|
|||
 |
|||
Here you'll find
|
Mount Robillard
17. A Patient"Well, there you are at last!"Arria smiled as he heard the deep voice that was obviously trying to sound whiny. "Sorry, Commander, but you know I have some duties to attend to," he replied and took a chair from a corner. "And since some people are just being lazy, I must take care of everything single-handed." He sat down next to the bed and tenderly took a large hand in his. Osip pulled Arria's fingers to his lips and kissed them, then began to suck and gnaw on the middle finger. Arria gasped. "Don't you dare!" he huffed. "Making this even harder than it is, that's what you're doing, just in case you didn't know." "Exactly what am I making harder, hmm?" Osip grinned but let go. "Sorry, lover. I'm just bored out of my mind here." "You're still in no condition to grumble about that," Arria retorted. "You ought to see your backside, that'd sure make you shut up." "I think it's only good I can't see it." Osip stretched his arms a little and grimaced. "Believe me, it feels nasty enough, even though I'm still doped to the gills with painkillers." "I definitely agree," Arria said quietly. Osip was lying on his stomach on the bed that had been tilted so that his head was higher. His cheek was pressed against the headrest that had a cushioned hole in the middle so that he didn't have to keep his head turned to the side all the time. But he hated the contraption and had preferred to plug the hole with a pillow as soon as he could move his arms enough to maneuver one to the right place. His entire backside shoulders, upper arms, back, even legs had been so badly burned that he couldn't lie on his back at all. Further problems had been caused by the danger of dehydration as well as the fact that he had trouble breathing when placed to lie face down. Of course they had the tank, but Osip could not be floated there all the time either. Even though the concoction that filled the tank contained enough medication to exterminate all known infection-causing microbes and probably some unknowns as well, not to mention all the dehydration-combating and only Edmé-knows-what chemicals, his intact skin still needed to get some air every now and then. So they had been maintaining a delicate balance, shuffling the man from the tank to bed and back again, the routine interrupted only by several skin transplant surgeries. By now a good proportion of the skin had already regenerated, but a lot of his body was still raw and Arria would've only needed to lift the edge of the light sheet to see enough red patches to haunt his dreams for several nights. That was why he didn't stir a finger to touch his tall lover anywhere but the face and hands, as those were about the only visible parts of him that had somehow not been burned. Arria tickled Osip's black hair that was now much shorter than before. Gone was the jutting ponytail, singed so badly that scissors had been the only solution. Osip pressed into his hand and purred. "So, tell me what's been going on," he muttered. "I want to know all. And yesterday I was so out of it when you were here, sorry about that but blame the meds..." "I know, I know." Arria put his arms on the edge of the bed and leaned on them, nose nearly touching Osip's. "Hmm, I wonder what I told yesterday so I could give you a quick replay." "How's the new clone?" Osip asked. "Which one of them?" Arria laughed. "S or T?" "S comes before T, at least in the alphabet." "Well, Lancer and Scott are both working with him, and he's coming round real quick, so they say. Probably having Scott there is doing miracles. And besides, they both stated that he's really inexperienced, and Scott is convinced he hadn't been very thoroughly uhh indoctrinated. It seems that for some reason the Union was in a real hurry to activate that batch. Besides, believe it or not, he's only eleven." "Oh my god..." "Yeah. But, he's making good progress with the two of them." "What did you call him again?" Osip asked. "Why can't I remember the name?" "Beats me." Arria shrugged. "Anyway, it's Shaun. Scott said he's so glad to have a little brother, so it's got to be Shaun. No option." Osip's eyes were round as buttons. "I fail to see the connection." "Shaun is that incredibly cute little brother of Kevin's," Arria explained to him. Osip just blinked, so he continued: "In 'The Edge of Wilderness'... oh for goodness' sake, Osip!" Arria chuckled. "Easy to see that you never watch soaps!" "Oh, now I get it!" Osip laughed. "So it's one of those generally educating videos that Lancer let Scott view, before he graduated into more how to put it in-depth stuff?" "Oh shut up, man! You are never going to let Lancer live that one down, are you?" "Not bloody likely. It's just too delicious, don't you agree?" "Anyway!" Arria decided not to hear the last comment. "Then about the T-clone, André. Now there's another one who's doped to the gills. Rori is mostly keeping him at least slightly sedated to ensure he's manageable." "In what way, manageable?" Osip rubbed his nose against Arria's. "Is he violent or what?" "No, unless you put 'slightly suicidal' under that category. He's taking this all really hard. Rori is trying his damnedest to figure out what exactly has been done to him, so far with moderate success. It's like there are two people inside him. One is André Lemotte, who knows where he's been born, where he went to school, etcetera, but cannot really remember anything about it. He just knows those things. And then there's this TC-023 that responds when addressed by exactly that name, but all that somehow comes from a level of consciousness that André doesn't know anything about. And whenever that 'personality' is called up, it really freaks him out. Thoroughly." "Well, and what about this famous telepathy of his? Can he really read thoughts?" "It would appear that he can't." Arria shrugged. "At least Rori hasn't said anything about that. But there sure is something odd about his brain, all the doctors have been staring at the results of his brain scans and heaven knows what, and shaking their heads to each other. Plus, I can't make heads nor tails out of what they are talking about. So they definitely have found out something very strange." "Do you think you could lure Rori here to have a talk with me?" Osip asked hopefully. "That'd be a nice break to the routine of lying here and wiggling my fingers and toes. There's not even anyone they could put in the same room with me to keep me company." "I can try," Arria promised. "But I think that, for the base as a whole, it's a very good thing there aren't many patients at the moment. What with having you here, the poor guys are probably occupied enough anyway." "That may well be," Osip laughed lazily. "But you could ease their load, and yours, by asking somebody else to visit. Surely I don't look too horrid for, say, Scott and Lancer? They could tell me about their visit to the city." "I'll mention it to them. And then you could still see the last traces of Scott's bruise." Arria grinned. "His war wound, as Corinn calls it. But don't ask Lancer to show you his..." "Why not?" Osip tried to look totally innocent, but the mischievous glint of his eyes betrayed him. "Because I say so!" Arria grunted. "It's too close to some pretty sensitive organs that you don't need to ogle." "What do you take me for?" Osip yelped. "Heaven forbid! Though... lacking anything else to ogle..." "Osip!" Arria slapped him lightly on the head. "You don't want a private peep show, from anybody! Don't you think it would only make things more difficult for you, hmm?" "But this is so unfair!" Osip groaned and pulled Arria closer for a long kiss. "At last I get the most gorgeous guy in this part of the galaxy in my bed, and what happens? I can't sleep in that bed for weeks!" "Greedy, Commander." Arria pursed his lips and looked at Osip sternly under his eyebrows. "Very greedy." "Ah, I should have known. Now it comes back to me..." Outside the room, Rori let out a yelp as he, and his tray of food, narrowly avoided bumping into somebody's back. On closer inspection he recognized Monah who had been backing away from the door and turned in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry Rori!" she said in half-whisper. "Didn't notice you at all." "What's going on?" Rori asked, bewildered, and made a quick survey of the tray to make sure he hadn't dropped anything. "Nothing," Monah nearly grinned. "I just decided that I won't go to check Osip quite yet. He's got a visitor." "Oh, right. Arria of course." Rori smiled. "Well, I don't think you need to do that at this very moment, considering how well he's healed and all." Monah nodded, then asked: "How is your patient doing?" "Not too well," Rori sighed. "It's problematic enough that he has these two personalities, one of which really scares him out of his wits. And with a brain like his, I have to be extra cautious with any medication that I give to him. So far I've had to rule out some things altogether, and modify the doses he can take for quite a few others. And yet it's obvious he needs some chemical aids to get by." "Do you think he'll make it?" Monah asked seriously. Rori closed his eyes for a moment. "I hope so... If only I could get him trust me enough. Medications and things only do so much, and I'm really at a loss with a brain like his. Sort of makes me wonder what I dare try with him. Talking would be a relatively safe way to sort things out." He heaved a deep sigh. "I don't want him to fall apart." "I can understand that," Monah said sympathetically. "But Rori, I want you to remember one thing: even if that happens, you mustn't blame yourself. Bear in mind that he's something you've never dealt with before, not even heard of. You're walking uncharted territory." "I know! But he still is human," Rori argued hotly. Monah shook her head. "In a way he isn't. His is not a normal human brain." Rori's shoulders slumped and he nodded reluctantly. "Well, I think I'll go back to my room and try to understand at least something today..." He trudged along the corridor towards his small office but stopped at a door and hesitated for a while. Then he pressed the call signal and, after a few moments, opened the door. A riot of colors greeted him. The bedspread was rich burgundy, walls dotted with bright pictures of sunlight, trees, billowing clouds, glittering water, loads of flowers. A couple of gaily patterned rugs had been thrown over otherwise clinically bare chairs, and there even was a carpet on the floor. The result would certainly have made even the most battle-hardened interior decorator run for his life, but it was the best approximation of a 'normal' room they had been able to scrape together at a few minutes' notice. André had exploded into a frenzy at the first sight of the 'white room' in its original state, and after hitting him with a sedative-filled syringe Rori had sent a desperate call to everybody in the base for anything brightly colored. Using any other room was out of the question, as this was the one equipped for monitoring patients, although its functionality was admittedly somewhat compromised by the removal of one particularly large monitoring device another source of complete panic for André. André... Rori looked at the graceful creature sitting on the bed, legs loosely crossed, golden hair pulled into a ponytail, staring absently at the deep red blanket. He looked skinnier, the bones in his face more prominent, eyes dull and sunken. He had hardly eaten anything ever since his arrival, and Rori wasn't quite sure if he had slept, either. The clone's nerves were really on edge and anything even resembling electrodes or any kind of medical equipment made his circuits shut down immediately. Of course Rori could have sedated him enough to plant something tiny under his skin, but he cringed at the mere suggestion. André didn't deserve such a violation of his person. He'd probably suffered enough of that when still with the Union. The solitary figure didn't seem to notice him, and he gently cleared his throat before speaking. "André... I hope you don't mind that I'm here..." Blue eyes blinked and turned to him. The weak effort at a polite greeting smile made Rori's insides ache. "It's all right." "Good. I thought maybe you'd care for something to eat?" That had in fact never crossed Rori's mind until the moment he spoke the words, but he smiled and lifted the tray a little. "I brought us some snacks." He pulled one of the chairs closer to the bed, so that he could put the tray on the small table and open the cartons. André watched wearily as he picked up a few pieces and began munching on them. Rori nodded towards the foods from which a warm smell was wafting to his nostrils. "Try some, I think they're good." He grinned appreciatively as a delicate, too bony hand hovered closer to the tray and selected a long piece of marinated 'meat' from it. A few more slices disappeared, and soon Rori was congratulating himself on the most useful whim he had had for a long time. A thought occurred to him, so simple that he could have kicked himself for not thinking about it several days earlier. Why the hell had he tried to treat André as a patient, when it was so glaringly obvious that he was hysterically afraid of medics? Why not try a different approach? After all, wasn't sharing a meal an age-old way to start a friendship? "Hey, I underestimated us!" he chuckled, licking the last crumbs from his fingers. "Care for more? It'll only take me a moment to get a refill." André smiled a little and nodded, eyes more sane and more truly alive than Rori had ever seen them before. "Right then! I'll be back in a whiff!" He picked up the empty tray, turned around before going out of the door and asked: "Was there something you especially liked?" This time André's lips curled even more and he nodded. "Yes, the dark green ones were nice and spicy." "OK, so that's why those ones vanished so soon. I like them, too!" Rori made a quick repeat trip to the canteen, grabbed shamelessly the rest of the green slices on his tray and added a few others for good measure. The he dashed back to André's room, deftly balancing the tray in the curves so as to not spill anything. André greeted him with a genuine smile this time and attacked the cartons almost greedily while Rori settled in the chair, heart beating madly. Together they polished off every last piece of food from the tray, casting sly glances at each other like partners in a successful conspiracy. "Ohh, I'm stuffed!" André moaned and sprawled across the bed. "But that was really good." "I agree." Rori nodded. "You look tired, though. Should I leave you to rest now?" "Please don't go!" A long arm rose plaintively. "Please... don't leave me alone." Rori hesitated for a while, then sat cautiously down on the edge of the bed. André's hand crept shyly to grasp his, and the dark-haired doctor slowly eased himself on the bed. He felt André snuggling closer and begin to relax. "I don't want to be alone," the blond clone mumbled against Rori's shoulder. "I don't want to remember those things..." "What things?" Rori asked softly and pulled him in a protective embrace. "André, maybe you should let those memories come to you. Then you could start trying to make sense, to get them under your control." The sparse figure next to Rori shivered. "You call me André... but that's somebody who doesn't even exist. I'm not André. And I don't want to be a clone either but somehow, deep inside, I know it's true. I'm a T-clone. I'm no one!" His voice rose and Rori hugged him tighter. "Shh," the man whispered, "don't say that. Listen what makes someone the person he is? The things he has experienced, the things he has lived through. The memories." "But don't you see? I don't have any memories of my own! I only have my life since I went to Maurice's. Those are the only real memories that I have. All the rest is what has been... I don't know, put into me somehow. They are not real." "You just said that you do remember some other things too, something about being a clone, I think, since it makes you so uneasy. Those are real as well. And as for the rest, well, who cares if it's something you've actually lived or not?" Rori pulled a little farther to look André in the eye. "I mean, even if the person André is something the Union made up, it's you. And you're here, right now. You are real. Nobody will take that away from you any more." He smiled at André's perplexed expression. "I guess I'm not sounding very coherent... but I'm trying very hard. What I'm trying to say is that, yes, you obviously are a Union clone who was given a personality and a name. But you've got free of the Union now, with your personality and experience and abilities and all. From now on, you are the one to make your own decisions. And I'd very much like to help you with that only help. Not make you do anything. Just help you to live." André buried his head on Rori's chest with a watery sob. "I think I understand... but I'm not sure if I can make it. Not with all the things that come back to me." "Maybe, if you didn't try so hard to push them away, they'd stop haunting you." Rori rubbed his back slowly, soothingly. "If you face them, they might start making sense and then you could file them away. As memories and nothing more. What is the one you fear the most?" "The white room..." The clone's voice trembled with horror. "I remember being taken there alone. I was told to lie down on the bed, and they strapped me there. Then they attached the pads on me and everything exploded..." He began to hyperventilate, fingers digging with bruising force into Rori's shoulder, but the doctor resolutely ignored the pain and just held him tight until the body in his arms began to loosen up again. Miraculously, that actually happened after a few minutes, and Rori made a mental note to remember yet another important thing about André: T-clones very clearly had not been raised to abhor physical contact. Indeed, if they were somehow used as spies, that wouldn't really make any sense either. After all, as spies they were supposed to mingle with ordinary people and not draw any suspicious attention to themselves. "So you associate the white room with helplessness and excruciating pain?" he asked gently. "No wonder it makes you feel so bad." "The room where I wake up is also white." André sounded bone-weary. "My head is aching so much that I feel sick for many days... and I have the strangest dreams. About people and places that I know, except that I don't really, I mean I don't remember anything about them. I'm just so tired and so sick." "Is that the same kind of headache that you had after you had been to see your uncle?" "Yes, but much worse. Much much much worse." Rori shushed him again and resumed the gentle rubbing, feeling how André's breathing began to slow down into a sleepy rhythm. "Can you really read thoughts?" he whispered, his words but a puff of warm air on golden hair. "Mm-hmm..." André sounded more than half asleep. "Of course we can. But mustn't... it's naughty." He giggled childishly and dug his head into the pillow, words slurring together. "Mustn't mind-speak... guardians don't... like..." Rori closed his eyes, head reeling. He had to wait until André was in deep sleep before he could even consider creeping away, now that the clone was at last resting properly. Pieces of information floated around his head, and every now and then some of them seemed to click together to form pictures, ideas. But as soon as Rori tried to grasp them, they dispersed and continued again their wild dance. He rubbed his cheek on the silky hair and felt the sleeping clone press closer in response. He'd still have to wait before leaving. Maybe, if he stared long enough at the flying pieces of the kaleidoscope, they would make sense. Make patterns. Make whatever. Rori was not awake to feel the arm that snaked slowly around his waist.
| ||
 |
|||
