FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes." --Marcel Proust,À la recherche du temps perdu

"Right on time, Zachary. Please come in."

The great crimson dragon welcomed the young Akita into his office with a small flourish. The footballer seemed less stroppy on this, his fifth visit. To Benedict's trained eye, in fact, there was just a hint of resignation, as if the pup had finally figured out that therapy really isn't intended to be a torture. At least, not this time.

"Is it snowing out there?"

"Nothing that's sticking." The student shucked off his coat (not, Benedict noted, his athletic letter jacket but instead something of a much more supple material, much more upscale, the soft golden hue complimenting the salt-and-pepper brindle of his fur), draping it carefully over the back of the chair rather than simply tossing it there.

"Probably better for traffic when the great exodus begins tomorrow." The dragon moved his chair from behind his desk to face Parker more directly. "Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

"Coach Stackhouse has a kind of orphan-jock party on Friday afternoon, when we're not in a featured game. He opens up the field house, gets it catered or something. Usually lots of food, even leftovers."

"And for Thursday itself?"

"I get by. Haven't had a real family dinner since..." The pup trailed off, and Benedict let him have the moment. He didn't seem to be remembering; more like trying to remember that he was supposed to remember. There should be something there, some memory even if only something from the orphanage, or one of his foster homes. Maybe even something from Wednesday lunch at elementary school, wretched though the alleged "food" might be. The look on Parker's face was that of someone trying to understand why there was a gap where nearly every other so-called normal person would have some sort of recollection.

"Would you like to have dinner at my house this year? I put on quite a spread, and I have various guests over. A few students, a few faculty, Eoin of course. A small group of mostly respectable people who are loose enough to enjoy each other's company."

"I wouldn't want to intrude..."

"Did I mention that I'm making pumpkin chiffon tarts with gingersnap pecan crusts and homemade whipped cream?" Benedict raised a single claw. "No gay jokes, I promise."

It was a risk, but the footballer actually managed a small laugh over it. "Okay. No gay jokes."

"Shall you come?" Benedict thought better of emphasizing the entendre twice in a row. The question, in future perfect tense, was perfectly correct English; it also was wide open for sexual jokes that might never end. The dragon gambled on the pup simply taking it as part of what most American-speaking students called the professor's "British affectation."

"It sounds too good to pass up. Thanks, Dr. Spenser."

"You're quite welcome, Zachary. You know, you're welcome to call me Benedict."

A bit of blush formed on the footballer's cheeks. "That's okay, sir."

"Just as you wish. We often take all afternoon and evening to enjoy our company, and we set it all buffet style, so that we can go back and nibble as often as we wish. Our friends will drop in and out as they please - all very relaxed. Arrive as early as 2:00pm, if you wish, or call Eoin if you need a lift."

The Akita nodded a smiling, slightly embarrassed repetition of his thanks.

"As you might guess, Dr. Stackhouse's do rather blots out our regular Friday session. If you think you might need one, I'll be glad to arrange something."

"No, I'm sure I'm fine."

"Glad to hear that," Benedict said softly and without a hint of sarcasm. "How are things with your classes? Getting back to normal?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Parker shifted easily in his chair, settling into the conversation the same way he usually did.

"Feeling like you're on stage?"

"Sometimes. Mostly not."

"People treating you like you're a dangerous character?"

"Some."

"Are you? Dangerous?"

A flicker across the pup's face made Benedict think that he'd considered a smart-assed response (you're the doctor, you tell me) and rejected it. That was progress. "I don't want to be."

The dragon nodded slowly. "As Kurt Vonnegut reminds us, we are what we pretend to be. It's a bit more sophisticated than 'fake it till you make it.'"

"Am I pretending?"

"Do you think you are?" Benedict smiled benignly at the footballer's flash of frustration. "I know - therapists answer questions with questions. It's an occupational hazard, but it's there to remind you that these treatments and discussions are about you. It's your emotions and thoughts that are important here. So reach in there and tell me - are you pretending?"

"I'm not good with the mushy stuff."

"Is pretending 'mushy?'"

The pup seemed to suppress a short growl. "Emotions."

Again, the dragon nodded gently. "Yes, we've talked a bit about that. And I thank you for trusting me with the emotions that you've shown here. Zachary, emotions in general are at the heart of what happened, and what we need to do here."

Parker shifted in his chair, his tail twitching nervously, but Benedict noted that the usual bristling at the idea of doing emotional work did not accompany the movements. Progress indeed.

"How can we make this more comfortable? I know that it's not easy, Zachary; it never is. I can only promise you that, if you find the way to work with your own feelings, no matter how painful the process, it will be better in the long run."

Another momentary pause, then the Akita managed a small smile. "I was about to ask how you could possibly know that, but I guess you'd know more about long runs than most of us." He inhaled and exhaled hugely, shaking his head. "I don't want to go through all that again."

"Through all what?"

"The game, the insults, the police..."

"Will you forgive me being a therapist again for a moment?" The dragon leaned forward, elbows on knees, his foreclaws interlaced, a ring winking briefly in the indirect lighting of the office; he looked at the pup with a professional gentleness. "The past is what it is, and it can't be changed. Trying to forget it is not recommended either; usually, it just fights harder to be remembered. The goal here is to be able to remember the past without reliving it. When you can simply see the memory yet not have it overwhelm you, that's when we'll call it dealt with."

"Do I stop having feelings about it?"

"No. It's actually better if you don't. But the feelings won't control you anymore. You'll feel something about it, and that feeling might change over the years, but it won't be able to make you forget yourself anymore, or make you do something you don't want to do."

Parker breathed evenly for a few beats before saying, "What if I don't actually remember it?" He held up a forepaw, shaking his head. "I mean, what if I don't actually remember doing what I did? It's as if I only know what happened after the fact - what everyone told me, what part of it someone caught on camera. I don't actually remember... hitting him... I don't even remember ripping of my helmet, but everyone said I did, and..." The footballer's face reflected a painful conundrum, as if he wasn't sure which would give him more hurt - remembering, or not being able to remember.

"There are a few things we can try, if you'd like. One is to have you repeat as much of the physical action as possible, to see if that brings back anything."

The footballer raised his eyebrows. "Are you saying you want me to hit someone?"

"I've been a punching bag before," the drake smiled, "but I was thinking more like a mannequin or even a real punching bag, laying on the floor. We can save that for another time, perhaps. For right now, I'd just like to see if we can piece together the events from your memory as it stands now."

"Good luck with that," the footballer smirked. "It's like a blank spot in my head, as if..." He shifted again, considering something. "Doc, what about lost time?"

"You've mentioned that before, Zachary. Do you mean the time on the football field?"

"Well, sort of."

"Okay. Let's define terms first. The word 'amnesia' only means memory loss, not always like forgetting who you are and all that stuff in the movies. Remember my mini-lecture on memory?" The dragon chuckled as the pup tried very hard not to roll his eyes. "Lost memory can happen in many ways. Retrograde amnesia refers to forgetting about events just prior to a major traumatic event. People who undergo major surgery often forget whole chunks of time before they go under anesthesia. People injured in car accidents often have no direct recollection of the event. Sometimes it comes back, sometimes not. It's very normal.

"Lost time, however, refers to a symptom usually associated with schizophrenia. Popular fiction equates schizophrenia with multiple personalities, but they aren't identical to each other. Multiples are a manifestation of a type of schizophrenia - a word which, literally, means 'split mind' - but the split is not necessarily into different personalities. It refers more to a split between the mind and reality. Losing time would be only one symptom; have you had others, such as delusions, hallucinations, actual emotional disconnects from your situation...?"

"Why is it so important to distinguish the two?"

"Amnesia is simple forgetfulness; schizophrenia is more likely to be an organic, neurological issue that would need serious medical attention."

Parker breathed. "Okay. How do I tell the difference?"

"Losing time involves the odd sensation that you've suddenly jumped from one thing to another. It's not only that you don't remember what happened; you also have the feeling that nothing at all happened. One moment is Now, the next is Now, but for the rest of the world outside of your head, several minutes, or hours, or even days have passed. Epileptics can feel this sometimes, if they suffer a petit mal seizure. Amnesia, however, is the sense of knowing something happened, but you just can't remember what."

The Akita leaned forward. "Yes. That's it. That's the feeling."

"At the football game?"

"Yes. And..." Parker swallowed. "Something else too." As if suddenly coming to a decision, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a sheet of notebook paper, folded several times. The forepaw that shoved it toward the dragon trembled slightly.

Benedict unfolded the paper carefully and read it through. "Numbers, notations... what is this, Zacahary?"

"When I went home from the hospital, a few weeks ago. Checked my voicemail for messages. I wrote down the numbers as the computer rattled them off. Hang-up, Jerry, hang-up from the same number... that was Pris... and a call from Dean Williamson. Four messages."

"What's this at the top of the list? The '5' signifies...?"

"Number of messages."

The dragon looked up sharply at the young Akita, who was now visibly shaking. "What was the fifth?"

"That's what I mean. I don't remember."

"Could you have written--"

"No." Parker shook his head once, harshly enough to make his ears rattle. "I got into that habit years ago. The voice announces the number of messages, and I write it down to make sure I've gotten everything. There were five messages. There had to have been five messages. But the last one..."

"This will sound stupid at first. Zachary, what_do_you remember? Take me through it. You dialed up for your messages, and then..."

"I wrote down '5' ..." The footballer nodded slowly, trying to regain himself. "I heard Pris's voice... not words, just crying, and she hung up. The next was Jerry... he was trying to apologize, I think, wanted me to call him. And then Pris again..."

"Okay, slow down... I'm sure you've tried to remember this before, and it hasn't worked. Let's try something else. Had you had dinner before you called for messages?"

"No. This was earlier."

"What did you have for dinner?"

"How could I possibly...?"

"It's there in your mind, Zachary." Benedict used a foreclaw to tap his own head. "The brain is like a huge hard drive, recording everything. It's our retrieval system that sucks. Unless the drive is damaged - neurons blocked or killed off - the only thing stopping an eidetic memory is our own ability to access the data. Let's try association. Where did you eat dinner? Out, or at your apartment?"

Parker flinched, blinked. "Out. Nothing in the fridge, didn't want to wait on delivery. I went out to a little burger joint near my apartment..." He cocked his head slightly, a surprised look in his eye. "Didn't have my usual; had mozzi sticks instead of fries. Wanted something different."

"How did you get there? Drive? Bicycle?"

"Walked. Good evening for it."

"When you left your apartment, you locked the door?"

"Yes, why would--"

"Just filling in the gaps." Benedict smiled. "Back further. Were you already dressed to go out?"

"No; changed, I'd been lounging around..."

"Where? Bedroom? Living room?"

"Living room sofa." Parker began to twitch slightly. "I was watching TV."

"What was on?"

"Mythbusters marathon. Seen them before, but still cool... one about Mentos..."

"Before that?"

"Movie thing." The Akita's breathing increased. "Stunt that couldn't really work..."

"Before that?"

"...phone..."

Benedict intoned, "End of messages. Main menu..."

Parker yipped loudly, half lifting himself from the chair. "VOICE," he screamed, "VOICE, NAMED YOU, NAMED ME, VOICE..."

The professor leapt across the short distance between them and grabbed the convulsing pup into his arms. Parker held on tightly, his wracking sobs shaking his chest against the dragon's. "Didn't want to make it too easy for you," the pup growled in a voice not quite his own."You can have him, if you want him, gods help you, you sentimental old fool..."

Benedict barely had time to react before the Akita pushed away from him, ears splayed, eyes wide, his muzzle a rictus of horror, his entire body held as stiff as a mummified corpse. He no longer breathed, and the dragon could see him fighting for air.

"Zachary!" he shouted. "Look at me! Focus on me! Use your mind!"

The pup strained to pull air into his lungs, tried to force himself to function. His muzzle barely moved as he made choking noises. Benedict used one forepaw to thump the Akita's chest sharply but not too hard, well aware that he could damage him. He opened his paw and used the flat to strike Parker's cheeks. The panic reaction was severe, but the dragon would rather try to bring him round under his own power than have to call an ambulance and get the pup intubated. Adrenaline was making the panic worse instead of better, but there was still the chance...

Parker's muzzle jerked spasmodically, trying to form words, the lips coming together against the control of chattering teeth. The professor could see blood forming from where the pup was biting himself involuntarily. This had to end...

"BENEDICT!" screamed the Akita suddenly."OPEN THE DOOR!"

Instantly, Benedict raised his ring to Parker's field of vision and shouted,"Signum is a binary!"

One final convulsion, then the pup collapsed into the dragon's arms, his limp body taking in heaving breaths to make up for the oxygen loss of the last half minute or so. He held Parker closely, stroking his headfur and speaking in low, soothing tones until the Akita had finally stopped trembling. Taking the handkerchief from his pocket, he daubed tenderly at the pups chewed lips; the damage wasn't severe enough to warrant a doctor, but Benedict was sure that it hurt like hell.

"Zachary, can you hear me?"

The reply was little more than a whisper. "Yes."

"Do you know where you are?"

"Not sure. Your office. White room."

"Listen carefully, Zachary. You are in a deep trance. You have experienced this before, but you may not remember that just yet. I put you into this trance to stop a violent panic attack. You asked me to help you. Do you remember what you said?"

Parker breathed evenly. "Benedict, open the door."

"Yes. I planted that phrase in your mind, for you to use when you were ready to ask for my help." The dragon breathed slowly. "Zachary, do you remember the fifth message now?"

A shudder tore through the pup's body like a single, powerful wave. "Yes."

"Remembering without reliving. It will take some time, but you can do it. For right now, just know that it will be all right. I'll see to it." Pausing again, the dragon let himself plant a chase kiss on the pup's forehead. "Mark against evil," he whispered.

"Mark against evil," Zachary whispered back.

Benedict blinked. He hadn't asked for a response, so getting one was a surprise. "Zachary, I'm going to bring you out of this trance now. I want you to remember what has happened. We can return here whenever we wish, and have a safe place to retreat to and talk." He paused for several seconds. "One blue and one dark star."

Head lolling slightly, Parker opened his eyes slowly and brought them to focus on the dragon. A series of emotions flashed across his muzzle, something like hate, then something like need, then something like terror. He finally remembered to breathe. Carefully, Benedict helped the pup back into his chair, then retreated to his own, quickly and smoothly pocketing his ring. A few minutes passed with Parker simply regaining his breath, looking around his surroundings as if not familiar with them, or perhaps even mistrusting them, or mistrusting his senses. When he finally managed to keep eye contact with the dragon for more than one or two seconds, Benedict spoke.

"Time for the Dumb Question of the Day: Are you all right?"

The Akita managed a weak laugh and head-shake. "Yeah, that's a dumb question. You want a dumb answer?"

"Bring it on."

"Yeah, I'm just fucking_spiffy._"

The dragon threw back his head and laughed, only partly in support of the patient's needs; most of it was just the wonderful contradiction in terms. There might, after all, be more to this pup than first met the eye. "Congratulations!" he said, still chuckling. "I've been working on 'spiffy' all month and still haven't gotten it right. 'Suave,' perhaps, but not 'spiffy.' I'm clearly not spiffed enough to compete."

Parker, too, managed to laugh, with only the slightest touch of hysteria to it. Putting a forepaw to his face to rub his eye for a moment, he sobered a bit. "What the hell am I laughing for?"

"Relief. You've been keeping some big secrets from yourself. And some, I'm afraid, were locked away without your permission. That's my guess, anyway."

"That call." The Akita shivered again. "He knew my name, your name... Who was that?"

"The name is Konstantin. He's also a dragon. The rest is going to take a great deal of explaining, and although you may not believe it, you're going to be supplying most of the information yourself." Benedict leaned forward again. "Zachary, forgetfulness - amnesia - in its normal state, it's a way for the mind to protect itself from pain it doesn't want to deal with. In its abnormal form, it's a kind of prison, forged by another to make you forget something. It's not often, or easily, done." He paused, cocked his head slightly. "Do you remember what we did here today?"

After a long moment, Parker nodded slowly.

"Do you remember what you said when I asked if you knew where you were?"

Another pause. "I thought ... it was like I was in two places. Is that the schizophrenia you were talking about?"

"No, I promise it's not. Describe the room to me. Just the essentials."

"Not much to describe. It's all white. Four walls, with a door on three of them. That's about it." He frowned. "I've seen it before. It's a room in the hospital. Or..." He looked into the dragon's eyes. "It isn't, is it?"

"No, Zachary. It isn't. It's a room inside your mind. And the walls are starting to crack. That room represents your amnesia. It's the place where certain memories are being kept from you. Three memories, or perhaps even three scenarios that aren't even real but which someone wants you to think are real."

"Konstantin?"

"No. The people who hired him."

Parker threw himself forward in the chair, not quite rising, his forepaws to his head. "I don't get it, I don't..."

"Zachary, please listen to me. Take my paw and look at me." A hesitation, then the pup did as asked. "You need rest. But more than that, you don't need to be alone right now. I want you to go back to your apartment and pack some things. You're going to stay at my home for the weekend. Your apartment complex isn't far from the house, you can always go back at any time. I'm not trying to make you a prisoner; I only want you not to be staying by yourself, far from help. I have a warm guest room, with its own lock on the door, if you're worried about my motives."

Benedict squeezed the Akita's paw and continued. "When the protections around an amnesiac episode start to break down, it's exponential. First, a chip; then a crack, then a radiating web, then a crevice, and then the walls literally come a 'tumbling down. It gets faster and stronger with each step. When the big cracks appear, I want you where you'll be safe."

"Why your house?"

"Would you prefer the hospital psych ward?"

The pup's eyes flashed a brief message of terror. "You'd do that?"

"Against every desire and instinct, yes... if it would save your life."

"Remembering could kill me?"

The dragon fought back the glib answer that Konstantin would have supplied. "When memory comes flooding back, it can cause a panic reaction, like you had earlier... only tenfold worse. You could go into what's called a fugue state, briefly losing your identity and ability to think clearly, acting only on misguided instinct and adrenaline-fueled terror. You could wake up in another county, or wandering in the middle of a freeway, or throw yourself off a cliff. I won't risk that. I promise you, Zachary, I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Parker, still holding Benedict's forepaw in his own, looked deeply into the dragon's eyes. "Mark against evil," he mumbled.

"Yes." For one of the exceptionally rare times in his life, Benedict felt abashed. "Forgive me if I overstepped, Zachary."

The Akita said nothing for a long time, all the while looking at the dragon intently. Despite his professional training, his long experience, and his inherent empathy, Benedict could not begin to translate the myriad emotions betrayed in those deep hazel gold-flecked eyes. His own breath shallowed, his own emotions unexpectedly swept up into a rushing sense of protectiveness, of needful uncertainty, of powerful desire to get Konstantin's black claws out of this pup's innocent soul.

He felt the footballer squeeze his forepaw. "I can get a duffel bag at my apartment. Would you... come with me?"