DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Host or any of the related characters used in Chapter 1. That copyright belongs to Stephenie Meyer.
1 – Duly Deserved Duress
He hadn't wanted to do this, not from the beginning. Every time he had placed the scalpel against the base of the cerebral cortex at the top of the spinal column it had cut him into pieces, cut him as if he'd laid the scalpel against his own flesh, his own heart. His objective had always been clear to him as he cleaved apart the skin but it never removed the fear of what he'd find and what would continue to elude him. He was doctor and also a murderer. He'd take that knowledge with him the rest of the life, until his own grave. His attempts had always met failure and murdering strangers – both human and Souls, had torn him.
He gazed at the tanned skin beneath him, his eyes empty in their reflections. Already his willing patient had administered her own kind's anesthetic and he, he had put her under through use of crudely effective human agent - chloroform. The fact he knew the Soul at his mercy didn't make it any easier to do what he had to, only harder. He knew her gentle selflessness was what had allowed her to so calmly bare her neck to him. He was her executioner and his scalpel the axe. He was killing a being who deserved life even more than he did but here he was, prepared to kill her. Knowing who she was and receiving her blessing made him agonize ever more over his reluctant word. Her tribunal, one that he had attended this very morning, had been a farce. Wanderer had decided her fate and had not been deterred in the slightest. Her life would be extinguished before the others knew what had happened and her death, even willing, would forevermore lie upon his consciousness.
Before he could lose his nerve or allow the No Pain or chloroform to wear off he placed his scalpel resolutely at the base of her neck, slicing it open. Eagerly he placed down the silver instrument of his profession, his work grateful that the rest of the operation would be done with his own hands. Gently he stroked her attachments, slackening them from the muscles into willing retreat. It never failed to surprise him how they penetrated the human anatomy starting in the motor control centers of the brain and spinal column and burying themselves deep into muscles and veins.
The gentle species were practically symbiotic in the fact they did no physical harm to their hosts. Unfortunately their harm was through the subtle subjugation of their host's internal personality, their psyches, the conscious mind. So in the end they could be likened easily as parasites for that irreparable damage. Some hosts never recovered their sense of self if they were possessed long enough. He was careful in the procedure knowing only all too well that Souls…they were fragile in their natural state, very flexible but fragile altogether. Ever since he'd learned how to do the procedure he had never thought to stray from it, memorizing it, engraving it in his mind. The procedure spared not only the Soul but the Host as well. It wasn't easy to remove this one knowing that he'd have to leave her to die while her Host recovered.
Only the fact that she had, before slipping away, reminded him of his word had kept him from gazing or using the spare cryo-tanks against the wall. His fingers felts the taut antennae beneath the skin flex, relaxing and shrinking until finally he was able to place his hand into the skin pulling the remarkable silvery Soul into his hand. He blinked back tears as his hand sunk down, level with the operation table, feeling almost callously negligent in the way he was abandoning her to die. The Soul which had been so vibrant in his hands stilled slowly, relaxing as if she wanted to die in pride, in peace or perhaps she was already suffering. Once she had mentioned that infantile Souls would die within short moments if left without host, he tried to remove his mind from it. At that moment however he heard the smooth stroke of metal against metal, a thick and heavy blade resting against the hollow of his throat. The holder was practiced in its use for the metal was held there threateningly but it never sunk in or beneath the skin.
So intent had he'd been in his task that he didn't notice two others hastily filed into his cramped hospital space. Jared, the one who held the blade trained upon him and Ian, a betrayed and furious look in his weary eyes, holding a cryo-tank at the ready. Ian's hands reverently scooped the Soul with a look that couldn't be mistaken for anything less than outright love mingled with a kind of horrified sorrow. Suddenly a third joined the throng, the former Host – Melanie. He had agonized long enough the chloroform was finished. Her hand was wound in his clothes holding him, her eyes trying to focus and find Wanderer. Her hand relaxed when she saw Ian, the living Soul, and the active cryo-tank.
He however couldn't forgive himself and broke into tears, willingly giving his life up to the furious men in exchange for the death he would have delivered to Wanderer. For what he'd ALMOST done he deserved much worse…
A/N: I wrote this chapter particularly because I wanted to know what happened between 'Finished' and 'Remembered' especially from a point of view besides Wanderer's. I chose Doc/Eustace for obvious reasons. I always liked him as a character even if he was delicate. A short start but a start nevertheless. Hope you enjoyed it, read and review please! Chapter 2 will be up soon!
The titular inspiration for the fic came from Final Fantasy IX's 'Melodies of Life' which reminded me INSTANTLY of Ian and Wanderer through the book. I love the couple, love that song. The two of them made me think they were a single strain in the symphony of human love hence 'A Melody of Life'.