Other Worlds than These

 

Part 3:

 

            The tap on the door frame tore Ian Ivory from his thoughts and forced him back into the present.  Snapping his head toward the door, he expected to see Solace standing there, smiling and asking if he was ready for the day’s counseling session.  Instead, Dorian stood leaning against the frame, grinning like the cat that ate the proverbial canary.

 

            “What’s up, Ivory?” Dorian asked.  “Feeling better?”

 

            “Physically, yes,” Ian Ivory answered, turning his attention back to the window.  Outside, the Founding Festival was in full swing.  He had watched the opening day parade march by that very window earlier, and he could see the crowds and vendors down the block.  Everyone looked so happy and full of life.  Though he hated crowds with a passion, Ian Ivory longed to join them.  He wanted to mingle with them and feel their joy.  He wanted--actually wanted--to be touched and to connect with another joyful person.  He wanted to feel what those people felt, so long as it wasn’t this dreadful emptiness that threatened to consume him.

 

            Dorian nodded.  “Yeah, I heard.  Don’t worry, though, we’re here for you.”

 

            Ian Ivory froze.  “...What was that?”

 

            “I said don’t worry, were...”

 

            “No, before that,” Ian Ivory interrupted.  “You said you heard something.  What did you hear?”

 

            “That some edit-worthy moron switched your assignment and sent you to Hellsing, of course,” Dorian replied, rolling his eyes.  “No worries, though, we’ll catch him.”

 

            “Hellsing,” Ian Ivory whispered.  His hands grew clammy and started to shake.  His eyes widened.  His stomach clenched.  “I was in Hellsing.  In the Names of the Seven, why was I in Hellsing?”

 

            Returning from a trip to the showers, Solace arrived at the room in time to see Ian Ivory curl up on the bed in the fetal position with his hands covering his head.  His whole body shook as he stared blankly out the window, repeating over and over again, “Why was I in Hellsing?”

 

            Cursing, Solace grabbed Dorian and hauled him out into the hallway.  “Alright, ghostie, what did you say to him?”

 

            Dorian shrugged.  “Nothing.  Just that we were looking for the guy who sent him to Hellsing.  That’s it.”

 

            “Dorian, you flaming moron,” Solace groaned.  “He didn’t remember being in Hellsing in the first place.  We were working on discovering that information slowly, and now you’ve ruined all our hard work.”

 

            “I’m sorry,” Dorian said.  “I didn’t know, honest.  I was just trying to make him feel better.”

 

            “You want to make him feel better?”  Solace reached down and yanked a bag of coins off of her belt, shoving it into Dorian’s hands.  “Go to the festival.  Have a good time.  Buy him a funnel cake.  Win him a friggin’ carnival prize.  Just leave us alone for awhile until I can get him to calm down, okay?”

 

            Dorian nodded and sputtered apologies as he retreated down the hall.  Before he could get too far, he heard Solace call his name.

 

            “Yes?” he asked, pausing to see what she wanted.

 

            “I know you meant well,” she called.

 

            Dorian smiled and nodded, then continued on his quest for a carnival prize.

 

            Taking a deep breath and steeling herself against the chaotic emotions she was about to wade through, Solace entered the hospital room and closed the door.  She removed her glasses and tucked them into the pocket of her jacket, which was draped over the back of the armchair.  She was dressed in civilian clothing and her hair was still wet, but it was better that way, really.  She could be as informal as she liked with Ian Ivory, and that was what he needed right now.

 

            She sighed and wished Violet were here to help.  Violet adored Ian Ivory, and that was precisely what he needed.

 

            Crossing the room as quickly and as quietly as she could, Solace made her way to Ian Ivory’s side and sat down on the bed.

 

            “They know,” he whispered.  “They know...”

 

            “No,” Solace said, resting a hand on his shoulder.  “They don’t know.”

 

            “He said...”

 

            “They know you were sent to the wrong place.  They do not know what happened there, except that it was bad.  They saw that for themselves on the platform.  Only you, Chief, Cuthbert, and I know what happened.”

 

            She sat there on the bed and gently rubbed his shoulder, patiently waiting for him to turn and seek her out.  It took awhile, but in the end Ian Ivory pulled himself up and collapsed onto Solace’s chest.

 

            And as Solace held the young man, she couldn’t help but think about all the times she had fought at his side in the field.  He was delicate, yes, but he could hold his own in a fight.  She cursed the person who switched his assignment and set him up for such suffering.

 

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

 

            Of all the places Cuthbert expected to see Ian Point today, Control Room 1 wasn’t on the list.

 

            And he certainly didn’t expect to see the new team member sleeping by the book cart with a book on his head.

 

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cuthbert muttered as he approached the sleeping man.  Clapping Ian Point on the shoulder, Cuthbert barked an order to wake up and laughed as Ian Point jerked sent the book flying.

 

            “You know, we’re off all week,” Cuthbert said as Ian Point scrambled to fetch the book from the floor.  “You don’t have to be here.”

 

            “I know,” Ian Point replied with a small, embarrassed smile.  “It’s just, well, that book you told me to read was so good and I wanted to maybe...read some more...”

 

            Sitting down on the nearest table, Cuthbert motioned for Ian Point to give him the book he had fallen asleep with.  Like most of the books in the Library, this one was hard-bound and looked brand new.  No amount of opening, dropping, or scuffing ever left a mark on these books.

 

            “The Gunslinger,” Cuthbert read.  “Good choice.  Have you read the poem that inspired it?”

 

            “No, I haven’t,” Ian Point admitted.  “I wasn’t aware this had been inspired by anything.”

 

            Cuthbert nodded, continuing to study the book’s cover.  He turned it over in his hands and ran his fingers down the spine as if caressing a lover.  He had a lot of memories from his missions in Roland’s world; some were bad, but mostly they were good memories.

 

            “Just wait until you get to Wizard and Glass,” he said, passing the book back to Ian Point.  “You’ll get to see more of the character I was named for.”

 

            He hopped off the table and started to leave when he heard Ian Point speak.

 

            “Sir?  If you don’t mind my asking, why are you here?  You’re supposed to be off, too.”

 

            “Just taking care of some paperwork,” Cuthbert replied.  He turned and left then, tossing a wave over his shoulder at Ian Point as he went.  He wanted to stop by Ian Ivory’s room to see if he or Solace wanted anything from the festival.

 

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

 

            Weaving his way through the crowd, the cloaked figure made his way toward the man with the long silver hair.  That man was the key to finding it.  He had to be!  Toma said so!  The silver-haired man was Celeste’s greatest Tap.  If he didn’t know where it was, who did?

 

            The silver-haired man stopped to converse with others; he didn’t know who they were, and he didn’t care.  All that mattered was reaching his target.  Toma would not stand for failure, oh no; and as everyone in Celeste knew, there were a great many things worse than death.

 

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

 

            “So, have you seen Ian Ivory at all since the incident?” Violet asked.

 

            Rodney shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”

 

            Violet sighed.  “I’m worried about him.  He’s a strong individual.  I’ve seen him take down some pretty wild guys, but I never thought anything like this...”

 

            Spotting Dorian in the crowd, Violet broke off her sentence and flagged the green-haired Ghost down.

 

            “Hey, have you seen Ian Ivory at all?” she asked as he approached.

 

            Dorian nodded.  “Yeah, I just came from there.  He was fine until I mentioned Hellsing, then, well...it’s going to be a little while longer before we see him or Solace at work again.”

 

            A cloaked man bumped into Rodney, nearly toppling him over.  Dorian and Violet reacted instantly to catch them, but Rodney kept his balance and steadied the cloaked man.

 

            “Sir, are you alright?” he asked.

 

            “Yes, yes, I’m terribly sorry,” the cloaked man said with an apologetic grin.  “I’m afraid I’m not feeling too well.  I got a little disoriented in the crowd trying to find my way home.”

 

            “Would you like some help?” Violet asked.

 

            The cloaked man smiled gratefully at Violet.  “Just some water would be fine.  I just need to get my bearings and I’ll be fine.”

 

            There was no such thing as a “little old man” in Celeste, but this stranger came pretty close.  Small, pale, and dangerously thin, it was a wonder he wasn’t in the hospital.  But as it was entirely possible that the man’s skeletal appearance was merely his birth defect, no one, not even Rodney, thought to ask more.  They had offered help, and he declined all but a little water.  There was nothing more they could do unless he collapsed at their feet.

 

            After resting for several minutes and drinking the water Violet brought him, the cloaked man thanked them and stumbled back into the crowd.  He waited until he was clear of the festival before he pulled his communication device from his pants pocket and sent a message back to Toma.

 

            “Subject has been tagged.  Awaiting further instructions.”

 

            “Femur, what are you babbling about?  This isn’t the military.  Now get your ass back here.  Or have you forgotten about the mess in the Temple?”

 

            “Yes, Toma.”

 

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

 

            Cuthbert tapped on the door and entered without waiting to be called in.  Solace was dozing in the armchair while Ian Ivory slept.  Neither looked to be having a peaceful sleep; Ian Ivory was curled up in the fetal position and shaking while Solace twitched in the chair.

 

            Kneeling by the chair, Cuthbert traced his fingers over her ear and down the curve of her jaw.  She stirred and blinked up at Cuthbert with tired eyes that could only manage a dull blue glow.

 

            “Hey,” he said.

 

            “Hey,” she answered, turning and curling up in the chair.  “How long have you been here?”

 

            “Just arrived,” he said.  “It’s still light out, I didn’t think you’d be sleeping.”

 

            “I’m just drained, that’s all,” Solace yawned.  “Dorian came by while I was off taking a shower.  The idiot mentioned you-know-where to Ivory and triggered a major flashback.  All that work we did trying to put him back together?  Gone.  A whole week’s progress, gone.”

 

            “I’m sure Dorian didn’t mean anything by it,” Cuthbert said.

 

            “Of course not,” said Solace.  “He’s a good guy and his heart was in the right place.  It’s his mouth that’s the problem.”

 

            Ian Ivory gasped and kicked out, muttering a string of unintelligible gibberish that quickly turned to pleas and sobs.  Solace sprang from her chair, her eyes light pink and brilliantly glowing.  She touched two fingers to his forehead and closed her eyes.  Her mind touched his mind and whispered soothing words and thoughts until Ian Ivory stilled and was silent once more.

 

            Her job done for the moment, Solace returned to the chair with the intention for collapsing into it.  However, Cuthbert was already sitting in the chair, so she fell into his lap instead.

 

            “It is my sincere hope that Ivory will go stir-crazy and beg to be allowed to return to work,” she said, snuggling deep into the Metamorph’s arms.  “He’s craving contact with familiar people.”

 

            “How do you know?” Cuthbert asked.  Solace flashed him an incredulous look.  He laughed.

 

            “Okay, yes, sorry, that was a stupid question.”

 

            “Got that right,” Solace muttered as she burrowed her head into Cuthbert’s chest.  She inhaled deeply and sighed.  Cuthbert always smelled so wonderfully warm and spicy.  She giggled softly as he played with her hair, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers purposely grazed her ear.

 

            “Ticklish, are we?” he laughed, grinning mischievously at the woman in his lap.

 

            “Cut it out,” she said, not bothering to look up.  “You know how I am about my ears.”

 

            “I think you like it,” he chuckled.

 

            “Yes, I do,” said Solace.  “And you shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

 

            “Oh, is that so?”  He ran his finger along the rim of her ear, causing her to shiver.

 

            “Not cool,” she gasped.  “Seriously, knock it off.”

 

            “What? This?”

 

            Solace clamped a hand over her mouth, but could not stop the squeak of delight from escaping.  “Not fair,” she said, swatting Cuthbert’s fingers away and covering both ears with her hands.  “I don’t randomly stimulate your erogenous zones.  Why do you have to play with mine?”

 

            “I...have obviously interrupted something...”

 

            Snapping their heads toward the door, Cuthbert and Solace saw Dorian fade into view.  Under his left arm was a large plush dog.

 

            “Don’t worry, I won’t stay long,” Dorian said with an exaggerated wink, his grin growing wider as Solace blushed.  “I just wanted to drop this off for Ian Ivory.  Didn’t want to drop it or get something on it at the festival.”

 

            Entering just long enough to place the stuffed animal next the Ian Ivory, Dorian beat a hasty retreat on the grounds that he didn’t want to further interrupt Solace and Cuthbert’s activities.

 

            All was quiet and peaceful in the room.  After several minutes, Solace let her hands drop and she closed her eyes.

 

            “Now, where were we...Oh yes!  We were right here.”

 

            “Eep!  Stop it!”

 

            “You say that, and yet you stay.”

 

            “You stole my chair.  You owe me.”

 

            “I think there are other reasons.”

 

            “I swear, if Ivory wakes up, I’ll...”

 

            “Promises, promises.”

 

            His fingers had barely grazed her ear when Solace sprang up and raced to the door.

 

            “And just where are you going?” he asked, gazing at her in feigned innocence.

 

            “I’m going to take a shower,” she growled, blushing furiously.  “A long, cold shower.”

 

            Cuthbert laughed softly as he watched her storm off.  She was out of the room and thinking about something other than Ian Ivory.  Mission accomplished.

 

            “I’m ruining your plans, aren’t I?”

 

            The voice was so still and so quiet that at first Cuthbert thought he had imagined it.  Looking up, however, he found Ian Ivory wide awake and staring right at him.

 

            “It’s okay,” Ian Ivory said.  “Take Solace to the Festival.  I’ll be fine.”

 

            Cuthbert stood and moved to stand by Ian Ivory’s bed.  “You aren’t ruining anything,” he said.  “Solace and I...we have an understanding.  We play our games and get a rise out of each other, and then we go on with business as usual.  That’s all.”

 

            “That’s a lie, and you know it,” said Ian Ivory.  “Everyone knows you two were made for each other.  You’re a matched pair.”

 

            Cuthbert shifted and remained silent.

 

            “Take her to the Festival,” Ian Ivory repeated.  “She needs to get out of here.”

 

            “You’re right, of course,” Cuthbert agreed.  “She does need the distraction.”

 

            “I’ll be fine,” Ian Ivory insisted.  “Now go.”

 

            Ian Ivory was sincere in his wish for Cuthbert and Solace to leave, of this Cuthbert was certain.  His own learned empathic abilities had never steered him wrong.  The vibrations Ian Ivory was giving off jived with the request.  As much as he longed for contact, he wasn’t the type to keep others from having fun.  Still, Cuthbert didn’t like the idea of leaving Ian Ivory alone.

 

            “No worries.”

 

            Dorian faded into view just as Cuthbert stepped outside the door.  “I’ll be right here the whole time you’re out.”

 

            “How noble of you,” said Cuthbert.

 

            “I have my moments,” Dorian replied with a wink and a grin.

 

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

 

            Standing under the flow of water and shivering, Solace tried to clear her mind.  The water wasn’t as cold as she would have liked, but it was cool enough to take the burning sensation out of her cheeks.  She wished she could say the same for the burning sensation in her belly and between her legs.

 

            She tried to tell herself that there was nothing to get worked up about.  She and Cuthbert had an understanding.  He was her best friend, her primary source of comfort, and that was it.  What more could she possibly ask for?

 

            “Dinner,” she whispered.  “A nighttime walk.  Maybe a weekend at the eastern shore, catch the sunrise.  Ten minutes alone doing more than simple affection.”

 

            “Honestly, I’d prefer more than ten minutes, but if that’s all it takes to make you happy....”

 

            Before she could so much as squeak, Cuthbert’s arms encircled Solace from behind.  His right hand spread out over her abdomen while the fingers of left hand traced slowly up and down her left side.  His bare chest pressed warmly against her back.

 

            “What are you...who’s with...” Solace sputtered.

 

            “Shh...it’s alright,” Cuthbert assured her, his lips barely touching her ear.  “Ivory is alright.”

 

            He pressed his right hand gently against her stomach and slowly began to massage wide circles into the slick, tender flesh where a navel might have been if she--and he himself for that matter--had been born instead of decanted.  She inhaled sharply and trembled, and at the same time stiffened in Cuthbert’s arms.

 

            “Please,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that seemed to be welling up against her will from the pit of her stomach.  Cuthbert had seen Solace do many things, and he had seen her many ways, but this was the one thing she did not want him or anyone else to see.  She did not him to see her cry.  “Please, don’t start something you can’t finish.  I couldn’t take it again tonight.”

 

            Cuthbert smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the left curve of her neck.  “Are you kidding me?” he asked, laughing softly and breathing against her skin.  “I’ve wanted to finish for the last two centuries, give or take a few decades.”

 

            Sliding his hands to her hips, Cuthbert turned Solace around to face him.  She was blushing furiously despite the cool water, and her eyes were glowing a soft pink that was visible even though she refused to look him in the eye.  Cuthbert stood there for a full minute admiring Solace as the water beaded and trickled down her front while it gushed down her back and legs.  He reached up with his right hand and tucked a bit of damp hair behind her left ear, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers afterwards as if it was the most natural thing to do.  Then he leaned in and gently kissed her forehead.

 

            “I’ve wanted to say that for a long time, too,” he said.  “I know we have an understanding, but for me it isn’t all just games and tricks.  I thought it was about time I told you.”

 

            Solace was thankful to be in the shower; at least with the water running down her face, it was harder to tell that she was crying.  Not that her expression wasn’t a dead give-away, of course; water couldn’t easily hide the high, furrowed brow or the set of her jaw, much less the way her glowing eyes flickered and shifted to a watery shade of lavender.  Still, she could pretend that she wasn’t crying, and that’s what mattered.  She was Solace, pillar of strength and comfort to everyone else.  Yes, she was lonely as hell, and yes, this was a dream come true; but she didn’t have time to be worrying about her own deep desires when she had to be strong for everyone else.  She would not let herself buckle under the strain, and she would not let anyone, not even Cuthbert, see her cry.

 

            Cuthbert didn’t say a word, but merely brought both hands to Solace’s face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.  Then he drew her into his arms and gently pressed her head to his shoulder with his right hand stroking her hair and his left arm curling protectively around her back.  Even then she remained stiff in his arms, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her own tears in his presence.  He frowned.  This wasn’t healthy.  Solace spent so much time taking care of other people that her own worries and desires took a back seat.  Simple affection and touch games only did so much, and they were all she allowed herself to indulge in.  He wanted to be the place she could fall and curl up into at the end of the day, but in order for that to happened, she needed to let go of whatever was making her upset.

 

            There was one sure-fire way to get her to let it all go.  He hated to do it, but she wasn’t leaving him much of a choice.

 

            “I love you,” he whispered in Solace’s ear.

 

            The first sob escaped before she could bite it back, and the rest followed before she could reset her jaw.  Her arms were pinned.  She could not press a hand to her mouth to silence herself, and the more she struggled to free herself from Cuthbert’s arms, the firmer his grip became.  All she could do was bury her face in his chest and shoulder and cry while the cool water beat down on her back and Cuthbert stroked her hair, all the while whispering those three powerful words over and over again.