Log in

No account? Create an account

More of the story...

Here is another long snippet of The Addendum. I’m not getting much reaction, but I’m posting it anyway. I’m pretty pleased by how it is turning out and HRS likes it, which matters a lot to me.

Hynneria, the planet of little people. No, that didn’t sound quite accurate. Slugo’s Planet. Yeah, planet of billions of Rygels. John shuddered at the thought of billions of farting, slurping, grasping, amphibians in purple robes or feathered boas. In the hours since his conversation with Aeryn, his fever had spiked and his energy levels dropped so low that he could barely move from the cot where he lay. They were circling that green swampy, murky world where mud ruled. No, Rygel now ruled, from what Pilot told them. Bishan was no more and the Dominar had managed to cowl or banish Bishan’s courtiers and followers. Damn, that boy moved fast. John shivered and sweated and waited for someone to come and help him up off the bed. Frell, he hated feeling helpless. Contemplating little green men (wouldn’t Mulder have a field day with this), working on his body turned his stomach. But what was he to do? He’d promised Aeryn that he would let the medics solve the problem of the aggressive bacteria that seemed to be invading his body like a plague. He closed his eyes and pondered.

Why had he reacted so violently to the blood when he killed the Delvian pirate? He had killed with his hands before and never had such a gut reaction. Was it the shock of his injuries? Was it seeing the white sap run out of her broken head from his blow? Her face had the same beautiful chlorophyll markings and stomata markings as his beloved Zhaan’s face. The scars marred its surface but underneath, she was a Delvian. Was that it? Or was it a deeper injury?

Aeryn’s teachings had instilled in him the brutal need to separate oneself during battle from the violence. That training had paid off during the War when he had killed so many with only a knife, a pulse rifle and his bare hands. Why had this death cause him so much grief? He knew the answer but shied away. No, face it, John. Noranti and Zhaan taught you to face your fears. What is the truth? John felt the sweat flow down his body and pool beneath his hips. It was a cold sweat and totally unpleasant. He closed his eyes and frowned but admitted that he had touched that dark place during the killing. What he had felt was personal rage towards Bluebeard. He could feel it now. Red, towering anger that had added strength to the killing blow. Her face pulped under his gun butt with a satisfying splat until the white sticky sap, her life’s blood, ran down her neck and covered his hand. And he felt joy. And he had smiled for a moment just after the killing with the same sick smile that he had felt during the unrealized reality Einstein had shown him—the one where he had become a Peacekeeper. He had felt that same twisted pride at a job well done. He could be judge, jury, and executioner all rolled into one.

Yes, he had felt sick to his stomach at that sociopath hiding under his skin. He still felt slimy, but his feeling of mission success hadn’t gone away. He still felt it lying in wait for the next time a bad guy crosses his path who wants to mess with him or his family. Face it John, that is the reason, that you recoil from D’Argo. How can you be a moral compass to a child when deep inside you no longer have one? Was he that far gone? Obviously the answer was, yes. He was the despicable man he saw on the Carrier. But wasn’t he also standing outside looking and feeling a deep grief at the loss of his soul? Didn’t that count for anything? He hoped it did. He had read a book once about how disassociation works. Or was that dislocation? He definitely had a bad case. He was frelled either way. John sighed and scrubbed his eyes with the back of his bandaged hand.

He could barely open his eyes as he felt the jostling movement that accompanied the hallucination (or was it?) of at least a dozen little green hands poking into his sides, shoulders, and worst of all, legs. He let out a weak moan but nobody seemed to notice. It certainly was a weird dream, if dreams entailed awful smells and pain. He was just deciding what to say to try and end the torture when he heard heaven again.

“John, we’re moving you off the transport pod now. We’re going to the medical center where Rygel has arranged his personal diagnostician to take care of you. You are going to be alright.” Aeryn’s voice cut through the agony and bathed his dark dreams. But he found he didn’t have the energy to reply. So he carefully lifted his thumb and sought to make a fist.

Next time he woke it was because a sharp spear had obviously bisected his shoulder. He screamed and tried to grab it and pull it out, but found his good arm was held immobile. “Wha, wha the frell?” he tried to yell but his mouth was dry as sawdust. The little green slug in the troll doll doctor’s outfit was leaning over him with large limpid eyes. But where was its hair? I bet it doesn’t have a jewel in its belly, he thought dizzily.

“Do you know where you are, Commander?” it asked.

“Sure,” he slurred but then realized he had absolutely no clue.

“You are on Hynneria and we have some good news and some bad news for you,” the medic continued as if he hadn’t responded.

Aeryn placed her hand on his good shoulder. “John, stay with us now,” she whispered close to his ear as she brushed her hand over his hair.

“We had to re-break the arm because the infection had invaded the bone causing it to grow back in pieces . Your arm would have been useless. The good news is that we were able to use our advanced Hynnerian technology and ensure that it will heal back properly to full usefulness.”

Oh great, a guy with itty-bitty arms and legs was fixing me up. Why were doctors always so didactic, John thought as he tried to nod that he understood. He frowned and sucked avidly at the straw that another pair of green hands held close to his mouth. He cleared his throat and tried to respond more strongly. “Thanks,” he replied scratchily. “And now, Doc, what is the bad news?”

Aeryn squeezed his shoulder indicating that he should hold on tight. He tiped his head and touched her hand in acknowledgement. He knew he didn’t need the warning. He had no hope that fate was done with him. His life was weird that way and getting more tangled up in knots by the day, so nothing could surprise him anymore. He said nothing and just waited for the little troll doc to lay it on him.

“The infection in your system is raging out of control. We have cut the inflammation in your leg and inserted drains, but we cannot keep up with its mutations. You are not going to get better any time soon, but you are holding steady. We are at a complete loss. Because you are unique, and a totally alien species we do not have the antibiotics. We are most sorry.”

“Story of my life,” John said very calmly as he closed his eyes. The pain was receding from his arm and he felt a lethargy that was difficult to fight. He let it waft him away where hairless trolls didn’t practice medicine and lizard infections didn’t attack.

He sat in the sunshine on more pillows than he thought were in the universe. What passed for birds were chirping and he had to admit that Rygel had great taste in landscaping. The paths amidst the flowering trees and grasses were soothing. The murmuring brooks and waterfalls flowed past his patio. This invalid crap was getting old quickly. Chiana, sitting on the grass-like stuff by his lawn chair, had been chattering on about something or other to do with palace gossip. She was trying so hard to keep his spirits up, and he knew he needed to respond because that would boost her fragile composure as well but he just didn’t have the energy or interest to rise to the occasion. “Pip, did ya ever get the feeling that somebody up there likes to frell with us mere mortals?” he asked as he brushed her straw-like hair with his hand.

“Nah, old man, it just seems like that. I’m not sure there is anyone out there who cares enough,” she responded, happy to finally drop the cheerfulness she was feigning. She should know by now that John could see right through her ploys.

“How you doin’, little girl? For real, now.” John asked quietly.

“I- I miss him,” she whispered. “It hurts in here,” she said pointing to her heart. “I keep hearing him tell me we’ll see each other on the other side.” She looked down at her hands. “John, do you believe there is such a place?”

“Obviously, he did, Chiana; and that is what matters.” John wanted so much to comfort his friend, but he was fresh out of news about heaven and hell. He knew where he was going, but how could he tell her about beliefs he no longer felt? “Pip, I was brought up to believe that good people go to a place that is full of light and happiness. I know D’Argo is there waiting for you. But in the mean time, you are young and he wouldn’t want you in such pain. Live for him, okay?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes and tentatively smiled. “What about you? You still scared of yourself, old man? You know you are your own worst enemy. You once told me that we never get what we want. You have had to do many things that you weren’t expecting to do in your life. You and me, we’re kind of the same, there. Take it from me, just go with the flow. Accept that you killed and will kill again. It is what life is like out here. I want you around. I- I need you around. You gotta stop nozzle gaping ‘cause it’s no good for you.”

“That’s “navel gazing”, Pip, and you gotta stop listening to those children’s books we brought back from Earth.” John sighed as he said the words, trying hard to believe that there was still good in him. He felt like shit physically and mentally. “Yeah, Pip, you and me, we’re a pair, aren’t we? Be good to yourself and I promise I’ll try to be good to myself. But it’s hard, you know?” He closed his eyes.

Chiana noticed the sweat beading on her friend’s forehead. The fever was rising again. She felt the shivers in his hand where it lay on her head. He had fallen asleep, but it must not be a soothing sleep from his head rolling and frowns. She ran for help.

They had John ensconced in the sick bay hooked to blood and other body monitors. There were nutrition and hydration tubes as well as antibiotic tubes running from his arms. They had induced a medical coma to ensure his comfort as they fought to keep him alive. Aeryn held her hand to her mouth and sighed as she looked at the bed where he lay shaking his head back and forth. He was in the throes of another nightmare. Why he called out Commandant Mel-on Grayza’s name was another piece of the puzzle. She knew that John hated Grayza. He had made that quite clear on Katratzi and later during his deployment of the wormhole weapon. There were awful rumors floating for years about the female officer. They said she was a disruptor who was so bad at her job that she had had the Delos Concubine gland implanted. Aeryn suddenly stood straight up from her chair. “Frell!” she cursed out loud, startling the technicians hovering around John’s bedside. “Sorry,” Aeryn stated. She turned sharply and quickly exited the room. There were only two people who could answer a suddenly urgent question.

Rygel felt the gorge rise up in all three of his stomachs. He could face down his cousin, stick Durka on a pole, and even torture a Charrid; but square off against an enraged ex-Peacekeeper! He looked Aeryn straight in the eyes and willed her to do her worst. There he was, pinned by two strong arms and he knew exactly what she wanted.

“Aeryn, he was miserable, delusional, drunk, and dangerous,” Rygel needed time to formulate a plan. Should he tell Aeryn the truth or keep Crichton’s confidence? Plainly, what was best for this Dominar to do after all the years of that probacto astronaut’s gruff sympathy was to tell her straight on what happened on Arnessk. But it was so hard to be straightforward. He continued, “When we found him on that dying leviathan he was almost dead himself. He had so little and it showed in his eyes. All he wanted was you and wormholes. But you were gone.”

Aeryn frowned and let up slightly on the Dominar’s chest. “I would have returned sooner but there were things to take care of. I- I needed that time away to figure things out. I never intended to return. But what I thought would be a new life was the same dren as my old life. I haven’t told John any of this. Rygel, by the time I figured out what I wanted, I was in too deep and they wouldn’t let me leave. If it weren’t for the Holkathian assassination plot, I would never have been able to return to where I truly was meant to be—by John’s side. Our lives are full of ironies, Rygel. What brought me home to Moya resulted in John loosing his only safe haven,” she stated quietly as she finally released him.

“Tell me about it,” Rygel muttered as he waddled over and climbed into his throne-sled. He guided upwards until he again was looking Aeryn straight in the eyes. He took his time adjusting his royal robes. She had threatened murder and mayhem to his servants and sycophants and the room was empty. He sort of liked it that way, since there was no need for his subjects to know about his recent ignoble past. “Elack was a brave beast and his pilot a wise old one. They kept Crichton alive to reach Arnessk.” He paused to take a chew of his stash of sweetmeats and drink from a flask he always had secreted upon his throne. He sighed and continued. “We had joined Crichton after our own bad times, Chiana and me, and we were not up to babysitting your moonstruck, half-insane lover. Having Sikozou, that red-headed hezmot of a bioloid, around didn’t help matters (although in the end she did pull her weight). Do you really want to know all that happened there?”

Aeryn nodded, “I need to know, and Rygel, no lying. It is John’s life that is at stake here.”

“Alright,” he stated, knowing that it was again up to his royal self to save the day and again they probably wouldn’t acknowledge his great sacrifice of nobility or even his participation. So he continued quietly, “Aeryn, you missed a lot and yet I am glad you were not there. We met up with Jool and D’Argo on Arnessk. D’Argo had figured out more about flying and using the weapons of his farbot ship. Crichton only wanted to know about the wormhole that had swallowed up Moya thus leaving him to die in his frelling module. The old woman only wanted Cholok-knows what (who could understand her anyway?) so we ignored her comings and goings. There was an Interon archeological dig going on and D’Argo and Jool were participating (in more ways than one). Things were going pretty much par for the course for us, namely totally farbot. And then it got bad because not soon after Jool showed Crichton and Chiana (although Chiana really was not in the mood for archeology at all) around the fekkik dig, Peacekeepers came lead by Commandant Mel-on Grayza, who you may remember as the slegnot officer who captured us on the Command Carrier. She had Scorpius on a leash! That brown-nosing, two-timing, heroic Captain Braca controlled him somehow. Chiana told me that she leaned down and stroked Crichton’s face and he was all over her; totally nally-whipped. We didn’t know at the time what she had done or why Crichton acted the way he did. I was not there, but the girls were very explicit.” Rygel drank again from his flask and then wonder-of-wonders, offered it up to Aeryn who took it absentmindedly and swallowed what it contained. She sputtered and drank more deeply. Hynnerian brandy was just what she needed at the moment, not that she would tell Rygel that. He was very surprising and had mellowed so much she barely recognized him.

“Thanks, Rygel. I didn’t know you had it in you to be so generous,” she stated. Inside she was trembling with rage. Oh she would so like to kill that tralk of a Commandant, and yet the tactical side, the side that planned and schemed, understood why Grayza used her gland on John. Obviously, Grayza didn’t understand Crichton’s motivations any better than Scorpius did. But her new mindset, the one taught to her by both John Crichtons, prevailed and she balled her fists impotently and prepared to hear the rest of Rygel’s story. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“We learned later from D’Argo that Grayza had ‘interrogated’ Crichton down at the beach using Heppel Oil. That old woman, the Traskan, who Crichton rescued from the Carrier, admitted later (during her treatment of my case of Hynnerian Dermafolica that she had caused) that she was dosing the Commander trying to educate him about the Eidolons and their peaceful ways. She saw the results of Grayza’s treatment on his spirit and at the time feared for his sanity. But the crazy Traskan added to his troubles by drugging him and causing him to leap off a cliff to his certain death on the rocks below. Crichton has never had any luck with women,” Rygel paused and gagged as a result of a sudden constriction of his throat. Aeryn’s hand was very strong, but she loosened her grip enough for Rygel to catch his breath.

“You will tell me this story without editorializing,” she whispered. Oh, if only she had known of the rape and drugs. Obviously, John’s pain ran deep and she was just as guilty of adding more emotional dren. She swallowed and fought down her grief at what a shambles fate and her decisions had made on their lives. None of her thoughts showed on her face as she confronted Rygel.

The Hynnerian nodded and continued more quietly. “Aeryn, you are definitely not going to like this part of the tale,” he paused and looked at his companion who just blinked at him and squared her shoulders. “Alright, on with it, then. There was a native of Arnnesk, a sea creature who Crichton called ‘The Creature From The Black Lagoon’, whatever that meant. This creature saved Crichton and brought him to an alcove where D’Argo and Sikozou discovered the Heppel Oil use and hatched one of their farbot plans. Aeryn, John agreed to go back to Grayza for more of her treatment so as to distract her from the rescue mission we planned. She had him for many arns and yet somehow he managed to escape, leaving her tied up in her own sick love nest. I learned of the lakka and his bravery from Chiana only after you and Crichton had been crystallized. Aeryn, it was our fault that Crichton was forced to endure the Heppel treatment over and over again. We betrayed his trust, and I’m very sorry. He was understandably very quiet on our way back to Moya.”

Aeryn felt a pain similar to that endured after the death of the John on Talyn. She fought back the tears for what John Crichton had faced and obviously not conquered. She swallowed suddenly and gasped, “Frell! And then I brought Scorpius on board.” The puzzle pieces now formed a complete picture and it wasn’t pretty. John Crichton had always been paranoid, but never against members of his family. It suddenly made complete sense, all the terrible monens of his ignoring her and pushing her away; all the talk about coming back when she got her story straight; all the terrible stress he placed on himself; and most of all, his almost suicidal obsession with wormholes and saving her, his family on Moya, and the galaxy from both the Peacekeepers and Scarrens; all caused by her ultimate betrayal of John’s trust. Her poor mate had never had the time to heal. And here we are.

Rygel looked at Aeryn and silently acknowledged their dual complicity in John Crichton’s mental and physical illness. She asked quietly after reaching out and stroking Rygel’s hand, “So, what can we do now? Is there anybody on Hynneria who can heal him?”

Rygel dipped his head regally and acknowledged both Aeryn’s quiet apology and his role as ruler of over 60 billion subjects to find someone who could help. “I’ll give the order right away. We’ll find somebody, Aeryn.”

John sat quietly on the medical bed with his bad leg propped up on pillows. He had barely reacted when he had first awakened and discovered that another week of his life was somehow gone. He was down to bare bones existence. Nothing fazed him. He was numb. He could look on D’Argo and merely see baby and not his son. It was as it should be. In his way of thinking, he was a goner and the sooner Aeryn figured that out and moved on, the better it would be. It was the only gift he could give her. He sat absentmindedly squeezing the soft ball they had given him to strengthen his newly healed arm. For some reason the pressure on his biceps felt good and he didn’t wonder that he could fee physically and be so lacking in emotional feeling. He closed his eyes and felt the bone-deep exhaustion and newly rising feverish feeling fill his head. He was definitely in for it again.

Aeryn stood holding the sleeping baby and watched John sitting on the bed squeezing a ball in the hand on his newly mended arm. He looked like dren. He was down to skin and bones, being unable to keep any type of food in his system for long. They were feeding him intravenously (a barbaric method that the Hynerians felt was the best way to get nutrients and liquids into him given his bacterial load). His cheeks were flushed with a new fever he wasn’t telling anyone about and the pain lines around his eyes and mouth had returned. They had to find a solution soon.

John smiled wanly at his wife as she approached with the baby. He made no effort to reach for or interact with his son. At least he didn’t flinch away any more, Aeryn thought. Although, in her mind, this non-reaction to the proximity of D’Argo wasn’t any better than the earlier more physical reaction. Aeryn smiled back and switched D’Argo to her shoulder. “He sleeps like a vorgasian slogga,” she said.

“Whatever that is,” John said without his usual smile at her assumption that he understood her references (and his knowledge that she made a small joke of it). “So, what brings you around?”

Aeryn looked at John and realized that he was leaving her even as he still sat there. Frontal assault was always the best way to approach immovable objects. She swallowed her sadness and fear for him and began her attack. “There is a puzzle that I have been trying to solve and I think you hold the final piece. I have been struggling with its solution while you slept but I find that I cannot solve it without your assistance. Will you forget your own problems for a moment and help me?”

John looked at his wife and raised his eyebrow but said nothing. This infuriating man was bound and determined to make healing him as difficult as possible. Aeryn felt her frustration and sadness jelling into righteous anger. That was good because anger could be honed into a sharp tool. “John, I want to know why you never told me the full reason why you avoided me all those monens. I need to know the true reason why you cheated with that despicable drug of Noranti’s. Do not lie to me!”

John’s mouth dropped open with shock. He never expected this after all they had been through since the Talika incident. It didn’t matter now because nothing did, so he might as well explain. She wouldn’t understand, but he could get it off his chest. He didn’t look at her—couldn’t bear to look at his lovely soldier. He was so weak and such a sorry specimen of manhood. Other men would have killed themselves after what he had been through, but he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving her again.

He sighed, “Alright, you want to know why I took that stuff of Noranti’s? Because I didn’t want to feel anymore. Between you, Scorpy, and other things that had happened, the only thing left to feel was pain. Hell, half the time I thought I was having a heart attack and the other half of the time all I felt was, was, I don’t know what. My life was one big anxiety attack. I was the poster boy for Xanax. Heck, living on Moya was a Prozac nation. Then I went home and it got worse. Losing D.K. and even Laura hurt like a bitch and there was nobody I could talk to about it. You guys wouldn’t understand. That guy was like a brother to me and I had always treated him badly. Another notch in my belt, that’s all he was while I was growing up. I never could tell him how important he was to me. And now I never can. I screwed up our friendship by taking him for granted and he knew it. And then Spikey went and destroyed my Dad’s house to get to me. That just capped a wonderful vacation. It put the dot on the eye that I was trouble for my home planet. It was then that I finally got it through my thick skull that I ruin everything I touch, Aeryn. And then there was you. You were the only clean pure thing in my life. And I felt like you had damned me to hell. So I took that dren to forget.” John panted with his long speech. He was surprised by the welling up of something, a deep sorrow, so strong that he couldn’t continue. He closed his eyes and tried to hold himself together. He would not allow himself to feel. He wouldn’t ruin her life again. The best thing he could do is die so that she wouldn’t be burdened with bounty hunters and other folks looking to play Bill Hickcock with him.

Aeryn sat quietly murmuring sweet nothings to the infant in her arms. She had expected John to have built up a litany of complaints but had never expected the outpouring of self-hatred. He had no idea how he affected people for the good. He brought hope to a disparate band of escaped prisoners. He taught a young Nebari how to grow up into a beautiful woman. He had saved not only the galaxy from itself, but he did it without bragging or posturing. John Crichton was admittedly flawed, but oh what a glorious man he was. And oh had badly he had been treated by her side of the universe. But how could she get him to understand what a treasure he was when he still wouldn’t admit to the affects of the deepest wound. She reached out with their son but John turned away. She frowned and called on her comms for Chiana to come and take the baby for awhile. What she had to say was difficult enough without worrying about the safety of their child.


ack, i think i missed some of your posts! but here's this and i'm very struck by the image john has of billions of rygels in their feathered boas. hee!

intriguing how the echo of zhaan impacts john, and how he goes from thinking about that to pondering the affect of what has happened. nice.

also the way chiana responds to john's query about the universe frelling with them, that's very her. and he might be forgiven for struggling with the continual stuff that happens to them all.

ps. hee! nozzle gazing. ;)
For your reading pleasure, the whole thing up to now is posted at What Lies Beneath: A Sequel to "Wanted Man" by HumansRSuperior

Your comments are most appreciated as I respect you highly.
thank you, that's very kind of you. although given some of the cracked stuff i've been writing lately you might want to smack me upside the head instead. *veg* ;)

No, really. I can think of some other areas where our intrepid Team hasn't wrecked havoc yet.

Haunted Mansion
Mission Space
Big Thunder Mountain
Expedition Everest - Legend of the Forbidden Mountain™

And Cam is still waiting for the fireworks that show up after the last SpectroMagic parade.

Gosh that place is bizarre.

So, crack!tastic fic? I'm still waiting for Tea'c to waltz
uh oh..:::runs away from plot bunnies:::

you know...i have to admit that i opted out of mission space when it opened. and now with the displaced disc in my neck diagnosed, i'll never do it. no loss for me as i'm a wimp. i prefer the idea of being in space, vs. being shot into space. hee!

but i miss big thunder, and splash, and star tours. *sigh*

hmmm.....teal'c eating his way around world showcase could be fun. *veg*

ps. that's a cute hammer icon. hee!
I'm sputtering--Splash mountain is gone????

I adore Epcot much more than Disney World. We really loved The Animal Kingdom and truly disliked the rest. I haven't been back in 10 years.

Hmmmm Wonder if Teal'c would be able to stand the Mexican restaurant exhibit. I get shivers every time I even go into that World Showcase. We have a special fondness for the Japanese exhibit because it was the only place we ever found the tea pot for our china (I'm very domesticated). AND, I'm a major wimp. I DO NOT RIDE rollercoasters. So, I watch and others ride and I"m happy.

Now, Teal'c in Morocco and Norway? Germany? intriguing. Bet Sam would beat him to the streudal. I'm bad, I know. I'm a plot bunny pusher. Rabbit 3

The icon is from Smiley XTra 4--a Firefox extension. I love these.
{{{gentle hugs}}}no worries, it's still there. it's just that i can't ride it anymore due to the displaced disc in my neck. after that was diagnosed i figured i should heed the signs out front and avoid the ride. along with big thunder and star tours. i've got to be careful. but i mourn the loss of being able to ride star tours the most. *sigh*

i was always on the wimpy side with rides, never did like roller coasters...but now i have to be careful of abrupt movements that might make the disc get worse. frell. still...there's a silver lining to this cloud....i have a much more leisurely trip because i'm not dashing from line to line. hee!

it's changed a lot in 10 years....epcot is one of my favorite parts of disneyworld. and it's a five minute walk from the boardwalk inn where i stay. i love the living seas, and now they have soaring over california which simulates a hang glider. i can go on that one so i'm psyched.

and you are indeed a plot bunny pusher. teal'c in germany? at the restaurant? bwahaha! he'd have a blast. and now they do a "segway" ride tour. he'd like those i think.

ah, those are fun icons.
This is really so fantastic.
I just started reading it and had to go back and read what else you've posted.

You have a way with words, and I'm hooked.
Keep it coming! I can't wait to read more.

I'm just sucked into the pain and the distance that John is creating and man...this is just great
Thanks for the words.

The thing is that John Crichton is really wounded inside even more than outside. I'm trying to grasp how all the dren he was put through would truly affect this guy who really can't deal with his emotions very well. In the show by 4th season he really loathed himself. The goal here is to eventually give him peace. But there is more to come.

I haven't written in a while because I get so intimidated. But humansrsuperior's story just struck a chord with me. By the way, the bleeding out of the blue from an infected wound happened to me and it was truly scary. I wanted to include that because I knew the feeling of terror so well. Like a said, a chord was struck. Words like yours gives me the self-confidence to continue.
Yahoo! More. I love the way this storyline is going. *Evie is sitting up with nose twiching*

You really do have a way with words.