Listen To The Silence by Sheryl

Chapter 14

It's not the pain I'm used to...
It's feeling like I'm already dead...

Was this what they meant by dappled?
He supposes it must be, this brilliant, shifting play of light dancing in uneven rhythm against dishes long empty. Dappled golden warmth, incongruous in the oppressive cold of dirt and debris.
"I should clean this up..."
He sighs, eyes drifting with the steam from his cup, fragrance of the coffee not as sweet as he would wish. Nostalgia is no friend of his, not now... maybe never.
What difference does the mess make? The only one who would care is not here to see it, still unconscious, still inert, still fighting for life.
The thought brings a thin smile, headshake of disgust.
"Fight for life, he's fighting to die but they won't let him..."
His eyes flit to his companion, not so much sitting at the table, as leaning against it, weary, face pale with exhaustion, creased with worry.
"You won't let him go, will you Kel?"

The question is startling, finally bringing motion.
"What do you mean? Let him go, let him die?!"
The sheer horror in his voice makes the boy drop his eyes, vaguely ashamed of bringing the subject into the light. God knew, it hurt him enough, it had to be killing Kellan. Still, he'd spoken, there was no way now not to finish it.
"I just mean..." His sigh is bitter. "I just mean that if he's fighting so hard to go, maybe the best thing you could do is to let him."
"No."
"No?"
"No... you don't understand." He leans forward, shoving hair out of his face, expression earnest, intense. "Jordan doesn't want to die. He wants to stop hurting. I know this... I know what's killing him, and it's not being hit by that van. That's just giving him a potential way out... you don't understand Jordan the way I do."
"Why don't you tell me then? And tell me what he did!"
His eyes flash , his need to know burning in him.
"I know he did something, something he hates... but I also know he didn't do it, and I don't have ANY idea what that means... you do don't you."

It is not a question, and he leans back, knowing Kellan, in all of his sensitive fragility, won't have the strength to refuse an answer.
To his surprise, Kellan's head shakes negation.
"I think I know... but I'm not sure. And I know I shouldn't tell you, because if it's what I think, it's so important that nobody know... but I can tell you this much."
He leans further forward, green eyes boring into blue...
"If any of them mean anything to you at all... you'll stop thinking about it. Anything you suspect, and yes I can read you, and yes you suspect what I do, anything you suspect you will forget about... because it's beyond important that nobody ever think anything other than what they already do."
"He killed Sav's daughter, didn't he?"
"He did."
"And he hates himself"
"He does... because he loves Sav almost more than life."
"So why did he do it?"
"He had to."
"To keep her safe."
Silence greets the remark, and he sees Kellan's eyes shift away from his.
"Kel, how can you kill someone to keep them safe?"
"Let it go, please... thinking about it will only make it all for nothing."
"He..."

His voice cuts off suddenly, the needle sharp spike of pain suddenly sinking deep between his eyes, one hand pressing desperately against it, the other over his mouth, sudden twisting nausea near vomiting.
"Stop it..."
He barely gets the words out, gagging, swallowing, refusing to give in.
"I'll stop if you'll stop"
His nod is involuntary, he'll do anything, anything to stop this misery.
"I mean it... you have to stop, do you understand me?"
He nods again, breathing against the sickness, sweat breaking as he feels it recede.
"I'm sorry... I hate to do things like that. But you MUST understand, you can't think about that anymore... you'll understand later, I promise you."
"I already understand!"
"I'm not kidding."
He's not, and the sickness is upon him again, this time beating him, sending him lurching to the sink, choking up the coffee, swearing, struggling to shield the other boy out.
"Kellan stop it! I'm not doing anything!"
"No, not anymore."

He disengages, watches distantly as the sun from the kitchen window sparkles off the other boy's hair. His own head hurts almost as much now, the ability to attack not one he's ever strengthened.
His gaze is sharp, concerned, watching as the color fades back into pale cheeks, hearing the breathing even out again. His remorse is huge, he likes this boy. But he loves Jordan and it's too important to let an attitude spoil it.

"I'm sorry, but you think you're so on top of things, and you just don't understand what's at stake."
"Didn't mean you had to do that!"

He rinses out his mouth, reaches for the Aspirin on the windowsill, chewing them absently, almost relishing the bitterness on his tongue.
Sensation, suddenly he craves sensation, some kind of overantidote to the attack, not
realizing, in his confusion, that he's reacting.
Coffee pours again into the cup, steaming hot into his mouth, the faint scald on the back of his throat welcome.
He can't seem to feel enough.
Kellan's voice comes, faintly amused.

"You better sit down before you start eating jalepenos. That numbness will fade, it's just an aftereffect."
"What'd you do to me?"
"Shut you up. I'm sorry, I hate to do that, but... I had to. DON'T go back there."

The warning in his tone is unmistakable, and the boy sits again, somewhat sheepish. He was wrong and he knows it. For Kellan, so gentle, the healer of the circle, to have attacked, is more than a hint.
It's crystal, clear and sharp, and he feels ashamed.

"Kel I'm sorry... I'm just confused."
"Yeah, so much is."
"You're not a guardian, are you..."
"No. I have some of their abilities, but I'm just a garden variety psychic."
His grin is infectious, and the boy smiles back.
"What am I then?"
"You?" He stirs his coffee, pleased with the clink of spoon on china.
"You're Jordan's prodigy, didn't you know?"
"Prodigy?"
"Mmm..." He reaches for the carafe, refilling his cup, more for the sound and the scent than because he want's more. "He thinks you're like Sav, like Angel. I'm surprised he didn't think you were the next overseer."
"That's Jesse, isn't it."
"If he lives..."
"Yeah, if he lives..."
"Is he closer?"
The boy doesn't answer, sends instead a swath of mental feelers, tuned to the wandering frequency. There... he's there, he's closer...
"He's nearer than he was, but he's so sick... Why does it have to be this way, Kel?"
"I don't know... I'll never know, they don't make it easy to understand. And they're not likely to tell me."
"They would, wouldn't they?"
"No, not me. You maybe... but they don't trust me."
"They love you! What're you talking about, Kellan!"
His smile is sad, and the boy sees tears gathered in the gray green eyes.
"Jordan loves me. Angel loves me. The rest? No..."
"Kel..."
"No, really!"
He takes a breath, pulls himself together.
"I have no affiliation... I'm a healer... I'll help anyone. If I don't side with them they think I must be siding with their opponent, and their opponent feels the same way. I'm not political..." He swipes angrily at his eyes. "I'm a crybaby, but I'm not political. I don't care about their fight, can any of you understand that?! I don't care... I just care that people are sick who don't have to be... and that people die. I wish they'd all stop killing each other over it..." His voice breaks, emotion overwhelming him.
These are his friends, attacking each other, sick, dying... and he's becoming just like them, hurting people to make them follow his perception of right.
More than he can stand, control breaks.
"Kel..."
The boy reaches across the table, grasps one trembling hand, feels his clutched in return, his own fear and sorrow welling to the surface. Their friendship is new, tenuous, but in their extremity of grief it's all they have, this thin and unfamiliar comfort.

The sunlight, dappled, falls onto their faces, reflecting prisms of rainbows from their tears.

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