Thank you so much for the lovely comments. I wish FF would let me do threads like AO3, so I could do more individual thanking, but all your thoughts and reviews are appreciated. :)

The massage hut was right where she directed me, an odd little structure with one area entirely open to the outside on two walls, save large curtains made of mosquito netting, and the rest seeming to be small enclosed rooms with only small, high screen windows. I stood for a moment, taking in the view the huts faced, a somewhat lower one down the hill to the beach, raised on a small bluff and encompassing a wider swath of sand and sea. After appreciating and breathing in the salty breeze for a bit, I turned around and wondered where I was to enter, the curtain or the door. There didn't seem to be anyone moving behind the curtain, so I knocked on the door.

It was open almost immediately by a pleasant-looking woman who gave me a peaceful smile and nod with her hands clasped before her in the prayer position. She did not say "namaste," but merely stepped back from the door with a graceful hand gesture to lead me in.

At the door there was a small rack, and a sign in several languages asking visitors to remove their shoes. I did so, and then, again with a small nod, the woman led me down the small hallway. We entered a room with a desk and some chairs, all in simple, natural tones, and she gestured for me to sit. When I did so, she reached over toward a small frog statue, not carved in wood like the others, but wrought in what looked to be brass and bronze. She picked up a wooden rod and tapped it gently so it made a sound, not the dull tapping-rasp of the other noisemakers, but a clear ringing tone, similar to the bell Cosima had used before her classes. It filled the room, and I found I felt a small release of tension, as if I had been slightly nervous and hadn't realized it.

"Welcome," she said, a light south Asian accent to her voice, "I'm Chanthira. I'm going to give you some papers to fill out that will help me in my treatment of you. Once you're done with that, I'm going to ask you a few questions to determine what modalities we'll try today. Do you have any questions or thoughts?"

"Em, I'm Delphine, pleased to meet you," I answered. "By different modalities, do you mean different types of massage?" She nodded again.

"Yes, I practice a range of body-centered therapies, and each session is tailored to the individual and their needs at that time." This sounded interesting.

"So, like Swedish, or hot rock, with aromatherapy, and things like that," I enquired, thinking back to the brochures of the few spas I'd visited.

"Yes, they may include that. My education began with traditional Thai massage, but I am also trained in other types, like Shiatsu, Deep Tissue, Cranio-sacral, Trager, Rolfing, Watsu and Reiki/Healing Hands techniques."

A few of these things I had heard of, but most of them were unfamiliar, except the last.

"Mm, Cosima and Margot both suggested I try Reiki," I informed her. She took this in with another small bow of her head and a slow blink.

"Alright, Delphine. Here are the information forms. I will step into the other room, and once you're done with them, we can arrive on a plan."

I gave her a small smile as she exited. This was certainly more involved than I'd expected it would be, but she gave the impression of a certain gracefulness, a demeanor that was both peaceful and professional, caring, without being overly invasive.

The forms, I was interested to find, included a lot of medical and health questions, not just asking about current pains, injuries and disabilities, but including previous conditions, allergies, treatments and surgeries I may have had, daily activities and psychological therapies. My eyebrows raised at some of these, but I did my best to fill them out. I kept abreast of my health and was well-versed in medical paperwork, after all, but there were certain parts of my life that had been kept deeply secret, and it always gave me pause to have to sort through them in my memory for information I should or could share.

I finished writing and sat for a moment, wondering if I should get up or wait, when, as if she had heard my thoughts, she appeared in the door.

"Thank you," she said, taking the papers. "I will show you to a changing room, where you will find a plain cotton top and shorts. Please put them on, removing any undergarments, and I will show you to the treatment room."

I followed her instructions, finding the clothes she'd laid out for me were loose, light and comfortable. I'd expected to strip nude or down to my underwear, so this was another surprise.

When I exited, she was waiting for me. She led me into the larger, airy room I had noted from outside that had two open sides, and stopped.

"Just a little bit more before we get started," she said. "may I see you walk from here to the far wall?"

I nodded. This was beginning to seem like much more like a physical therapy session than a relaxing massage, but I went with it. I walked to the far wall, slightly self-conscious, and turned around.

"Good, thank you," she said. "Please turn to your left." I did so. "Now your right." I turned again. "Good, now back to me."

When I arrived back in front of her, she gave me a small, calm, reassuring smile.

"From what you have written and I see, you have maintained your body with exercise and good nutrition. Am I right in guessing sometimes you lack in sleep?"

I nodded. That wasn't unusual, these days, was it?

"You seem sound, fairly balanced, and fairly relaxed, in this environment. I'm going to use a variety of techniques on you today, mostly to adjust imbalances and tensions from your daily life, and some which I see you have held from your past."

I must have blinked at this. What did she see? Had Cosima or Margot told her anything about me?

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you a lot of invasive questions. We're focusing on your energy as translated through your body. If you have any questions, wishes, or want me to stop or explain anything at any time, please tell me. I am here to work with you to help you release tension and heal, and your input and participation are most welcome."

Her slightly formal way of speaking made me feel a bit more trusting, I think. Perhaps it was because, like me, English was not her first language, or she came across as professional, but I accepted.

When I look back on the session now, I wonder where it started, the way she reached inside and opened me. Perhaps it was as soon as I had entered, although, at the time, the beginning seemed simple enough. I lay on my back on a padded mat on the floor, my knees over a bolster, and she knelt at the crown of my head and laid her hands on my shoulders, present and warm. She made small movements and adjustments. Her hands cupped my face and lay over my eyes, then cupped under my head, moving it slowly into different angles and directions. Her fingers slid down the back of my neck and under my shoulders, and seemed to barely move, to pulse, and yet I felt the weight of my body sinking into the pad with gravity, my breaths coming slower. I felt her rocking me, gently, side to side, almost absently, as if the floor had turned into a hammock, a cradle.

After a few moments, she began what seemed more like massage. Her hands stroked in waves down my face, chest and arms. She adjusted and moved her fingers in slow, deep circles on my abdomen, then she moved down my legs. She did different things, kneading, pressing, pulling, and I wasn't sure what it all meant but it flowed, it felt good. My eyes were closed, my brain seeming to sink further inward, down, at peace, dark.

Over time, she circled me. She worked on my back in similar ways. She also took my limbs and bent them, using her whole body to adjust them to certain angles, to stretch them into slow elongations, like I was growing looser, longer. My back and torso, also, she manipulated, seeming to almost separate my shoulders from their sockets, my sacrum and pelvis from my spine above in the most delicious of ways. She gently worked my fingers and toes, and used my weight and hers to apply pressure to areas I had not realized were already tender.

Occasionally she would ask if I was comfortable, or for me to reposition, and I followed her instructions without feeling as though I was being manipulated. I wasn't sure how she touched and moved so many parts of my body without seeming as jarring or invasive as a regular massage I would get at a day spa, or a routine medical exam. I would have been impressed if I hadn't slipped into some calm, altered, near-sleep-like state.

She was slowly running her hands just above the surface of my skin, near the end. I felt the heat of her hands, but no touch. My temples throbbed slightly as her palms hovered near them, my jaw clenched and relaxed as they moved down. Then, her hands slipped down over my throat and chest, and she stopped. She held them there, and I felt some slightly uncomfortable shifting, like a tingle, like I was fighting for breath, even though my respiratory rhythm was sound. And then I swallowed, and a sigh emerged from me.

"Right there," she said. "Very good."

There were tears in my eyes before I knew it, slipping hot under my lids, a welling in my throat and chest. My body shifted uncomfortably, and I felt something, a loss, a surrender, a deep sadness rushing outward from a place I thought it had been long contained, dark, frozen, or dead.

So much came to mind, like pieces of film rolling backwards. Cosima and I arguing in the forest, my journey to this place, random snatches of long and listless days at work, breakups with lovers that were sad, yet did not seem to fully touch me.

I gasped, and I was back on the military base, in the labs, powerless. I was back at DYAD, flashing through dark agreements, pain inflicted. I was in the hallway outside Felix's apartment, with Cosima, and she was breaking, I was breaking her, but she was turning to close the door behind her before she could, and then I was breaking, myself, against it.

I was staring at the cold, ravaged body of Jennifer Fitzimmons on the autopsy table. I was seeing the blood at the corner of Cosima's mouth. I was seeing her beneath me, naked, eyes wide in wonder and trust as I touched her, learned her body as she had been exploring mine. She gave herself to me as I had, for a few uncontrollable moments, given myself to her, despite the chances that I might never be able to take myself back fully again.

I sobbed.

Chanthira said nothing. She laid her hands softly over my shoulders and let me cry. I'm not sure how long it lasted, but I felt wails ripped from me, my diaphragm contracting and my body curving around myself. I felt my hands reach for my face and her gently divert them, touching my temples and lightly dabbing at my cheeks and nose with a soft cloth as necessary.

My breaths became less harsh. My eyes were still closed, when she moved to my side and touched my hand.

"Come," she said, and I rose to my feet with her, unsteadily. "There is one more thing I would like to try today. I think it will help you."

I nodded, speechless, and she guided me through the mosquito curtains and two steps down to the ground outside, again. The light was a bit bright in my eyes, and I squinted, lashes wet, but she steadily led me down a small path that became shaded, the flat stones and dirt cool beneath my feet. We passed a low, curved wall and arrived at a small pool, not very deep, the water clear to the blue flooring below. She stepped in and walked forward, immersing herself to the waist, then turned back you me.

"Come," she said, again, and spread her palms. I found myself moving toward her.

"Lie back, I will support you," she said, and when I tilted back toward the water I felt a distant spike of panic, the doubter within me that said "what are we doing? I didn't agree to this. This is strange. What does she intend?"

And then I was floating, suspended on my back with one of her arms under my neck, and she was asking me to release.

I can't really say how long we were there. It felt like hours, but it couldn't have been, I would realize, when I had returned to my cabin. She moved me gently in the warm water, and while my intellect realized, at a distance, that this weightlessness eased my body, was reminiscent of the womb, the rest of me just gave in. My tears still came, but more slowly, as she adjusted me lightly, bent my back and limbs, briefly held my nose closed and dunked me down. The idea of cleansing and baptism as a ritual, symbolic and psychosocial tradition came to me, but it moved through easily, without generating defensiveness, skepticism, the expectation of being taken in. She murmured questions and directions to me now and then, but I can't recall what they all were. Just that I lost myself, my pain, my track of time, in the water, and then I slowly came back into myself and she eased me up until I was standing, and walked me back to the edge of the pool.

"How do you feel," she asked.

"Tired," I said, thickly. "Looser. Grateful, but like I've run forever… can I be… unsure and relaxed? Is it… acceptance of fear?"

"Perhaps," she said. "Take your time. You don't have to solve it all at once. It's a beautiful day."

I followed her gaze to the sky, and it was true. A few lazy, puffy, white clouds tracked beside the sun, the glare eased by the green-shadow filter of palm fronds overhead.

We left the pool, and she gave me a long, soft towel to dry with. I followed her back to the hut, and she gave me a last bow of her head and clasp of her hands.

"There is water for you in the dressing room. It's been a pleasure. Take your time, Delphine. Be well."

I found myself in the changing room, distracted, halfway into putting on my sandals again. I was outside and blinking, then back near my cabin, before, merde, I thought, I forgot to tip her. I was still in a daze, though, and I'd entered the dimmer, slightly cooler air of my cabin before I knew it. I dropped my bag. There was a swish in my other hand and I realized I still had the water bottle, two-thirds empty. I downed the rest without thinking, walked to the bed, and flopped down onto it, face down. Everything went quiet.

When I woke, it was to the sensation of a gentle presence near me. I opened my eyes, and Cosima was beside the bed, looking at me with tender concern. It was way darker in the room than it had been.

"Are you alright," she asked softly.

"I… yes," I managed, and then my eyes widened and I jerked up my head. "I was supposed to meet you! Am I late," I exclaimed.

"Shh, yeah, it's okay," she reassured me, and gently stroked my hair until I relaxed my neck back onto the pillow. "I was a little worried, but then I realized you could be really knocked out after a good session, and here you are."

She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers still soft in my hair, her voice low.

"I brought you some food," she said, "and more water. I don't know if you want to wash up, or whatever, but let's get you out of your clothes."

I nodded, groggy, eyes still sliding closed and half-open, again. She undressed me as if I were a sleepy child, guiding me to raise my arms over my head, lift my hips. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment in a daze, then got an urge and rose to shuffle into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and she handed me a towel to dry it with. I walked slowly, slightly less asleep, back to the bed and lay down. She sat beside me again, and I took her hand.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's okay, I understand," she said, then tilted her head. "You don't need to apologize all the time, Delphine. I know why you want to, but…" she shook her head, very slightly. "Just rest. I'll leave the food in its container on the table, and I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

I nodded. It's funny, I didn't think to ask if she wanted to stay with me in the bed, to even think if that was what I wanted. I fumbled with her hand and pulled it to my lips, laying a brush of a kiss on her palm. Then I rolled over, and fell back asleep.