Trust me – I'm not planning to segue into S/M here. I was curious as to
what happened to Nooj to make him what he became – bitter, aloof, reticent,
wary of forming relationships. It had to be something more than major
battle injuries (he would have been prepared, more or less, for those.) I
felt that some other trauma(s) had sparked his love affair with Death.
Chapter Two
The figure on the bed in the darkened room was still, only the barely perceptible rise and fall of the chest and the steady clicking of the machines reading vital signs offered any evidence of life. Two thick-necked orderlies sat watching from stools on either side of the room. Just outside the door a nurse whispered to her counterpart, "The one there – in that room – he's the one they found dead on Mount Gagazet and brought back to life. He's a problem. You won't believe it but he tried to rip off the machina arm and leg they gave him. The doctors are scared he's gone crazy so they drugged him until they can figure out what else to do."
"You mean that's Nooj the Undying? "
"Shh...we're not supposed to use his name; it's a big secret what happened."
"So you're telling me he gets his life back and tries to kill himself?"
"Sure looks that way. If it had been just a little bit longer, he would have bled to death right there on the floor. He managed to pull some of the connector rods loose and they had to call Gaing out in the middle of the night to cement them back in. You can guess how much Mr. Mighty Surgeon liked that. Now, they're not letting him move and keeping him as near unconscious as makes no difference. I'm going in to check on him now. Want to come with me? .... Wait! Is that Mounfar?"
"Where?"
"Coming down the hall." The first nurse pointed to a wedge of dignitaries led by the unmistakable figure of the Obermaester of the Maesters. Before either of them could think to escape, they were confronted with the hospital's director who demanded, "Do you have business here?"
The second nurse fled but the first stood her ground. "Yes, sir, I am just on my way to do my routine check on this patient."
"That can wait for a while. These visitors have priority. ... This way, Obermaester."
Mounfar paused in the doorway, "I don't want to wake him if he's resting."
"It's all right. He just drifts in and out of sleep; it won't make any difference." The director flipped on the light.
Ordering his entourage to wait outside while he conducted his interview, the priest stepped into the room only to be immediately appalled by what he saw – Nooj was not asleep but staring vacantly at the opposite wall, his eyes dull, the muscles of his face slack. Heavy paddings of bandages immobilized his left shoulder and thigh and his right wrist was secured to the bed frame with a wide leather band.
Mounfar looked at him for a long while but could find nothing of the confident Warrior he had known in the oblivious figure lying before him. Nooj seemed to be lost in a world private to him alone, one with no connection to the reality that surrounded him. "How much medication has he been given?"
"I'm not sure. Let me check the chart." The director was flustered as he flipped the pages. "Oh dear, I'm afraid he's had more than I thought; you know he's very strong and if he had known how to use that machina hand, he would have succeeded in tearing his leg off and he wouldn't be here now. And I suppose you know that he was still trying to do... things when he came out of surgery."
"What sort of things? Rip off the limbs again?"
"That and refusing pain medication. He set barriers against our spells and wouldn't let us near him with injections, so we had to have two strong men hold him down while we knocked him out the first time."
"Why didn't you keep him under until the need for pain management was past? That's what's usually done. Why the change?"
"It was felt by the majority of us that under the circumstances he must be made to understand that his actions would have consequences."
"So you tortured the poor devil. I see.... well, I need to talk to him so send for something to counteract these drugs. ...I'll take the responsibility." Mounfar angrily unbuckled the strap binding the wrist and began to massage away the indentation left there.
"At once, sir." Almost before the call button could be pressed, an Al Bhed technician was in the room with a loaded syringe, emptying it into the shoulder of the man on the bed.
Mounfar waited, closely observing the younger man. He was gratified to see awareness gradually returning to the empty face and eyes when Nooj stirred and, turning to him, asked, "Have you come to free me?"
"Do you feel like a prisoner? Where do you want to go, lad?"
"Of course, I'm a prisoner. What else? I want out of here...away from here and what you've done to me. I want to reverse time. I want to be rid of these travesties you've grafted onto me... Why didn't you let me stay on the Mountain?"
"Do you not want to live? Is death so appealing to you?" Mounfar was gentle as he stroked the unruly hair back from the man's forehead. "We wanted you to stay on this world; we need you."
Nooj tried to pull himself up to confront the Obermaester. "You lie! You want to use me for your own filthy purposes. I died like a warrior and you've turned me into a puppet. With this mechanical ... filth polluting me. Get away from me! ... Get out!" He struggled against the grip of the orderlies who held him back from attacking Mounfar.
"You see, sir," the director timidly pulled at the priest's sleeve, "he's totally mad and we have to keep him drugged to control him."
"Nonsense, he's not crazy. He's saner than any of you. Leave us alone. ...Again – my responsibility. Wait, before you leave, raise the head of this bed."
When the others had reluctantly left the room, Mounfar pulled a chair up to the bedside and settled himself, handing Nooj his spectacles from inside the table drawer, "Nooj, don't be a fool; unless you want to spend the rest of your life in a state of semi-consciousness, you'll have to stop this ridiculous behavior. I'll grant you that we should not have interfered with the arrangements you had made for your demise but give us credit for not knowing what you wanted. We assumed, wrongly as it turns out, that any man would be grateful to be saved from death. It just happened that we chose the wrong man at the wrong time but you can't reasonably expect us to reverse course now, to humanely kill you – it's against all our principles just as suicide is against the tenets of your kind. We're all caught in the same snare so we'll have to make the best we can of it. I give you my word that the Maesters will not meddle in your affairs more than we can help and you promise me that you won't try something like this again. Can we deal?"
Nooj did not meet his eyes, "How did you learn so much about our customs and what makes you think I'm still sufficiently constrained by them to be trusted? After all, I just made what most people would consider a determined stab at killing myself."
"I don't think so, somehow. I think you were infuriated enough to try to get rid of what you consider infringements on your personal dignity and what happened was not a part of your intent. I know your honor and have witnessed your courage. I have no hesitation in accepting your word. Will you give it?"
"On the condition that you put no obstacles in the way of my getting out of this place as quickly as possible. ... And that you tell me what other little surprises you have for me."
"Surprises? I don't understand." Mounfar was genuinely puzzled.
"You understand. You sent LeBlanc to spin her webs – what other plots are waiting for me?"
Mounfar chuckled, "Nobody sends LeBlanc anywhere – she's a force unto herself. If she came here, she came because she wanted to. I don't have any power over her.... But it would appear that you do. After all, you can't deny you send her to tell me what they were doing to you. That's why I'm here.'
"I sent her because I had no other options. And I didn't think you would countenance this sort of treatment, not even of an enemy. Did you know?"
"Of course not; I wasn't even told what you had done until I questioned the doctors after I got here. You have more faith in me than you're ready to admit. ... Now, back to our contract - on my word as Obermaester, I know of no other plots to inconvenience or entrap you. Now, will you agree?"
"You're too eager. I don't trust you."
Mounfar sighed with exasperation. "I can't blame you for your suspicions but you have to trust me or go back into that drugged near-coma you were in when I came. Believe it or not, I'm your salvation, not your enemy, as you seem to think. So, make your choice and make it quickly – I have other duties today than to wheedle and cosset you."
This time fury gave Nooj the strength to spring upright and reach with his right hand for Mounfar's throat. The older man caught his wrist with unexpected ease and snarled, "I said stop this! Don't keep playing madman with me."
Surprised by the response, Nooj attempted to wrest his arm free of the bruising grip. After a brief but futile struggle, he fell back to the bed, still flushed but no longer combative. An indefinable something flickered and died in his eyes. "All right, let me out as soon as possible and I'll give my word that I won't cause any more trouble while I'm here," he agreed with grudging respect.
"That's not exactly what I asked for but it will do for now," Mounfar said. "We can re-negotiate our treaty later if I think it necessary."
He leaned back, releasing the wrist he had held until the younger man yielded. He had accomplished his primary purpose, forcing Nooj to acquiesce to treatment until he could be persuaded to become part of the Maesters' coterie. Now that was done, he had to insure his prize would stay where he could be controlled.
"Where do you want to go when you leave here?'
"I suppose I'll go back to my homeland. That's where most of my kind go when they are old or broken. We are expected to make ourselves useful to our people while we wait to die." Nooj's voice was heavy with sarcasm, not unmixed with self-pity, "Maybe I can take up weaving or some other craft suitable for a cripple."
"Would you like to stay here in Bevelle where you can learn how to fully use these machina limbs? Now that you've given your word, we have no reason not to help you use your arm and hand – and later your leg." Mounfar delicately dangled his bait.
"Are you suggesting that I resign myself to these.... obscenities?"
"Yes, if you ever want to walk again. You should have figured this out yourself, but after what's happened in the past few days, I doubt you're reasoning well. If you're ever going to move independently again you must have the use of the machina hand and arm."
"Why them and not the leg?"
"So that you can grip crutches or a cane. Otherwise you'll fall as soon as you try to take a step. You'll find some sort of prop necessary until you've learned to balance on a foot you can't feel. ... I doubt you've been told yet that these machina prostheses are controllable by your mind. They were designed to mimic your real limbs as much as possible, particularly in the using of them, so you've got to learn to operate them much as you learned to grasp and walk when you were a child. The Al Bhed will explain all this to you in detail if you let them and don't keep fighting them off and making them so irritated with you. You need both physical therapy and mental training before you can begin to taste freedom again. Without both, you'll be condemned to an existence of utter physical passivity – staying wherever you are put by whoever has the tending of you. I don't think you'd like living that way."
"I won't live that way; you know that." He had paled at the thought.
"Nor would I, to be frank with you. But if you don't co-operate you may have no alternative. I understand your anger and frustration; you're still a young man and have much to do. If you stay where help is available, you'll be able to get on with things as soon as you're ready. In addition, you'll find much to amuse you in the city – unlike on your quiet home. For example, to stave off boredom, you might choose to involve yourself with some of the political games available to a man like you. Any number of factions would grab an authentic war hero." Mounfar smiled to imply he was being frivolous.
Nooj laughed without amusement, "You think I want to get into your dirty business? ...No, tell me what the Al Bhed believe these things can do."
"I'll send Gaing to explain it all to you. He claims great success with these new models. With your determination added to Al Bhed ingenuity, who can tell? ... There's another thing you have to face, Nooj, I'm not saying that you can ever go back on active duty in the army, quite the contrary. You'll have to understand that you can no longer be a Warrior; that part's done with. I know you aren't ready to admit this is true so I am relying on your intelligence to weigh your situation and come to this conclusion yourself. We'll give you every assistance in our power to help you establish yourself in another career and you'll find many opportunities available once you agree to be sensible and settle for the possible. When you have regained your strength and mobility you can make the necessary decisions." The Obermaester was relying on his knowledge of the younger man's stubborn pride to hold him in the city where a refuge was already being prepared.
Bound by his promise, Nooj checked his impulsively violent reaction, "You forget I'm a madman and I do not admit that I'm no longer a Warrior; that's not part of our agreement. But, for my own purposes - that is - in order to continue being what I am, I'll stay here if I can find suitable and affordable accommodations."
Mounfar smiled serenely, "Don't worry about that; I'm sure something will turn up." He stood to leave. "Now, don't be in too much of a hurry to get out of here; remember you still have to heal so take advantage of these facilities. ...Now, lad, I have no intention of bothering you again but if you want to see me – send word and I'll come back."
"Wait! Can you be sure they won't start their damned drugs and spells again?"
"I'll leave orders that so long as you cooperate they are to leave your mind untouched. They know I'll be watching and since they don't want to irritate me, you'll be all right now. And as a good faith gesture to you, I'll instruct them to get you up on crutches as soon as possible – if you are a quick student, perhaps even tomorrow." Mounfar waved a hand and was gone.
Crutches! First spectacles, now crutches! Nooj gritted his teeth with disgust and would have flung his water carafe across the room had he not remembered the promise that had been exacted from him. With an angry snort he threw himself back against the pillows and gave himself over to a combination of resentment at his confinement and relief that at least he was finally able to think coherently again.
Chapter Two
The figure on the bed in the darkened room was still, only the barely perceptible rise and fall of the chest and the steady clicking of the machines reading vital signs offered any evidence of life. Two thick-necked orderlies sat watching from stools on either side of the room. Just outside the door a nurse whispered to her counterpart, "The one there – in that room – he's the one they found dead on Mount Gagazet and brought back to life. He's a problem. You won't believe it but he tried to rip off the machina arm and leg they gave him. The doctors are scared he's gone crazy so they drugged him until they can figure out what else to do."
"You mean that's Nooj the Undying? "
"Shh...we're not supposed to use his name; it's a big secret what happened."
"So you're telling me he gets his life back and tries to kill himself?"
"Sure looks that way. If it had been just a little bit longer, he would have bled to death right there on the floor. He managed to pull some of the connector rods loose and they had to call Gaing out in the middle of the night to cement them back in. You can guess how much Mr. Mighty Surgeon liked that. Now, they're not letting him move and keeping him as near unconscious as makes no difference. I'm going in to check on him now. Want to come with me? .... Wait! Is that Mounfar?"
"Where?"
"Coming down the hall." The first nurse pointed to a wedge of dignitaries led by the unmistakable figure of the Obermaester of the Maesters. Before either of them could think to escape, they were confronted with the hospital's director who demanded, "Do you have business here?"
The second nurse fled but the first stood her ground. "Yes, sir, I am just on my way to do my routine check on this patient."
"That can wait for a while. These visitors have priority. ... This way, Obermaester."
Mounfar paused in the doorway, "I don't want to wake him if he's resting."
"It's all right. He just drifts in and out of sleep; it won't make any difference." The director flipped on the light.
Ordering his entourage to wait outside while he conducted his interview, the priest stepped into the room only to be immediately appalled by what he saw – Nooj was not asleep but staring vacantly at the opposite wall, his eyes dull, the muscles of his face slack. Heavy paddings of bandages immobilized his left shoulder and thigh and his right wrist was secured to the bed frame with a wide leather band.
Mounfar looked at him for a long while but could find nothing of the confident Warrior he had known in the oblivious figure lying before him. Nooj seemed to be lost in a world private to him alone, one with no connection to the reality that surrounded him. "How much medication has he been given?"
"I'm not sure. Let me check the chart." The director was flustered as he flipped the pages. "Oh dear, I'm afraid he's had more than I thought; you know he's very strong and if he had known how to use that machina hand, he would have succeeded in tearing his leg off and he wouldn't be here now. And I suppose you know that he was still trying to do... things when he came out of surgery."
"What sort of things? Rip off the limbs again?"
"That and refusing pain medication. He set barriers against our spells and wouldn't let us near him with injections, so we had to have two strong men hold him down while we knocked him out the first time."
"Why didn't you keep him under until the need for pain management was past? That's what's usually done. Why the change?"
"It was felt by the majority of us that under the circumstances he must be made to understand that his actions would have consequences."
"So you tortured the poor devil. I see.... well, I need to talk to him so send for something to counteract these drugs. ...I'll take the responsibility." Mounfar angrily unbuckled the strap binding the wrist and began to massage away the indentation left there.
"At once, sir." Almost before the call button could be pressed, an Al Bhed technician was in the room with a loaded syringe, emptying it into the shoulder of the man on the bed.
Mounfar waited, closely observing the younger man. He was gratified to see awareness gradually returning to the empty face and eyes when Nooj stirred and, turning to him, asked, "Have you come to free me?"
"Do you feel like a prisoner? Where do you want to go, lad?"
"Of course, I'm a prisoner. What else? I want out of here...away from here and what you've done to me. I want to reverse time. I want to be rid of these travesties you've grafted onto me... Why didn't you let me stay on the Mountain?"
"Do you not want to live? Is death so appealing to you?" Mounfar was gentle as he stroked the unruly hair back from the man's forehead. "We wanted you to stay on this world; we need you."
Nooj tried to pull himself up to confront the Obermaester. "You lie! You want to use me for your own filthy purposes. I died like a warrior and you've turned me into a puppet. With this mechanical ... filth polluting me. Get away from me! ... Get out!" He struggled against the grip of the orderlies who held him back from attacking Mounfar.
"You see, sir," the director timidly pulled at the priest's sleeve, "he's totally mad and we have to keep him drugged to control him."
"Nonsense, he's not crazy. He's saner than any of you. Leave us alone. ...Again – my responsibility. Wait, before you leave, raise the head of this bed."
When the others had reluctantly left the room, Mounfar pulled a chair up to the bedside and settled himself, handing Nooj his spectacles from inside the table drawer, "Nooj, don't be a fool; unless you want to spend the rest of your life in a state of semi-consciousness, you'll have to stop this ridiculous behavior. I'll grant you that we should not have interfered with the arrangements you had made for your demise but give us credit for not knowing what you wanted. We assumed, wrongly as it turns out, that any man would be grateful to be saved from death. It just happened that we chose the wrong man at the wrong time but you can't reasonably expect us to reverse course now, to humanely kill you – it's against all our principles just as suicide is against the tenets of your kind. We're all caught in the same snare so we'll have to make the best we can of it. I give you my word that the Maesters will not meddle in your affairs more than we can help and you promise me that you won't try something like this again. Can we deal?"
Nooj did not meet his eyes, "How did you learn so much about our customs and what makes you think I'm still sufficiently constrained by them to be trusted? After all, I just made what most people would consider a determined stab at killing myself."
"I don't think so, somehow. I think you were infuriated enough to try to get rid of what you consider infringements on your personal dignity and what happened was not a part of your intent. I know your honor and have witnessed your courage. I have no hesitation in accepting your word. Will you give it?"
"On the condition that you put no obstacles in the way of my getting out of this place as quickly as possible. ... And that you tell me what other little surprises you have for me."
"Surprises? I don't understand." Mounfar was genuinely puzzled.
"You understand. You sent LeBlanc to spin her webs – what other plots are waiting for me?"
Mounfar chuckled, "Nobody sends LeBlanc anywhere – she's a force unto herself. If she came here, she came because she wanted to. I don't have any power over her.... But it would appear that you do. After all, you can't deny you send her to tell me what they were doing to you. That's why I'm here.'
"I sent her because I had no other options. And I didn't think you would countenance this sort of treatment, not even of an enemy. Did you know?"
"Of course not; I wasn't even told what you had done until I questioned the doctors after I got here. You have more faith in me than you're ready to admit. ... Now, back to our contract - on my word as Obermaester, I know of no other plots to inconvenience or entrap you. Now, will you agree?"
"You're too eager. I don't trust you."
Mounfar sighed with exasperation. "I can't blame you for your suspicions but you have to trust me or go back into that drugged near-coma you were in when I came. Believe it or not, I'm your salvation, not your enemy, as you seem to think. So, make your choice and make it quickly – I have other duties today than to wheedle and cosset you."
This time fury gave Nooj the strength to spring upright and reach with his right hand for Mounfar's throat. The older man caught his wrist with unexpected ease and snarled, "I said stop this! Don't keep playing madman with me."
Surprised by the response, Nooj attempted to wrest his arm free of the bruising grip. After a brief but futile struggle, he fell back to the bed, still flushed but no longer combative. An indefinable something flickered and died in his eyes. "All right, let me out as soon as possible and I'll give my word that I won't cause any more trouble while I'm here," he agreed with grudging respect.
"That's not exactly what I asked for but it will do for now," Mounfar said. "We can re-negotiate our treaty later if I think it necessary."
He leaned back, releasing the wrist he had held until the younger man yielded. He had accomplished his primary purpose, forcing Nooj to acquiesce to treatment until he could be persuaded to become part of the Maesters' coterie. Now that was done, he had to insure his prize would stay where he could be controlled.
"Where do you want to go when you leave here?'
"I suppose I'll go back to my homeland. That's where most of my kind go when they are old or broken. We are expected to make ourselves useful to our people while we wait to die." Nooj's voice was heavy with sarcasm, not unmixed with self-pity, "Maybe I can take up weaving or some other craft suitable for a cripple."
"Would you like to stay here in Bevelle where you can learn how to fully use these machina limbs? Now that you've given your word, we have no reason not to help you use your arm and hand – and later your leg." Mounfar delicately dangled his bait.
"Are you suggesting that I resign myself to these.... obscenities?"
"Yes, if you ever want to walk again. You should have figured this out yourself, but after what's happened in the past few days, I doubt you're reasoning well. If you're ever going to move independently again you must have the use of the machina hand and arm."
"Why them and not the leg?"
"So that you can grip crutches or a cane. Otherwise you'll fall as soon as you try to take a step. You'll find some sort of prop necessary until you've learned to balance on a foot you can't feel. ... I doubt you've been told yet that these machina prostheses are controllable by your mind. They were designed to mimic your real limbs as much as possible, particularly in the using of them, so you've got to learn to operate them much as you learned to grasp and walk when you were a child. The Al Bhed will explain all this to you in detail if you let them and don't keep fighting them off and making them so irritated with you. You need both physical therapy and mental training before you can begin to taste freedom again. Without both, you'll be condemned to an existence of utter physical passivity – staying wherever you are put by whoever has the tending of you. I don't think you'd like living that way."
"I won't live that way; you know that." He had paled at the thought.
"Nor would I, to be frank with you. But if you don't co-operate you may have no alternative. I understand your anger and frustration; you're still a young man and have much to do. If you stay where help is available, you'll be able to get on with things as soon as you're ready. In addition, you'll find much to amuse you in the city – unlike on your quiet home. For example, to stave off boredom, you might choose to involve yourself with some of the political games available to a man like you. Any number of factions would grab an authentic war hero." Mounfar smiled to imply he was being frivolous.
Nooj laughed without amusement, "You think I want to get into your dirty business? ...No, tell me what the Al Bhed believe these things can do."
"I'll send Gaing to explain it all to you. He claims great success with these new models. With your determination added to Al Bhed ingenuity, who can tell? ... There's another thing you have to face, Nooj, I'm not saying that you can ever go back on active duty in the army, quite the contrary. You'll have to understand that you can no longer be a Warrior; that part's done with. I know you aren't ready to admit this is true so I am relying on your intelligence to weigh your situation and come to this conclusion yourself. We'll give you every assistance in our power to help you establish yourself in another career and you'll find many opportunities available once you agree to be sensible and settle for the possible. When you have regained your strength and mobility you can make the necessary decisions." The Obermaester was relying on his knowledge of the younger man's stubborn pride to hold him in the city where a refuge was already being prepared.
Bound by his promise, Nooj checked his impulsively violent reaction, "You forget I'm a madman and I do not admit that I'm no longer a Warrior; that's not part of our agreement. But, for my own purposes - that is - in order to continue being what I am, I'll stay here if I can find suitable and affordable accommodations."
Mounfar smiled serenely, "Don't worry about that; I'm sure something will turn up." He stood to leave. "Now, don't be in too much of a hurry to get out of here; remember you still have to heal so take advantage of these facilities. ...Now, lad, I have no intention of bothering you again but if you want to see me – send word and I'll come back."
"Wait! Can you be sure they won't start their damned drugs and spells again?"
"I'll leave orders that so long as you cooperate they are to leave your mind untouched. They know I'll be watching and since they don't want to irritate me, you'll be all right now. And as a good faith gesture to you, I'll instruct them to get you up on crutches as soon as possible – if you are a quick student, perhaps even tomorrow." Mounfar waved a hand and was gone.
Crutches! First spectacles, now crutches! Nooj gritted his teeth with disgust and would have flung his water carafe across the room had he not remembered the promise that had been exacted from him. With an angry snort he threw himself back against the pillows and gave himself over to a combination of resentment at his confinement and relief that at least he was finally able to think coherently again.