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Goodnight Noises Everywhere	By : FlayraDowitcher Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1094 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
***Warnings: Language, minor violence
***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.
Chapter 8
Gilbert's first instinct was to close his eyes the moment the audience appeared before him. He could hear their gasps of surprise or shrieks. When he finally opened his eyes he could see the people staring intently at him. The women shrieked while backing away with their children, the smaller ones whining in terror. Most of the men didn't seem affected by him, but a few had to cover their mouths, as if they were disgusted by him. And maybe they were. Gilbert didn't think these people would actually be afraid of him! He thought they would be surprised and curious about him. These people were acting out against him as they always have with fear and loathing. He was a bad omen. He brought bad luck and misfortune upon good people. This wasn't what he had expected. Gilbert wanted to retreat back behind the curtain but Clifford and Billy were nearby, watching him. There were also the chains around his wrists and ankles holding him where he was. He glanced up at his lover, hoping for some silent reassurance. Instead, his lover was staring at Clifford.
"Demon," Ivan said firmly "Stand up!"
Gilbert stared up at him, his pink eyes wide with disbelief. He knew Ivan told him it was only acting, but that tone of voice was so harsh. On reflex, Gilbert answered. "No." What happened next both shocked and terrified him. He was unprepared for the sudden pain of the riding crop across his face. Gilbert held his stinging cheek, looking up at Ivan with eyes asking, 'what are you doing?'
"I said 'stand up', demon! Obey your master!"
Gilbert cautiously stood up, holding out his arm to block any more possible oncoming blows. But as he stood, he remembered how short his skimpy shirt was so he tried to pull it further down to keep some modesty. Suddenly, something struck Gilbert in the head, but it wasn't Ivan's whip. A kid had thrown a rock at him! The little boy was laughing cruelly at him and making obnoxious silly faces. Gilbert couldn't stop himself. He jumped over to the bars, unexpected, and nearly frightened the boy off of his feet. The other people backed away as well.
"DEMON!" Ivan gripped the chains and gave a hard yank that caused Gilbert to fall into the bars. He quickly glanced at Clifford, who was flashing him a glare of annoyance.
Ivan didn't want to do it, but he couldn't risk being sent back. Gilbert should have known better than to act out like that. This wasn't what they had agreed upon. Ivan couldn't bear to look at Gilbert's face as he dragged his lover across the dirty, moldy hay covered floor by his ankle chains. The people were laughing at the albino's misfortune, and Ivan hated that he had to be the cause of it. Once Gilbert was in front of him on his back, Ivan raised the riding crop high above his head. He saw his reflection in Gilbert's moist pink eyes filled with fear and confusion. Ivan ignored it, and brought the riding crop down and across Gilbert's chest.
Gilbert cried out at the pain and rolled over onto his belly to try and relieve it. The crop came down again across his back this time. He cried out with each oncoming blow, gripping the stale hay in his hands while desperately trying to crawl away. Ivan kept pulling him back. The people kept on laughing. The next strike was accompanied by his cough. The constant crying out must have stimulated his illness for he could not control his coughing. Thankfully Ivan had stopped the beating. Gilbert rose onto his hands and knees, using one to cover his mouth as his body trembled with the coughs. He wasn't surprised to see speckles of blood in his palm when he pulled his hand away.
"FEAST YOUR EYES UPON THE DEMON NAMED FAMINE!" Billy appeared in front of the crowd to distract them from Gilbert's mishap. "THIS IS WHAT OUR FUTURE MAY BE! FAMINE AND DEATH ARE VERY NEAR UPON US! THEY ARE ONE IN THE SAME! WE GOOD PEOPLE MUST PROTECT OURSELVES!"
Ivan couldn't believe that the crowd was actually falling for Billy's words. What he really wanted to do was comfort Gilbert, whose skinny form was trembling on the floor.
"WHO WANTS TO BE SAVED FROM THE FAMINE?" Billy asked. "YOU, GOOD SIR? HOW ABOUT YOU, YOUNG LADY?" The people were eager to hear more, so the con artist went on to tell them about Gilbert's 'blood' and the 'fortunate effects' it will have.
Ivan looked over at Clifford as the man entered the cage with a bowl, a knife, and a bandage. Clifford gave him that look that said, 'Remember our deal'. Ivan swallowed hard, took the items from Clifford, and turned to Gilbert. "Demon! Sit up!" Ivan ordered him once again. His heart went out to his now exhausted lover who was both hurt and defeated. Gilbert sat up and gave him a pitiful, woeful look. Ivan ignored him, the people, and Clifford as he knelt in front of the albino. He took Gilbert's arm firmly in his grasp and it held it over the bowl, which he had placed on the floor. Gilbert didn't protest to the blade Ivan pressed into his frail skin a few inches above the wrist. He did hear Gilbert hissed out and give a whimper of discomfort, or most likely pain. Ivan let the blood trickle and drop in to the bowl, letting it fill to the center. The bowl wasn't big, but the amount of blood loss for Gilbert and his sickness was too much. As Ivan placed the bandage around Gilbert's wrist, he could see the albino's face turning slightly green with the possible urge to vomit.
"BEHOLD! THE BLOOD OF THIS DEMON WILL HELP TO KEEP BAD LUCK AND MISFORTUNE FROM BEFALLING YOU! MY COHORT WILL TAKE THIS BOWL IN THE BACK AND BOTTLE IT UP JUST FOR YOU! IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, MY GOOD PEOPLE, WHICH I KNOW YOU ARE, THEN PLEASE MEET OUTSIDE OF THIS TENT! FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE!"
Clifford motioned for Ivan to follow him out of the cage and back behind the curtain. Gilbert was out there alone now, scared, hurting, and in pain. "You did very well, Ivan! I'm rather surprised! You've kept true to our little deal!" He wanted for Ivan to respond, but when the man didn't, he continued on. "Now you'll help Billy to hand out these vials. So wait here a few moments and on my signal, take them out the back and meet Billy there."
"Mr. Clifford, sir…I really hate having to do this."
"Ah, yes, I do understand the pain you feel and your heart goes out to our albino friend. But this is a cruel, cruel world we live in. We are all trying to live, Ivan. You. Me. Everyone. We're just trying to live." With that said, Clifford left out the back of the tent flap.
Ivan looked at the bowl of Gilbert's blood and then to the vials of rat blood. Gilbert's blood was going to be wasted, even if it was a hoax. He covered his face his hands, letting out a deep, aggravated sigh into them. "Forgive me, Gilbert. Please forgive me."
/
Gilbert was relieved that it was finally over. He sat in the cage, alone, with nothing but a thin blanket to cover him. The tent was cold and the firelight had died out some time ago. Now he was in the dark without a single person to console him. Already Billy had brought back a group of men after the sales were over to tell them about the 'Creatures of the Night' show where Ivan would publically fuck him. In a strange way, Gilbert wished that strangers would fuck him instead of Ivan. Clifford offered him more money for the privilege of letting men pay to sleep with him. But all he really wanted was Ivan. How could Ivan do this to him? He didn't seem to be acting at all! Ivan looked like he had wanted to hurt him! Gilbert wasn't even sure he could face Ivan after what the man did to him.
Glancing down at his chest, he could see the red and bloody welts peeking through the tears in the shirt. Gilbert spread a tear open to examine the damage caused by Ivan's riding crop. He touched it gently and hissed in pain. If only he weren't so frail then these wounds would barely bother him. What hurt the most was that it was Ivan who had given him this pain. 'Ivan.' He said the name softly to himself.
"Gilbert?"
Gilbert lazily turned his head to the direction of the voice coming from the back of the tent. It was none other than Clifford wearing that phony smile and looking as smug as ever. Gilbert wouldn't answer him, only silently acknowledged him.
"How are you feeling?"
"Don't pretend to be concerned for me, Cliff." Gilbert replied in a flat tone. "You're full of shit. Don't fucking play 'nice' to me…just be the way you really are."
Clifford wiggled his mustache. "Well then, if you don't think I'm nice then perhaps I should just pocket your share for myself? Hm? How's that sound?" He held up a small sack and jiggled it.
Gilbert looked at the bag. "How much do I get?"
"See for yourself." Clifford tossed it to him.
He caught the sack, opened it, and dumped the coins into his palm. Gilbert counted ten gold coins. Ten! He had never seen so much money in his life! At least not in his possession. He stared at it with his mouth agape.
"Ah, suddenly I'm not a rotten bastard anymore, hm?"
"This is mine?"
"All yours. I gave you a little extra this time around because Ivan treated you so harshly. I must admit I didn't expect him to go that far." Gilbert fell silent. "Regardless, the people loved it and they want more. You're in business!" Clifford smiled. "Now then, why don't we get you back to your wagon where you can rest up, hm? I'll have Hefty Helga bring you dinner there, okay?"
Gilbert put all of the coins back in the tiny purse and allowed Clifford to help him up. He wobbled a bit, mainly from blood lose and his coughing fit. Clifford patiently walked him to the wagon, helped him up the steps, and sat him on the bed. Gilbert thanked him but it was muffled. Once the man had left, Gilbert stripped himself of his demon outfit and changed into simple pants and a shirt. All he wanted to do was sleep until Helga came with his food. He settled in the bed, suddenly feeling cold and sick to his stomach. And where was Ivan? Was the man too embarrassed and ashamed to come see him? Could he even face Ivan at this moment? He wanted the man with him, but Gilbert still felt like Ivan had betrayed him. Whatever the reason, he couldn't think right now. His entire body hurt all over; and with the covers over his head, he quickly fell asleep.
/
Ivan sat in the dinner area of the circus with a mug of ale that Hefty Helga offered him. He was barely drinking the bitter liquid but rather staring at his bandaged reflection in it. All he could think about was Gilbert and the horrible thing he had done to him. Ivan wouldn't blame Gilbert if the albino didn't trust him again. He felt as if he broke that trust because Gilbert depended on him to be his strength, to protect him. Instead Ivan let himself go berserk on the frail man to save his own hide. 'I can't go back there. I just can't.'
He contemplated on telling Gilbert what Clifford and Billy are making him do, yet he feared the outcome would be disastrous. Gilbert was very vocal, fiercely loyal, and oddly protective when it came to others being bullied. In this case, Clifford and Billy were bullying him. Gilbert would confront them, spit in their eye, and end up causing trouble for them both. Gilbert would die of disease and he would be sent back to the asylum. So knowing that, how can he make it up to Gilbert? More lies? Ivan guessed so. What other choice did he have? He noticed Hefty Helga putting food on a tray and asked whom it was for. When she answered 'Gilbert', Ivan said he would take it to him for her. He left his ale and carried the tray to Gilbert's wagon. He took a deep breath before knocking softly.
"Gilbert?" He called. "Are you in there?" No answer. Balancing the tray on one arm he opened the door and peeked inside. There was a lump on the bed, which meant that Gilbert was there. He placed the tray down on the tiny table, sat on the bed, and stroked the covered head. "Gilbie, it's me. Ivan. If you can hear me then wake up…I really need to talk to you."
"…go away, Ivan." Came Gilbert's choked reply.
"Gilbie, please listen to me. I need to apologize for the horrible way I treated you today during the show. There's no excuse for it. I just…I just grew so angry at the situation and all those people that all I could do was take it out on you. That is horrible for me to say, I know. I couldn't regret it more. But Gilbie, please try to understand that I did what I did to ensure our security here at this circus. Mr. Clifford and Billy are demanding a lot from us. If we are to ever get out of here and start our own independent lives we have to submit now and again. So that is what I was doing today. I had to act vicious in order to carry through with it. Believe me, it was something I did not want to do." While most of those words were true, they were not the God-honest truth.
"I believe you, Ivan." Gilbert removed the blanket from his head and sat up. "I'm still angry at you…but you are my only friend in this world and I don't want to lose you. What you did today really hurt me. Ivan, you beat me! You beat me like I was nothing more than a useless dog!"
"I know, Gilbert! I know! I told you how sorry I am and why I did it! It hurt me a lot too." Ivan saw the red mark on Gilbert's lip where the crop had split it. "How badly did I hurt you?"
Gilbert was silent for a moment, and then he removed his shirt to show Ivan all of the lashes. Some crusted with blood and others simply pink streaks. Gilbert even held up his wrists so Ivan could see where the iron rubbed him raw. And then there was that bandage with the line of brown on its white texture: dried blood.
Ivan reached out to take Gilbert's arm, gently this time, and bring the bandage to his lips. He planted a soft kiss on the wound and then stroked it. "I don't expect you to forgive me right away, Gilbie. And I'll respect your wishes if you don't want to see me for a while."
"No, Ivan…you can stay."
"Then you forgive me?"
Gilbert looked at him, and then slowly shook his head. "I can't forgive you right now, Ivan. You really hurt me. I understand why you did it but…" He scratched the back of his head. "This is weird."
Ivan flashed him a sad smile. "No…it's alright. I actually expect you to be mad at me. I would be mad at me. You look to me for strength and protection, and I failed at that. Just…from now on…don't give me cause to have to beat you during the show. Play your role."
"Yeah, that's real fucking easy for you to say, Ivan!" Gilbert snapped. "You have the better end of the performance here! Get out!"
"Gilbert-"
"I SAID GET OUT!"
Ivan stood up from the bed. "Here is your dinner. Please eat it all."
Gilbert threw the covers over his head as Ivan left the wagon. Did Ivan really have the balls to actually say those words? 'Play your role'? A damned brat threw a rock at his head! If the bars had been absent, Gilbert would have beaten the shit out that kid. It was difficult for him to accept the humiliation he had always suffered due to his appearance. Today was no different. He chuckled and slapped a hand to his face. What was he expecting? Everyone to go 'ooh' and 'ahh' at the way he looked? He was an idiot to hope so. How was he supposed to let Ivan fuck him if he was made at the man?
'Shit…did I act out too fast? Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at him like that.' He sighed, looking to the food. 'Maybe a full stomach will help me think.' He loved Helga's cooking and he ate every bit down to the very last bite. It made him feel a little better.
His eyes caught sight of the little purse filled with coins on his dresser. He got up and went over to the dresser to pick up the purse, weighing it in his hands. 'Ten gold coins…all at the expense of my humiliation.' Gilbert took out two of them. 'They are shiny.' He stared at the two shining pieces of gold in his hand with a heavy frown. It was amazing how something so small could hold so much power over someone's entire life. This tiny sack was what is controlling his life. He needs to be humiliated and ostracized just to make a handful of these coins. It was ridiculous when you think about it. Gilbert was not a slave to society or a slave to the king; he was a slave to money. Money made you powerful. Money offered you grand opportunities. Money gave you a spot in the kings' favor. Money helped you find friends. Money helped you to bring in more money. Everything was money.
"How can you be so beautiful but so evil at the same time?" He asked the coins in his trembling hands. "If I had you from the beginning then I wouldn't have this deadly disease. I wouldn't be in this God-forsaken place being laughed at either. If only I had you…" He dropped the coins back in the purse when he felt another wave of coughs coming on. Using the dresser to hold himself up, Gilbert let the disease run its course. The coughs kept coming, more than usual. The force of them had him on his knees. Once they stopped he couldn't catch his breath. He held his chest as he wheezed and gasped for air. It was like there was an invisible weight on his chest.
Finally, he was able to take a deep breath. The coughing had subsided. He panted wildly, like a person held for too long under water. His hair was damp with sweat and his chest was on fire. This was the worst attack he had had so far. It frightened him. "Ivan?" He wheezed out, still holding his chest. "Ivan!" 'Oh, that's right. I sent him away. Damn!' Gilbert crawled back to the bed and lay under the covers. 'Shit…I'm closer to dying every day.'
As he lay there waiting for the pain to go away, he rubbed at the welts and marks left by the riding crop. If he received another five gold coins then he could send for a decent doctor. But if he is to make that money he must humiliate himself in front of onlookers for their amusement. He'll have to let Ivan fuck him in public for the viewing pleasure of sick men.
'I need to make the choice of if I want to live or let myself die. If I die, I can escape this world. If I live…then I still have to suffer.' He rolled over in the bed, letting silent tears fall onto his pillow. 'What a rough decision to make.'
/
Ivan sat on one of the park benches, alone, watching the moon climb higher and higher in the sky. He wondered what Gilbert was doing right now? Was he okay? Should he go and check on him? Maybe it was better if he stayed away until tomorrow to give Gilbert some time to cool off. He felt terrible for what he did today. He was a very selfish man.
"Why so glum, big guy?"
Ivan turned to look at the circus clown, whose name escaped him at the moment. Ivan knew him to be a fairly rude, obnoxious, and sarcastic man. "Nothing."
"Yeah, right! You're good at hiding stuff." The man flipped himself so he was standing on his hands while he continued to speak. "Come on, Crusty- can I call you Crusty?- Why the long face? Was your father a horse?" Ivan frowned. "That was a joke!" he walked past Ivan on his hands. "Come on, you can tell Ol' Pumpernickel Plum!"
Ivan knew that was his clown name. "No, I really don't think I can. Please, stand like a normal person?"
"Sheesh! Spoil sport." Pumpernickel returned to his feet. "Thinking about your albino friend whom you kicked the shit out of?"
Ivan flashed him a dangerous glare. "Watch your tongue, clown. Not everything you say is funny."
Pumpernickel laughed happily at that. "We have differences of opinion! Seriously, though, you feeling bad about beating him? Don't feel bad, buddy. You're no different from the rest of us here, you know." He jumped up to balance on the tip edge of the bench. "We're all being blackmailed in some way by Cliff and Billy-Boy!"
Ivan gave him a curious look. "All of us?"
"Sure. I mean, there's bound to be some who are in it simply because there's nothing for them in the real world." Pumpernickel chose to walk on the bench's ledge now with the grace of a cat. "I know I'm always the funny guy around here, but I hate to be the bearer of bad news my oaf-ish friend."
Ivan glared silently at him.
"My sister died of the cough. The same thing Gilbo has. I'm telling you, pal, don't get too close to Gilbo. He's going to kick the bucket soon and it won't be pretty. You're lucky he is not your brother or something like that. Makes the death and suffering twice as hard." He flipped over onto his hands to continue pacing the bench's back edge. "Save yourself the heartache and keep your distance from Gilbo. That is my advice to you, buddy boy."
"I'm sorry…but I'm afraid I can't abandon him; no matter how sick he is I will remain by his side."
"Phew. You are one loyal dog. Woof, woof!" He pulled out a horn from his shirt and honked it in Ivan's face.
Ivan was trying to control his temper.
"Here, I'll let you in on a little secret about 'the cough'." He flopped himself down beside Ivan. "It was too late for my sister, but our doctor told us that we should have gotten her out of the city and into the country. Why? Because there is so much bad air and gases in the city that it only makes it harder on the lungs. The cough doesn't simply shoo away bad fumes and smelly gases. All this smoke from automobiles? It's killing Gilbo as we speak. But the country…now there…there is where the cure is. Why do you think is that so, Ivan-ho?"
Ivan thought about the words and the questions, trying to come up with a suitable answer. He had none, so he guessed. "It…rains more?" He yelped when the horn was honked once again in his face.
"WRONG!" Three more honks. "The country side is fresh. All the fresh air from the mountains and the streams help to make the lungs healthy. That's all natural, and we are natural. We all came from nature. All this stuff you see, these stone buildings and bricks houses and automobiles; all were created by man, not by nature."
"So…you're saying that Gilbert's life could be prolonged simply by going out to the country side?"
Pumpernickel clicked his tongue a few times. "It's not fool-proof. With some studies they've done it would seem that people suffering with the cough do better in the fresh country air. It helps to heal. But, you won't be getting there any time soon. Gilbo will die before then." The clown stood up from the bench and started to walk away. "Remember, save yourself the heartache. Stay away."
Ivan watched him leave and pondered over the words. What the clown had said was the same question he had asked himself about his relationship with Gilbert. But it was a chance he was willing to take, and abandoning Gilbert now after what he did today would crush the man. However, what the clown said about the countryside seemed to make sense. Not only for Gilbert but for himself as well. Escaping the city could give him the freedom he so desperately sought. But, it would be near impossible for them to get to the countryside. The only way to go would be by train and tickets were expensive. Only the rich could travel by train. But even if they did reach the country, where would they go? No one would hire them in the city, so who would hire them on a countryside farm or ranch? At least here in the city they knew how to find food. But in the country?
In the end he decided to visit the train station while it was still light out and see what was involved. He told one of the circus workers he was leaving and made his way to the station as fast as he could. Ivan ran down the streets and followed signs to the train station. When he arrived there was a locked gate with a guard there. The guard saw him and, looking a little frightened, told Ivan that he could not come in without a ticket. Ivan asked where he could get one and the guard pointed to a booth. Ivan walked over, staying his distance from the crowd, and looked at the train map. He scratched his head. The colored lines confused him. So waiting patiently for his turn, Ivan asked the man behind the booth how to get to the country.
"Excuse me, sir? I just want to know how far a ride it is to the country."
The man, like the other guard, backed away from him. "Depends on where you want to go. It would be half a day's ride to the country. Where are you lookin' to go?"
"Oh, I'm not sure yet. Just thinking about places to visit." He smiled.
"Well, sir, try not to get offended, and it's not my rules or policy, but…well…this station is for wealthy people. And I'm sorry to say, sir, but your kind would not be accepted on these trains."
Ivan frowned but offered a solution. "Can I ride in the cargo part? The coal train, maybe? If I have the money to pay then why should it matter where I sit?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but that's something I'll have to ask my manager. Now we're getting ready to close, sir, so please return at another time when you are ready to buy tickets and we'll talk to the manager then. Good day, sir." The man closed the booth curtains and put out a sign that said 'closed'.
Ivan gave a heavy sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaving the station. He should have known something like that would be the reason why they could not ride the train. They would have to sneak on the train, maybe bribe someone to let them pass. Another issue was their status and dress; they would not be allowed on the train with the rich. Now how were they to get to the country side? Defeated, Ivan kept his head lowered as he headed back to the circus.
/
The following morning it was raining. Gilbert had a hard time getting out of bed but it was his stomach that provided him with the motivation. The rain wasn't falling hard and getting wet never really bothered him. He hurried to the eating area, eager to know what Hefty Helga had made for them today. The eating area was covered with a tent and most of the circus staff were there eating. Gilbert caught sight of Ivan sitting all alone at a far table. He frowned at his lover, but decided that he would go and sit with him. Ivan was still all he had in this world right now and he wouldn't let his stubborn pride ruin that. Gilbert would still voice his anger, though. So taking his tray of food he went to join Ivan at the table.
"Hey." He greeted flatly.
Ivan looked up. "Oh. Good morning, Gilbert. Rainy today, huh?"
"Obviously." Gilbert answered and glanced out at the rain.
"Gilbert…I'm very sorry about yesterday. Are you still mad at me?"
He nodded. "I am. You pissed me off, and you really hurt me, Ivan!" He took an angry bite out of his bread. "And then you tell me not to act out so you don't have to hit me? I mean, what was the deal with that?"
Ivan's brows furrowed sadly. "I'm playing my role, Gillbert. If you do as I say then I won't be forced to beat you. Clifford said you are supposed to be sad, scared, and submissive."
"That fucking brat threw a rock at me!"
"I know. I saw what had happened. Remember, this is all for the money. Money is what we need right now if we are to get you better."
Gilbert felt ready to cry as he remembered the coughing fit he had had last night. To hide his tears, he shoved a spoonful of the oatmeal in his mouth. "Yeah, I know. I got ten gold coins yesterday."
"Ten? Wow, Gilbie! That's a lot of money!" 'Not enough for a train ticket plus a doctor, though.' The doctor would have to come first and then he could see about purchasing train tickets. The question on his mind now was should he tell Gilbert of the country and the trains? He didn't want to get Gilbert's hopes up if the idea were to fail. Gilbert's spirit was broken enough without something like this blowing up in his face.
"Yo, Ivan! You went away on me for a second there!"
"Oh, sorry. I was thinking, that's all." HE cleared his throat. "How are you feeling today?"
"I'm doing okay. Got a little sick last night."
"Sick? What kind of sick? Were you coughing again?"
Gilbert nodded. "It was pretty bad, too. More blood this time."
Ivan reached over the table and gripped Gilbert's hand. He smiled at his lover. "You have enough money for a doctor visit. Would you like for me to go and fetch a doctor for you? I could go right now."
Gilbert looked at their hands clasped together, lifted his pink eyes, and smiled back at Ivan. "Yeah, I guess that would be for the best. Wouldn't hurt, right?"
"Not at all. I'll go now, okay?"
"Best ask Cliff first so he knows where you are."
Ivan stood up from the table. "So do you forgive me, now?"
Gilbert put his nose up in the air. "I'll think about it. Your reasoning behind what you did is correct, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."
'Those words are a lie.' Ivan said to himself. "Alright, I'll be back shortly."
"Be careful out there."
"I will. Just try and rest in your wagon until I get back."
/
Clifford gave him permission to bring back a doctor, but finding one had proven to be quite a challenge. The first doctor Ivan went to was too expensive. The second one would not make house calls to a circus. Finally, the third doctor offered to see Gilbert and he went along with Ivan. The doctor was a short and stumpy man with glasses and a beard. He had to be in his upper years of age. Ivan had to bring the doctor to Clifford first, who approved of him, and accompanied them as well to Gilbert's wagon.
Ivan gave a steady knock and called to him. "Gilbert? Are you in there? I have the doctor here with us."
"Come in!" Gilbert called. He watched as Ivan, the doctor, and Clifford entered one by one. He pulled the covers up over his lap a little more.
The doctor took one look at him and gasped. "You're an albino!"
Gilbert gave an annoyed smile in Ivan's direction. "You didn't tell him that?" His white brow was twitching.
Ivan looked sheepish and lifted his hands in that classic, 'I don't know' pose. "I forgot?"
"Amazing! Astonishing!" The doctor went over to him with his medical bag. "Your name is Gilbert, correct?"
"Yeah. And who are you?"
"I'm Doctor Byron. I must say I have never treated an albino person who has the cough."
Gilbert clicked his tongue. "Am I really any different from other people?"
Byron looked amused at that. "No color at all when you should have color? We know very little about your kind. Does everything on you function normally? Aside from your cough, that is?"
"The hell kind of question is that?" Gilbert lifted his head as the doctor felt his neck.
"I just need to know more about your regular condition before I prescribe anything. Open your mouth." Gilbert did so.
Ivan asked, "How much is this going to cost him?"
"Six gold pieces." Byron answered and took out a stethoscope from his bag. "Breath deep for me." He placed it on Gilbert's chest in a few spots. "Abnormalities, but that's expected with the cough." He removed the device and turned to Ivan and Clifford. "There is no cure for this illness, but we do have some medicine that has proven to open the lungs and make breathing easier."
"How much is that?" Clifford asked.
"Four gold pieces."
'That's everything I've earned!' Gilbert said to himself. 'I'll only have one left!'
"We'll take it." Clifford said and opened his colorful coin purse. "This medicine will be on me."
Ivan smiled at him. "That is very kind of you."
"No!" Gilbert put his hands up. "No, I'll pay for the stuff myself. Keep your money, Clifford."
"But Gilbert, let me do something nice for you!" Clifford pouted.
"Fine!" Gilbert sighed. "Do it then." 'What will I have to owe him for this one?'
"Doctor Byron?" Ivan called to him as the doctor was packing up his things. "Is there anything else we can do for Gilbert?"
Doctor Byron took off his glasses to clean them with a cloth. "There is no cure, as I've said. But you can help to make him more comfortable. Keep his chest warm whenever it's cold out. If you have a hot water bag you can rest that on his chest when it starts to ache. Lots of fresh air if you can manage it. Eliminate stress, if you can. What Gilbert really needs is a lot of rest and a good diet. I can tell he is very thin and for someone with his ailments food is a necessity." He placed the small bottle of medicine on the end table. "When the bottle is finished please return it to me or I'll charge extra."
"Thank you, doctor." Ivan went over to the bed and sat with Gilbert.
"Call on me again if anything changes or gets worse." Clifford paid him for the medicine and Ivan paid for the service out of Gilbert's gold.
"We will. Thank you." Ivan said again and squeezed Gilbert's hand in his own. "See Gilbie? That wasn't so bad."
"Ivan," Clifford started, "May I speak to Gilbert alone for a few moments? You can see Doctor Byron out."
"Oh, yes." Ivan wanted to ask the doctor about the countryside. As he led the doctor through the circus grounds he asked him about the country. "Doctor, may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"I was told that being in the country and breathing in that air can help a person with Gilbert's problem. Is that true?"
"Oh, most definitely. While mankind has made great inventions and discovers to make living easier, this also brings about more health complications and sickness. Many of the gases and air we breathe in the city is very damaging to our bodies, with or without the cough. This is the price man pays for industrial revolution."
Ivan nodded. "So if I were to get Gilbert out into the country he could get better?"
"It won't cure him. There is no cure for the cough. The best we can hope for is prolonging the patients' life by eliminating possible sources that can make it worse."
"I see…" Ivan was hoping for a better answer than that. Would going to the country and taking all that risk be even worth it?
"However, I can see that your friends' situation is a money problem. Working the circus will not keep paying for his health like this. But I am willing to make a deal with your friend."
"What kind of deal?"
"We doctors need to watch, observe, and take notes on patients with the cough. The more information we have the quicker we are to finding solutions. If your friend will let me observe him in his illness then I will not charge for my services."
Ivan's eyes widened. "Do you mean that?"
"I do. Talk it over with your friend. I can tell he's the stubborn type. Strong willed, too. Let me know his answer by the end of the week. And as for your…condition, I have lotion for that."
"Oh, I'm alright. It doesn't bother me anymore."
"Let me see then. I know when Syphilis looks good and when it is at its worst."
Ivan took a step back. "No, really, I'm okay."
"There is no reason to be shy. I'm a doctor! I see these sorts of things all the time. I'm here to help."
"I don't want your help. Just leave me alone, okay? If I want your help I'll ask for it."
Doctor Byron looked miffed. "Very well then. I only hope your friend is more compliant than you are."
"The exit is that way. Thank you again for coming by."
Ivan watched the man leave with a breath of relief. 'That was a close one.' He cleared his throat. 'I should get back to Gilbert. I wonder what Clifford is talking about with him?'
Ivan hurried to the wagon. He still had a lot to think about.
End Chapter 8 TBC
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Goodnight Noises Everywhere