Vox Humana - Part 5
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Her eyes snapped open.
She was somewhere strange.
Again.
Her first reaction was to immediately get up and look around. Her second reaction was to remember why that first reaction was a very bad idea. It took a few moments, prone and panting where she had collapsed back onto the ground, before she was ready to try again. Slowly. Slowly she rolled to her side and eased her way to a sitting position. Remembered where she was and how she had gotten there.
So the creature had not found her. What had happened back there? What had become of it? Had she killed it after all? Were those last final moments merely its death throes?
And as long as she was asking herself questions, here was a good one: how – how, how, how – could she possibly be so stupid?
There was no good answer to that one.
Her head felt very strange. Heavy. She put her hand to it. Oh. That skull was still tied to her. And so were the feathers, now that she took a better look at herself. Suddenly they seemed unbearably constricting, and despite the pain that came with moving, she stripped them from herself almost desperately. Where the threads couldn't be slipped off or worked loose, she took a sharp rock that was at hand and sawed through them, hacking until the last of her costume was off and in a disheveled pile next to her. There. That was something, at least.
Now there was just the small matter of the gaping wound in her back, and the fact that she was miles away from help. Well, she wasn't getting any closer to that by sitting here. As she hauled herself to her feet, she wondered if the twins even knew how to sew, and whether it really mattered. She was sure they could figure it out. And it wasn't like she had a choice in the matter.
Going back there was out of the question.
The first steps were agonizing. Pain shot into every limb, so much so that she had to lean against the wall to stay upright, but after a few more steps it settled down a bit, and she was able to proceed, if not quickly, then at least well enough. Approaching the exit of the tunnel, she came across a stick of splintering wood about the right size, and though bending to retrieve it was not fun, leaning on it eased her way somewhat.
The sun was in the early afternoon sky. Had she really been asleep that long? For all she knew, it may have been longer, a full day or more, though she doubted it. Again she wondered about the fate of the beast; whether it had fully recovered, whether or not it would be searching for her. Whether it would be content to merely capture her this time. She wasn't sure how good a fight she could put up at the moment, but she would go down swinging. This stick was pretty sturdy.
All in all, the journey went about as well as it could. Though she really could have done without the dust storms.
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As long as she would live – and she would look back more than once upon it later – she would never forget the twins' faces when they saw her. She couldn't imagine what she must have looked like, curled up where she had collapsed on the floor of the globe, but judging by those faces, it could not have been good. They knelt before her, hands fluttering over her, shaking, shaking their heads.
"I'm sorry," she said to them, though she wasn't sure why. "Can you – " she went on – or started to, before the blackness took her again.
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When she woke next, she found that she was lying, still curled up, on something that wasn't the floor. Her head was propped up. The sun was beaming down through the open roof.
The globe. Despite the shooting pains, she began to sit up. Was this a book she was lying on? Where were the twins? Even as she was thinking it, one of them was climbing up and kneeling in front of her, easing her back down. Three. It was Three, taking her hand and looking at her with a somewhat more encouraging expression than the day before. The twins must have done something to her; the wound felt a little different. Cleaner, somehow.
"I – need you." Her words came out in a whisper; it hurt to talk. "I need you to try – do you know how? Is there a book you can – " Three was looking over at something, probably Four. "I need you to – "
Someone else was climbing onto the book. Kneeling in front of her. A low, gentle voice: "Shhhh... shhhh, now... it's all right." There, taking Three's place in front of her, was –
Two.
Two was here.
"How – " she said, hearing her voice break. "How – "
"Shhh," he said. "Hush, now. It will only hurt you to speak. The twins came to get me. No one else knows. It's all right."
It wasn't, it really wasn't, and at his soft words a great rush of something welled up inside her, something she didn't understand and profoundly wished would go away; she closed her eyes against it, overcome. One of his hands held hers, and she clutched it as he stroked her forehead with the other.
Far more soothing was the sterner tone his voice took on as he instructed her not to speak or move, even as he reassured her that, badly hurt as she was, she could be fixed.
Stern was definitely better.
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"So he knew?" said Nine. "The whole time? And he never told the others?"
"I'm getting to that."
"Well, I'm not surprised he came for you. That seems like exactly the type of thing he would do."
"Then you knew him better than I did," said Seven. "It never even occurred to me."
"So then he fixed you..." he prompted her.
She nodded. "I'm still not sure what he did, but it took a long time, and from what I could feel, it seemed complicated. The twins helped him." She smiled wryly. "They studied a lot about sewing after that."
"What about you? Did you study it?"
"A little. But I'm not very good."
"I should ask them to teach me," he said, and then, before her eyes, he suddenly came over awkward in a way she hadn't seen in some time. "Um... is it all right if I..."
"What?"
Tentatively, he made a motion, a gesture, toward her; after a moment she realized he was indicating her back.
"Oh." Well, that was all right. Wasn't it?
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... never mind." He looked unaccountably embarrassed.
"No, it's okay," she said, and turned around where she sat so that her back was facing him.
She should have expected it, should have been ready for it. But she wasn't. The gentle touch sent a jolt through her, right into every limb. She gasped.
"Did that hurt?"
"... No."
"I'm sorry, is this – "
"It's fine," she found herself saying.
A moment's hesitation, and then his fingers brushed her again. Another jolt. She struggled to control her breathing as he traced along the edges of the repair. "What does it feel like?" he whispered.
"Huh?" What had they been talking about?
"Does it feel the same as the rest of you?" His hand now moved above it, gliding across her undamaged skin.
"... Yes," she said, once his words had filtered through to her. Her voice sounded strange. Constricted. "It feels like the rest of me."
The touch lingered a few moments longer, and then fell away. Behind her, she now realized, his breathing had picked up as well. It was impossible to say how long she sat there, waiting for breath and reason to return, but by the time they did, she was surprised at how dark it was getting.
Candles. Still there, from the night before. If they were going to go back to the globe, they probably weren't necessary, as full dark hadn't quite fallen yet...
Light flared in her eyes from the match. She touched it to the first wick and held it before her, seeing only its flame, as she walked to the second. Seeing only its flame, but feeling another, feeling his eyes on her as she walked; the glow surrounded her, and though it may have made her more visible, she knew that he would have seen her just as well without it.
Whatever it was that had just happened, he had made it happen. Had he intended it? Had it happened to him, too? She was sure it had. And she was just as sure that she had done no better a job at hiding it.
Was there nothing left? Was there no part of her he could not reach?
She stretched up and touched the match to the second candle. Extinguished it. Let it fall, clattering, to the ground.
"Are you all right?" His voice came, soft and tentative, from behind her, where he still sat.
Why did he even bother asking? What was he trying to prove? Was this a game? If it was, she would have to strongly caution him that, as she herself could attest, it was unwise to play with dangerous creatures.
Footsteps behind her. "I could tell you the rest," she said, without turning, "but you already know it."
"I'm – not sure about that."
"But you have a good idea, don't you? You always do."
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Maybe." Now she turned around. He was quite close to her, little more than an arm's breadth away. She took a step back. "Okay, then. Take your best shot. What happened next?"
Did he have to look at her that way? "He must have promised you he wouldn't tell the others. You must have asked him to."
"Very good. Now ask me why."
"Why?"
"I have no idea."
He frowned at her.
"It's true."
Of course, he wasn't going to leave it at that. He stretched his hand out to her. Without thinking, she took it, and let him lead her back to the center of the map. They sat down.
Okay, then. Deep breath.
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"Be gentle with it for the next few days," said Two, wincing a little as he watched her twist this way and that. "It still needs to stretch a bit. Gradually," he clarified as a twinge of discomfort stopped her in mid-bend.
"I can't believe it," she said, straightening up. Only a day or so ago she had thought – well, never mind what she had thought. "It feels... like a part of me. Like – "
"Like it never happened?" His tone was serious, but when she turned to look at him, he was smiling. "Would you like to see?" he said, gesturing now to the twins, who were coming over with a pair of glass shards held between them. "I should warn you, though. It's red."
"What's red?"
"The cloth I had to use for the outer patch. I had brought white cloth, but it turned out it wasn't heavy enough."
Oh. "I don't care about that. It doesn't matter what it looks like."
"Of course. I just didn't want you to be surprised."
Surprised. Well, it was a little late for that. She opened her mouth, but that welling feeling was back again, making it difficult to speak.
"What's wrong? Are you in pain?" he asked, placing a hand on her arm.
She shook her head. Then: "Why?"
"I'm sorry, you just looked – "
"No, I mean, why? Why did you do this? Why did you come here?"
"Do you really need to ask that?"
"I – "
"You would have done the same, would you not?"
"Of course, but – "
"And I know it's going to sound terrible of me," he went on, cutting her off, "but I'm glad this happened. Much as it may have pained me to see you hurt, it's far better than thinking you were lost."
She closed her eyes.
"And that is what we thought. The way you ran out of there, after I had just fixed you from the last time..." he passed a hand over his eyes. "I blame myself for everything, you know. I should have known both of you better than that. I should have at least gone up there with you; perhaps I could have prevented things from getting so far out of hand. But I wanted you to work out your differences on your own. I thought it would be better that way." He shook his head; she was struck by how small and weary he suddenly looked. "And that's not the only thing I should have done differently. I shouldn't have kept those things from you. It was my decision – the others wanted to tell you. But I was convinced that you would fly off the handle; that you wouldn't understand. That you might do something rash. But maybe if I had explained it to you – "
"Explained what?" she said, finding her voice again. "What was there to explain? He's running your lives like a tyrant, and you're letting him. I really don't see any more to it than that."
"No, I imagine you don't."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," he said, fixing her with his sternest, shrewdest look, "that not all of us see things the way you do. To us, other things are more important."
"More important than what? Freedom?"
"That's exactly my point. That's the way you see the world: there's freedom, and there's imprisonment. There's doing whatever you want, and there's having your life run for you."
"And what about that is wrong, exactly?"
"Have you never considered the possibility that there might be something in between?"
"Between freedom and imprisonment?"
"If that's the way you want to put it."
"All right," she said, throwing her hands up, "why don't you explain it to me? Why don't you tell me what it is that's so important that you're willing to put up with his rules and his orders and his – enforcer – " she spat the word out like a curse – "in order to stay there? Why do you do it? What are you getting out of it?"
As she spoke, the stern look had faded from his face, to be replaced by another one, a strange frown that, had she not known better, she might have almost interpreted as pity. "Do you really not know?" he asked quietly.
"No, I really don't. What is it? Your gadgets?"
"What about you?" he said, turning to the twins, whom she suddenly realized had been standing there the entire time. "Do you know?"
They exchanged a look, then, as one, nodded solemnly at him.
"And you still want to stay here."
They nodded again.
"Well, you have each other, I suppose..." he said, not quite under his breath.
"What are you talking about?" she said.
"I'm talking about us. Each other. We have each other, we have our group. We're together. That's what's so important. That's the most important thing there is."
Together.
"Is this really what you want?" he went on. "Do you really want to be apart from all of us?"
"But I'm not apart from all of you," she said. "I'm still with you. I just can't stay there. I can't – this needs to be done, and no one else will do it. I can't stay there."
"So what will you do? Wander the emptiness alone for the rest of your days?"
"If that's what it takes."
"And how many more times will it take? How many more times will you have to be hurt like this, until one day – "
"What choice do I have? I tried, all right? You said we should all stand together. Well, I tried to reason with him, just like you said. I tried to tell him that we should all fight – together. He didn't listen, so I did what I had to do."
"I know things may not have gone very well up there, but that didn't mean you had to – "
"You weren't there."
"No, I wasn't, but – "
"Anyway, it doesn't matter. He still – " She took a deep breath. "I still need to be out here. And I'm not alone," she said, holding her hands out to the twins. They came over and took them, flanking her. "They're helping me. They've been researching, trying to figure out where this thing came from."
Two looked at each of them in turn, and finally back at her. "It's dangerous out here for them, too, you realize."
"No more dangerous than it is where you are. And I'm watching out for them. And for you."
"But you're not invincible," he said, "and you can't be everywhere."
"I can try," she said, smiling a little. "Like you said, some things are more important."
"Well, what about the rest of us? What are we to do?"
"I told you, I'm watching out for you, too."
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the three of you being away from us. What are we to think, with you off in the wilderness tracking that creature, constantly putting yourself in harm's way? What if you don't make it back to the twins the next time? How will we know if anything's happened to you? Or to them?"
Wait. The others. A bolt of panic went through her. "You can't tell them," she blurted out.
"What?"
"You can't tell them." In the space of a breath she had let go of the twins and dove to take his hands, bending to look him right in the eye. "Please," she said. "Promise me."
He leaned back, dumbstruck.
"Please," she said again. "I know it's a lot to ask. You've done so much for me already. But you can't tell them you saw me."
"Are you serious?" he asked faintly.
"Yes. Promise me, please."
"But – why?"
"I just – please. Promise me."
"You can't expect me to – "
"I know it's a lot to ask," she said, gripping him tightly. "But if you do it, I promise I'll do everything in my power to keep you all safe."
"You just said you were doing that anyway."
True. "Even so. I need you to do this."
"Why? Why is it so important to you?"
"It just is," she said. "Please. For me."
Two bowed his head. He was silent for a long moment. "All right," he finally said, looking back up at her. "For you."
A tremendous wave of relief settled over her. She took a deep breath and released his hands.
"Well," he said, "what am I going to tell them? I've been gone almost a full day already. Someone's bound to have noticed."
She hadn't thought of that. But, wait – "How long?"
"I left at dusk yesterday evening," he said, and indicated the darkening sky above the open top of the globe.
"What?" It was noon when she awoke earlier...
"You were out for quite some time. You were badly hurt, after all."
"Yes, but, you were here? All that time?"
"I wasn't working on you the whole time, if that's what you're asking. It took some time for us to get here, and then we spent a few hours preparing. These two were a great help," he said, nodding to the twins, who smiled at him. "We had to put together a workspace, and then we had to get you cleaned up. There was a lot to do before I could start the actual repairs. And then I was so exhausted from it all that I slept for a while."
"You slept?"
"Yes, if you can imagine," he said, chuckling. Her face must have reflected her concern, for he then said: "No, no – it was fine, honestly. Best thing I could have done. I feel better than I have in months."
"If you say so."
"I do. Now, I'll need to work out what to tell them. In the meantime, are you sure you don't want a look?" He gestured to the mirror shards the twins had set down earlier. "It's good work, even if it is red."
Before she could answer, she suddenly noticed the twins stirring excitedly, chattering to one another with their flashing eyes, and then the next thing she knew, they were swooping in – Four taking her arm, Three latching onto Two – and sweeping them out of the globe. Apparently, they had thought of something.