Chapter 33: Reconditioning
"Charon, what were the nice things like before the war?" I asked quietly.
It was getting late and we were back in bed. He took up most of the room so I resorted to laying on his body. He had one arm behind his head and the other rubbing the small of my back. I rested my chin on his chest and looked up at him. Batting my eyes seemed to work most of the time, so I did just that.
He sighed heavily. "You never gonna give up on that, huh?"
I shook my head and he smiled faintly. "Alright, smoothskin. What specifically?"
I looked up in thought. There were so many things I wanted to know about before the war. Picnics, parties, bakeries. There were too many things to choose from. Making my mind, I looked back at him.
"You. I wanna know what you were like growing up."
His smile melted into a sad frown. Before I could change it, he spoke up.
"It's not that great. Are you sure you don't want to know more about cats?"
I nuzzled his chest. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"I haven't thought about my childhood in decades. It wasn't the kind you saw on tv. I grew up in Boston with terrible people. The Institute. They did horrible things to me and other kids that they were 'training'."
I couldn't help but notice his growing distance between us as he spoke. He was remembering shitty things because of me. I had to change the subject fast. "Did you like cats?"
"They took me away from my family. I had a few brothers I think. I can't remember my parents. The only memory I have of mom is of her crying in the corner holding my siblings as those men dragged me out of the kitchen. I never saw them after that. I think I was around six years old when that happened. I'm surprised I remember anything from before the Institute."
His voice was lowering by every sentence. He was speaking barely above a whisper. "Did you have friends in the Institute?"
"I was only given enough food to keep moving. I was conditioned to obey. I obey whatever my employer tells me to do. I eat, breathe, and sleep when the employer tells me to. I live for my employer's safety."
I nudged him in the shoulder. "Charon, you don't have to think about this. You can't stop talking whenever you want."
His gaze slowly met mine in a chilling manner. "You are the employer. I am your employee. I stop when I am told to stop. I have no choice. I am a vessel. A body guard. You have given an employee too much freewill. You are going against the contract." His voice was almost robotic. There was no actual soul in there in this moment.
I needed to find something to stop this. He wasn't going to stop on his own, so I had to do what I knew would work at this point.
"Charon, I order you to stop everything you are doing right now except breathe."
His body went limp underneath me as he did as I ordered him to. He looked like a rag doll in this state. His eyes glazed over from the lack of action. I wiped my hand down my face as I tried to evaluate the situation. I was at a loss for other orders.
"Uh, Charon. Can you hear me?" I asked with a shaky voice.
Had I not been staring intently for any movement or sign of life, I wouldn't have noticed a barely visible nod. I sighed with relief. I hadn't broken him.
"Can you speak for me?"
"Yes, mistress." His voice was mechanic and emotionless.
"What do you feel?"
He regarded my question for a split moment. "I feel what the employer wants me to feel. When not instructed otherwise, I feel nothing."
"Then tell me what you want to feel." Maybe careful orders will get him back to normal.
"It does not matter what I want to feel. I do not feel."
Shit. There goes that.
"Charon, what is my name?"
"You are Eleanor Whick."
"Tell me everything you know about me."
"You came from a pre-war vault. You have been out here for over two months. You are looking for your father who is in another vault. You are pregnant and although you know who the father is, you have made no effort to contact him. I am unaware of the rest of your information for I have forgotten everything else."
He had forgotten everything that had happened between us for two months. Breathing was becoming an almost unachievable task at the thought of him forgetting that he loved me and that he was going to be the father himself.
"I apologize for upsetting you mistress." Charon seemed to look past me instead of at me. I could feel him looking at the wall behind my head.
"Call me what you want. Just please do what you want." Fat tears were running down my chin and dropping on his chest.
"I shall call you what you want. I am unaware of what your preferred title is."
My hands flew to my face as sobs racked my body violently. Charon was growing evermore uncomfortable with each passing second. I slid off of his body and crumpled onto the floor.
"I do not understand what is wrong. Did I do something that I was unaware I was not supposed to do?" Charon sat up stiffly.
I looked up through my fingers and tears. He was very blurry, like I was looking through a plastic jug. I choked back tears long enough to speak. "No. It was me."
If I wasn't so fucking stupid, this wouldn't have happened. Why did I have to ask about his childhood? I could have just asked about cats first.
"Is there something I can do to fix this?" He asked nervously.
Wondering if he even cared, I kicked my feet out until my back hit the wall. I stared at the ceiling and thought back on anything that could help. Deciding to try one last time before giving up for the night, I patted the floor next to me. He stood up and sat next to me roughly. He made it a point not to touch me.
"Charon, what happened?"
"I am unaware of what you are asking."
I pushed at his arm. "Knock the shit off. I asked about your childhood and then you started talking about your family and the Institute. Now you're fucked up and I don't know how to fix it."
"I believe that those memories have triggered something that reverted me back to my conditioning."
"Then why do you remember the most basic stuff about me but forgot everything else? You don't remember holding my hair while I threw up from morning sickness? You forgot about all those nights you held me because I was crying from all the stress? You loved this baby." My voice was cracking again. "This was our baby. You said so."
I wrapped myself around his arm and cried into his shoulder. "You told me you loved me last night."
"I apologize for not remembering any of these things. They seemed to make you happy and I wish I could still do that."
"I know you're in there. I know you-" I paused. "You said you wished you could still make me happy."
"I- I guess I did."
"If you can wish something, that means you feel something."
"I feel guilty for not being able to remember those things you want me to remember."
I took his hand and held it over my stomach. His face portrayed a number of things that I couldn't quite pin.
I cleared my throat once and sniffled. "What do you feel?"
He looked at his hand and rubbed his fingers over my belly in small circles. "I think I remember feeling happy when I did this."
It was enough of an answer. The sour taste settled in my mouth at the next choice of words.
"I got shot in the head yesterday and you carried me back here. There was a severe lack of oxygen going to the baby."
His fingers stopped moving and his eyes shot back to mine. Traces of fear flashed across his face.
"The doctor doesn't know if the baby will make it. You were told to keep a very close eye on me and make sure I am alright. You may be a father, but that could change if those slavers who shot me take the baby. Now what do you feel?"
He withdrew from me entirely. His legs pulled to his chest, he rested his arms on his knees. "I have feelings that I remember feeling but I do not know how to describe them. I am sad. I think I feel scared."
"Good." I coughed. "I mean, it's not good that you feel like that, but it's good that you can feel something. Ignore me." I covered my mouth and chuckled lightly.
"It is late and you need to go to sleep." He stood up, causing me to fall on the ground.
"Alright," I said as I crawled the short distance into the bed.
He started to walk out the room before I stopped him.
"Charon, you don't have to sleep on the couch if you don't want to. Parents typically sleep in the same bed." I smiled faintly.
He stopped in the doorway, confused of what to do next. I scooted away to make room for him and he settled in stiffly.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." I wanted to remind him often of his freewill.
He shifted under the covers and rested his head on the pillow. I turned his head to look at me, and for a moment, I could see a ghost of the old warmth he had when he looked at me. "I want to do this. I want things to go back to normal."
I nuzzled back into him. He was noticeably trying to be comfortable.
"Don't worry, Charon. They will."