Link to article: Grief in Greyscale.
component:preview
[[include component:preview text= A tale about holding on and letting go. Why do we cling to lies?]] [[>]] [[module Rate]] [[/>]] It takes ten full seconds before Dr. Javier Cabrera realises their lab coat sleeve is currently submerged in a beaker of heavily diluted hydrofluoric acid. Hissing in horror, they jump back and yank it off. The sleeve’s edge catches the beaker, tipping it and releasing its contents onto the stainless steel bench and the equipment set up. Despite the dilution, the bench begins to smoke; a soft crackle rises from the discarded coat as the acid meanders up the sleeve, leaving a small puddle of sodden fibres behind. A loud clatter makes them flinch. The stool has fallen over. They stares at the mess for a long moment, their hands hanging limply by their side. Activity stops around the lab; a few researchers look uncomfortably askance, a few more casting sympathetic glances their way. One young lab assistant approaches, xyr face kind. From the way xe doesn't get too close, they know they must smell awful. “Javi, you’ve been in here for days. You should go see him. I’ll clean this up.” “I… I have to keep working. I promised Dr. Kumar I would run this tonight.” Javi curls their hands up, digging their nails into their palms, letting the pain ground them. “You need a break, sir. He’s waiting for you.” Javi’s hands go slack. “I- thank you.” They let the heavy swing doors shut behind them before they crumple into themself and heave. ----- //“What- No!”// //Francis shook his fist at the retreating seagull, its beak packed with fries. Javi swore they could see a triumphant glint in its beady little red eyes. “You sky rat!”// //“Hey, it’s just trying to survive,” Javi mumbled through a mouthful of battered cod. They winced. “Eugh. Why did we go here again?”// //“TripAdvisor,” Francis said. “I promise, the site said this was some of the best fish and chips you could get on this island. It had 4.6 stars.” He shoved some of the remaining fries into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully, his dark hair whipping around his face. He'd forgone shaving for a few weeks now; a small goatee sprouted from his chin. Javi was considering asking him to keep it. “Hmm.”// //Reaching out, Javi adjusted the book they’d placed on the edge of the picnic blanket with their foot so the harsh wind wouldn’t sweep it away and laughed. “Or maybe you just remember wrong.”// //A few metres away, the waves fell like thunder onto the beach. Seagull cries echoed on the howling wind. The sky had been overcast for hours, the air heavy with the promise of rain, but Francis had insisted on the picnic date, saying it was a “classic Kiwi thing to do” while they were on vacation. Javi wasn’t so sure; they were beginning to suspect Francis was starting to regret their decision, but their boyfriend was stubborn. If he was having second thoughts, he wouldn’t show it. Javi smiled.// //The sky turned a shade darker. Francis looked down at the book he’d been engrossed in, sighed, and held it up to show Javi the tiny wet spots on the page. “Do you think we should head back in now?”// //“I don’t know. You’re the one who wanted us to do this. It’s your call.”// //Javi smirked as they watched Francis’s mulishness and common sense war on his face. “Maybe it’ll just be a drizzle?” Francis offered.// //As soon as he finished speaking, the sky opened up with a sound like a cannon. The thick, warm air quickly cooled. Heavy rain soaked the sand in seconds, turning the beach dark gray. Javi’s thick, fluffy black hair began to stick to their scalp as they tipped their head up to the rain and laughed, the sound muffled. “You think so?”// //Francis, in classic field agent style, was already on his feet, frantically packing up the picnic site. “Never mind! Don’t just sit there looking gorgeous, we need to go!”// //Later, sitting together in Javi’s rental car, the heater turned up, they watched the gunmetal sea churn under the weight of the falling water. Francis scooted across the passenger’s seat and lay his head on Javi’s shoulder. Javi put their arm around him. The rain kept falling.// ----- Francis is asleep when Javi enters the quarantine bay. Javi almost smiles at the familiar sight, at the rise and fall of Francis’s chest as he lies on the cot. As his disease progresses, Francis has been sleeping more and more. Javi doesn’t know if it’s exhaustion or escape. They turn to leave, but Francis stirs at their footsteps, rubbing his eyes. “Javi? Is that you? Are you there?” he croaks. “Always.” Javi says it like a promise. Francis swings his feet out of bed, padding over to the tempered glass wall that separates the sick from the grieving. He is thinner than usual, his veins prominent. His cheeks have begun to hollow out. Javi presses their hand fiercely to the glass, as if somehow, by applying enough force, they’ll be able to feel the warmth of Francis’s hand. They hope Francis doesn’t notice the bags under their own eyes, the redness of their face. Although he has only been in quarantine for a few days, the chasm in their shared bed already yawns wide. With a pang, Javi notices that the grey sheen on Francis's bare feet and hands has spread. “You look awful, Javi. How are you feeling?" Francis says with concern. There is a question in the question. Francis knows them too well not to wonder. //Are you punishing yourself again? Is it my fault?// “No, I- Don’t worry about me. I’m not the one in the quarantine chamber.” Javi forces a smile. It doesn’t work. “Javi, please. I’m fine. It doesn't hurt. The only thing you’re doing is exhausting yourself. Go rest, OK? I’ll still be here in the morning.” //Will you, though?// Javi is never sure. “It hasn’t been long enough for them to find anything concrete,” Francis says. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll run its course.” His chuckle doesn’t even seem to convince himself. There is something else he knows, something Javi doesn’t want to ask about. Something they want to pretend isn’t there. They take their hand away, watching the print fade slowly. Feel the cold pane sting the indents on their palms. “Maybe.” It’s a funny thing, Javi thinks, how people cling to lies. ----- //Javi’s chest heaved, their throat sore from running. They looked frantically around the medical bay, trying to find Francis amid the clamour of activity, pushing through the medical staff who tried to drag them away. “Francis? Francis? There you are, I came as soon as they told me, I-”// //Francis, surrounded by hazmat suits and masked personnel, flinched away. “Javi, get out! Leave!”// //“I had to see you!” Javi’s voice broke.// //A blur of emotions flickered across Francis’s face, his eyes rolling up. He moaned, stumbling, and was caught by a black rubber-gloved arm. The expression on his face was something Javi had never seen in all their years together, and his voice came out hoarse and ragged.// //“You have to leave, Javi, you have to go. I couldn’t live with myself if I infected you, too.” As Javi watched, his Foundation-issued field agent clothes were confiscated, put into a bag and carted away for incineration. In the thin, sterile hospital gown he was provided, Francis looked so fragile; a naked thing, caught amidst the chaos.// //“Dr. Cabrera, you can’t be here.” A stern-looking masked medical doctor steered them towards the door. They let her, eyes fixed on Francis’s retreating back. Hazmats ushered him towards the secure door leading to the quarantine bay. He cast a frantic look over his shoulder back at Javi as he stepped into the decontamination airlock, and Javi stared back, their face anguished.// //After giving the medical officers attending their contact details, Javi went back to their quarters and stared at the wall until dawn broke.// ----- It has been a month now. Javi tries to breathe slowly as they approach Francis’s quarantine chamber. In their head, they repeat a silent prayer. //Please. Please. Please.// Francis has been getting worse. Officially, Javi is here to interview the subject. They are equipped with an audio recorder which they know will not be used. Francis has now been given an SCP designation that ends in -A, one that Javi bestowed themself. Acquiring their first assignment as Lead Researcher on a project at such a young age, in any other circumstances, would make Javi over the moon. But they have no time now for anything other than their work. And their work is Francis. “Hey, it’s me. It’s Javi.” “Javi.” Francis’s voice is calm. With a shock, Javi sees that the grey sheen, starting at his feet and hands, has advanced- now it disappears up into his hospital gown, going both up and down. It nips at his neck. The disease has progressed terrifyingly fast. “Do I know you?” “Yes, you do.” Even to their own ears, Javi’s voice sounds pleading. Their heart beats fast, and they clench their fists, trying to level. “You do. I’m your fiance. You remember me.” “I… I think I do,” Francis says hesitantly. “Do I?” “You do,” Javi insists. “OK.” Javi blinks fast, searching for a way to distract themself, a way in. “How are you doing, Francis? Are the medical staff treating you well?” they ask. “I’m doing well. The medical staff have been pleasant.” God, but he sounds like a robot. Javi almost giggles at the absurdity of it. “Hey. Um. So, I’ve been thinking. You know what the best part of getting a disease no one’s ever heard of is?” “What?” “You get to name it. So, what’ll it be?” Javi tries to keep the smile on their face. Francis’s is blank. He mulls it over. “Hmm. I think… I don’t know.” He looks up. “I’m sorry.” “Francis, you can do better. Come on, put some thought into it.” Javi hates how their voice sounds so wheedling. Francis tilts his head gently. “But I don’t know.” Flat, expressionless. “You should do it.” “Where did you go, Francis?” Javi whispers, their voice breaking slightly. “Why did you leave me?” The grey, pallid man with their fiance’s name and face stares back at Javi. He stands stock still, a puppet without strings, breathing evenly, in and out. In and out. “What do you mean?” he asks. “I’m in front of you.” Javi slams their hands against the glass with a loud thud. The thing doesn’t flinch. “I’m going to get you back,” Javi mutters. “I have to. I will. I can save you.” “I don’t understand.” “Shut up.” The grey sheen on Francis’s body creeps slowly on. ----- //“And I walked in, and he was sitting there, on the toilet.” Francis concludes.// //The low sound of his chuckling mixes with Javi’s sudden eruption of laughter, loud in the small, darkened, wood-panelled meeting room. Both of them seem out of place, at the long table surrounded by empty chairs, with the acoustics making every sound echo. After it subsides, Javi wipes their eyes, their face still stretched in a wide grin.// //“Oh, God. I forgot how good you were at telling stories. They would’ve loved you in, like, the Middle Ages or some shit.” Javi hiccups. “Oops. I think I need some water.”// //Francis stands, looking around the walls. “Uh, there’s a cooler over here. I don’t know how long we’ve got until the seminar starts.”// //“Five minutes, I think,” Javi says, looking at their watch. They sigh dramatically. “You should probably get on to whatever cool field agent stuff you’ve got going. Leave me here to die of boredom.” They kick their feet, swiveling in circles. “Like, I don’t know anyone who’s interested in ‘advanced micropipetting techniques’. I’d rather drink a cup of flesh-eating bacteria.”// //Setting the cup of water down carefully, Francis bends down to kiss Javi lightly on the forehead.// //“You’ll be fine, Jav. You’re going to knock them out of the park with your insights, I’m sure. See you afterwards, alright?”// //The door swings open. A few sullen researchers carrying folders under their arms begin to file in, casting curious glances at the two.// //“Alright.”// //Francis gives them one last wave before exiting the room. Javi waves back until the door swings closed and he is gone.// ----- “Can you spin for me, please?” The D-Class, blank-faced behind the glass of the quarantine chamber, does as directed. “Left arm up. Left arm down. Right arm up. Right arm down. Turn to your left. Now turn to your right. Follow the light with your eyes. Thank you, D-45670. That'll be all for now." Javi notes down how far the grey has spread before moving on to the next containment cell, where the second D-Class awaits. The quarantine bay is full now. Three glass panes, three people slowly losing themselves. Lying, now, comes to Javi fluently. They cling to it. An unknown number of D-Class, they say to the concerned doctors, exposed to the disease while cleaning the bay after Francis’s frantic confinement. A tragic accident, certainly. Any personnel showing signs are to be moved to the quarantine bays. Further observation is needed. But now the blood sample they stole from Francis’s file is depleted, and there will be no more chances after these last subjects are exhausted. Like all the others, Javi does not hold out much hope for this particular trial. All of them so far have been shots in the dark. Even so, with each injection, with every plunger depressed, a small kernel of desperate belief is born, only to wither with each passing day. They do not expect this to be any different. Slowly, Javi becomes aware of a thumping sound from the back of the last D-Class’s cell. Their spirits falter, then soar. The infected do nothing without guidance. The greying, the name Javi has designated this affliction, makes them nothing but empty husks. Some display of initiative means progress - it could mean a cure. They rush to the cell. Inside, the D-Class’s face is covered in blood. She bashes her head methodically, rhythmically, against the whitewashed concrete wall. Brain matter is splayed across the dent she’s made in her own forehead. Blood drips down to pool at the bottom. It is grey. Javi turns away from the scene and calls the guards to terminate her. It’s mercy, they tell themself. It’s a necessary loss in the name of science. On their clipboard, they put a line through her name. Their pen does not quiver. Francis would be horrified if he knew what Javi had done for him. This is a fact they prefer to ignore, but one that nips at their thoughts nonetheless. Yes, Francis would be horrified- but the thing two cells over is only Francis in memory. It does not speak. It does not shout, or wail, or beg them to stop. It just watches, silently. Javi is not sure if this is better or worse. Sometimes they think about a future in which their efforts have resulted in a cure. They think about lying in his arms, an unspoken wall between them. They think about Francis’s confusion, his betrayal, at the hesitation on Javi’s lips when he asks what’s wrong. They think about how distant they feel from the person they used to love being. That Francis loved. Then they think about burying him. And they keep working. ----- //“Favourite show?”// //“Hmm.” Francis pondered for a second. “Have you heard of Stargate Atlantis?”// //Javi’s eyes widened. “That’s my favourite, too!”// //Francis snorted. The two sat together, both in their stuffy suits, at a table near the back of the ballroom. The Site's Annual Ball was nearing its end, but the relationship it had fostered was just beginning.// //A steady stream of attendees filed past out of the doors. One large group detached, approaching the two.// //“Javi, are you coming?” one asked. “The other JRs are hosting an afterparty in their accom block.”// //“Maybe later!” Javi called, smiling widely. “I have something to do!” They waved them off, turning back to Francis.// //“So you like the weird nerd stuff, then?” they said.// //Francis chuckled. “Yeah, I guess.”// //“I can’t believe we watch the same stuff. I’ve never actually met anyone I could talk to about it before.” Javi couldn’t keep the massive smile off their face.// //“Well, now you have.” Francis paused, looking at the backs of the retreating group. He chose his words carefully. “Javi, I don’t want to keep you from your friends. If you want to go to the afterparty, you can go. Don’t feel like you need to stay on my account.”// //Javi blinked. “Do you want to go, too?”// //“They wouldn’t want me there.” Francis rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’m not exactly Mx. Popular, like you.”// //“What do you mean by that?”// //“You’re very well known. Dr. Javier Cabrera, beloved rising star of the Anomalous Microbiology department, and of the site. You’re a bona-fide genius, and I’m a regular old mid-level field agent.” He laughed.// //“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Javi’s face flushed. “I guess.”// //“I’m not jealous,” Francis clarified hastily. “I’ve just heard all this praise about you. You’re not how I thought you’d be.”// //“I know. Weirdo nerd, right? Sorry to disappoint.” Javi looked away.// //“No, it’s alright.” Francis grinned. “You see, I like the weird nerd stuff.”// ----- Javi does not call the thing in the quarantine chamber Francis anymore. Earlier this week, Javi had to have a loudspeaker system installed in the quarantine bay; the thing that was Francis can no longer think for itself. Three times a day, an automated voice instructs it to eat, drink, and defecate. It instructs it when to sleep and to wake. The hours in between it spends standing motionless, empty. Gone. Daily visits have turned into weekly, and weekly to none. For a long, long while, they have spent their time searching for a way to bring him back. It has taken burning bridges, and building them. Late nights in the Site’s archives, reading up on paraepidemiology until they felt like they were about to go blind. Phone calls, frantic meetings trying to convince the site director to expand the project’s budget, just one more time. They’d called in every favour both them and Francis possessed, denying themself rest. The fingernail marks on their palms itch and ooze. It has taken everything. And it still isn’t quite enough. Their research team has gone home for the day. They're good people, Javi knows. But to them, this project is just an interesting case. A novelty. They’ve gotten used to their neurotic, fragile boss- Javi suspects the only reason they haven’t been suspended from the project is because the work their team is doing is of use to the Foundation. They have fallen a long, long way. Sometimes, in their darkest moments, Javi finds themself wishing Francis was already dead. The black substance in the vial in front of them gleams slightly in the harsh lighting. Javi knows exactly how it works, the ins and outs of its composition. The effect it had on the last D-Class was miraculous. It is the product of their partnership with a memeticist, who’d transferred over from a distant site just to examine Francis’s condition. An interesting oddity. She’d since returned, with a new paper in the works. They hope it will be well-received. She reminds them of themself, the way they were before Francis got sick and everything became so, so unimportant. The substance has a caveat, of course. It is only temporary. It will not work forever. And when the effects begin to fade, when the disease begins to assert itself again, the effects are not pretty. The D-Class’s screams still ring in Javi’s ears. They carry no false assumptions. This is not a cure. But it could be closure. And despite it all, Javi hopes, because it is the only thing they have left. ----- //“Can I see it?” Javi asked. After nine emails written in all-caps to the site director, security had finally let them in to see Francis. The quarantine bay was quiet, the other chambers empty. Francis stood at the wall, shrouded in a thin blanket. His chamber was clean, sterile, and sparse. To Javi’s immense relief, he seemed well, if shaken.// //“Mm.” Francis held out his arms towards Javi. Sure enough, a grey hue was visible at the tips of his fingers. “It’s on my feet, too.” He sighed. “They keep saying they’ll move me to an actual room, somewhere more private, but it hasn’t happened yet. I feel like I’m an exhibit at a zoo.”// //“They’re probably just starry-eyed over the fact that you’ve got something no one’s ever heard of before,” Javi said. “They don’t even know what it does. Kind of cool, right?” They hoped the terror wasn’t audible in their voice. “Did they tell you where it came from?”// //Francis made a middling gesture with his hand, his mouth pursed. “They’re telling me it’s some kind of dormant disease that I’ve had brewing in me for years. I have no idea how I picked it up. If I hadn’t been exposed to that amnestic gas by accident, I would’ve never known.”// //“Hey, you’ll be OK. It could be nothing.” Javi put their palm up against the glass wall. Inside, it contained a cot, a small steel toilet, and a sink. Javi vowed silently to bring over as many things from their shared quarters as possible, anything Francis asked for. A glass room wasn’t home, but they’d do their best.// //“I know.”// //Javi sniffed. “And if it's not, well, then you’ll be in the right place. They're classifying this thing as a skip, right? I can get myself assigned to your case. We can find a cure. This is the Foundation, after all.”// //“You’re right.”// //“When am I not?”// //Javi expected Francis to laugh, to shoot a carefully crafted comeback, but he did neither of those things. He just stood there, blinking slowly. A chill slid down Javi’s spine. They laughed nervously. “Francis?”// //He said nothing.// //“...Francis? Hey. Francis? Look at me.”// //Finally, Francis snapped to. He shook his head, as though clearing away cobwebs. “I’m sorry, Javi. It’s… I’ve had a long day.”// //“Yeah.” Javi smiled in relief. “Same here.”// ----- Javi is not ready. How can someone ever be ready for something like this? They find themself taking smaller steps. Savouring every bite of food while the clock ticks on, the space between seconds devastatingly miniscule. Trapped in purgatory, grieving in advance. Every minute they waste, Francis is suffering. They feel the selfishness of their hesitation like a twisting knife. Javi cannot prolong what is necessary any longer. So, when their shift ends, they do not cry. Alone in their lab, they load up the small syringe, nestle it gently in its carry case, and turn the lights off as they leave. ----- //It was quiet in their quarters; Francis sat on the edge of their bed, polishing a small knife. The sky through their small window teemed with stars. Javi sat up, putting their book aside. This was the moment.// //They took a deep breath.// //“Francis, I… I can’t marry you until I can stop worrying that I’m going to lose you.”// //Francis paused. His face assumed the expression Javi had come to know so well; brow furrowed slightly, eyes darting left to right. It meant he was thinking, choosing his words carefully. He set the knife aside, turning to look directly at Javi.// //"What do you mean?"// //"The high-risk assignments you take. I want you to stop."// //Francis exhaled.// //“Any employment here means danger. Death is an occupational hazard. I understand where you’re coming from, but I don’t think I can do what you’re asking me to, Javi.”// //“I’m not asking you to quit!” Javi felt their frustration start to boil up, but tamped it down. “I’m just asking you to- to tone it down a little. Yes, there’s dangerous shit everywhere, but they’ve got you diving headfirst at it at every opportunity. I’m just suggesting that you take more of a back seat. Do the safer stuff. That’s all.”// //“Javi, I can’t.”// //“Why not?”// //Francis massaged the bridge of his nose. “The higher-ups aren’t going to be happy.”// //“You’ll still be in operation as a field agent. They’ll live.”// //“You don’t understand!” Francis’s voice was strained. Javi had never seen their boyfriend so upset. They cringed. Francis continued.// //“I love my job. And I’m really, really good at it. You know what that’s like, don’t you? It’s the only thing that gives me- that tells me I’m making a difference. Being a field agent makes me feel like I’m worthy of being with you, Javi. You can’t ask me to give that up.”// //Javi was silent for a minute. Then they spoke. “Worthy of being… with me?”// //“Just…forget I said anything.” Francis pulled at his sleeves. Javi put their hand on top of his, stopping it. He looked up.// //“No matter what you do, or who you are, I will always love you, Francis Barnes. I don’t care who you are as long as you love me.”// //Francis smirked. “You stole that from a song.”// //“No, I didn’t!” Javi said indignantly. “I made that up. It came from my heart.”// //“Sure.” Francis began to hum the song quietly, looking squarely at Javi. They laughed.// //“Stop trying to distract me. This is serious.”// //The humming stopped. Francis sighed. “OK. I’m listening.”// //”Thank you.” Javi paused. “Look, every time you leave on a mission, you’re gone for weeks. Sometimes months. I can’t- I spend that time thinking about all the ways you could get hurt. I just want you safe, Francis. I can’t lose you.”// //Francis fidgeted with his polishing rag on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping. Javi sat beside him. Neither of them looked at each other for a while.// //“Fine. I’ll ask for a transfer tomorrow,” Francis said at last. His voice was quiet and flat. “They won’t be happy, but they can’t deny me.” He reached out and took Javi’s hand.// //Javi squeezed back. “Thank you.”// //Francis sighed. “It won’t be easy. I won’t be bringing home all that hazard pay anymore.”// //“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Javi said. They grinned. “Still enough to afford rings, right?”// //Francis didn’t respond for a minute. “Listen, I… I know what we’ve decided, but this is a big step.” His face turned red. “Not that I don’t want to marry you- I really, really do, but I just-”// //Javi laughed. The only time they’d ever known Francis to stumble over his words was when he was around them. “I know. We’ll be alright, Francis. We’ll be OK.”// //For a moment, Francis looked like he was about to argue. Then his face softened and he lay back. “Yeah. We always are.”// //Javi lay down beside him, and they fell asleep entwined.// ----- It is time. Javi tries to grip the moments tightly, even as they slip through their fingers like ash. Five hours. That is all they have. And although Javi did not tell Francis that they had put something extra in the black liquid filling the syringe they have given him, they suspect he knows. Neither of them are the same, now, but neither acknowledges this fact. For all the resources Javi has had access to, they could not find a priest. So they marry themselves. Outside, people pass by the small, circular window in the heavy door leading to the quarantine bay; inside, it is as if they are the only two people existing. Javi found the rings right where they knew Francis would have hidden them. Now, they slip Francis's ring into the small chamber in the side of the wall, close the door, and watch as it is disinfected in a rush of air and machines. Francis picks it up. Neither has vows prepared, but they make them up. Francis shows Javi the ring on his finger; Javi does the same back. When the two put their hands against the glass, as they’ve done so many times, they clunk. Francis’s face twists in sorrow at the blood Javi leaves behind. For their honeymoon, they watch their favourite sci-fi show. Francis turns the volume up on the small TV so that Javi can hear it outside of the chamber. He is tired, but he tries his best. His smile never wavers. He even lets Javi choose the episodes, even though he has always been adamant with his opinions. When an episode comes on to the TV inside his chamber that Javi knows he hates, but they love, they tell him he can skip it. He waves them off. It takes everything Javi has not to smash the glass. Not to hold Francis close, not to weep, to apologise for everything they’ve done. For leaving him alone while he suffered in silence. They want to stop what’s coming, but there is nothing they can do. So they ask Francis, over and over, if he is comfortable in his chair, with the blankets from their quarters that still smell like him. And he replies, over and over, that he is. He is comfortable. Episodes blend together. Javi is slowly emptying out, like an overturned vase. They are hollow. They feel as if they are not there. They ache for pain, but keep their hands open. After the theme song has played for the last time, when the credits have rolled, when the rhythm of Francis’s breathing has slipped from the room’s ambience, Javi’s shaking hand hovers over the emergency call button. Curled up under the blankets that drape his thin, greyed-out frame, Francis seems content. Although his face is as pallid as the rest of him, his features are arranged in such a way that he looks like himself again. Like he is happy. Soon, Javi knows, cleaners will come to take his body away, to burn it until not even ash is left. Manhandle their husband like he never lived, like he has never meant anything to anyone. Noted down in Site records as a name and a service number. Javi’s hand retreats. Francis will rest for a while longer. They kiss the glass over Francis’s forehead, their hand caressing their wedding band. “Sleep safe, my love,” they whisper. Javi falls asleep in their chair while their husband’s body gently cools, dreaming of the past.