Chapter 9

He couldn't see – would never again have vision – but the pain was like being blinded twice over. He writhed, bending double, his hands clutched to that pulsing pain, where the blood dripped and flowed alternately, coating his fingers and his cheeks –

He could feel his skin growing clammy and moist with cold sweat. His strength was bleeding out, his chest heaving as he gulped in rapid breaths. His insides curdled in a sickening, squeezing sensation that made him retch and heave when there was nothing left but the lining of his stomach. He was losing track of the boundary between pain and self, where he began and where he ended.

Memories blurred, running through his mind chaotically. A sloping street, safe and civilised; children sailing by on scooters. Ice boxes, multi-coloured triangular pennants flapping in the breeze. An arena where apocalyptic gladiators fought against toothless, nail-less biters, while searchlights rocked back and forth overhead. A secret laboratory, decaying bodies stretched out on tables. An old man slowly dying while a record played on repeat: a woman's voice, wistful and soothing, two framed paintings suspended in mid-air. A cupboard, in which something growled and thudded.

'What's your secret?'

'Really big walls.'

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

Sunflowers waving in the breeze, heavy heads drooping. A girl had been turned into a sunflower for loving the sun god. On the other side of a great ocean it was believed that slipping a bit of sunflower oil or seeds into someone's drink would give you their loyalty. Others associated the sunflower with luck, or great joy – and some believed it could be mixed into an ointment which would help you see the Faerie folk. Mix sunflower oil with sun-oriented flowers, and leave in the sun for three days until it thickens.

A samurai sword placed neatly behind glass. An old man with a stump for a leg. A dark-haired girl hunched over a chessboard. A blind man peeling potatoes.

Who is he? He wanted to be someone without a past – but how can that work? Philip Blake, The Governor, Brian Heriot, One-eye Bri – except now he was No-eye Bri.

He didn't trust anyone else to keep them safe.

He'd fixed the hole in the caravan ceiling, but he'd broken everything else.

The road glistens, reflecting the red glow of dozens of brake lights blooming in the rain.

'The flight was all right? No delays?'

'Let's not talk about that now. I'm just glad to be back. How's Penny?'

'Well, she was huffing that she had to go to bed before her daddy got home, but she'll be happy again when he goes upstairs to kiss her goodnight.' She looks at him, her eyes softening. 'I missed you.'

Phillip smiles, leans over and kisses her cheek.

A wall scrawled with messages, one name recurring. A near-empty block of apartments, a Gorbelli's van parked outside. A dead old woman strapped into a wheelchair, her arms reaching for him as the wheels meandered back and forth erratically. A hastily dug grave, a tarpaulin-covered body slung silently into the hollow. A photograph burning in an ashtray – had he still possessed it he would have no use for it now.

All the boundaries he'd tried to preserve between past and present – they were breaking, rupturing –

The moment when she'd run into his arms, trusting him to catch her and keep her safe. She'd been warm – alive – and she hadn't tried to claw at him, or bite –

He ran, clutching her to him, only to tumble into one of his own pits.

'Your old leader was batshit crazy.'

'Oh, I wouldn't go that far,' said Martinez, thoughtful as he regarded Brian. 'It was more that he was … mercurial.'

Rain lashing his face as he stared down at Martinez writhing in the mud, briefly imagining how soft his skull would be –

'Did the wrong thing to the wrong man,' Martinez had said, when they'd found the beheaded men.

'What did you do when it all went bad?'

'I survived.'

'But why "survive"? Why not "live"?'

Although similar in meaning, the context makes these two words differ significantly.

A Live mode is one that is based on deferred rewards for actions taken today. Longitudinal, big-picture, goal-oriented thinking.

The trajectory of a life that is being actively ravaged by mental illness […] posttraumatic stress disorder, etc. is often on a steep decline. Such a trajectory is a punishing movement that brings people into contact with emotions and experiences that they never knew existed. The momentum of your life stops. You move into Survival mode.

Nietzsche once said, 'To live is to suffer; to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.'

But is there any meaning left?

Survival is for ants, not humans.

Terminus, a spider crouched in the middle of its web, a monster hidden deep within a maze. Dozens of coloured lines leading to one place.

If he'd taken Lilly's path to Meghan's body, would she still be alive?

'It doesn't look good. The glass has done a lot of damage.'

The little girl runs away from him, hides behind the sofa. 'It'll take time.'

'Brian.'

'People with nothing to hide don't usually feel the need to say so.'

'There has to be someplace better and you're going to help us find it.'

'Brian!'

'And they still think I'm the man that can keep them safe. They still think I know what I'm doing.'

'You've obviously got big plans. Like you're the guy who's gonna lick this thing. Bring us back from the brink. So why waste your time on a two-bit vendetta? Why risk it all? You could have a statue of yourself in the town square, Governor.'

'Am I good?'

'Are you with me?'

'We found you too!'

Someone was calling to him, shaking his shoulder, the gesture almost genial. 'Brian. Brian! Are you with me?'

That voice – he knew it, though he'd heard it little more than a handful of times. Clarity rushed through him in an instant. He hated that voice.

A/N: Just two chapters left after this one.

In this chapter I've adapted various facts and quotations I found from brief internet searches. One of my main sources was a Psych Congress Network page on psychiatrist-patient relationship building.

Thanks to LadyIngenue for her notes :)