Chain Me

Back Home

     My head is killing me, pounding hard and making the back of my eyes ache. There's a sharp pain in my side and I can't feel my right leg. Hot liquid running down my forehead is seeping into my eyes, and I blink rapidly to try to see past it, groaning. The first thing I see makes me wonder if I'm dreaming.
     Lost is standing over a cuffed body, the man pleading in some other language, his arms extended. One of his hands doesn't look right, as if all the fingers are broken, and there's something white sticking out from his wrist. Lost lifts her foot, growling something in the man's language, and strikes him in the face with no remorse. He falls back from the blow, burbling incoherently.
     "Lost?" I manage. My voice doesn't sound right.
     Her body language changing into something meek, Lost speeds over to me and kneels down. There's a red line running down her temple but otherwise she seems okay. "Kahlan?" she breathes, tears forming in her eyes. The sight has me believing this is all real. "I'm here. I'm so sorry. I'm here."
     My gaze turns to the man in the dirt, the prisoner. I didn't recognize him without that black bag on his head. Though I should have known with the cuffs and all. "Alive," I grind out, the pain in my side getting worse. My leg has started feeling things, too, and none of them good.
     "You're alive," Lost whispers. She leans down closer to me and wipes my forehead with her thumb.
     "Him," I say, moving my chin at the prisoner. "Alive."
     Lost's face twists into rage as she says, "Yes, he's alive. But he won't be for long." Her eyes are so tired, so angry. Destruction is all I see in her.
     "No." I shake my head, and groan. "He stays alive."
     Lost growls and grinds her teeth. "He hurt you."
     He did, I remember that now. His cuff chain cutting into my neck and causing me to drive off the road. Where is the car, anyway? How did I get onto the floor? I was buckled into my seat, that's where I should be right now.
     "My phone," I say, just wanting to get all of this dealt with. I need a hospital and the prisoner needs to be in a cell. "Call... call..." Who to call? 911? No, this needs to be handled quietly. I need a Facility car. "Call Mariam."
     Lost gives me a last look over before digging into my pockets and finding nothing. She spins her head around this way and that, then bolts away from me. She's limping slightly, favoring her left leg, and she's holding onto her side. Did she get hurt worse than I originally thought? If so, she has injuries exactly where I do. Strange...

     Soft beeping gently wakes me and I groan, my throat aching. When did I even fall asleep? The last thing I remember...
     "Lost!" I cry. I was in the dirt, hurting, and Lost was threatening to kill the prisoner we were supposed to be transferring to the Facility. She was on a damned war path.
     "Yes?" Lost says, at my side in an instant. "Are you okay? Should I get the doctor?"
     "Doctor?" I look around and find that I'm not in the dirt anymore. I recognize the room immediately, having been here before. I'm in the recovery ward at the Facility. With that little problem solved, I relax into the mountain of pillows behind me and sigh heavily. My ribs still hurt and my leg, which I could barely feel before, is now in a cast. There's a bandage on my forehead, too, which would explain the liquid I remember that was leaking into my eyes.
     Then I study Lost, and am a little jealous that she came out of the accident relatively unscathed. There isn't even a bandage on her face. I know I remember seeing blood on her. Was it hers?
     "Oh," she says, noticing that I'm staring at the side of her face. She moves the longer portion of her hair and reveals a rectangular bald spot by her temple. There's a stitched up wound there, looking raw and ugly. "They wanted to do more to me," she says, covering the area with her hair again, "but I wouldn't let them. I had to make sure you were okay first."
     That girl has a lucky streak, I swear. She would get hurt somewhere that no one can see. "The prisoner?" I ask.
     Lost's face goes dark. "Alive, just like you wanted." Which she obviously doesn't like. But then her face falls and she touches my bed softly, by my hand. "I'm sorry I let him hurt you," she says.
     I wiggle my hand towards her, but stop before I can touch her. "It's not your fault."
     "It is. I should have known. I did what I could but..." Her gaze falls on my broken leg. "I'm sorry."
     Her sad, wet eyes makes my heart hurt for her. She's so sensitive and caring. There's no way I could be mad at her, even if this were her fault. "You did great, okay? You stopped the prisoner from escaping and saved my life. If it weren't for you I would still be out there instead of getting treated here."
     Wiping her eyes, Lost sniffles. "I'll do better next time."
     I think that's the best I'll get out of her so I smile and nod. We still have a lot to work on when it comes to her self image.
     "Finally awake, I see," a voice says, and then Mariam walks into the room. She adjusts her glasses and approaches my bedside, opposite Lost. "I bet you'd be out for at least another two hours."
     "I didn't peg you as a gambler," I jab. "What are you doing here?"
     "Lost called me when the accident happened. I decided to stay to make sure you woke up okay."
     "I appreciate that. How has the General taken all this?"
     Mariam shakes her head and chuckles dryly. "He couldn't believe what happened. He expected this to happen with Cas and I- which, rude- but thought you'd do this easily."
     I glance at Lost as she scoots a chair closer to my bedside then sits on it, her gaze on Mariam, suspicious.
     "There was only a minor setback," I say, returning my focus to Mariam.
     "Minor?" Mariam chuckles. "I wonder what you'll look like when there's a major setback."
     "Funny," I mumble. Then, "When can I get out of here?"
     "Today, if you agree to take the serum."
     Ah, yes, the serum. It's an advanced healer, essentially. One injection can set cells regenerating at an advanced rate and have large wounds or broken bones healed within a matter of days, and cuts and bruises even sooner.
     "I'll take it," I agree. Obviously. I don't want to be in this state any longer than I have to.
     "Great. I'll go get the doctor."
     I nod as Mariam leaves, and I'm left alone with Lost. She's quiet in her seat, pressed as close to my bed as possible, but at least her expression has turned neutral. I really don't know how I'm going to handle her over the course of the next few days. I won't be able to chase after her if she leaves the house, that's for sure.
     Mariam comes back into the room with the on duty doctor and I push aside the Lost problem for the moment. The doctor greets me and checks my vitals before revealing a syringe filled with yellow tinted liquid. He gives me the speech about what it'll do and makes sure he has my consent to use it on me. When that's all said and done I offer up my arm and the doctor finds a vein. A growl from Lost has everyone pausing, though, and the needle never touches my skin.
     I turn to her and see that she hasn't moved at all. Her eyes are poised at the syringe in the doctor's hand, and her jaw is tight. "I'm sorry," she rumbles, sounding frightening. "Continue."
     The doctor hesitates but breaks my skin with the needle and gives me the injection. Lost growls again, her whole body shifting forward an inch or so, but other than that she remains in her seat. The doctor coughs, telling me I'm fine to leave and that he'll have a wheelchair brought for me, then he hurries away. Lost relaxes and wipes the lower half of her face with a hand.
     "What was that?" I ask her, rubbing the spot where the doctor injected me.
     Lost moves in her seat, her eyes darting to Mariam. "You are weakened," she says, meaning me. "I must double my efforts to keep you safe."
     "I'm not a threat," Mariam defends, adjusting her glasses.
     "The sidewalk is a threat right now," Lost growls. "I mean no offense to you, Mariam."
     "Somehow, I'm not offended."
     I shake my head and sit up. "I'm not an invalid, and sidewalks are not the enemy." The wheelchair I was promised is rolled into the room and left at my bedside with the wheels locked. I'm grateful for it and immediately swing my legs carefully over the edge of my bed. Mariam tries to help but Lost is suddenly by my side with a curled lip and snarl aimed at Mariam. Smartly, Mariam holds her hands up in surrender and backs off. Lost, free now that there isn't anyone to challenge her, gently helps me off the bed and into the wheelchair. She's careful not to be too rough, and for some reason I'm surprised that she can be so tender. I suppose it makes sense. She's so strong I'm sure she's had to learn to compensate for it and be softer than others.
     "You're okay?" she whispers, kneeling down in front of my chair and making sure my cast won't jostle when I start moving.
     "I'm fine," I mumble. There's a flash of my frustrating wet dream, and I gulp as it plays behind my eyes. "Stand up," I demand, wanting Lost to stop being below me so I won't blush. I need to get myself under control.
     Lost gives me a funny look but stands without complaint. Mariam looks at me strangely, too, but by the expression on her face I'm afraid she's going to say something. So, before she can, I pat Lost's arm quickly and say, "Let's get out of here. I want to go home."
     Frozen, Lost stares down at the spot on her arm where I pat. My heart jumps to my throat and I almost slap myself for being so stupid. I've never touched Lost like that, ever. I fear that I went too far, but then Lost's cheeks tinge a reddish color and she steps behind me to help push me along. I sigh audibly in relief and smile at Mariam as I'm wheeled past her.
     "Your belongings are at the front desk with Nadine," Mariam says from beside me. Lost growls softly and Mariam takes a step back from my chair to walk two arms lengths away. Lost's tunnel vision when it comes to my safety seems fine now, but I'm not so sure it will be as endearing when we're up top. There's many more people and many more opportunities for things to go wrong.
     When we eventually reach the front desk Lost stops my chair so I can get my things from Nadine. She happily hands over a clear bag with my cell, keys, and wallet in it. I'm glad I brought the bare minimum with me, otherwise I probably would have lost a few belongings in the crash.
     "The cell is new," Nadine informs me as I open the bag to get the car keys. "The key is for a new car, too. Your apartment key is the same, though, don't worry about that."
     I smile. "Thanks, Nadine. Still get to keep my credit card privileges?"
     Nadine chuckles. "It's in your wallet. As is everything else you kept in there."
     "You're the best."
     "Never get tired of hearing that."
     Smiling, I rest my bag on my lap and tell Lost to get me moving after giving Nadine my goodbyes. She ushers me into the elevator, surprisingly allowing Mariam to join us, then off we go. The ride up is long and quiet, and Lost taps the handles of my chair restlessly.
     "Can you drive?" I ask Lost, to distract her.
     She grunts. "Yes. I learned some time ago."
     "Good, because you're driving us home."
     The elevator eventually comes to a stop and we all step out. Well, I'm wheeled out, but it's all the same. Lost steers me to our new SUV then carefully rolls me up to the side of the car and opens the passenger side door. Mariam watches on as Lost lifts me from my chair, princess style, and deposits me primly in the passenger seat. Then Lost puts my wheelchair in the trunk and hops into the driver's seat.
     "I'll see you at home," Mariam says, sticking her head by my open window. But then Lost gives her a look and she says, "Or not."
     "I assume this will all go away when I'm better in a few days," I tell Mariam, rolling my eyes. "Maybe just avoid us until then."
     Mariam gives a halfhearted salute and pats the sill. "Not a problem. I'll tell Cas, too. Not that she needs any convincing to stay away."
     My window rolls up without me wanting it to and I frown at Lost, who refuses to look at me. "Was that necessary?" I ask as she backs the car up.
     "No," she says flatly. Then, with less irritation. "I'm sorry. I can't help it. You're hurt and I feel it, and I want it to stop."
     "You can feel my wounds?" That explains my memory of her holding her side and limping even though she now clearly doesn't have pain in those areas. She was experiencing what I was.
     Hands tightening on the steering wheel, Lost nods. "Yes. I can handle the pain, that's no issue, but knowing that you have to deal with it..." Her jaw clenches. "I'm not going to let anything exacerbate your condition."
     "Scaring off my friends isn't helping."
     "I'm sorry."
     There isn't really anything I can do, now that I know she feels my pain. She's going to be grumpy for as long as I'm hurt. "Wait," I mumble, coming to a realization. "Does this mean you've felt every time I've nicked my legs while shaving?" That means she's felt when I've tripped up or gotten a papercut, too. How does she handle it? It has to be annoying.
     For the first time since I woke up today, Lost smiles. "Yes. You're quite clumsy when wet. Perhaps assistance is what you need."
     I know the words are innocent but... Damn it all. I focus on my window and count the streetlights we pass.
     "I will assist you, you know," Lost goes on.
     Shocked, I spin to her. "What?" I blubber.
     She points to my cast, the other hand still holding the steering wheel firmly. "It will be tougher for you. If you need assistance, I'll help. I've done it before so I know how."
     "Oh," I mumble. "Right."
     "Are you okay?"
     "Yeah, yeah. Just fine." Honestly, I wish I could blame my attraction to Lost as a side effect from a head injury thanks to the accident, but I was feeling this way before the crash. It started as something small, so small I didn't even know it was happening, but then when we moved in together... my feelings only grew. It's not until now, as I realize how I care, that I can see my attraction started almost as soon as we met.
     That first time, when Lost was brought in, naked and exposed, I felt nothing but sadness for her. Her beaten body right in front of my eyes was so much different than reading her past and injuries on a piece of paper. Then I saw her in motion and got to study the way she worked, the way her mind worked. It was absolutely fascinating. I suppose my attraction started as obsessive curiosity, but it's morphed into legitimate feelings not based in examination. Lost is just... She's almost perfect, aside from the codependency, which we're working on. But there's a part of me that wonders if her crush on me is only because of our connection through her collar. She's said before that she has her own feelings, but what if she's experiencing what I am, like with the pain? What if her crush is mine, thrown back at me?
     "We're home," Lost says cheerily, bringing me out of my rattled mind. "Hold on, I'll help you out." She shuts off the engine then passes me the car keys before stepping outside. She jogs around the car to fetch my wheelchair and is beside my open door in a split second, her body inches from mine.
"Ready?" she asks, hunkering down to pick me up, but not touching me yet.
     I nod and wrap an arm around her shoulders, then she slips an arm of her own under my knees and slides her other one behind my back. She lifts with ease and I'm tempted to snuggle into her, but push the want away as she sets me into my chair. It's stupid for me to assume her and I could start something.
     Lost hums one of her old songs and, feeling down about my unfortunate love life, I finally get the courage to ask about it. "What song is that? Where did you hear it?"
     Pulling me backwards into the apartment building, Lost stops humming and says, "I heard a mother sing it once to her daughter." She turns me around then pushes me towards the elevator. "The girl was dead, hours gone, but her mother never stopped singing. An eternal melody for an ephemeral life."
     I knew the stories behind the songs would be tragic, and yet I asked anyway. "So what is the song?"
     "I don't know. I never heard it after that moment. I think it was something the mother made up. After all, you would want a loved one to hear words your own in their last moments, right?"
     "I wouldn't know. I've never had someone I love die in front of me."
     "I hope you never see it."
     I want to learn more, but I'm not sure I should pry. The elevator doors slide open and Lost wheels me out into the hall on our floor. We're a few doors down from our apartment when Hakeem walks out from his. He's holding a notebook and he seems depressed about something, but his face lights up when he notices Lost.
     "Hey!" he exclaims jogging the few feet over to us. I'm afraid Lost will lash out at him, but she doesn't. She simply moves to the side of my chair and gives Hakeem a complicated handshake.
     "Gonna hang out on the stairs?" she asks.
     Hakeem nods and moves his notebook to his other hand. "Want to come?"
     "Can't. I'm a nurse now."
     The boy chuckles breathily through his nose and finally looks at me. "Hey..." he says, narrowing his eyes. "You're that woman from that night. I thought you lived with Emma."
     "Nope. I, uh, live with Lost."
     "Cool." He shrugs and refocuses on Lost. "What happened?"
     Lost holds onto one of the handles on my chair and relaxes slightly. "Car accident. Want to see something gross?"
     "Definitely."
     Waggling her eyebrows, Lost lifts the longest of her hairs and shows off her gnarly stitches. Hakeem scrunches his face as he looks at them and sticks out his tongue. "Did you get brain surgery or something?"
     Lost laughs and hides the stitches again. "No. A piece of metal from the car got me good. Let this be a lesson. Always be careful on the road."
     "I'm not old enough to drive."
     "Then make sure whoever's driving you is following the rules of the road."
     "You're so weird."
     "Isn't it great?" Lost retakes her position behind my chair. "I've got to go. Maybe I'll hang out later, though."
     Hakeem nods and takes a few steps away, but then he backtracks to be at my chair's side. "Hope you get better soon," he tells me. "Sorry about the accident, and not knowing who you are."
     I chuckle, amused. "Kahlan. My name's Kahlan."
     "Nice to meet you." Then he saunters away, allowing Lost to take me to our apartment. She rolls me inside and locks the door, then stands around awkwardly.
     "Do you need anything?" she asks. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Is there something you want to do?"
     "I'm fine, Lost. Really. I'm just going to go to my room and relax. The serum the doctor gave me will put me right as rain in two or so days."
     "Are you sure? Do you want me to take you to bed?"
     Oh, yes... "No, no. I'll... No." There she goes again with those innocent words. "I'll call you if I need anything."
     Lost nods and remains in the living room as I wheel myself to my bedroom. I close the door behind me and sigh, glad to be alone. If I'm not careful my crush on Lost will get out of control.
     Then again, she feels what I feel. So if I wanted more she'd want more, too, and possibly act on it. Right? She almost did it before, the night if the carnival. But I can't manipulate her like that. I either have to grow brave and ask her if she feels the same way or just drop it. I should make my decision soon, otherwise I might go crazy.