OOC note: Sorry about the lack of coding, I've gotta badly jet for work though. Damn you Matt and your CST deadlines! LOL
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'Sir, will you be having anything to eat?' I tapped lightly on the door to Ethan's room. I heard a grunt from within, before he finally responded, in slow, slurred words.

'Nah, George. Just...gonna take a nap.'

I shook my head. He'd been like this for a while now. I didn't worry about him for his own sake, hardly. The man deserved to have most of the bones in his body broken, and then mended, so they could be broken again. But no, I worried because his father and estranged wife had entrusted me to somehow make him see the light.

And if he somehow managed to drown in a pool of his own pity and painkillers, well, then I'd have let everyone down, and that wouldn't do. I tapped again on the door, a little louder.

'Sir?' There was some slight shifted, before the slow words came again.

'What, George...what?! I want to take a bloody nap...is it too much to ask for?'

Again I shook my head, before squaring my shoulders, and slowly opening the door. I stepped in, and spotted Ethan on the edge of his bed, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. He looked pathetic with his neck brace still on, his limbs splayed out, with his arm and one leg hanging over the edge of the bed. The only sound in the room was the low ticking of a clock on the opposite wall, which seemed to sound louder than it ever had before. Perhaps it was because there was always the sounds of the chef or servants in the house prior. It always felt a little busy, as if something was going on. But now, there was only silence throughout the house, and in the room, only the loud ticking of the clock.

'Sir.' I spoke plainly, putting my hands on my hips. He simply wasn't in good shape, and while I was his manservant, I wasn't afraid of going against his will if it was for his own good.

'Sir.' No response again, but I didn't panic, as I could see his chest slowly rising and falling. Otherwise, the only movement was his leg, the one hanging off the side of the bed. It swayed slightly, back and forth like a pendulum, in time with the ticking of the clock.

'George...if I don't rest and let my neck heal, they're going to keep pounding on it. They're going to keep destroying it...they're going to destroy me.'

His expression didn't change at all, as he stared into the ceiling. I would say he stared at the ceiling, but it was obvious that nothing up there that was visible was on his mind at all. I noticed as I took another few steps in, that in his other hand, the one stretched over the bed, held one of his pill bottles.

'Sir, it may be past that point. You may need to take some time off.'

'No. I'm Ethan Dashery.'

'Sir, your neck won't care if you're Ethan Dashery or the Queen. If it's damaged, you're damaged.'

'No, George. I'll give up when I'm dead.' It was like talking to a wall. Like a spaced-out wall.

'Then perhaps you should work out some, or spar a bit. If your neck isn't going to get a rest, you might as well work on things. Roxy Erikson won't be in the match to knock you onto Corey Ashton. I know your neck is killing you, but you're slipping some in the ring, sir.'

There was some silence, returning us to again listen to the clock, while my last statement hung heavily in the air. Ethan normally would've gone on an extended rant questioning my sexuality and masculinity, at least, for suggesting he was slipping in the ring. Yet now he laid there, staring upward with a very troubled expression on his face. Finally, he spoke.

'When you can't turn your head at all without pain, how are you supposed to wrestle at all?'

I didn't have an answer for him, most likely because it was the one I'd already given: He shouldn't be wrestling at all. From the pain he was in, from what he described, it seemed pretty bad as well. This didn't sound like a 'take a show off' kind of thing. It sounded like a 'take a few months off and hope you heal up after surgery' kind of thing. I turned and left the room, but not before glancing back at Ethan a final time. He was still breathing. The odds of him somehow turning things around even with the best of my help was highly unlikely, but I certainly couldn't do a thing with him dead.

'Yes, she's getting off the plane now, Mr. Rortry.'

I turned to my left, where Ethan stood, his shoulders slumped. He popped open a pill bottle and pushed it to his lips, as I turned to him, mouthing near silent words of rebuke, even ignoring how I spoke to him for once.

'Sir...where the hell do you keep getting those things?'

He shrugged, ignoring my question, as I turned back to the conversation on the phone.

'No worries, sir, I'll watch out for her. Hopefully things work out for the best, as we discussed before.'

His final line of inquiry was certainly expected, and yet more awkward than anything else to do with Ethan's exceedingly awkward life in general.

'No, sir, that won't happen, I promise you. I'd stop it myself if things came to that. Yes, you take care as well, goodbye sir.'

I hung up the phone, as Ethan turned to me, glaring at me with those dull eyes.

'What won't happen, George?'

'I...well...'

'You promised that poor fool that I wouldn't beat his daughter, didn't you?'

I was left speechless. Damn Ethan, always managing to make the awkward immeasurably more so. I looked for words...and then stopped myself. I wasn't going to humor this walking train wreck. Yet still, I wondered terribly about his intentions, with having Sadie come over to this side of the pond.

'Yes, sir. I told him that if you did anything of the sort, I'd stop it myself.'

I turned to face him, returning his glare. His once menacing elitist stare had since fallen into some pained expression. The slumped shoulders and stare gave him something of the look of the Joker in Batman, minus the twitching and facepaint.

Insert your own Jeff Hardy joke, please.

He broke away, turning to stare down the terminal. We spotted Sadie approaching, with a wide smile on her face.

'Ethan!'

He made a step toward her, but I grabbed his shoulder, and whispered loudly into his ear.

'Sir, I will serve you to the best of my abilities, and you know that. You'll question me at times, but you DAMN well know that. I swear to you, though...you touch Sadie in any manner like you touched Milly...and I will break your arms. I will break your legs. I will leave you a shattered torso on a forgotten beach somewhere, waiting for the tide to come in and mercifully drown you. I know more places that they'd never find you than most folks in this world.

Much to my surprise, he nodded slightly, still smiling at Sadie, while he whispered back to me.

'You've watched too much Discovery Channel and spent too much time on Wikipedia, George.'

'Let's not try and find out if that's the case...sir.'