Jahir didn't say that the level of obfuscation available to Universal was nothing to that which could be achieved with his native tongue. /One should speak the language one's auditor responds to best./
A silence in the mindline, sudden and thoughtful. Jahir glanced at the Glaseah. /Did I say aught wrong?/
/No,/ Vasiht'h said. /But that was good. I'm going to think about the implications of that for therapy while you prepare us for this./
/While I!/
Vasiht'h grinned and said, "I'm going to go get a blanket and pillow."
"I guess that makes sense if you want them napping," Ravanelle said. She pulled up a chair beside the couch. "Here good?"
"That should do."
"And I just… touch the patient. After she's sleeping, I guess. And then I'll be able to watch?"
"That is the hope," Jahir said.
"Excellent," Ravanelle said, grinning. "I'm excited. Let's do some science."
Their first client was a male Seersa, a striking golden brown with stripes and hazy spots and brilliant blue eyes. From Jahir's vague assessment, Vasiht'h thought the Eldritch found him a rather handsome example of the species, and Vasiht'h agreed as they introduced themselves and took his name. /Probably has people falling all over him. Wonder why he's here?/
"I can't stop eating," the male said when they asked.
In response to Jahir's bafflement, Vasiht'h sent, /He's probably under medical supervision--/
"I go every week for metabolic adjustments," he continued as Ravanelle watched them and they watched the patient. Through the mindline, Vasiht'h felt Jahir's little 'ah' of revelation. "But I'd kind of like to stop doing that because it's annoying, having to schedule it all the time, and it's not free. But I just… I see food and I don't know how to stop myself from eating it. I tell myself 'hey, stupid. You know better.' And I really do. But I still eat it." He grinned, a charming, crooked smile that would probably have made half a dozen people swoon. "Doesn't matter what it is, at least. I'll overeat vegetables along with cake. But I don't need the calories, you know?"
"Did you ever go without food at some point?" Vasiht'h asked.
"Oh, sure." He waved a hand, casual. "When I was about six, we went through a bad period, my family. And I had two little sisters, twin sisters, and they were weak, you know? Everyone worried about their health. And we already didn't have enough to eat, so there were weeks where the only thing I could remember was how much my stomach hurt and how light-headed and weird I felt." He spread his hands. "But, see, I know. I know that's the problem. I've been to therapists before, and it's not like this is some great mystery to me. I've talked and talked and talked about this, but talking hasn't made it go away. So I heard that the clinic was getting some new student therapists in and that they worked with the subconscious and I thought, 'well, hells. That's the one thing I haven't tried.' So here I am."
Vasiht'h said, amused, "Pretty straightforward."
The Seersa grinned again. "Hey, I try to make things easy for people. So, what do I do? Take a nap? That sounds pretty good to me too."
"Sure, if you'll just stretch out on the couch there." Vasiht'h took the blanket from Jahir. "Healer Ravanelle is our faculty oversight. Is it all right if she keeps an eye on us while we work? She'll have to keep a hand on you while you're sleeping."
"Yeah, sure, that's fine." He took the blanket. "You going to stare at me until I fall asleep? I'm not sure that will work."
Ignoring Jahir's restrained amusement, Vasiht'h said, "No, actually. We're going to leave you here, if that's all right."
"It's better than you staring at me," the Seersa said with a laugh. He took the blanket and cuddled into it, stretching his toes before tucking his legs beneath himself on the couch. "You could also… I don't know. Dim the lights."
"We could, at that," Jahir said, rising.
Outside the room, Vasiht'h said, "This is obviously something we need to think through a little more."
"Getting them to sleep?" Ravanelle said. "Shouldn't be too hard to arrange now that it's occurred to you that you should encourage it. There are thousands of studies on how to create a healthy sleep environment." She grinned and tapped the data tablet Vasiht'h was still holding. "Why don't the two of you get reading while your patient settles in."
But their patient did sleep, and they slipped back into the room and looked down at him together as Ravanelle padded around them and took her seat by the couch.
/What are you thinking?/ Vasiht'h asked. /That has you so sober?/
/The same thing you are, perhaps,/ Jahir said. /That this reminds us a little of what we have been through./
Vasiht'h drew in a slow breath, relaxing. /It does. But it also reminds me of helping Luci, and the girls./ He held out his hand, and when the Eldritch looked at it, added, /This part, though, we did learn on Selnor. And I think it's wise. To stay grounded./
Jahir smiled and slipped his fingers around Vasiht'h's palm. His skin was warm; felt like home. Vasiht'h nodded to Ravanelle, who put a gentle hand on the patient's head between the ears, and then they went into dreams. Vasiht'ht wasn't sure what he'd been expecting: something to do with the problem, maybe. But it was a very normal dream about something else, something mundane, a test, smeared together with girl troubles and a vague longing for trees and sunlight. They could ghost through it, unseen, and they did, looking for some clue… and did not find it until near the end, when Jahir said, /Here./
Vasiht'h drifted over to a scene where the Seersa was talking with a girl over a picnic blanket. There was a basket, and there were plates, and the two were eating… but there was no food.
/Strange,/ Vasiht'h said, and imagined food into the scene. Once he had, it stuck, and they retreated, puzzling.
The patient woke not long after, yawning. "So," he said as he straightened. "Am I hopeless?"
"Do you feel hopeless?" Vasiht'h asked, smiling.
"Nuh, that I don't." He grinned. "Should I come back next week?"
"Yes. And tell us how your week goes," Vasiht'h said.
After he'd gone, they looked at Ravanelle. She laughed. "Oh no. I can't tell you how you did. What do I know about this? That's why I'm here. To see."
"But you did see something," Vasiht'h said.
"I did," she said. "Like… imagining things, but not quite as strong. And I could tell you were talking, but not what you were saying. It was a little like… well, like seeing someone else's dream." She shook her head. "Amazing. But I feel like I need a cup of coffee."
Jahir said, perfectly polite—and perfectly timed—"Perhaps you should have it, then, in the five minutes we have before our next arrival."
/There's this barb to your humor,/ Vasiht'h observed as the Seersa snorted and jogged out. He was trying not to smile. /That I'm betting you're sitting on most of the time./
/I was merely making a suggestion…/
/You're annoyed at her intrusiveness./ Vasiht'h's mouth twitched. He hid it by flicking through the data tablet's appointment list to bring up their next client.
Jahir cleared his throat. /It is a touch tiresome, to be the subject of scrutiny./
Vasiht'h looked up at him suddenly, tasting something just a little sour… resignation, ruefulness, too much history. He grimaced and said, softer, "Sorry, arii."
Jahir touched him with a feather-soft sweetness. /As nothing. We continue./
/We do./
Their second patient was a student dealing poorly with the stresses of her far too strenuous course loads on top of anxieties over disappointing her parents—she fell asleep so quickly they hadn't even closed the door when they heard her grow still, and her dreams were a clutter of breathless darting scenes that they had to slow in order to even see. The third did not show up; Ravanelle shrugged it off and said there were always a number of people who made appointments and had second thoughts.
Their last appointment of the day was a listless Asanii who stumbled to their couch and felt her way into it, curling up into herself and
resting her head on her knees. Ravanelle took her seat on the chair beside her, watching with flicked back ears.
/This is... Esna Verelna, yes? Was there anything on the intake form?/
/No,/ Vasiht'h murmured. Aloud, he said, gentle, "Esna?"
They both felt her crumble before she started sobbing, and the dissolution of her control reminded Jahir so strongly of the wet victims that he didn't pause, and neither did Vasiht'h. They lunged for her as she collapsed, and Vasiht'h wrapped himself around her, one foreleg on the couch and his arms around her shoulders. Jahir kneeled on the floor, gripping his partner's hand and pausing—a heartbeat, just long enough to brace himself—and then he rested his hand on her arm and took the brunt of her depression like a blow.
She was alone—
No, you're not.
She couldn't get through this—
Yes, she could.
She had nowhere to turn—
We're here.
She pressed her face into Vasiht'h's collarbone and cried, her back heaving with the strength of the paroxysms, and her grip on Jahir's hand was so tight her tendons stood in sharp relief against the back of her hand. But the coil of her anguish was loosening, and as abruptly as she'd begun crying, she trailed off and looked down at Jahir, eyes wide.
"We're here," he said again, soft.
She looked over at Vasiht'h, who nodded once. Slowly.
A ragged gasp, and then she relaxed, shoulders slumping. A few minutes later, she was asleep in Vasiht'h's arms.
/Do we need to…?/ Jahir asked.
/I don't think so,/ Vasiht'h said. /At least, I wouldn't want to touch her dreams yet. I don't even know what this is about. I'd like her to be able to talk about it first, if she wants./
/She may not want,/ Jahir said.
/She may not. But this…/ A sense of safety, held in someone's arms, a sense of someone understanding her needs: /This she did./
Ravanelle cleared her throat and they both looked at her, surprised. That she was still there was unexpected; somehow they'd both forgotten her presence.
"Technically," she said, voice low to keep from waking a girl that they both knew wouldn't wake for anything less monumental than an emergency siren, "you're not supposed to be touching the clients. There are therapeutic modalities that do use touch, but we don't teach them here."
/She is thinking of… what?/ Jahir asked.
/Harat-Shar, probably,/ Vasiht'h replied. /It's a cliché that they heal with sex, but they also do cuddle-therapy. It's a little more nuanced than most non-Harat-Shar assume./
Jahir thought of how much his touch had meant to the Tam-illee widower on Selnor. He said, picking the words carefully, "It is not something I would undertake lightly. But she had a need."
The Seersa was looking at the exhausted girl in Vasiht'h's arms. "Hard to argue with that," she murmured, and sat back down.
/You think she will have complaint of us for this?/
/I don't think I care,/ Vasiht'h said, and the words felt like they were leaning. Wryness? Jahir could feel the smile on his friend's face. /I don't think you do, either./
/No,/ Jahir said after a moment, and rested his head against Vasiht'h's foreleg, still holding the girl's hand.
They stayed that way until she stirred. They listened to her emotions wake with her mind, and foremost among them was her surprise not to be immediately ambushed by her grief. She was puzzled instead: where was she? Why was she warm? Why did she feel secure? When she realized where she was, puzzlement became embarrassment until Jahir squeezed her hand. Distracted, she looked down at him and he shook his head, one of his slight movements, and there was compassion in his eyes, enough that she said, "You know. You feel it."
Neither of them interrupted her. She did not want words. She looked at the long fingers twined in hers, then at Vasiht'h… and set her head back down on his shoulder. "Is my time up?" she asked, hesitant.
"Just about," Vasiht'h said.
"Can I come back?" she asked, softer.
"We'll be here," the Glaseah said. "Both of us."
She was still for a moment, then she nodded, a jerk of her chin. After extricating herself from them, she slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out, but there was something different in her bearing: a self-possession that had been missing before, something that allowed her to feel sheepish rather than so crushed she'd been unaware of her relation to the world.
Ravanelle was considering them, but she didn't share her thoughts. She rose and said, "See you two day after tomorrow."
The practicum was their only class of the day, so they walked home together through a blustery afternoon, denying spring with a cold front Jahir could feel as some undefinable pressure in his joints as it approached. He was glad of the scarf and coat, and of Vasiht'h at his side, though he suspected the warmth he derived from that presence was more mental than physical.
"Did it bother you?" Vasiht'h asked, after they'd crossed one of the small bridges and started making their way toward the Pad station that would take them off campus. The Glaseah glanced up at him, forelock blown over one eye and quivering in the breeze. "Touching."
Jahir drew in a breath, careful of the bite in it. "It remains difficult." He looked down, seeing the occasional old leaf, damp and crumpled. "It remains necessary. It helps to have you there."
"You don't have to, you know."
"Reach out to people who are in need?" Jahir asked. Not a challenge, and not an attack. An acknowledgment of what they both knew better than to deny. Vasiht'h's sigh, exasperated, affectionate, conceded the exchange.
"It is who we are," Jahir offered.
"I know," Vasiht'h said. "But I had to say it. Now that I have, though… I think it makes a big difference to people. From me they get… a lack of threat. Because everyone knows about Glaseah. A hug from one of us is assumed to be safe, non-sexual. From you they get… that they're worth it. Because someone for whom it's hard, bothers. Makes the effort."
Jahir didn't ask if he was sure of the ideas. He could work through the impressions from the Asanii himself, and there was truth in the observation. It didn't matter if the girl had known the typical Eldritch strictures against touching. She had known in the place under words, where body language and other cues spoke directly, that she could trust them… because they trusted one another.
"We do a delicate thing," Jahir said, feeling out his own impressions. "When we reach out to others."
"Good thing we do a lot of practicing, reaching out to each other."
Jahir smiled at that, looked up into the wind. And said, "Let's get gelato."
"Gelato!" Vasiht'h exclaimed, laughing. "In this weather?"
"I'll have mine with coffee," Jahir said. "Perhaps you can have one of those unholy hot drinks they make with melted ice cream."
Vasiht'h mused. "That does sound good. You're going to ruin your dinner, though."
"I have gained enough weight."
Vasiht'h snorted and trotted after him. If there was something enigmatic in the mindline about the response, Jahir did not question it. They were bonded, but they had the right to their own thoughts.
Chapter 28
"You think he's damaged?" Sehvi asked, brow wrinkled.
"Damaged is a strong word," Vasiht'h said. He sat facing the wallscreen in the main room, comfortably sprawled against the sofa. Jahir had a morning class on the last day of up-week and a habit of staying out afterward: his way of politely leaving Vasiht'h to make his calls in privacy. Most of the time, Vasiht'h wouldn't have cared if his roommate had wanted to listen, though he had no idea how Jahir would have felt about some of the gorier stories Sehvi shared about her hands-on experience with obstetrics. "I don't think he's damaged. I think the experience of being so weak was foreign to him and it's stuck with him, the way it would with any of us who had a scare about our bodies."
"Even though he was on Seersana and needed the regimen there initially," Sehvi said.
"He could walk here without getting tir
ed," Vasiht'h said. He thought of the ring Jahir had not yet taken off the cord around his neck. "Selnor was a much different proposition." He leaned forward to fetch his cup of kerinne from the rug now that it was no longer steaming. "I'm going to see if he gets past it on his own. If not, I have some ideas."
"Some ideas, huh," his sister said, resting her cheek in her palm in a gesture they'd both gotten from their mother.
"A few. You know. Being the fancy therapist and all."
She grinned. "How's that going, anyway? It's been a couple of weeks since you started, right? Figured out how to achieve galactic peace yet?"
"I'll let you know once a galactic war breaks out," Vasiht'h said dryly. More seriously, he said, "I think it's going well."
"You think," she repeated. "Isn't this something you know? I mean, your patients aren't leaving worse off than when they come in, right?"
"No," Vasiht'h said, stroking the wall of the mug with his thumb, thinking. "I think they're getting better. But we have a faculty overseer—it's a practicum, you know how that goes, right?" At her nod, he continued, "And she's gotten... really quiet. Which is strange, because when we first started, she was not quiet. She was energetic and interested and curious. She wanted to know all about our experimental methods. So having her get so closed-mouthed about it so quickly..."
"Mm." Sehvi tapped her fingers on her desk, a sound he could hear clearly across the sector. "Maybe she always gets quiet? She wouldn't want to prejudice the results, right, or influence you all while working...."
"That's just the thing," Vasiht'h said. "She's supposed to be doing all that. The overseeing is supposed to be part mentoring. We're still students, and this is part of the teaching process. We're not expected to fly without back-up until we're in our residencies."
"Which your partner's already completed."
"In a medical specialty, which doesn't apply to the clinical environment." Vasiht'h leaned back, shaking his head. "No, it's not normal. And I've talked to some of Ravanelle's other students. They say it's usual for her to do some conferences at the end of every week, talk out the problem cases, make suggestions. She's not doing any of that for us. She asks us questions and prompts us to discuss things, but she doesn't say anything. And it's making me nervous."
Mindline (The Dreamhealers 2) Page 27
