A Fallen HomeKin

PART VIII

The tube itched under his skin. Fralith picked at the place where it entered, attempting futilely towards easing the discomfort. He huffed at it, giving it one more pluck before letting it be. If FlameHair— no, Tim — hadn't told him (through a lot of gesturing) not to pull the IV, as he'd called it, out, he would have done it already. The IV was just so itchy. It was driving him up a tree.

He huffed away and flicked his gaze around the small room, trying to keep all the new words connected to the right objects. There were just so many— win-dow for the ClearStone, ch-air for the chairs, I-V for the tube in his wrist, cah-set, for the small rectangles, cah-set play-er for the bigger rectangle, tray for the flat arm, and many, many more.

They all jumbled around in his head, new sounds hissing and stopping and chirping blurring together until it was all one mess of noise. He didn't mind, though. It was like this when he'd first started learning Riveirian and Kenverite, and he knew that the sounds would settle and he'd soon be able to match words to the right objects correctly.

Fralith eased to a sitting position, careful to move his arm as little as possible. It didn't hurt as nearly as much as it used to, but it still throbbed painfully whenever he jarred it or tried to use it. He made a face. He'd made that mistake only once, and never again. The scream from the black bird pain was enough for a lifetime.

Shaking the thoughts off, he let out a puff of air. What to do now? His eyes slid towards the edge of the bed. Maybe he could— the door swung open.

"Good afternoon, Brave Bud!" Tim chirped, nudging the door shut with his foot, hands full with a whitish, clear blob. "I've got some news for you."

He tilted his head, watching as Tim strode over to the stand where the IV led to. It wasn't food time. Why was Tim back already?

Tim lifted the white blob and hooked it on the stand next to the other clear blob there. Once he was finished, he dragged a chair over and sat, turning to Fralith. "I'm not sure how to explain this," he said, studying him. "But...well, your heart has a problem and we need to find out why."

Fralith rubbed his ears, squinting. What did Tim mean? He could tell from his BodyTalk that he was talking about him and was...nervous about his reaction. He chewed his lip, looking at Tim questioningly.

Tim hummed speculatively. "Let me try something else." Lifting his hand, he tapped the place where his heart was. "This is where your heart is." He tapped a steady beat. "And this is what it should do, but your heart actually does this." Reaching out, he gently tapped Fralith's heart irregularly.

Cocking his head, he touched his heart. I know it flip flops.

Tim shook his head. "Bad." Tapping his own chest again, he nodded. "Good." Then tapped Fralith's chest in that irregular beat, shaking his head after he'd finished. "Bad."

His heartbeat; head shake. Tim's heartbeat; nod. His flapping heartbeat...was bad and Tim's steady one good? He frowned, rubbing his chest. It made sense — hearts shouldn't flap around like a wet bird — but how had Tim known it did that?

"And we want to know why it's being bad," Tim concluded, pointing at Fralith's heart then shrugging.

Fralith glanced down at his chest, spreading his fingers so his hand laid flat over his heart. I don't know why it's bad. It just...is. A light touch at his shoulder made him look up.

Gentleness and...something else — something like a silent urging for him to understand — filled Tim's expression. "We have tests to help us figure out the problem." His tone was soft and full of that urging. "But...they might be scary for you and we can't stress out your heart. Because of that, we'll have to sedate you; put you to sleep for a while."