Chapter 38
He lay there, quiet and still, not yet ready to open his eyes. For those few seconds of darkness, it was easy to pretend that it had all been a dream. Well, not pretend, exactly. He was too self-honest for that; but holding the world at bay for a while longer let him admit that he wished very badly that things had turned out differently.
Trying not to sigh, he opened his eyes. He had no idea of what time of day it was, save that the sun was up.
"Hello Kyminn." Kyminn was quickly becoming familiar with – and learning to despise - the odd note of caution in people's voices. Hearing it though, didn't prevent him from attempting a small smile.
"Hello Cydris."
She held up the tumbler and at his nod of assent, put the straw to his lips. Water again, but with a pleasant, fruity undertone. It was surprisingly refreshing.
"I'm alright Cydris." He tried to make it sound believable.
"No, you're not." A slow shake of her head. "But you will be, if you let yourself."
Kyminn scrubbed his face with his hands, his expression frustrated. "I'm not even sure what that means. 'If I let myself'."
"It means you need to accept that you've been through a unique trauma. I'm going to tell you what Tysen didn't, but what you need to understand. Kyminn, you tried to die. Several times, actually. I admit that I argued as loudly as anyone when Nassim wanted to block those parts of your memories. But that was before I understood what they were doing to you. Many of those feelings aren't truly yours – and yet they are. Until you learn how to separate 'Kyminn' from Zayle and Rosen, you can't move forward. You don't realize how fragile you are. Well, honestly, now that you're awake, no one really knows how fragile you are."
She moved over to sit beside him on the bed, squeezing his hand gently. "I know I don't know how you're feeling. None of us do. But we know you're struggling and we're going to help you. Not as a patient, but as someone we care about."
He tried to find the right words to answer her, picking and discarding phrases and feelings. She was right though, it wasn't something he was ready – or able – to express. He finally settled on "Thank you, Dris."
She drew back a bit, startled. "What did you call me?"
He tried to pull his hand away, but she held firm. "I'm sorry. I called you Dris. It's a…nickname I sometimes use for you, in my head. When I'm thinking about you…" He dragged to a halt, conscious of the fact that he was babbling and making things worse. "I'm sorry," he finished lamely.
A small quirk of a smile. "It's alright. You just surprised me, is all. No one calls me that any more. My Nonna-Aunt used to call me that when I was small. I'm afraid I was rather a difficult child at times, but Nonna always managed to explain things in a way that made sense, instead of seeming illogical and unfair." A real smile, "I was very concerned with 'fair' at that age."
"I'm sorry, I'll stop." He didn't really want to; he'd been using it to himself as an affectionate name for her for quite some time now.
"No, I don't mind. When Nonna died, I refused to let anyone call me Dris, oh, for the longest time. I guess eventually they just got out of the habit. It…sounds nice, coming from you."
Oh. He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he said nothing. Cydris seemed to understand, for she changed the subject.
"Someone will be here soon with your lunch and then Nassim wants to see you." From her pause, Kyminn rather thought she was trying to find the line between 'Healer' and 'friend. "Do you want someone here with you for that meeting?"
He thought about that for a few minutes. "I'm…not sure. From what you and Tysen say, there's a lot of bad stuff behind that memory block. Gods know that I want my mind back, but I'm not sure what to expect. Do you really think there's a danger?"
A headshake. "I don't know. I think Nassim has a pretty good idea, but I don't. Eiven has a touch of Empathy and he's awfully worried about you."
It was a sickening idea to contemplate: that this numbness, this hollow lack of emotion, a horrid intrusion into his mind, might be the only thing keeping him from suicide.
"I think," with a deep breath, "That I'd really, really like to have a few friends around." A reluctant pause, "Can you be spared?"
"We're not expecting any casualties today, and even if we were, we'd find a way. Healers are high priority patients." It was a disquieting admission.
Lunch came and they ate together, deliberately speaking of inconsequentials. Cydris brought him up to date on the progress of the war (none), the dogs (well, and missing Kyminn), and their friends (well, worried and overworked as usual.)
They were working on some stretching exercises on Kyminn's injured leg when someone flipped the flap aside and glided into the tent.
Even though he had no recollection of having met this Healer, there was a familiarity to her presence that told him she was the Mindhealer.
"Hello Kyminn. I'm Nassim." Healer Nassim was middle aged, spare and studied in her movements. Kyminn suspected she was a projective Empath, for an odd calm settled over him as she approached.
"Stop that." Kyminn startled himself with his snappishness. Cydris looked at him in surprise.
"Stop what?" Nassim folded herself into the chair beside the bed.
"Stop projecting, stop trying to tell me what to feel." Where had this anger come from?
Nassim glanced at Cydris, and back at Kyminn. "Kyminn, I'm not projecting. I'm not an Empath. At the moment, there are only four recorded examples of the Empathic gift – Healer Eiven, Healer Crathatch, Healer Gallais and Healer Sumon. Of those, only Eiven is here and that only because his Empathy is so weak that he can tolerate this environment. The others cannot."
"Why do I feel different then when you're here, if you're not doing anything?" He was embarrassed at how peevish he sounded, but couldn't help himself.
"Probably because part of you knows that I'm responsible for the blocks on your emotions and is responding to that. The anger is because you don't like it: you're rightfully stressed and depressed and you don't feel like you have the right to express it." She leaned forward, but didn't touch him. "Kyminn, you have just found out that your life has changed radically, and not for the better. You have no idea what you are feeling, or what you should be feeling. Intellectually, you realize that I suppressed your feelings, and since you would rather not face those feelings right now, you clamped them down, but blamed me. Much easier than admitting you're avoiding them."
Cydris looked like she wanted to protest, but held her tongue.
Nassim gave Kyminn a moment to respond, but accepted his silence as permission to continue.
"I'm not sure if you have much knowledge of Mindhealing, it's not all that common a Gift and isn't really part of the Healer's curriculum. Like some other Gifts – Foresight, for example – it doesn't lend itself very easily to observation. However, like all other forms of Healing, once past the 'emergency life-saving' stage of treatment, we do not proceed without the consent of the patient."
Kyminn relaxed marginally. If he'd understood that correctly, it meant the blocks were not going to be permanent. A faint, still suspicious nod was his only movement. Cydris gently squeezed his hand in reassurance.
"In order for me to describe this in a way that is meaningful to you, I'm going to ask you to tell me what it is you see and experience when you use your Healing Gift. Some describe the process as 'moving light around', others as 'building things', others use terms related to sensation, sound, or even music."
It wasn't a question he'd been expecting and he had to take a moment to think before he answered. "All my Gifts are a little different. When I'm using Animal Mindspeech, it's as though I can hear and speak a different language. Dogs speak differently than cats, birds different from horses and so on. It's like a conversation only we can hear. Sometimes it even comes as a surprise that no one around me is responding to what I'm hearing.
"Healing is different though. It's hard to describe. I just know when something isn't as it should be, and when I apply energy the right way, it suddenly feels better. If it had a flavor, it would be something that tasted bitter, and then was sweet. I can't describe it any better than that." He met Nassim's gaze, a touch of defiance in the lift of his chin.
"What you've described is a fairly common description, even down to the idea that it almost has flavor, but doesn't." Nassim nodded thoughtfully. "My own experience is quite different, but I believe I can put it in context for you.
"When you enter a Healing trance, you feel a broken bone or torn tissue as wrongness, something that needs to be corrected. For a Mindhealer, we experience that sense of 'wrongness' when we encounter certain thought patterns, traumas, or forms of mental illness. To give you an example, for us, a chana-leaf addict has a very specific and visible form of mental disease. The same is true for the alcoholic, or even those addicted to overeating. Those diseases, in turn, appear differently to us than does the mind of a burn victim who cannot cope in bad weather because a high wind sounds exactly like the roar of a fire. "
Kyminn thought back, remembering a storm and a traumatized Herald. He knew those kinds of invisible mental injuries were very real. He also knew that Mindhealer Crathatch had restored Randen's sanity.
"So how do you fix people then?" Some of the hostility had bled away, but caution still remained.
"We do a variety of things, just as you do. You mend bone, seal blood vessels, sew and provide potions and salves. The same is true for us. A lot of what we do is talking while much of what we do with our Gift is throw up roadblocks. If a person is engaged in a self-destructive thought process, like chewing chana-leaf, we would make it harder for the person to follow those same destructive habits. At the same time, we'd help them develop new, healthier ways of thinking and reacting. Replacing the bad with the good, much as you do."
"Is it possible for a Mindhealer to simply say, make a person not want to over indulge in spirits? Completely remove the need to drink?" Kyminn was trying to grasp the complexities of what Nassim was describing.
"Depending on the Mindhealer, yes, we could. However, barring very, very extreme circumstances, we wouldn't." Her expression was grave as she looked from Kyminn to Cydris and back again. "It would be an invasion on the same level of using Mindspeech to force someone to do something. The same is true for a Mindhealer and tampering with memory. I could remove those emotion-memories but I will not, not unless there is absolutely no other choice."
"They're still there then? My memories?" Even though he'd been told they were simply blocked, he suddenly needed to hear her say it, to make it real.
"Very much so. It's my intention that, over time, they will all be restored to you. But in a controlled fashion so you can process them, cope with them, learn to live with them. Initially, you suffered a great deal of mental trauma. It was as if the mind-spirit that is Kyminn Danner had been bludgeoned and stabbed. Much of that has been restored, but if I were to simply remove all those blocks and walk away, you would be re-injured – tearing the wounds open, as it were. Those blocks are a bandage, we're not going to simply tear them off and let you bleed to death."
Much as part of him hated to admit it, he understood what the Mindhealer was saying. At the same time, he hated the 'dead' spot in his memories, hated that he couldn't feel anything about that time. "So now what?"
Nassim was very still. Kyminn got the impression she was doing…something…with her Gift. "Most people who come to us with traumas like yours are happy to have the block put up, it gives them a sense of relief from what they've been experiencing. In your case, your inability to recall what happened is working against us. You will continue to resent the block – and consequently the therapy – without a context." Nassim looked at Cydris, her tone a trifle sharp. "I am not going to apologize for shutting you down so thoroughly. I believed at the time, and continue to believe, that it was absolutely in order to save your life. However, I will not proceed with treatment without your full, informed consent. I think you need to know what you need to work on. I want to tear off the bandage and let you see the wound underneath."
His breath caught. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Control of his own mind? Why then, was he suddenly terrified?
"I will lift the blocks on your memories for a brief time. Since you have been unconscious, there is no emotional sense of time attached to your memories. It will feel for you as though it happened yesterday, because as far as you're concerned, it did. I will restore the blocks when you ask – or sooner if I sense you are taking harm. What I will not do is extend the block to today. You will remember what the pain feels like, but you won't be subject to the pain itself." She caught his glance and shook her head, "Believe me when I tell you this Kyminn, that will be enough."
Nassim nodded to Cydris and the younger woman left, returning shortly with Eiven. Kyminn was struck by the haunted air that Eiven had acquired. What had he done to his friends?
Eiven's "Hallo, Kyminn," attempted to be casual, and completely failed to hide the mix of relief and concern Eiven was feeling.
Eiven unfolded a chair and positioned it beside the bed, facing Kyminn. Cydris did the same with the chair that Nassim vacated. While Nassim took up a postion behind Kyminn, Eiven and Cydris linked arms across Kyminn's torso, folding his arms across their own bodies so as to deny Kyminn any sort of leverage. Kyminn recognized the grip – it was the one they used to restrain violent patients.
"Is this really necessary?" Fear put an unfamiliar snarl in his voice.
"Yes." Three voices answered in unison.
"Ready?" Nassim's voice floated down from behind his head while her fingers rested gently on his temples. At his nod, she began.
At first there seemed to be no change, just him lying there with a sore leg and feeling resentful and faintly silly. Soon though, he felt an unbearable sadness rise from beneath his rib cage and he gasped at the pain of it.
His mind flashed back to the moment Zayle screamed, and he screamed anew when he felt, again, that wrenching severing of self from self at the moment Rosen died. Part of him recognized that this wound was un-survivable, that there was no recourse. He saw, with dreadful clarity, how desparately he had wanted, needed to follow them.
He thrashed in the bed, unconsciously trying to escape this pain, this overwhelming grief.
"Stop! Please! Stop!" he choked out. "Make it stop, please!" He didn't care that he was begging, choking on his own sobs.
Like a door that shuts on a noisy room, leaving ears ringing in its wake, the pain vanished, leaving behind an aching void of recollected grief. He gasped at the sudden absence, tears flowing freely as he understood, finally, the magnitude of the tragedy. As he slumped back in his bed, Cydris and Eiven carefully released him. It didn't surprise him that his friends were weeping also.
"I'm not sure I can do this," he hated the tremulous note that appeared in his voice.
"You will. It may not seem like it now, but you will." Nassim's voice was reassuring and confident. Kyminn very much hoped that she knew what she was talking about.