Unpleasant memories

Talian could remember his first night on the island. He remembered curling helplessly under his bedsheets, body trembling and chest heaving, though he was unable to cry. He hadn't been much of a crier in his past life. Inward emotions were one thing, but physical expressions were difficult. They brought him father down on him and they made him seem weak in front of his peers. He didn't necessarily care about his reputation, but he did care about making himself a target. Even on that fight night, when his world was crumbling around him, he couldn't find it in him to cry.

As he stepped onto the island for the second time, he actually found he was in much more danger of shedding tears. He hated this place. It dragged up all the memories he wanted to repress forever, things he'd already dedicated far too many sleepless nights to. He sighed and turned back to the dragonrider who stood behind him. "Thank you," Talian said, more icily than he intended. He kept his composure and kept his chin up, strength born purely of resignation. He could lash out at the bluerider all he wanted. He could pitch a fit at having to come to the island or ride that ugly dragon. Neither would do him any good, though.

If there was one thing Talian understood these days, it was his own helplessness. Besides, he did have a job to do. It was a shame Katila lacked a proper mindhealer, for Talian was probably the least comfortable in this particular position. That designation once went to prenatal care, but he'd made a point of brushing up when he feared Fiora was pregnant. Of course, Tal had devoured any number of manuals and pamphlets on mindhealing when he was still a student, and naturally he remembered them all. Being a prodigy had it's uses, even if he did feel like he'd hit a wall in term of his career and growth. He hadn't learned a damn thing in over a turn now. At this rate, the rest of the sharding world was going to catch up and he wasn't going to have anything going for him.

He was a surgeon, not a shrink. But at least he could give Sanderon what he wished he'd had just a little over a turn before.

Talian walked down the familiar hallways, clutching the vase of flowers given to him by Aparicus. There was also a note, but he kept it buried in his pocket, intending to give it to Sanderon right before leaving so the contents wouldn't distract the patient. I'shan walked close behind, and Talian tried his best to ignore him. Before J'ver, Tal would have cringed before the rider and tried to keep his distance, but he no longer saw the point. If I'shan wanted to hurt him, he simply would. He'd proven that by ruining  Erisi's life...Erisi, Talian's best friend.

Sanderon could forgive the bluerider all he wanted, but Talian never would. He suspected I'shan could sense it, too. The bluerider seemed almost nervous.

The door was unlocked, and Talian stepped inside. "Leave us, please," he whispered to I'shan. He knew the bluerider had been working hard to care for Sanderon. A brief interview at the healer hall had revealed that. I'shan had been washing the boy's clothes, cooking his meals, and in one particular event, cleaning his urine off of the walls. The rider seemed dedicated to fixing it all, but Talian wasn't willing to make comment on his sincerity. All he cared about was the facts; I'shan had seen rapidly shifting emotions in the patient, including rage fits and conversational mood swings. Physically, however, he was healthy. Good start.

The door closed and locked. Talian would have been nervous, but he knew the dragonrider was right outside. Talian turned to Sanderon, offering a meek smile, before setting his bag down. "A young lady asked me to bring these flowers to you," Talian said. "Where would you like them?"

Sanderon could hear two sets of footsteps coming towards his room. He recognized one set right away as belonging to I'shan. The other set he thought might be familiar but he couldn't place them with a face. He knew they were coming to see him. There was no one else on the island. At least not that he knew of.

His face showed obvious signs of crying. But hearing that he was about to have a visitor, he placed a hand over his eyes as he lay upon his back on his bunk. I'shan had found him shivering on the floor a short time after his rage had been spent two days ago. The room had been totally wrecked and it smelled horrible too. He was also a wreck but at least he lived through it. His rage had not come up into his being after that event. Not even a hint of it remained. He was sure he might get angry in the future but the beast that raged in his mind no longer seemed to exist. Instead a constant tiredness of mind and pain of heart remained.

Hearing the whisper that was exchanged between his visitor to I'shan after the door had been unlocked and opened, he knew who was here. Talian. Moving his hand away from his eyes he rested it comfortably upon his stomach and turned his head to see the man. His red eyes searching out how Talian might think of him now. His focus slipped quickly away from Talian's meek smile and onto the flowers he held. They instantly reminded him of the young woman that he had watched make a bouquet for his room back at healer hall. What was her name? He could not remember but he saw her face clearly.

When Talian confirmed that a young lady had sent them, Sanderon managed a half-hearted but genuine smile. He was too broken at heart for anything more than that. But the gift of flowers truly touched him. He thought he would never hear from her again with how rude he had been. When asked where he wanted them placed, he sat up on his bunk and then stood. Taking a few steps closer to Talian, where the table-stand had been set upright again, he spoke quietly with an obvious tone of heartbreak still present. Gesturing to the table he said, "Here. Please....Thank you Talian. Take a seat if you like. I can't offer you any refreshments though." He tried a friendly smirk to lighten the atmosphere a little, but it just came out looking pathetic.

Talian complied, carefully setting the vase down on the table before taking his own seat. "It's fine," he said pleasantly. He brushed a bit of his hair from the side of his face and looked to Sanderon, appraising eyes locking onto the other young man's in a knowing way. Talian hadn't been placed on the island, but he'd gone through a similar sort of observation. B'jin would have done it even if no one was strictly supposed to.

"I ate before I came over," he elaborated. He opened his bag and rooted around for a moment. He had a variety of herbs and other remedies, mostly mild sedatives and anti-hallucinogens. He hoped he wouldn't have to use them, but one could never be too careful when dealing with an unstable mind. Tal's heart was heavy for his fellow northerner, but he was here, at least for the time being, as a doctor.

The young man closed his eyes and cleared his throat. "Okay," he said, putting on a modest smile. "I'm sorry, but I've been ordered to do a medical screening," he said. He knew Sanderon would know WHY he was there, but he still owed him at least a basic acknowledgement of the fact.

Tal produced some paper and a quill from his bag. He set an inkwell out, then looked back to the other northerner. He took a moment to think over the notes and research he'd done over the past few days. Jumping form surgery to mindhealing wasn't easy, even for someone accomplished like Talian. It took a lot of preparation, and while he was certain he'd have to make up much of this as he went, he wasn't going to let that show on the surface.

"All right," he said. "Sanderon, would you mind answering a few questions?" he asked. "If you could start by telling me a little bit about your current state of mind and tell me about the conduct of the bluerider who's been looking after you, that would be excellent." I'shan didn't know about that last part, but it came straight from D'ren.

He took a brief moment to admire the flowers in their vase upon the table. It was the only pretty thing in his life at this point and he truly appreciated them more than he thought possible. It was a simple thing but it meant a lot to have them.

When Talian sat upon one of the chairs that had been previously brought into the room, Sanderon took the other opposite from the Healer and watched as he rummaged in his bag with a very contemplative look upon his face.

After a time of searching, Sanderon watched as the man brought out onto the table paper, a quill and an ink well; With the statement about his arrival to do a medical screening. Sanderon knew that by 'medical' Talian really meant 'mental'. He knew this was going to take place but he sighed quietly with resignation just the same.

When asked if he minded answering a few questions, Sanderon was internally nervous. But outwardly he nodded his consent and waited to see what might be asked.

He heard Talian ask him about his own state of mind and the conduct of I'shan in that order, but he skipped his own mental state and went straight towards the subject of I'shan. It was easier to deal with.

"He cries a lot." He stated first with a small frown. He could sometimes hear the bluerider down the hall and he saw the man's tears too. Funny how Sanderon chose that as his first observation because at this point it was a toss up of who actually cried more. Though when he wasn't in the room alone he would force himself not to cry. Crying equaled weakness. It was something he would not allow himself to be...if he could help it.

Thinking further about I'shan's conduct he added, "He feeds me okay. He cares for my needs. He does good I guess." Yes Sanderon may have forgiven the man but he wasn't up to filling the air with praises for the guy. Forgiveness was not the same thing as friendship.

He didn't know what else to say about the blue rider. As for the question about himself, he considered it carefully. Knowing Talian was only there to help and wasn't going to taunt or persecute him, Sanderon took a breath and spoke quietly. "You missed quite a show two days ago. Haven't slept a lot since." He frowned at himself and put his hands upon the table and began rubbing absentmindedly, on his knuckles. The scratches across them were minimal and the bruising nearly gone.

"Been crying a lot." He added and put his focus on the flowers. Then thinking better of it when his heart clenched with the familiar pain of sorrow, he turned his attention back to his knuckles while Talian wrote, whatever it was that he was writing, upon the paper.

"Is Lymsleia okay?" He asked, looking to Talian with concern in his eyes.

Talian dutifully wrote down his observations as Sanderon spoke. He was careful to write down the exact words the other young man used, along with his own notes in shorthand off to the side. He nodded quietly as he worked, occasionally glancing to Sanderon to assure him that he was paying attention.

The fact that Sanderon said anything positive at all about his searchrider was a good sign. It meant he was, on some level, accepting of what was happening. Tal understood that one for sure; it struck a deep personal note, but he rudely shoved his own sentiments aside. He felt like a traitor writing such things, but he didn't want to think about what would happen if he refused. He hadn't used the word 'ordered' instead of 'asked' for no reason.

The personal notes were surprisingly good as well. Crying showed not only an acceptance of his own emotions, but the ability to express them; something Talian remembered lacking for the longest time. He couldn't help but smile just a little bit.

Ah, and an inquiry about the well-being of another. Good. "Lymsleia is fine," Talian commented quickly. "Her voice was strained by the pressure, but a couple days' rest and some relaxants helped her get over it fairly quickly. There's been no permanent damage," he said.

He made a couple more notes. Missing sleep wasn't good, and once again it was a symptom that he was intimately familiar with.

"Is there anything specific you can tell me about your thoughts over the past week? Any.." He paused and pursed his lips, embarrassed. "...Any suicidal thoughts or tendencies? Violent impulses?"

Sanderon frowned slightly when he heard the words, 'strain' and 'pressure' but he was very relieved that Lymsleia was okay. He still kicked himself harshly for having harmed another, especially a female. It did not matter if she had annoyed him or not, his actions were inexcusable and he knew it.

There were a lot of things he regretted. Having lost his mind was a big one.

When the next set of questions came, Sanderon stiffened slightly. He did not like these questions. Resigning himself to answering after a time of silence went by, he took a breath and tried to collect his thoughts together on what exactly he should share. After another short time past, he turned to Talian and spoke. His voice was quiet and careful in the words he was choosing.

"I have no desire to die." He answered first with a brief wondering about Talian's own experience with that feeling. Letting the thought pass, he continued. "I...uh...exploded a couple days ago. The anger started to take over. It kept getting stronger and I couldn't stop it. I..." He took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked down at his scrapped knuckles. "I killed it. It won't be coming back."

After what seemed like an eternity to Sanderon he also admitted quietly, "I can't kill the anguish. It won't leave me alone."

Talian wrote some more. He wrote for a long time. He paused and reconsidered his words, scratched out and added to, until his page was covered in indecipherable handwriting. Much of it was the product of overthinking, but he could prune it later. For now, he needed to get down every detail he could. He could sort the important from the unimportant later. He couldn't afford to actually miss anything, though.

The long silence didn't go unnoticed. "I'm trying to help you," Talian explained tenuously. "You need to tell me as much as you can, all right? Every detail. Every thought." His voice got softer the more he spoke. He was haunted by his own encounter with that same beast, but he'd done his best to leave it at the door. He always left his personal problems at the door. This was the hardest, though. It was crushingly difficult. It made him weak in spirit, but strong in heart. He'd come a long way and suffered a lot to achieve that strength.

He forced the door shut. This wasn't about him.

"I understand that it's hard, Sanderon," he said dispassionately, struggling so hard to maintain his professionalism that he sounded like he didn't feel anything at all. That wasn't too far from the truth, at least not in this case. "You know, I know you do." He softened just a little, his expression glassy, almost as if it could shatter. "This isn't the sort of thing that goes away overnight. But I will help you."

He looked to his bag. "I know you don't believe in drugs. I have had trouble with them myself." No need to mention specifically that he'd gotten high and made a scene in the dining hall. Nope! No need at all. He almost blushed at the memory. "But some low-dosage medication will help clear your mind and get you to sleep at night. They can even suppress violent urges, should you feel anything like that coming on. You should consider it for short-term recovery..."

He didn't specify whether or not they'd actually worked for him. He was a healer, of course he believed in drugs. He knew they worked, at least for most people.

Talian was just trying to help him. Sanderon knew that but it didn't make this any easier. Perhaps the fact that it was Talian asking the questions was help enough. Sanderon had heard the rumors and watched from afar as Talian went through his own nightmarish time. If anyone could understand it would be Talian.

Being asked for every detail, every thought, though was not something he wanted to give. The only way to give Talian what he asked for was to reveal how weak and vulnerable he really was. Sanderon couldn't allow that to happen.

...But he knew that he couldn't go on the way he was.

Closing his eyes, he shook his head sadly. Scooting back his chair carefully he stood and looked down upon Talian sitting there at the table. Sanderon had not been allowed to hunt for well over a turn and a half but he had never stopped being a hunter and right now his skills of observation were strong. He saw through Talian's shell and knew that the healer was still fighting his own demons. Despite the professional exterior, Talian's heart was probably as broken as his was. And yet...he still came and offered his help.

Tilting his head as he gripped the back of his chair, Sanderon considered the situation and the man that sat before him with a lot of deep thinking. After what seemed like several minutes, which it could have been, Sanderon nodded once. A decision had been made.

Instead of sitting down though, he remained standing. He felt more comfortable that way. Perhaps it made him feel more in control. Pushing gently off the back of his chair, he stood there with hands relaxed at his sides and despite the tightness in his heart and the churning in his gut, he began to speak.

"My mothers name is Eronia. My father's name is Sandark."

Sanderon's throat constricted painfully and he had to pause for a brief moment before he could continue. He had never told anyone about his family before this. He would tell Talian now.

"My brothers, Arkero and Sarron; They are older than I but not by much." Sanderon wiped his sleeve across his eyes quickly. "They saw me off that morning, one turn, eight months and two days ago.  It was my first solo overnight hunt where I would prove myself as a hunter. I headed out that day as a boy. But I would come back to them a man."

Sanderon clenched his teeth to try and keep away the tears that threatened. He wiped his eyes again and turned away from the table. Slowly walking over to his bed, with his back turned to Talian, he looked down on his repaired blanket there and continued. His voice was low and surprisingly calm.

"I had chosen my hunting camp a far distance into the Deep Wood by our cot hold. It was a good spot. After setting camp, I strung my bow and began the hunt. I had just finished that bow. It was my best work yet. The skill of a master, my father said. He never gave compliments that were not deserved. He was honest that way. It gave me hope that my ceremony hunt would go well."

Breathing in deeply as the memories began to flow, he let it out in a troubled sigh. The hard part of his story was just beginning.

"Ilveriath and I'shan slammed into my world and cornered me like prey before I could even begin. Like any prey would, I fought back. I was strong. I was fast. I wasn't just some dumb child out for a stroll in the woods. I was... I am a hunter. But I wasn't good enough. I wasn't...."

He shook his head and his next words were whispered. "I wasn't strong enough."

Unashamedly, he turned to Talian and no longer cared that the man could now see the tears streaming down his face. "I tried to forget. I kept myself angry so I could. I just wanted to be left alone. I had to be alone, just to breathe. But I was never given the chance. Every look of anger or glance of pity, every cruel prank, every hard fist to my jaw, every knee in my gut, every snide remark.... Tripped, shoved down stairs, mocked, punched, slapped, kicked spit on, ...every single day so much hatred and bad memories were being shoved in my face. I just wanted to be left alone. I tried to escape them. They just wanted to see me break. I wanted to just breathe but every time, I was dragged back. They hated me but wouldn't let me leave. No one saw my pain though. I wouldn't let them see. I had to be strong or it would just get worse. ...I had to forget. I had to stay angry."

His voice caught in his throat and his face began to contort into great sadness and pain. "Then even the leaders tortured me...until I cried...in front of everyone. They slaughtered me and for what? What did I ever do to them? Is wanting to have just one day of peace such a terrible crime?"

Turning away again, Sanderon made his slow way with a hand over his eyes and his shoulders visibly shaking as he cried. Only a muffled sound could be heard every so often as he tried to keep his sobs silent.

Sitting slowly down onto the edge of his bed, he rested there with his forearms resting on his knees with his head down for a few minutes. With effort, he managed to regain the use of his voice and with his head still down and his shoulders slumped his voice sounded very tired but somewhat in control.

"The only thing I had left was my own mind but even that turned against me. I've been avoiding drugs and the eggs too for that reason. I don't want to be a slave to anyone or anything. I need to be in control."

Lifting his eyes once more to Talian, he saw the young man sitting there at the table and realized that they actually had more in common than he previously thought. "But I'm not in control am I? I never was."

Talian listened to the entire thing, silently mourning for the other man as he maintained a neutral, straight-faced exterior. Many of those notes sounded so familiar, from the overwhelming loss to the anger, right down to the desperate struggle for control. That last one in particular hit a heavy note with Talian, who had struggled for control for his entire life, not just his tenure at Katila. He struggled for it his entire life, only to have it snatched away at the last moment time after time. At this rate, he doubted it was something he could ever expect to truly feel. Even the dragonriders, who bragged of their carefree and freewilled ways, were ultimately the slaves to their leaders.

Freedom didn't exist.

But how could he say that to someone in the clutches of despair? How could Talian, the most pessimistic person on Pern, offer anything to help this poor boy who he sympathized with so much? How could he tell him that he knew how it all felt, he'd already been there once before?

Doctor or not, Talian was fragile and his emotions candid. He'd always been very poor at hiding them, and his indecision and grief showed on his face as the story came to an end. Talian was unable to tear his eyes away from his peer. They glinted with a hint of moisture that he swiftly and silently repressed. He'd already determined not to share too many details of his own life and mind, but surely he could at least say something.

"I wish I knew the answer to that question," he said honestly. He wrote down a few more things, then folded the paper and tucked it away. It wasn't doing any good, and he wasn't the right man for this job. His wounds were still too fresh. Too bad he seemed to be the only man for the job, though! He was all they had, and therefore here he was. It was tragic.

He was silent for a long moment, then he coughed. "It's....There is one thing I can offer to you, perhaps," he said, voice crisp and controlled though his face revealed how his emotions were anything but. "You're not alone. You're one of over a hundred people placed in the same situation." Talian was one of them, too. The lesson he was about to present was one that he'd learned the hard way. "You told me the other day that you and I are different. That if something happened to you, you wouldn't have anyone. That doesn't have to be true."

Talian remembered how badly he'd wished he shared his own woes instead of bottling them up inside so they could explode. "None of us are alone. That sounds.." he paused, frowned. "I guess horribly cliche, but it's true. We've all lost connections and have suffered similarly. That doesn't trivialize any of your feelings, but it does mean you have outlets..."

He switched from the emotional side to the medical side so quickly that it seemed almost forced. Talian could feel himself coming dangerously close to confiding, something which he had no intention of doing more than he had to, in spite of his own words. This wasn't about him. So when a medical thought popped up, he lept on it quickly.

"Outlets are very important. Anything to direct your energy towards and keep your mind off of the situation. I personally find healing very therapeutic." He smiled softly, and the relief showed in his eyes. While he was working, he could usually forget all about his problems, at least for a while. He didn't mention that he worked himself into a delirium about half the time; he assumed that others were less obsessive than he was and could control their need for an outlet more than he could.

"Of course, your craft involves weaponry, does it not?" he inquired, remembering that Sanderon had wounded a dragon with an arrow when he was captured. The best Tal had managed was to pull hair! "If that's the case, I can try to get you cleared for hunting, but I can't do that until I'm convinced that you won't be a threat to others." A frown. He didn;t think Sanderon was dangerous, but people n such states were prone to relapse.

Like he had been. Shards, it was hard to keep his emotions out of this, to keep his side of the story from bleeding into Sanderon's. They truly had a lot in common.

As Sanderon watched the emotions come up into Talian's face, his brows creased slightly with worry. It was more than clear that Talian was not as emotionally distant as he thought the man might be. Sure he had seen evidence in Talian that showed otherwise but now, it was unmistakeable. Talian was hurting. Maybe even as much as himself. Sanderon wouldn't doubt it. Talian had been 'captured' only a couple months after he had. They both obviously did not want to be here. Both knew great pain.

Sanderon did not know, other than Talian's capture and his suicide attempt what the man had gone through. But he did know what he himself had suffered and it was not something he enjoyed remembering. He had told Talian already about the rough time he had here but he had pretty much glossed it over in his telling. With a sudden thought to help Talian as much as the Healer was trying to help him, Sanderon decided to open up a little more.

"You say I'm not alone. Have you experienced a gang of tormentors who mock your loss and pain and spit into your face? Who kicked your ribs until you couldn't breath? Who shoved you around every single day of your miserable life? Did you have others that could have helped save you from them turn a blind eye every time? I am alone Talian. Sorry to burst your illusions of camaraderie but I don't have the same situation as a hundred other people. You say that being alone doesn't have to be true? That hasn't been the case with me so far. Nearly two years I've been here, alone. I don't see that changing anytime soon. Especially now that I've...you know...lost my mind."

Sanderon was not angry. But he was feeling a slight grip of frustration through his sadness. His voice was not raised. It still spoke quietly and tiredly. He wished he could believe Talian but everything so far had proved the man wrong. At least in Sanderon's eyes.

"An outlet for me is impossible. I am a hunter. I could provide for the weyr and fill many bellies with my hunts but I am not even allowed to touch wood to make a bow let alone actually use one. My dagger was taken from me shortly after I came here too. The only outlet I had ever hoped for was a day or two by myself in the woods. But even that got me lashed and humiliated." Sanderon shook his head sadly and looked at the flowers on the table. Then he did something he never thought he'd do. He confided his secret.

What did it matter anymore.

"I'd been stockpiling a bit of food from my meals near the weyr, which is probably taken by tunnel snakes at this point. I would live off that until I built a bow for myself. I had plans for living off the land until this happened." He gestured tiredly around the room. "I'm not so stupid to think that I will ever make it home. But I can't stay at the weyr anymore. I have no desire to take my own life but I can't live like that any more. I can't take one more day of being tormented and no one caring. I don't want to be lashed again for my 'escape attempts' but I'll chance it if I have to. ....I don't suppose they'll let me stay here do you?"

Sanderon's lip twitched in the beginnings of a smile as his last question slipped out. He was hoping he could stay but knew it would never be granted.

I am alone Talian. Sorry to burst your illusions of camaraderie...

It had been a while since Talian had been so gravely offended. He inhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes in the subtlest of ways, far more subtle than his typical expressions, and simply glared back at Sanderon as he continued. Talian was no fool; he knew how unrestrained emotions could be. He knew what it felt like to say something out of frustration or to lash out at someone who was trying to help. That didn't mean he was happy to hear that argument, the melodramatic comparison of bad experiences as if it were some sort of contest. The dragonriders were good at that themselves, whining constantly about their plague and berating northerners for complaining about their kidnapping all in the same breath. No one had a right to claim their own pain as the worst.

Besides, Talian had his own question in response. Have they molested you yet? It lurked behind his stare, expressing itself only as a darkening cloud on his face, but he dared not speak the words. He refused to weaponize it. That wasn't something to throw in someone's face. Besides, it sound like this kid was too caught up in his own problems. He needed to go on thinking he was the center of the universe. That's what Tal had needed at one point, too.

Besides, he didn't want to tell anyone.

It didn't mean he wasn't still offended, but Talian had a way of ignoring abuse and making friends with people who treated him poorly. He instead just listened, though his pity didn't stop his next response.

"Running away? That's incredibly stupid," he said curtly. He didn't intend it rude nor did his tone even hint at rudeness, but rather just a cold, hard fact. "There are large felines out there who move in packs of six to fifteen and are quite capable of killing even large dragons."

He realized he was being too technical. He scolded himself, then backed off. He sighed and went back to wringing his hands, his old nervous habit. "You want to stay on the island?" he inquired. "I didn't expect that, but I don't see why they wouldn't allow it. I can't SPEAK for them, though.."

Sanderon observed Talian's mood change. Though subtle, to him it was very clear. The Healer was very offended and probably angry as well by the look in the man's eyes. But like Sanderon, Talian's voice did not portray the feelings he held inside. The words themselves though made Sanderon's chin lift with a spark of his old defiance. He still felt no rage though. Not even a hint of it remained. He hoped it stayed that way. His own eyes narrowed though when he heard Talian say,

Running away? That's incredibly stupid.

Sanderon was very tempted to tell the man off, or to explain the logic of 'running' as Talian said, but he didn't. He could have told him he was very confident in his training as a hunter. He knew how to evade just as well as he could track. But he was done talking. It was clear that Talian really didn't understand him at all and Sanderon had revealed way too much already. So instead of saying anything more on the subject he spoke without feeling. "Thanks for delivering the flowers. Now that you've seen the crazy person cry like a baby you can go back and make your report to whoever it was that sent you. Thanks...for trying."

He added the last part because he truly did appreciate the effort it must have taken Talian to come and listen to a crazy person babble. He silently hoped the report Talian took back wasn't too unfavorable, though he wouldn't be surprised if it were.

He hoped Talian would leave now but had no clue if the man would or not. Perhaps there was other things he needed to hear or to tell. Another part wanted the Healer to stay.

When the island was mentioned, Sanderon nodded. "Yes. Unlock my door and I'll care for my own needs. I'shan can head back too."

He knew he would be lonely but he'd rather live on the island alone than be misunderstood, tormented and lashed in a place that hated him. Talian had friends. He had even been adopted by the one who had stolen him in the first place. Who did Sanderon have?

"I don't need anyone," He lied.

Talian rubbed his temples. Perhaps that had come out wrong. As emotionally delicate as the man could be, however, he was pretty thick skinned when it came to passive aggressive insults and ugly glares. He figured Sanderon had every right to be pissed off, but that didn't erase his stubborn narrow-mindedness. Sanderon didn't have any friends for the same reason Talian never had friends back home; lack of effort. Tal knew a like-mind when he saw one.

"You're not a crazy person," he said with appraisal. "You're a stressed person. There's a big difference," he said, pointing one finger at the other man almost like a teacher would point at students. "And crying isn't a sign of weakness." Sand had never said that outright, but Talian was smart enough to pick up on things like that. "It's an altered breathing pattern caused by an emotional response to trauma, fear, or happiness. It's...an emotional outlet."

He frowned once more. "Outlets are important. Your record says you are a hunter. If you were selected by the searchrider..." Try as he might, he couldn't hide the disdain in his voice. "....You must be skilled. At least above average, but I'd imagine that if you were deemed dangerous enough to take your weapon from you, possibly much more advanced." He was guessing out loud, but if Talian would do anything, it was educated-guessing. And stitches. He was good at stitches.

"The fact that you didn't throw a fit at me when I offended you shows that your emotional state is already much more stable," he rattled on. He realized in a sudden flurry of self-consciousness that he was flipping between casual and medical again. In this case, he decided not to fight it.

He sighed. "I'm sorry for speaking harshly. I didn't intend to sound that way." Not that he expected this rude bastard to apologize for the horribly insensitive thing he'd said (which Tal was still silently fuming over). Tal didn't expect anyone to apologize to anyone, least of not to him. Tal was also well-capable of handling it, though. He managed a smile, a modest but not entirely insincere one, and leaned back in his chair. The conversation had been trying, but he wasn't about to throw a fit and stomp out. He didn't have the spine or the inclination to do so, and besides...this was a patient, and a prisoner just like him.

Talian often had trouble interpreting other people's reactions and mindsets. Now, he sat silently, waiting to see what this Sanderon would say to him. Tal was curious, but he was also a little nervous to risk conversation outside of the mental evaluation. What if he got in a situation where he had to talk?

When Talian rubbed his temples, Sanderon frowned first with annoyance. Talian was suppose to be the strong one, the one that could shield Sanderon from his troubles. When being annoyed was too tiring, he began to worry. Perhaps Sanderon wasn't alone after all. It was only a brief moment between emotions and he sighed with regret. Talian wasn't the only person to have said unkind remarks in this conversation. He was just as guilty.

He fully expected to be told off himself before Talian would then get up and leave. But that did not happen. In fact, just the opposite occurred and Sanderon was completely unprepared for it. Eyebrows raised and his eyes opened wider.

Having the healer confirm that Sanderon was not crazy after all but just stressed was more of a relief than Talian might realize. He nodded briefly to accept his words and continued to listen as Talian continued. 'Crying wasn't a sign of weakness.' Was Talian reading his mind? How did the man possibly know exactly how he had felt about it? Hearing otherwise was nice but he still felt like it was weakness. He had always thought that. He probably always would. He did not look down upon others for doing so, but he berated himself quite harshly whenever he broke down in tears. He was stronger than that.

Talian continued speaking about outlets and said something he had never heard before. The searchrider might not have chosen him if he weren't so talented? His weapons might not have been confiscated if he hadn't been so advanced? It was a fact that he was highly skilled. Even his father had acknowledged this as true and the man did not give compliments without meaning them. Was it really true? He had high hopes that he was as good as his father claimed him to be but did not fully believe it could be possible. Sure Sanderon had pride in his abilities but...this new concept of why he might have been captured was mind-blowing.

It felt good to be acknowledge by another but at the same time when he heard Talian's obvious disdain against the searchrider, I'shan, the bad memories returned to the fore and he spat in agreement of the feeling Talian exhibited. He had forgiven I'shan but he wasn't all happy about the whole thing now.

Talian kept speaking and Sanderon tore his thoughts away from that horrible day nearly two years previous and listened.

Hearing that he was much more stable now for not having thrown a fit when offended, was on the one hand comforting and on the other, quite embarrassing. For several reasons he felt prompted by his regret to make a heartfelt apology. Sanderon might not have thrown a fit but he did make some harsh, stupid comments.

He opened his mouth to do just that when Talian beat him to it.

I'm sorry for speaking harshly. I didn't intend to sound that way.

Closing his mouth in surprise he straightened slightly and stood up from where he sat on his bed. Coming back over to the table where Talian was still sitting at, he place one hand on the back of his chair. Pulling it out he sat down quietly. For a moment he sat there until his mind came to a decision.

"You do not owe me an apology Talian. I owe you one. I was harsh. And I really can be stupid sometimes. I'm sorry." And he meant every word of it. His expressions were quiet and free from frustration or anger. His face was relaxed and open. His eyes were tired and remorseful.

"Talian?" He continued. "Do you think they'll ever let me hunt again? Perhaps if I felt useful..."

Talian was honestly surprised at the apology, and it showed on his face. The only people that really apologized to him for anything were B'jin and Valerian, and both of those had been a bumpy learning curve. Tal didn't know what to say for a couple long moments, before he couldn't resist and broke out into a real smile.

"It's fine," he murmured, voice soft. His conversational tone was much less authoritative and forceful than his 'healer' voice. Talian the healer was a mask, and while it was certainly a real part of him, it was a highly distinct part from his normal meek, noninvasive self. "And for the record," he clarified, clearly thinking himself helpful, "I never said you were stupid." No, he said the idea was stupid, and that was a big difference! Even Talian got stupid ideas sometimes...stupid ideas like killing himself and walking around at night when he knew J'ver wanted revenge. The healer just smiled once more, then continued.

"I don't see why they wouldn't, once you're allowed your weapons again. Were I not disgusted by their methods, I might be flattered that they selected me. Everyone here was picked up because they had skills the dragonriders needed." He still wasn't able to keep all of the bile out of his voice. His own skills were clearly a waste here, aside from saving Jada. There weren't near enough cases, and he figured the people he would have saved back home - people that only he could save - were far more valuable than one single dragonrider here. It felt bad to objectify Jada that way, but she was one of them now anyhow. Tal couldn't find it in his gut to hate her, but his logical side hardly considered it a fair trade.

Not a fair trade for his life, either, but he chose not to think about that. No matter how much time went on and how many changes he underwent, he still couldn't reconcile himself with all of it. It was wrong and it always would be wrong...but if his comments on crafting and the selection process would make someone else feel better, it was worth discussing.

"The problem is, you just informed me that you planned to try and run off into the jungle," Talian said awkwardly. "I have no desire whatsoever to report that to the Weyrleader." More hatred in his voice. "But it would be medically irresponsible for me to recommend you be allowed your weapons again when you're in that sort of mindset. Nevermind the dangers to your safety." He sighed.

"I do know they've always lacked skilled hunters, though. Most reply on their dragons to make kills, and that makes a huge mess of things. I can't tell you how many wounds I've patched up on northerners with no background who were asked to go out and hunt. If you were happy to do that for them, I can't see why they wouldn't want you to."

The northerners were supposed to be valuable to the Weyr. It surer would be nice if they were treated like they were.

Seeing Talian's surprise at his apology was reward enough. A long moment past before anything happened. The smile Sanderon now saw on the healers face was not fake. It looked sincere and it caused his own lips to twitch up as well.

He couldn't hold his smile for long without it feeling forced so he relaxed and listened as Talian spoke in a soft voice. His professional demeanor seemed to have disappeared. Sanderon did not know what to make of it. It seemed like a nice thing though. It seemed 'real'.

When it was clarified that Talian did not call Sanderon himself stupid, a very old expression that had not been there for over a turn surfaced. His old signature expression, the half-smirk, came to his lips as his face and eyes lit up with the kind humor he suddenly felt. Sadly like his brief smile before, this did not last very long before it too faded. For one moment though Talian might have seen a glimpse of the old Sanderon peeking through.

"I'm not too thrilled with their methods either. Believe me." He mumbled. "If they took me for my skills, they better start using them or I'll..."

His face cracked into a sudden smile. "...I'll go crazy." He finished what he was going to say. "Guess that already happened." He shook his head and sobered up when Talian continued to speak.

He was silently relieved that Talian would not tell the weyrleader of his plans. But Talian's refusal to consider that maybe Sanderon would be a lot safer than he gave him credit for was tiring. He understood where Talian was coming from though. The jungles were extremely dangerous and made the Deep Wood back home a child's playground. But he had the training to survive. He knew he could do it. It would not be easy and like Talian said, it would not be 'safe'. But Sanderon would much rather deal with the jungle than his tormentors who were even now probably plotting mischief against him back at the weyr.

He did not say such things to Talian though. What he did now was listen...and think very deeply about what the Healer had been saying.

A long silence lay between them now, as he rubbed the scratched knuckles of one hand absent-mindedly. His mind remembered everything he had been through since his capture up until this very moment. He analyzed his actions, experiences, and options in each case. He thought about his options now. Many emotions floated across his face while he thought and they finally stayed upon a quiet determination. With this expression firmly in place, Sanderon looked up to Talian and spoke with resolution in his voice.

"I would make a promise to you. Before I tell you what it is, let me say that I never make promises I don't intend to keep." He paused to let that sink in before continuing.  "If it is agreed upon, I promise not to seek a life outside of the weyr if I can be allowed to hunt. My family," He paused, suddenly feeling like a traitor for revealing his life to Talian. "...my family always does something special to acknowledge accomplished hunters. If my hunt was successful that day, there was a good chance they might have done something for me. Not being able to hunt at all now...makes all of my life seem like a waste." He closed his eyes tight for a moment as his heart clenched with the misery his words caused him. He needed this more than anyone might ever realize. Giving up his freedom in a solemn promise just to be allowed to hunt should give Talian some indication of its importance to him.

He had not spoken about his level of talent to anyone here. But it was a very important step in his life to be acknowledged in some sort of way for being good, even if it was just a simple pat on the back. He did not feel he could move on here without being allowed to hunt.

When his heart stopped hurting so much from revealing a very important part of himself to Talian, he glanced to the beautiful flowers on the table again and commented carefully as if sharing an afterthought, "I would hunt as often as they wished. I'd even help train others too if they wanted. It is not just my craft. It is who I am. Denying me my craft.... Well, it doesn't feel too good. "

He shrugged off his own words so that Talian might not see him as a whining brat. Truth was, being denied his hunting was the same as being denied a large part of himself. He needed to hunt, just like a fish needed to swim. And not being able to do so hurt a whole lot more than he would let himself show.

It was a lot to throw upon the Healer all at once. Sanderon knew that. He only hoped that what he had just asked of the man would not be taken lightly.

Talian smiled, just a little bit. "Almost everyone here is at least above average, from what I've gathered." Of course, that also had the effect of making above-average 'average', but Talian was slowly developing  some level of social tact. Saying something like that hardly seemed fitting. Besides, then he'd have to go ahead and elaborate, explaining that hunting was still an uncommon skill and shards he was monogramming to himself again.

He realized there was a far better comment he could make. He smiled again. "You know, I met my best friend patching him up after a hunting expedition...They have people with no experience at all going off into the jungle in their nonsensical 'chore rotations'..." Really, the Katilan way of assigning work made no sense. Why not let people focus on what they were actually good at?

Bah, that was a sour subject. Tal just nodded as he listened, though his attention was briefly called by a bumping sound in the hallway. He wondered for a moment if someone had ben eavesdropping on them.

"I sympathize," he said at length. He often buried himself in his craft. It was all he had, in a lot of ways. He relaxed a bit in his seat as he thought about all the crowing the weyr had done over him when they found out he was a Master. That had been terrible, really. He'd hoped to escape that level of pressure, but at least it had earned him some special exemptions. Sometimes, having a master healer on staff was too important to make him do stupid things. Only sometimes, but sometimes was enough to make him feel like his knots were at least worth something. 

"I wish I could go ahead and give you clearance, Sanderon. But my profession doesn't allow for personal bias. I hope you'll be feeling better soon, though. I can't imagine being disallowed to treat patients."

That was perhaps where his reputation had saved him the most; master healer, too valuable to cut of from work because of something silly like a suicide attempt. His face blanched at the thought.

Sanderon listened with interest when Talian spoke about how many at the weyr were higher than average in skill. Part of him wanted to be unique; To be the best one among them. But the majority of his mind accepted it calmly as fact. Perhaps he had always suspected it to be so. It certainly made sense.

When hearing about unqualified, untrained people being put to the 'chore' of hunting he got a tight-lipped expression on his face. He had seen it time and again and he hated it every time. "Hunting is not a chore. It is a dangerous occupation that should be left to those that know what they are doing." He commented. The frustration clearly evident in his tone. "Your friend should never have been given that task. I'm glad he had you around. Or is your best friend a 'she'?" He had no clue. Except for B'jin being Talian's 'dad', Sanderon had no idea who the healer's friends were. He really hadn't paid that much attention. Now though, he was curious.

Sanderon's gaze switched towards the door when a bumping sound was heard. It wasn't very loud but obvious enough to where Talian also heard. "If I'shan is listening..." Sanderon frowned. There was no threat to his unfinished statement but his displeasure was obvious. Pushing the thought aside for now, he listened as Talian spoke again.

Hearing that Talian sympathized with his plight, Sanderon at first was prone not to believe him, but then he took note of the man's tone of voice, expression and body language. He came to realize that Talian truly did understand. It was surprising and more than Sanderon could have hoped for.

He understood though when Talian mentioned not having the clearance to grant Sanderon his request. He had already figured this was the case. But the very least the healer could do was mention his request to someone who did have the authority. To ensure that the man would mention it, Sanderon asked, "Just tell them that I need it and I won't run if they say yes. That's all I ask." He lowered his voice so even if I'shan was listening in he would not be able to hear his quiet plea. "...I need this. Please."

Sanderon left it at that and sat back in silence. Come what may, his fate was in Talian's hands. For some reason, he felt inclined to trust the man. He believed that if the Healer could help, he would.

"'Hhe' is correct," Talian said. He thought back to his recent encounters with Valerian and almost smiled. It really did say something, they they could go through what had happened and remain best friends. Tal felt no need to elaborate on it, though; not even to himself, since many of the emotions involved were still distant and confusing to him. Perhaps one day he'd be able to properly sort the whole incident in his head, but until then he was choosing not to think about it. It was a shame he wasn't more conscience of his own process, or he would have noticed and maybe been disturbed by it's similarity to B'jin's methods. Repression, Talian often reminded people, was unhealthy.

"I wouldn't put it past him," he commented afterwards. He recalled how fidgety and impatient the bluerider had been. How he lurked so close behind, his footfalls almost landing on Talian's heels. Talian didn't know much about I'shan, just that he'd been responsible for searching Erisi as well and that he tried to barge into the infirmary the night that browl broke out after a gather. Forcibly drugging the bastard had been satisfying.

"He was highly interested in what was going on," Tal elaborated, voice heavy with misgivings. He paused to rub his eyes. "Anyhow, thank you for your time. I'll speak to them and I'll make sure they get your message.  Oh!"

He reached into his pocket and produced a note. "This came from the girl with the flowers. Here," he said, sliding it across the table. The healer smiled, then slowly rose to his feet and scooped up his bag.

"Remember to get a lot of rest and try and keep your mind clear. I'll leave some medication with I'shan just in case, but I'll be sure he knows that it's optional. I hope you feel better soon."

Hearing that Talian's best friend was a 'he' Sanderon nodded. Well at least a female hadn't gotten hurt out hunting. That was some consolation he supposed.

Hearing that Talian also thought perhaps I'shan had been 'spying' on their conversation caused dread and irritation to swirl around in his gut. What he had told Talian, he did not want the bluerider to know...ever. It was none of his business. I'shan wasn't making it very easy for Sanderon to not hate him again. Sighing with his inner frustration he narrowed his eyes towards the door and frowned.

"I should have guessed he would do that." He grumbled under his breath but his resolve to be angry over it was fading quickly. He just didn't have the strength to be angry anymore. And what really did it matter anyway? What was done, was done.

His frustration dissipated surprisingly quickly and Sanderon stood when Talian did. Taking the note with a raised eyebrow he looked at it but did not read it right away. Accepting his suggestion to get a lot of rest and to keep a clear mind, he nodded. "I'll try."

Hearing that medicine was being left behind, he had mixed emotions about that. It would be nice to get some sleep for a change. But he still did not like the idea of not being in control. He was glad it would be optional.

"Thank you Talian." He told the healer and the man knocked twice on the door and was let out a moment later. Lifting his hand in a parting wave, Sanderon watched him disappear.

Turning his eyes to the note he held, he thought of the flower girl and opened it up. It wasn't a long note so it did not take very long to read it. But when he had he couldn't help the quiet smile that came into his eyes.

"Aparicus." He said softly under his breath. He resolved right then to thank her and apologize as well the next chance he got.

Taking a look at the flowers again, his heart grew calmer.

---

Thread Finished