Chapter Text
~
The Healer’s name was Fords Deep Waters.
Because he was a soul, by nature he was all things good: compassionate, patient, honest, virtuous, and full of love. Anxiety was an unusual emotion for Fords Deep Waters.
Irritation was even rarer. However, because Fords Deep Waters lived inside a human body, irritation was sometimes inescapable.
As the whispers of the Healing students buzzed in the far corner of the operating room, his lips pressed together into a tight line. The expression felt out of place on a mouth more often given to smiling.
Darren, his regular assistant, saw the grimace and patted his shoulder.
“They’re just curious, Fords,” he said quietly.
“An insertion is hardly an interesting or challenging procedure. Any soul on the street could perform it in an emergency. There’s nothing for them to learn by observing today.” Fords was surprised to hear the sharp edge marring his normally soothing voice.
“They’ve never seen a grown human before,” Darren said.
Fords raised one eyebrow. “Are they blind to each other’s faces? Do they not have mirrors?”
“You know what I mean - a wild human. Still soulless. One of the insurgents.”
Fords looked at the boy’s unconscious body, laid out face down on the operating table. Pity swelled in his heart as he remembered the condition his poor, broken body had been in when the Seekers had brought him to the Healing facility. Such pain he’d endured. . .
Of course, he was perfect now - completely healed. Fords had seen to that.
“He looks the same as any of us,” Fords murmured to Darren. “We all have human faces. And when he wakes up, he will be one of us, too.”
“It’s just exciting for them, that’s all.”
“The soul we implant today deserves more respect than to have his host body gawked at this way. He’ll already have far too much to deal with as he acclimates. It’s not fair to put him through this.” By this, Fords did not mean the gawking. He heard the sharp edge return to his voice.
Darren patted him again. “It will be fine. The Seeker needs information and -”
At the word Seeker, Fords gave Darren a look that could only be described as a glare. Darren blinked in shock.
“I’m sorry,” Fords apologized at once. “I didn’t mean to react so negatively. It’s just that I fear for this soul.”
His eyes moved to the cryotank on its stand beside the table. The light was a steady, dull red, indicating that it was occupied and in hibernation mode.
“This soul was specially picked for the assignment,” Darren said soothingly. “He is exceptional among our kind - braver than most. His lives speak for themselves. I think he would volunteer, if it were possible to ask him.”
“Who among us would not volunteer if asked to do something for the greater good? But is that really the case here? Is the greater good served by this? The question is not his willingness, but what it is right to ask any soul to bear.”
The Healing students were discussing the hibernating soul as well. Fords could hear the whispers clearly; their voices were rising now, getting louder with their excitement.
“He’s reached six planets.”
“I heard seven.”
“I heard he’s never lived two terms as the same host species.”
“Is that possible?”
“He’s been almost everything. A Flower, a Bear, a Spider -”
“A See Weed, a Bat -”
“Even a Dragon!”
“I don’t believe it - not seven planets.”
“At least seven. He started on the Origin.”
“Really? The Origin?”
“Quiet, please!” Fords interrupted. “If you cannot observe professionally and silently, then I will have to ask you to remove yourselves.”
Abashed, the six students fell silent and edged away from one another.
“Let’s get on with this, Darren.”
Everything was prepared. The appropriate medicines were laid out beside the human boy. His black hair was secured beneath a surgical cap, exposing his slender neck, perfectly curved eyebrows, the soft lines of his features. Deeply sedated, he breathed slowly in and out. His pale skin had barely a mark to show for his . . . accident.
“Begin thaw sequence now, please, Darren.”
The gray-haired assistant was already waiting beside the cryotank, his hand resting on the dial. He flipped the safety back and spun down on the dial. The red light atop the small gray cylinder began to pulse, flashing faster as the seconds passed, changing color.
Fords concentrated on the unconscious body; he edged the scalpel through the skin at the base of the subject’s skull with small, precise movements, and then sprayed on the medication that stilled the excess flow of blood before he widened the fissure. Fords delved delicately beneath the neck muscles, careful not to injure them, exposing the pale bones at the top of the spinal column.
“The soul is ready, Fords,” Darren informed him.
“So am I. Bring him.”
Fords felt Darren at his elbow and knew without looking that his assistant would be prepared, his hand stretched out and waiting; they had worked together for many years now. Fords held the gap open.
“Send him home,” he whispered.
Darren’s hand moved into view, the silver gleam of an awaking soul in his cupped palm.
Fords never saw an exposed soul without being struck by the beauty of it.
The soul shone in the brilliant lights of the operating room, brighter than the reflective silver instrument in his hand. Like a living ribbon, he twisted and rippled, stretching, happy to be free of the cryotank. His thin, feathery attachments, nearly a thousand of them, billowed softly like pale silver hair. Though they were all lovely, this one seemed particularly graceful to Fords Deep Waters.
He was not alone in his reaction. He heard Darren’s soft sigh, heard the admiring murmurs of the students.
Gently, Darren placed the small glistening creature inside the opening Fords had made in the human’s neck. The soul slid smoothly into the offered space, weaving himself into the alien anatomy. Fords admired the skill with which he possessed his new home. His attachments wound tightly into place around the nerve centres, some elongating and reaching deeper to where Fords couldn’t see, under and up into the brain, the optic nerves, the ear canals. The soul was very quick, very firm in his movements. Soon, only one small segment of his glistening body was visible.
“Well done,” Fords whispered, knowing that he could not hear him. The human boy was the one with ears, and he still slept soundly.
It was a routine matter to finish the job. Fords cleaned and healed the wound, applied the salve that sealed the incision closed behind the soul, and then brushed the scar-softening powder across the line left on the boy’s neck.
“Perfect, as usual,” said the assistant, who, for some reason unfathomable to Fords, had never made a change from his human host’s name, Darren.
Fords sighed. “I regret this day’s work.”
“You’re only doing your duty as a Healer.”
“This is the rare occasion when Healing creates an injury.”
Darren began to clean up the workstation. He didn’t seem to know how to answer. Fords was filling his Calling. That was enough for Darren.
But not enough for Fords Deep Waters, who was a true Healer to the core of his being. He gazed anxiously at the human male’s body, peaceful in slumber, knowing that this peace would be shattered as soon as he awoke. All the horror of this young man’s end would be borne by the innocent soul Fords had just placed inside him.
As he leaned over the human and whispered in his ear, Fords wished fervently that the soul inside could hear him now.
“Good luck, little Reacher, good luck. How I wish you didn’t need it.”
~