Other Worlds than These

 

Part 2:

 

            Ian Ivory floated in nothingness with only the sound of Solace’s voice to guide him.  He didn’t quite remember what had happened in the field, only had it had been very painful.  Frankly, he wouldn’t mind if the memory never came back at all.

 

            “You know it doesn’t work that way.”

 

            Ian Ivory sighed and opened his eyes to find Solace sitting cross-legged beside him on a floor that wasn’t there.

 

            “No, but I can wish, can’t I?” he said.  Solace chuckled.  The nothingness tried to solidify into a Japanese style bedroom. Screened doors flickered in and out of sight.  Paper lanterns briefly appeared.  A futon tried to form under him and the ghost of a blanket attempted to cover him, but none of it wanted to solidify and fill the void.

 

            “Don’t fight it, hon,” Solace said.  “Just let it happen.”

 

            She reached out and grasped the edge of the blanket and pulled it up to Ian Ivory’s chin.  It was soft and red and warm, and it did not disappear.

 

            “I’m exhausted.  Any idea how long I’ve been out?”

 

            “You know as well as I do that time is an illusion,” Solace said.  “Time doesn’t move the same in the mind as it does in the real world.  Don’t worry about time.  We have all the time we need.”

 

            Ian Ivory nodded weakly and closed his eyes.

 

***************

 

            Cuthbert sat in the chair in Ian Ivory’s hospital room and tried not to fall asleep.  It had been three days since Ian Ivory’s emergency return.  Solace was still spread out on top of Ian Ivory.  Both were naked except for their underwear, and they were covered by the red fleece blanket Cuthbert had brought in during the first night.  Solace’s body glowed softly under the blanket, reassuring Cuthbert that everything was going smoothly and that there were no complications.  Still, he didn’t like that the healing was taking this long.  He didn’t like that the hospital staff had put both Solace and Ian Ivory on IVs to keep them hydrated and nourished during the healing.  Solace was a Healer, not a Life Support unit.  If she ran out of energy, then the hospital was supposed to take care of Ian Ivory and allow Solace to rest.

 

            He pushed away those ugly thoughts.  Of course the hospital couldn’t care for Ian Ivory in the usual way.  All those people touching him would just make things worse.  Solace had to stay with him.  It was the only way to preserve his mind while his body healed.

 

****************

 

            He awoke again to the soft sound of humming and discovered a cool compress upon his brow.  He still felt tired and weak, but the nothingness had completely solidified into the Japanese style bedroom, so at least he felt more grounded.

 

            “What...what’s wrong with me?” he asked.  “Why do I feel so warm?”

 

            Solace knelt at Ian Ivory’s head and changed the compress.  “You’ve heard the phrase ‘worry yourself sick’?  Well, it’s true.  Whatever it is that you don’t want to remember, it’s festering inside you.  The longer you hold it in, the sicker you’ll feel.”

 

            “That’s insane,” Ian Ivory said.

 

            “I wouldn’t make comments on what’s sane or insane, if I were you,” Solace laughed.  “After all, we’re in your head, remember?”

 

            Scooting closer, Solace carefully lifted Ian Ivory’s head onto her lap and helped him drink a little water.

 

            “It’s...fuzzy...” said Ian Ivory.  “I only remember little bits and pieces...flashes of faces...and pain...”

 

            Solace brushed his hair away from his face.  Her fingers were cool and gentle upon his fevered brow.

 

            “It’s alright.  Start with what you remember.  We don’t have to tackle it all at once.”

 

            Ian Ivory breathed a sigh of relief.  “I remember my assignment came from the fourth floor of the graphic novel section.”

 

            “Manga, right,” Solace said with an affirmative nod.  “Do you remember which one?”

 

            “No, not really.  It was the end of the series, so there was no risk of interfering with the plot.  I don’t think I saw the main characters at all, actually.”

 

            Solace nodded.  She knew exactly where Ian Ivory had been.  According to the readout on the control panel just before the portal had opened, the emergency return had been initiated in Hellsing.  She’d been there a few times herself before Control Room 6 took over those missions.  It was not a world for someone like Ian Ivory.  Alucard generally left the Wanderers alone during their missions as they didn’t present enough of a challenge for him, but some of the other characters there--especially the minor ones--could be sick, vicious bastards.  For someone so pale with such delicate features.... Oh no, Ian Ivory should not have been there at all.

 

**************

 

            Ian Point sat at the control panel and recited everything Cuthbert had taught him.  A full week had passed since his arrival, and he wasn’t thrilled with his progress.  He was willing to learn and operate the controls, and he knew it was important for him to be in the Control Room until Solace and Ian Ivory returned, but he longed to go out into the field.  Every day that Dorian or Cuthbert went out into another world without him was pure torture.

 

            “Jealous, are we?” Dorian asked as he climbed up on the platform.  He was assigned to The Three Musketeers today and was dressed accordingly.  He even had a wig to hide his green hair.  Dorian quite liked the wig and thought it made him looked distinguished.  Ian Point thought it was ugly and that Dorian has been cheated.

 

            Ian Point glared up at Dorian and turned the knobs to prepare for the outgoing trip.  Cuthbert observed silently, ready to correct any mistakes before Dorian was sent out.  The portal opened without complications.  Dorian stepped into the portal and faded from view.  Then the portal closed and all was silent.

 

            “Well done,” Cuthbert said.  “You’re a much faster learner than Dorian ever was.”

 

            “How long did it take him to learn the controls?” Ian Point asked.

 

            “Three years,” Cuthbert answered.  “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

 

            “Hear what?”

 

            “Exactly.”

 

            Cuthbert leaned back and stretched over the railing behind him to grab the assignment board off the wall.  He logged Dorian’s departure and flipped to the next page.  Ian Point crossed him arms over his chest and closed his eyes in meditation.  He needed to center and let go of his irritation with Dorian lest it devour him and cause him to do something foolish.  Really, there was no danger of that happening, but he needed the practice for his training as a Caller.

 

            He was jerked out of his meditative state upon hearing the crack of the assignment board against the railing.

 

            “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were falling asleep,” Cuthbert laughed.  “But I do know better, and all I can say is this is not the place for meditation.”

 

            “I need to keep an eye on the controls,” Ian Point said.  Cuthbert just laughed harder.

 

            “Scrolls no!  Are you nuts?  This thing pretty much runs itself.  Only reason we’re still sitting here is to make sure the return trip goes smoothly.  Solace and I have gotten more sleep in these chairs in the past century than we have in our beds.  If anyone in the field needs anything, the alarm will wake you up.”

 

            Ian Point frowned.  “Then why can’t I meditate?”

 

            “Too noisy,” said Cuthbert.  “All the little beeps and blips become distracting and make meditation next to impossible.  I’ve tried, believe me.  There’s a spot by the fireplace, though, that’s pretty good for meditation.  Close enough to keep an eye on the controls, but far enough away so that the regular beeps don’t bother you.”

 

            “Good to know.”

 

            Violet entered the Control Room with a full book cart.

 

            “Chief wants you to read through these,” she said.  “We’re to be well-versed in every single one of these works before the Founding Festival in two weeks.”

 

            “You must be joking,” Ian Point breathed, eyes wide with disbelief.  “All of those in two weeks?”

 

            “It’s a precautionary measure,” Violet said.  “Solace and Ian Ivory are the only two who know these books by heart.  If they aren’t back before the festival...”

 

            “Or if Ian Ivory isn’t fit to travel,” Cuthbert added.

 

            “Right,” said Violet, “or if he isn’t fit to travel, then he and Solace will have to stay behind while the four of us take their places.”

 

            “Couldn’t you switch off with Solace?” Ian Point asked.  “I mean, don’t you two share counseling duties?”

 

            Violet blushed and ducked her head so that her long black hair obscured her face.  “It would be inappropriate for me to counsel Ian Ivory,” she replied softly.

 

            Ian Point started to ask her why she couldn’t counsel Ian Ivory, but her expression stopped him.

 

            “Anyway, you should be thrilled,” Cuthbert said.  “You’ll get to go out into the field after the festival.”

 

            The young man brightened upon hearing that.  “You mean it?” he asked.

 

            “Most definitely,” Cuthbert replied.  “You’re already learned the controls, and you’re not here to be a Gatekeeper, so of course you’ll be going.”

 

            He picked a book off the cart and studied it nonchalantly.  “Anyway, you won’t be doing the bulk of the reading.  I will.”

 

            Cuthbert was a Gatekeeper first and a Wanderer second.  Cross training had earned him both titles, but whenever there was large load of reading material to be poured through, it was his job to read it and condense it for the Wanderers in the field.  Of course, a good Wanderer read the books themselves and used the Gatekeepers’ reports for reference; however, with the sheer volume of literature to be had in the Library, it was impossible for everyone to read everything.

 

            “That hardly seems fair,” Ian Point said.  He, too, selected a book from the cart and read the title.  “Phantom of the Opera.  Sounds interesting.”

 

            “I’ve read that one several times,” said Cuthbert.  “Go ahead and take it.  You’ll enjoy it.”

 

************

 

            For the umpteen-thousandth time, Solace gave thanks to the Author that leg cramps were not possible while she was in Ian Ivory’s mind.  She couldn’t be tired or hungry, or any of those other things that would have prevented her from keeping her kneeling position for so long.  But, she also wasn’t in the state of distress that Ian Ivory was.  He was asleep for the moment, but it wouldn’t last.  As soon as his subconscious mind found another piece of information from the incident, he would open his eyes and share it.

 

            This was the space between Ian Ivory’s dreams and his waking mind.  It was possible for him to sleep and awaken here without breaking the healing state in which Solace was keeping him.  She was determined keep him in that state for as long as necessary, but if he reached the point where he wanted to end it early, she couldn’t stop him.

 

            Fortunately, that didn’t look like a problem.  At this point, she was more concerned about him staying in the state too long.

 

            Ian Ivory stirred and gasped.  “They...did things...horrible things...”

 

            Solace rested a hand on Ian Ivory’s chest.  “Who?” she asked.  “How many?”

 

            “I’m not sure,” he said.  His eyes were squeezed shut.  “There were at least three, I think.  They pulled off my gloves...”

 

            That statement alone sent up a red flag in Solace’s mind.  If there were multiple attackers, and they touched Ian’s skin...

 

            “Horrible things,” he moaned.  “Violence, hatred, sick humor, cravings, urges...”

 

            ...those minor Hellsing bastards touched him...

 

            “...hands...so many hands...”

 

            Bruises began to appear on Ian Ivory’s face and neck.  Tears trickled from his tightly closed eyes.  He reached up to cover his face, revealing more scratches and bruises on his arms and shoulders.

 

            Solace shifted to pull Ian Ivory into her arms, gathering the blanket around him as she did.  In doing so, she caught a glimpse of his back and lower body.  She didn’t see enough to fully assess the physical damage, but it was enough to confirm her fears at the very least.

 

            “Oh, pens and pencils, Ivory,” she breathed, holding the young man closer.  “I’m so sorry.”

 

**************

 

            Cuthbert was about three seconds from falling asleep in the armchair when the glow surrounding Solace strengthened and engulfed Ian Ivory.  The two glowed together for the span of a full minute before it faded and stopped all together.

 

            Lifting her head, Solace blinked groggily and turned her heard this way and that in an effort to gain her bearings.  Upon seeing Cuthbert, she smiled weakly and extended her hand.  He was at her side in a heartbeat.

 

            “How long?” she whispered.

 

            “A little over a week,” he answered, entwining his fingers with hers.  With his free hand, he ran his fingers through her hair.  Solace smiled and closed her eyes.  There was nothing so wonderful after a healing session as simple affection.

 

            “Feels about right,” she sighed.  With great effort she mustered up the will to leave her warm, comfortable position on Ian Ivory’s chest and climb out of bed.  Ian Ivory stirred briefly, whimpering softly at the loss.  A caress from Solace calmed him at once, and he settled back into a deep sleep.

 

            “Looks like you’ll be here a few days yet,” Cuthbert commented.

 

            Solace nodded as she carefully removed the IV in her other arm and told him what she had learned so he could report back to Chief for her.

 

            “He shouldn’t have been in Hellsing in the first place,” she said.  “Chief knows what kind of dangers are there.”

 

            “We can’t protect him forever, Solace,” said Cuthbert.  “He’s been with us for almost fifty years now.  He was bound to get a dangerous solo assignment sooner or later.  Besides, you’ve seen him battle.  He’s lethal.”

 

            “Yeah, but to send him there, of all places? Alone?  Come on, Cuthbert, we both know better than that.”

 

            “I know.”  He flicked his wrist ever so slightly in an invitation Solace recognized and understood.  She was tempted to refuse him on the grounds that she was too aggravated to enjoy the hug he was offering, but she was awfully cold standing there without her clothes.  Her desire for warmth overruled her mood in the end.  She stepped forward and consented to being held.

 

            “I’m still not happy about this,” she said after a few moments.

 

            “I know,” said Cuthbert.

 

            “I am so going to kick Chief’s ass later.”

 

            “I know.”

 

            “Scrolls, you smell good.”

 

            Cuthbert laughed.  “I know.”

 

            “Smart ass.”

***************

 

            Chief was going over the previous night’s paperwork when Cuthbert came into his office the next morning.  Chief was ready with a bright smile and a warm greeting, but the look on Cuthbert’s face killed his good cheer.

 

            “Author’s pen, Cuthbert, what’s wrong?  Is it about Ian Ivory?”

 

            Cuthbert took a deep breath, his hands folded and held up to his mouth in a look of contemplation.  “Solace woke up last night,” he said.  His voice was low and eerily calm, but the effect was lost on Chief.

 

            “That’s wonderful news!” he cried.  “And how is young Ivory?”

 

            “He’s sleeping, but not as deeply as he was during the healing.  He’s dreaming again.”

 

            “Good, good.  Splendid news.”

 

            “We know what happened to him.”

 

            “Eh?”  Chief raised an eyebrow in concerned interest.  “Well, what was it?”

 

            “He was...” Cuthbert faltered.  He couldn’t quiet bring himself to say it.  He sat down in the chair across from Chief’s desk, needing to gather himself.

 

            Chief leaned forward and placed a hand on Cuthbert’s shoulder.  “Cuthbert, please,” he said.  “What happened to Ian Ivory?”

 

            The concern on Chief’s face was too genuine for Cuthbert to believe Chief had sent Ian Ivory alone to Hellsing on purpose.  The vibrations were all wrong.

 

            “He was...mentally...and physically...and emotionally...”

 

            “...yes?”

 

            “...raped.”

 

            A blow to the gut would not have had half the effect on Chief as that last word did.  Chief was a big man.  He had been once been a Wanderer just like the rest of them.  He had seen and experienced things Cuthbert didn’t even want to think about.  In four centuries of service, though, Chief had never heard that word in association with one of his own.  The man looked like his second stomach had been ripped out and served up on a platter right before his eyes.

 

            “How...how is that possible?” he asked.  His eyes were blank and stared right through Cuthbert without seeing him.

 

            “He was on assignment in Hellsing when...”

 

            “Hellsing?!  What in the Author’s name was he doing in Hellsing?!”

 

            Cuthbert was at a loss.  “That was his assignment, sir.”

 

            Chief’s blank stare became a fiery death-glare.  He grabbed the master copy of the assignments for all of the control rooms in the past month and tore through it.

 

            “Here!” he said, slamming the list down and pointing to an entry midway down the page.  “These are the assignments for Control Room 1.  Hellsing isn’t even on the list for that room.  That assignment was supposed to be taken care of in Control Room 6 with the rest of the dark stuff.”

 

            He was right, of course.  On the day in question, Ian Ivory was supposed to be observing in Trigun.  It still wasn’t the safest place for him, but it was a fair sight better than Hellsing.

 

            “Cuthbert, I want you to listen very carefully,” Chief ground out, trying very hard not to take his anger out on the innocent Metamorph.  “Someone has it in for our boy, and I want to find out exactly who that sonnuva petri dish is, you got me?”

 

            “Loud and clear,” Cuthbert answered.  A grin spread across his face.  “I’ll ask Rodney to get right on it.”

 

            Chief nodded.  “And when he finds the little prick, you make sure to collar him and send him straight here.  I’ll make him wish he’d never been decanted.”

 

            Cuthbert chuckled.  “I believe you’ll have to wait for Solace to finish with him first, sir.  She already called dibs for this ass-kicking.”

 

            Now it was Chief’s turn to smile.  “Damn, she beat me to it again.”

 

            “Think of her as the opening act, sir,” said Cuthbert.  “She’ll just warm him up for the main event.”

 

            Rodney, of course, was only too thrilled to assist Cuthbert in finding the person responsible for sending Ian Ivory on the wrong assignment.  But sadly, he could not find the culprit without knowing who he was looking for.  The Wanderers and Gatekeepers of Control Room 6 specialized in the darker stories, it was true, but they were men and women of honor who would never dream of sending someone, anyone, into Hellsing alone.  No, they weren’t looking for anyone in Control Room 6, and that made matters a lot harder.  Control Room 7 wasn’t finished yet, so that left four rooms and thousands of Librarians who could have switched the assignments.

 

            “I need to know everyone Ian Ivory has run afoul of in the past month at the very least,” said Rodney.  “Until Ian Ivory comes back to work and feels up to talking, I’m afraid there’s little I can do.”

 

            “Even a little is something,” Cuthbert said.  Rodney nodded and frowned in thought.

 

            “There’s always the possibility that whoever did this is the type to brag,” he said after a long silence.  “It’s possible that this person could drop his mental shields and advertise his misdeed without realizing it.  The odds are against it, of course, but like you said, even a little is something.”

 

            And so Cuthbert and Rodney told the rest of the team in Control Room 1 to keep their minds and ears open for anyone bragging about pulling a prank on Ian Ivory.  They did not go into the exact details, nor did the others ask.  They didn’t have to.