(Eight)
After the fight with Logan, the Ristle rush from Fallen's repair hadn't lasted long for Kimble. He had fallen back to sleep only to tumble back into his new world of nightmares. He was in agony, his body hurting. These horrible dreams were killing him slowly, ripping his mind apart. He found himself lying balled up on the floor in Fallen's lav. He called for his Mistress, but he was alone. He closed his eyes and looked into the Black Room, startled to see Fallen and Seth there making love. He was thrilled for them, he really was, but it didn't help him now. His belly was on fire. His lungs were filled with slivers of glass. It was all in his guts, too. He'd been stabbed, run through with swords and was now lying in a pool of frozen grey liquid. He was bleeding out onto the floor. He couldn't move and sobbed loudly in his misery.
A hand reached down and touched him gently. He looked up and saw Zander's shattered face peering down at him from above. "Nnoo... Go away!" Kimble groaned.
"You kin end yer pain, Kimble. Ya knows whatcha gots ta do."
"Jus' kill me if that's whatcha want!" Kimble sobbed, in pain beyond reason.
"Find the swords, ya knows where they are. Kill Valentin. Kill the ones what hate you. Punish thems! When it's just the three of yous again -- you and Seth and Fallen -- yer pain will end! It'll be just like it wuz before -- no pain, no hurtin's like this! Do it now! Punish them! Punish them all!"
Kimble woke to reality abruptly. He was disoriented because he was still in the lav, wrapped in blankets with Fallen beside him. He was still in pain although the gel blood wasn't there. His guts hurt, the injuries there gone but leaving ghost pains behind. He had to end this. He had to do what needed to be done, he would go mad if he didn't. He rose awkwardly and staggered to his feet. He shuffled out of the lav much as he'd shuffled in, his arms wrapped around his belly and wincing with every step. He passed the barracks, but no one was on guard duty. Not that he noticed, he was in a red fog of pain and thought only of his destination. He made his way down to the lower level and to the Storage Room. He entered and found what he was looking for.
The Clansmen's swords had been stacked neatly on one of the shelves and he stood looking at them for a moment before reaching out with a trembling hand. He grasped Valentin's sword from the pile and slid it out of the scabbard. It felt so heavy and right there in his hand, so perfect. He raised it and watched as the overhead light danced across the blade. He shivered as his pain left him suddenly. He was filled with a kind of euphoria and he laughed. He could use this, yes, he could do what needed to be done.
"That ain't the way I taught ya, baby doll."
Kimble startled at the sound of the familiar voice, one that could never be Mirror Face. No this was one altogether new. Sheyman. No, it couldn't be. Sheyman was dead. Dead and buried on Siska long ago. Kimble looked around him in a panic, but he was alone. He was totally freaked out now and jumped when he looked back and saw the sword in his hand. He dropped it back on the shelf with a clatter, shocked and horrified by what he'd been thinking. He was hearing voices in his head and contemplating murder.
"I've gone over...!" he whispered. "I've gone over and turned alla the way around. What the fuck am I gonna do?" He staggered away from the swords and fell against the wall. He slid to the floor, covering his face with his hands. "I gots ta git outta here!"
He sat curled up for a couple of minutes, shivering and whimpering before his good ole Kimble sense kicked in. He was breaking down, that was obvious, and he had to do something about it fast. What worked best, huh? A nice good tumble, but he knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Not with the crew on board now. He considered jerking off, but sex alone had never meant anything to him. He had to have the heat of another body and the rushing whisper of their heart beating in his mind to satisfy him. Anything else was an empty waste of time. He thought briefly of Seth and Fallen and laughed a little at the image of their happy lovemaking. He wondered if Seth had heard her heartbeat. That was the very best part of making love. That and when the love would come blasting into him like a giant wave of heat and pleasure. He would have to tease Seth about it later.
In the meantime, he had to do something to get his mind off all of this. If he couldn't fuck he would have to do something else. He had to play. But play what? He looked around him with tear streaked eyes and saw the guitar collecting dust up high on the next rack. That was it. He would play. Relax. Have fun. Tell Zander to take a hike. He was stronger than that.
He stood up quickly and snatched the guitar, leaving the swords behind. He grasped the instrument like a talisman and fled out into the shop, snagging a bottle of whiskey as well. He could do this. He grabbed a stool and the jar of cigarettes. He would play and have fun. He was going to forget Zander and forget about the blood if he had to play all fucking night.