SWE: Never Follen, Never Again

Writers: Kaysea
Date Posted: 9th June 2007

Characters: Fog
Description: Fog's visit to the mindhealer doesn't bring relief
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 4, day 17 of Turn 4

He walked slowly along the riverbank, hands in pockets, head hung low. His
fingers rolling the two vials of medicaments held in either pocket. The blue
one for the headaches, the red one to help him sleep, and he mustn't get them
mixed up. He had a note here for Neke, somewhere.

Where had he put it? He felt both pockets again, nothing. And quickly rummaged
through the smaller pockets in his tunic, he knew he had put is some place, but
where? Ah! His hand rifled across a folded slip of harsh parchment tucked
between his tunic and his jerkin beneath.

What had the mindhealer said? Something about making a fresh start. Forgetting
that he used to be so much different to what he was now; that before he had been
strong _and_ intelligent. That now he wasn't much of either, not having
recovered fully from the accident five turns before.

Occasionally he had flashbacks, that was usually when he couldn't sleep, when
closing his eyes would make the scenery more vivid. He could see himself
falling - reaching for something and losing his grip on the side of the
riverboat. It was too late, he had lost what he had been reaching for, and the
boat moved closer to the shoreline.

He could remember the pain, his head still throbbed in agony when he remembered
the boat closing over him - his head, caught between the side of the boat and
the rough edge of land. Squeezed as though a redfruit being squashed -
imagining his head popping like the redfruit did.

He shivered, the coolness of the air beginning to close over him.

Today he still couldn't remember what he had been reaching for, and no one had
seen exactly what had happened. One minute he had been up on the deck reaching
over for something, the next he was being dragged below the boat, grating along
the side between land and the hull.

And the hands, he remembered hands reaching under the water, searching for him,
closing over his face, and through his hair; fingers searching, poking,
prodding. He could still feel fingers, tight in his hair, clinging to him,
dragging him up, back to air, fresh cold air - life giving air.

Then the screams, at first muffled while he was still underwater, but then when
he gasped for air, his ears being assailed by screams. He shivered again, this
time with memory. Marilea's voice screaming for him, to him, _at_ him. High
pitched, hurting him, piercing his ear drums with the pitch and wail.

His hands, at first forced deep into his pockets, had now made their way up to
his head, as he walked along his palms pressed hard against the side of his
head, forcing together to try and stop the throbbing. This was how the
headaches started, remembering.

Which vial did the mindhealer say? Red or blue? Blue or red? He couldn't
remember, the pain, it was getting worse. He could feel the heat rising behind
his eyes, the moisture building, welling, forming tears. He swiped quickly,
left and right, removing the signs of weakness from his eyes, from his face.
red or blue? Did it matter?

Up ahead it loomed. The riverboat. Lights flickered in the different windows
up on the decks. He could hear signs of life even from this distance. His head
still throbbed - but the memories began to dim, again.

He pulled the folded slip of paper from beneath the tunic, and slipping his
thumb into the fold, he flipped it open. Neke would read this, and know. Soon
they would all know. Fog - he would always be Fog, now. Never Follen. Never
Marilea's, Follen, again. That strong, intelligent man, never again.

He felt the heat expand behind his eyes, and stopped walking. His shoulders
shook, heaved, as great sobs wracked his body. He hunkered down at the waters
edge, his head cradled in both hands, the slip of paper creased and sodden as
the tears fell. This last time, he would allow himself everything. Weeping for
the man he may have been, given the chance, and no accident. The tears, the
fears, the sadness, the regret - this one last time. And then - no more.

And then - Fog. Just Fog, and his little vials of medicaments. Blue and red.
One for sleep and one for a pain free existence.

So lost in his emotions, he didn't see or hear an approach. He wasn't aware
until a hand fell on his shoulder, and a small voice could be heard saying just
one word - "Fog?"

He wiped at his eyes again, rubbing the moisture from his face. Snuffling, and
sniffing, not wanting to meet enquiring eyes.

"Come on Fog. It's getting cold out." Neke's hand closed over his arm, and
slowly eased him upright again. "Your head?" she asked, not really waiting for
an answer.

"Yes." he answered quietly, holding out the note from the healer. "He wanted
you to read this, so you'll know." his voice was barely above a whisper, and
still quavery with emotion.

Neke's eyes quickly scanned the page, and she sighed heavily. "Oh..Fog.." the
sympathy could be heard in her tone. "Never mind, love. We'll always be here
for you."

His hand clung to hers, squeezing it tightly. And together they turned and
walked towards the riverboat - home and family.

Last updated on the June 21st 2007

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SWE: Never Follen, Never Again