back to them after she died. Her treatments gave her a normal life for the most part, and were already almost more than she could afford...

As his modicum of courtesy was repaid in like kind with a generous albeit timid curtsy, the Doctor watched her…from the warmth building behind her cheeks, to the obscure movements meant to conceal something from his sight. And while he made no move to uncover her secrets, it was particularly odd for the girl to discreetly place one arm out of decent view without also moving the other; liking moving only one leg in an attempt to walk. In truth, he might not even have noticed the puncture wounds, as he was too engaged in blood-colored eyes to take accurate stock. Whatever the reason she withheld anything from a complete and total stranger was well met with good reason, as Shula had always been a girl far cleverer than she often let on. Even now, the 'Jean-Phillipe' in him doubted that the years had done much to augment certain parts of the once sickly girl-turned-soldier. It was more to his surprise that she wore the royal blue regalia than the fact that she hadn't changed after all these years. Never once could he have anticipated Shula inducting a military career to her resume, but life had its awkward methods of reuniting people. It was but mere irony that a stainless military career and the ill-fated stain of his military service that led him to Xing would be the tools of their unlikely reunion – even if she didn't recognize his face. "It's nice to meet you, Doctor. My name is Shula,"

"I know who you are..."

"But there really is no need for concern. The cough was just brought on by dust and aggravated by a bad chest cold that's still going away, that's all... I do appreciate it, though." she offered, perhaps as a weak diffusion to his unspoken proposal. But that was the funny thing about Shula Brighton – she was a horrible liar. Or, to be more precise, her face never loaned any more than half an ounce of believability to any fib the poor half-breed dared to pass off as truth. Ever didn't have to be a relative, or know even more than the scant bit he could remember of her as a child to point out the fact. But even beyond her fib-spinning failure, there was the medical aspect that hardly backed up her claims, but instead fell through like a paper-boat with lead sails. His voice shifted sharply, cutting through the unintentional insult Shula made upon his medical expertise—hopefully silencing any further untruths on her part with a curtly spoken: "Oh, I doubt that."

"And I know what ails you..."

Ever eased away from the girl, aiming to return a bit of her personal bubble back to her, lest she become increasingly uncomfortable with him and seek the closest available escape route. After all, even the handsomest of strangers…was still a stranger. But as she suspected him of peddling snake's oil, there was no need to conceal his fangs any longer. After all, his venom was a nerve toxin that had already reached her bloodstream. He could see it in her eyes, the fox-like curiosity at whether or not his claim was true, and the hopeful look of a woman pondering if this dapper fellow really could remove her affliction. Of course, there was the obvious truth – Ever could heal any ailment on this planet, but at a steep price. As silence spread between them like a flood of gooey molasses rooting their shoes to the floor tiles, it was as though they had already forgone the necessary formalities and were hereby arguing the brutal semantics of it all: merely setting a price-tag on freedom. And that was when his silver-laced fangs cut the deepest.

"…and I will cure you. Guaranteed."

"I can sense a bit of apprehension here, how about this? The first month can be completely free of charge. If you have not noticed any improvement after that, then you've no need to continue." he said this with a moderately earnest smile since, after all, he'd developed his Alkahestry purely to cure her in the first place, back when they were young. In her was the ultimate test of his efforts, cultivated to perfection here and now after all this time apart. If he couldn't back his claims, then there was no further need to entertain the notion of 'Ever Goodnight'. "However, should things go well – and they will – I merely require a modest monthly fee that we can negotiate at a later date…AND that you mention my name amongst your peers. A little…shameless plugging never hurt anyone, oui?"

The honeyed venom of Goodnight's words were beginning to seep in, and despite them making her stomach knot in apprehension and even slight fear, they made the tiny caged bird that was her soul beat its breast against the bars as hard as it could. That glimmer of hope that she'd held onto all her life but kept quiet began to flutter and try to free itself, the words not daring to form in her mind, even though the feeling didn't need any at all; the hope that she wouldn't be confined to this fate and broken body forever, and that there might be some freedom waiting for her that wasn't just an early death. As much as she liked the idea of how in some stories the characters never grew old, those were usually magical reasons... In this life, never growing old was because you died before you could get to that point.

The Doctor knew she was trying to cover up the truth of her situation and she knew it, glancing away and biting her lip a moment in thought rather than continue to insist that her coughing was anything other than what it was. Finally she let out a tiny sigh, looking back up to Ever. He was persistent, and he had her cournered. But he was offering something that she'd been searching for, something that she herself was willing to sacrifice for if she could just figure out the mechanics of it. She glanced around, checking to make sure the shop's owner wasn't where he could listen in; last thing she needed was someone else feeling sorry for her.

"Alright... you have my attention, Doctor. What I have... is complicated. But I can come to your office on on my next day off and go over my medical history with you, and you can tell me about your treatment options and fees." Medicine was an expensive thing; her treatments and medications cost nearly all her month's wages. The promise of a cure is a pretty tempting thing to promise, but only a fool agrees to anything without reading the fine print..

BUMP