Lying around the clinic gave Jane a new perspective on what Krul went through. There was absolutely nothing to do but think. And that was dangerous. Her mind went from mulling over her new found freedom, how glorious it was to finally be whole again sans inhibitor, to reliving the past few years on an incessant loop. The twisted movie in her mind gave birth to a frantic, desperate scrabbling deep in her chest – melting away her protective cocoon of numb. Nothing worked to distract her either. She'd reach the bottom of an article only to realize she hadn't the faintest idea what she just read. Vids drifted across her vision but were never absorbed. And she suspected she was losing little gaps of time. Lost in the past. Lost on those ships.
She hid it well enough. But the truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, lurking in the shadows. Never relenting. And with time, it will always be revealed.
It came to a head when Daniel, a doe eyed, harmless thing, caught her in an unguarded moment. His hands, the same color and size as Krapo's, reached towards her during a dressing change and she flinched. Every nerve in her body flared. Every molecule telling her to fight. To run.
"Sorry." Daniel paused, concern etched across his face. "I'll get a female nurse. I wasn't thinking."
"Wait, what are you talking about?"
He cocked his head, carefully considering his next words. "It's perfectly natural for someone with your… history… to… need some space."
Jane froze. Appalled. "I need to speak with Mordin." The words scarcely made it out of her throat, catching, in her quivering larynx. "Now."
Thirty minutes later, Mordin was sitting by her bedside, his large, alien eyes boring into her.
"You said I could trust you." She snapped, voice icy. "Who else knows?"
"Jane… Am not certain what is causing this distress."
"The scanner thing you did to fix stuff, after the Ubralle … and not for my leg. You know what I'm talking about."
The salarian nodded solemnly, placing his hand on hers.
"Why does Daniel know about that?"
"One of my staff. Junior doctor. Has access to medical records."
"Records?!" Her whole body began trembling. She snatched her hand away. "Records?! You… wrote it down?! Why!? Why would you do that?!"
"Physicians take notes on all injuries patients sustain for future reference." He responded. Voice infuriatingly calm.
Bile rose in her throat, causing her to cough and gag as the acrid liquid splashed against vocal cords.
"But everything encrypted. No one outside clinic..."
"Nalah?! Does Nalah know?"
The salarian didn't need to respond. His silence was enough.
"Delete it."
"Jane..."
"Please. Delete it. I don't want that shit following me around for the rest of my life. PLEASE. I'll never have peace. I'll never be free. Just ….please ….you have to delete it." Her stomach churned. Tears stung at the edges of her eyes. "Does ….. Castor?!" She leaned over and hurled. Bits of asparagus and green beans smeared across her hand as she wiped her mouth. Words came in gasping, hysterical sobs. "Who… else..."
"No. Not Castor. Only those working in clinic. Here." Mordin raised a syringe "This will help."
She lashed out, unthinking. Flinging the syringe against the far wall, the small tube shattered, glinting as the fragments fell, reflecting the artificial lights. Blue steam wafted from her hands. Evidence of her outburst turning to mist. Her face changed in a flash, horror instantaneously replacing rage. "Oh gods. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She yanked out her I.V. and rushed to the minute pile of broken glass. Scooping up the pieces, mindless of their jagged edges, or the blood dribbling from her fingers.
"Jane..." Mordin's voice was soft. "Jane please….No need to fuss. No worries."
If she could hear him, she gave no indication. After a few minutes, the soft swish of the doctor's lab coat brushed against her cheek, catching her attention. She paused as he extended a long, spindly arm. With the flick of a finger, his omni-tool sprung to life.
"Here. This every file I have on you. Need one with surgery notes. This one. See numbers? Nine twenty-eight twenty-one eighty-four."
She nodded.
"Those from inhibitor removal. Need to keep. Must monitor progress. But … other injuries fully healed. Now these numbers? Five twelve? May twelfth."
She nodded.
"That… file written immediately after you were found. If you want it gone, this delete key. No other copies. Will be removed from clinic's server. Your choice. Not everything can be erased so easily. But your file. Your decision."
She paused, index finger hovering momentarily before pressing down. A window popped up on the interface, showing the deletion progress. While it advanced, her breathing slowed, panic subsiding, as the shame and misery were wiped clean. "Thank.… you..." Her voice was nothing but a wobbly whisper.
"Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all. (1)
Old human proverb." He shrugged. "Seemed appropriate. Now, will have Patricia bring you on quiet walk around clinic. Stretch legs. This will be..." He motioned to the mess of vomit and broken glass. "Cleaned up when back."
"I'm… really sorry."
"Have faced great adversity. Outburst understandable."
"I just… hate being altered. I spent years drugged, my mind wasn't my own… and I..." Her voice caught as she turned, staring into those seemingly limitless, alien eyes. "Thanks… for not… forcing it on me. I … get needing them after surgery but I hate it. I hate it so..."
"Jane. Will only give sedatives if necessary. Not necessary right now. Take walk. Feel better." He pulled her to her feet. With a few beeps on the omni-tool, medigel was dispensed, sealing the various cuts along with her I.V. site. "Discharge day tomorrow. Clear head. Stay almost over."
As Patricia lead her away, Jane couldn't help but wonder how long the chaos inside had been spilling over. How many had seen the chinks in her armor? One hand grasped at her elbow as she nervously pulled inward. Maybe she wasn't so great at disguising it after all.
Citations: (1) Emily Dickinson