Chapter 8
"Hey, Annie," Will greeted her as he entered the cave-enclosure. "Sorry I'm late."
Annie was hanging from her perch on the ceiling nibbling on what looked like a lemon. "That's fine," she answered.
She let go of the perch with her feet and unfurling her wings as she fell. With a quick flip to orient her body head-up, she glided to the floor, flaring her wings to stop her forward momentum, ending up what she called the 'Western World-appropriate' distance of three feet from Will. He smiled and ignored the stiff wind she generated doing that and then rearranging her wings comfortable against her back.
She peered up at him with her fox-face and bright eyes, looking curious. "Lemon?" she offered, proffering it.
"Human taste-buds," he reminded her with a shake of the head. "I need some sweet with my sour."
"Your loss," she answered, popping the remaining quarter of the fruit into her mouth, peel and all.
Will sat down in the habitat's one armchair and waited until Annie had seated herself in a comfortable crouch on the floor. She'd always refused furniture, even that specifically designed to accommodate her body.
"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she told him before he could say a word.
"I wasn't going to cancel an appointment without letting you know."
Annie moved quickly and brought herself nose to nose with Will. Of course, being far smaller than a human, that meant she was now in his lap. Which had been unsettling the first time but not really since. She was descended from bats, after all, and female bats were very social and not remotely shy about personal space.
"You don't have to pretend everything's normal, Will. Everyone here knows better."
He sighed. "We stop going about business as usual and that's a Cabal win. I will not be the man to allow that to happen, damn it."
Annie jumped onto a nearby boulder and, from there, onto the back of his chair. Will laughed and shook his head as he felt her claws against his scalp.
"Are you grooming me up there, Annie?"
"Well it sure as hell isn't courtship behavior, Will. Much as I love you, I'd rather date a lemur than an ape…"
"Fine by me," he assured her. "Because I, personally, have never really been too fond of rodents…"
"Hey!" she laughed in protest. "You know damned well I'm chiroptera and not rodentia."
"My mistake," he answered. "But, Annie, why are you grooming me?"
"Because you're a mammal and mammals find these things soothing. You obviously need it."
"Trying to analyze me now?" he asked, grinning at her over his shoulder.
"Turning into my keeper's keeper," she answered with a shrug. "We all worry about you, Will. Unlike the rest of us, you don't have anyone you can really go to. So we decided that those of us who don't struggle with depression should make ourselves available to you."
"'We' decided?" he asked, frowning and pushing down a surge of paranoia that almost certainly had more to do with the modafinil than with himself. "My patients have been talking about me behind my back?"
"We love you and we really do owe you a lot, so we want to be there for you. Like the way you're always going on about people needing a strong social-support network."
"Thus the social grooming?"
"Mmm hmm. Now talk to me, Will," she directed in a low, soothing voice.
"We're here to talk about you."
"My therapy. We talk about whatever the hell I want to talk about," she informed him flatly. "And, right now, I want to talk about how William Perry Zimmerman is dealing with having the weight of the universe on his shoulders."
"It's not the whole universe."
"Hey, isn't 'absolutely no bullshit' the first rule you lay down with your patients?" she inquired. "You've taken it on yourself to recover and fix Ashley, heal Henry, watch Druitt and Tesla like a hawk, and keep Helen's head above water, all the while liaising with the typicals." She was suddenly no longer on the back of the chair but in his lap, nose-to-nose with him. "Will, honey, I have offspring old enough to be your parents. There's nothing you can't tell me, kiddo."
He stared into those bright, beady eyes, considering for a long moment. "I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to be so worried about the future that it's physically painful," he whispered, closing his eyes.
That fox-like snout nuzzled his cheeks. "Will," she murmured, her breath hot and ticklish against his neck. "You tell me everything, son."
"I was alone and afraid and confused and ridiculed at every turn for almost 25 years," he whispered. "She came along and made it all go away. And now those bastards are making war on her…"
Soft, fur-covered hands came up to cradle his face, and he felt her claws against his cheeks. Maybe it said he needed to be spending more time with 'normal' people, but it felt like he was being coddled by a mother. Granted, Annie was a mother…
"Do you love her, Will?"
"Yes."
"Are you in love?"
"I don't know."
A tender kiss on each cheek, then, "Look at me, Will."
He opened his eyes reluctantly. That beautiful, usually-inquisitive face conveyed nothing but sympathy.
"Helen adores you. But she's never asked for nor expected special protection from those around her. I can entirely relate to wanting to give her that, but it's nothing you're obliged to do and certainly nothing she's ever required from you. The fact that you chose to attempt it anyway says a great a deal, son."
"She's got to be so alone…"
"She's not, not as long as you stick close. You can help her. But she can also help you. If you give comfort, don't be afraid to also let yourself receive it."
"I can't let her see me be weak."
"Then instead you take your comfort in the company of the other men and women who love you, Will," Annie directed, nuzzling him again. "Everything you've done for all of us, we don't mind doing this for you."
Will wrapped his arms around her, relaxing into her and smiling at the way her fur tickled. So insanely reminiscent of being soothed by his own mother that he couldn't do anything but be comforted.
"Annie, I…" he began, shaking his head. This was no way to act in front of a patient.
"Hush," she directed tenderly. "Just go with it, Will."
"It's been so long."
"I know, darling. But I have you now and I'll keep the bad things at bay if you only let me."
"What if I can't do it? What if I'm not good enough? What if I let her down?"
"Whether you succeed in your self-appointed tasks or not, son, she will never find you a disappointment," she soothed, nuzzling his cheek and burying her claws in his hair again. "If you could hear the pride with which she always speaks of you, you'd know this."
"I'm scared, Annie. This world, it's become the center of my universe, started to define the person I am…"
"And now it's under attack and, somehow, that's worse than being held down and cut into and made into a creature you aren't."
He jumped to his feet, heedless of the woman in his lap, and backed away, equal parts angry and afraid.
"Who the hell told you that?" he demanded.
Everyone had known about the kidnapping of course, but not the rest. Not the way the Cabal had turned him into a monster who gloried in violence and could no longer tell friend from foe. Not how he'd tried to break Magnus' neck when she said she was going to have to sedate him to remove the Scarab. Not the mood-swings that had continued even after it was gone and the drugs were cleared from his system, too. Not the continued, irrational-but-not-entirely fear that he was still somehow under Cabal control and just didn't know it. Not waking up in a cold sweat sure you could hear that seductive female voice the Scarab had used to nudge him further and further down the road to absolute loyalty.
She had no way of knowing any of that unless someone had told her, one of his coworkers or the Cabal itself.
"Look at you, son," she sighed, shaking her head, fox-face sad as she regarded him. "People talk. This is our home and you are our family. Everyone's been worried. Helen did her best to make sure no one resident knew the entire story of what had been done to you but, once we noticed how you'd changed and started discussing it among ourselves, it became clear. I don't pretend to know all the details of what was done to you, but Steve says not all your injuries were defensive in nature. That tells us the likely reason for the cut on your neck; you would never be so violent under your own power."
Will forced himself to relax, automatically rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't want to talk about this, okay?"
"Steve says the scar is ragged, like you were awake. Like you struggled."
"Annie, don't!" he pled, shaking his head and fighting tears. "It wasn't the same. I wasn't raped. It was just a medical procedure."
"I'm small; it took two men to hold me down. You're larger, stronger, were fighting for more than your virtue. How many men did it take to hold you down?"
He shook his head again.
"Answer me, Will!" she ordered, closing the distance between them. Small or not, she could be imposing when she wanted, especially when she used her matriarch voice. "Tell me how many men it took to hold you down."
"Three, maybe four."
"And one more to actually do the deed?"
"Two, I think," he whispered, closing his eyes. "One with the scalpel and forceps and the other with the actual Scarab…"
"Five or six, then. Were there others?"
He slid down the wall and to the floor, drawing his knees against his chest as his heart began to jackrabbit. Anxiety attack but at least it seemed unlikely that he would end up with a full-blown flashback.
"Were there others?" she repeated implacably.
"I don't know. I think so." He shook his head. "It was happening too fast, I couldn't keep track, but I could hear people laughing…"
"Laughing at the way you struggled? The way you screamed?" she prompted.
"Yes," he whispered, bringing his forehead to rest against his knees. "But it wasn't like it was for you," he added quickly. "What was done to you was…"
"Horrible?" she pressed when he faltered. "Disgusting? Unforgivable? An abomination?"
He tensed at the feel of her hands on his shoulders but the part of him that could hardly bear to be touched right now was overridden by the part of him that needed the comfort.
"The only difference, Will, is the object that made us bleed. The rest is the same except that, for you, the nightmare didn't end when the assault did."
"I can't let them do that to anybody else," he whispered, voice shaking.
"It or anything like it," she agreed, nuzzling his cheek again. "And I understand that desire, Will. But none of that translates into shutting yourself off emotionally and then proceeding to drive yourself into the ground. You need to talk and you need to rest. The only question is in what order."
"I can't talk about it anymore right now."
"Then rest. I'll sit up with you if you want."
"That won't be necessary. Once my nighttime meds kicked in, I wouldn't even be aware of your presence."
"I can sit with you until then," she offered gently.
"No." He shook his head. "I have some things I need to work through in private."
"If you're sure. But you know where to find me if you change your mind."
"Thanks, Annie," he sighed, weakly climbing to his feet.
She watched him keenly with those intelligent eyes of hers, clearly aware that there were things he wasn't saying. He was grateful when she didn't press him for details.
Lately, he'd come to see his life in three phases. Two of them, his first eight years of life and his time since coming to the Sanctuary, were pleasant and easy to remember fondly. The other twenty-four years were largely unfit for mixed company.
If being held down and violated by the Cabal reminded him of his time in foster care, that was nobody's business but his own. He gave her a genuinely grateful smile, then left her habitat.
