Ashes to Ashes: Book I

"Father, your brother is dead."

The words in Nicolas' ears faintly, but he found them hard to absorb. It seemed like it had only been yesterday that he had been living at home and now he was being told that his brother was dead? The idea was incomprehensible and he could not entirely squash the sick feeling that rose up as he tried to understand what he was being told.

After all, Jerard had been the only member of his family that had seemed to remotely matter. Now, he was gone, the elder brother left alone.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, forcing a smile. The words did not feel genuine. They were just what he thought one should say. After all, there was little reason to be rude to the messenger of such poor news. "Would you happen to know when the funeral is?"

With a keen eye, the priest watched as the servant's expression thinned slightly. A plastic smile graced his face. "Not yet," he said politely. He was lying. Perhaps his parents were already discussing it? Though, why lie?

"I see. Tell my parents to contact me when they have decided the date." Having no desire to continue this conversation, if it could even be called that, he turned on foot and headed for the chapel.

Of course his parents would not acquiesce to his only request. That had never been within their nature. They would answer when they wanted to, not when he asked.

Worse still, they would have the gall to ask- nay, demand- that he perform his own brother's funeral. Was he supposed to say no? While the choice was obviously there, it was hardly one at all. He knew what he would lose if he did.

It did not mean he did not regret it. Standing here, it was hard not to. Jerard appeared to be the very image of him. However, he looked far more peaceful than he had ever been.

Harshly, Nicolas coughed into his hand.

It felt like a piece of Nicolas was missing. How long had Jerard been dead? A day? A week? A year? He was not entirely sure. It felt like it had been an eternity.

"Father Nicolas, the doctor is here."

The brunette turned his head toward the other priest. By him was a handsome, young man. The physician offered a light smile before moving forward. "Hello," he said, sharp eyes looking over Nicolas before making to grab a chair and sitting down next to the bed. "I am Raphael." Lightly, he pressed two fingers to the priest's throat to feel his pulse. Seeming to wait several moments, he pulled away.

Turning his attention to his bag, he dug around for a bit. After a moment, he pulled out a healing potion. "Take this for now," he said, his voice strict, "If it doesn't work or you begin to get worse, contact me again."

The potion had been foul. Worse, it had not seemed to make him better. Slowly but surely Nicolas had seemed to get worse over the week and he found himself in the company of Raphael once more.

"Your humors must be unbalanced," he mused. Nicolas eyed him with a frown. Oddly enough, the physician's tone did not exactly sound like Raphael believed the diagnosis himself.

"You do not sound particularly confident," he pointed out dryly.

That seemed to get a raised eyebrow out of the man. "Doubting me, Father?" He quipped, sounding more amused than anything else, "One would think you would be inclined to feel better."

Blearily, he turned his gaze upwards. "I cannot imagine how I gave the impression of feeling that way."

Raphael turned his attention to his bag. "You have a flock to tend to, no?" It was not a question despite the phrasing. He could tell. "I would imagine that would be a reason to live."

Nicolas could not help but scoff. "I did not choose to be priest," he said. He could not help but relax, as if a great burden had been taken off his shoulders. He had not realized until now that that had been building up within him.

Raphael turned his attention to Nicolas before focusing on the bloodletting. "Is that so?" He mused, "Do you even know what you'd want to do if you had had a choice?"

"I don't know," he admitted, a wave of dizziness overcoming him, "Perhaps I would just be doing the same thing as I am now."

After a long moment, Raphael stopped the treatment. "Well, Father Nicolas," he said lightly as he began to pack up, "Hopefully we won't have to see each other again." Dipping his head, the doctor took his leave.

Nicolas was fairly certain that his health was growing worse. As days turned into weeks and weeks turned into years, it seemed as though he was growing more tired, slowly wasting away. The only company that he seemed to have now was his doctor. His parents could clearly only be bothered to do the bare minimum, sending the odd letter that he had long stopped looking at. As for the few friends he might have made, he was not even sure they were all within Paris any longer.

"Raphael," he greeted, his tone heavily laced with exhaustion. He was graced with a smile from the physician. "I am sorry you have to visit me again. I am sure you have other patients to visit."

"Nonsense," the doctor said, sitting by his bed as he always did, "You matter as much of my patients. Perhaps more so."

A faint clamor could be heard beyond the room. The other priests, Nicolas mused, must be fairly busy today. "I cannot imagine how," he said, "I should think it obvious that not even a physician can save me now."

Faintly, he watched as Raphael went about his usual process, taking out everything for the usual process. "Oh?" Nicolas expected further inquiry. Instead, Raphael's attention turned to the window, his expression thoughtful. "If that is the case, would you live your life differently if you were given the chance?"

"What an odd question," Nicolas mused, "Perhaps. At the very least, it would have been nice to travel more than I have- to see beyond Paris." It was a shame that his illness had prevented him from doing that much.

Raphael turned his attention to him, his gaze piercing. "And what if I could take you beyond Paris?"

Nicolas laughed, thinking it a joke. "Then I would wonder why you haven't already," he half-jested.

A sharp smile curled across Raphael's face before everything around the man clattered to the floor. A scream escaped Nicolas as teeth pierced his skin. Weakly, he tried to push against the man. Quickly, he found himself fading, the world turning black, and the background noise growing duller.

And then there was only pain.