Nymphaea

a/n: Reviews are being answered in the review section from now on, thank you Berlin ;)!


Chapter 38: Passing on control

Whilst Ayve was doing yet another trip to his tribe, Ley and Alannah were busy arranging the survey. Ley was preparing the questionnaire in cooperation with the specialist she had asked for help, including organising local post office boxes on every continent, and Alannah was advertising the posts as interviewers through her parents’ contacts and pre-selecting the candidates before discussing them with Ley. They couldn’t just pick anyone because the appearance of the interviewer already had an impact on the interviewee.

Alannah was collecting the applications they had spread around them on the floor and divided them into piles. They were in Pheus’ house once more. Their host was just reviving the fire; it had gotten late. A small bedside lamp that Alannah had brought with her since there were only candles in Pheus’ place had lit the room for them sufficiently to work after sundown.

“Let’s have a break here and have something of Pheus’ dinner. He might not look it but he’s a talented cook,” Ley suggested with a wink.

Alannah smiled, glancing at Pheus, and followed her would-be sister in law into the kitchen area where the food had awaited them for two hours already. They heated it up once more, marvelled audibly at its good smell which earned them a reproving look because Pheus didn’t buy into their exaggerated praise, and settled down close to the fire. The brooding man joined them.

“So,” Alannah started conversation, “why exactly has Ayve to go to the clinic? He was gone so soon; he hasn’t really explained to me.” She noticed Ley exchanging a quick look with Pheus.

“Well,” the elder woman commenced hesitantly, “I suppose as his bond-mate you have seen his scars?”

Alannah flinched. “Of course I have. They are hard to overlook. Are they troubling him? He’s never let on to anything.” Her voice carried a sound of disappointment and powerlessness because Ayve was so closed up with regard to certain things that did not directly concern their relationship.

Ley looked at Alannah understandingly. “For all his sensitivity and intelligence, Ayve is still a proud man. He does not like to admit weakness. I think he tries to be the strong, normal man that he feels you deserve.

Have you noticed the scars on his neck?”

Alannah nodded apprehensively.

“When that wound was torn, his vocal cords were also damaged.”

Alannah frowned, puzzled. “But he talks perfectly normal…!?”

Ley shook her head, her eyes locked with Alannah’s. “He pretends to be talking. In truth he’s not able to speak audibly at all at the moment. It’s not been a problem for him so far, as you realise,” she argued although she knew it wasn’t entirely true, “but it might become in the future, so we decided to research his options and found this physician who seems to be very skilled and reliable. It’s nothing big, you needn’t worry.”

But of course she could see that Alannah wasn’t fooled this easily. Things that were kept secret usually carried a certain weight and Alannah had long since feared what Ayve might be hiding from her.

“I want to be with him. Is that possible?” She looked at Pheus, determination in her voice and face.

He shrugged indifferently. “Why shouldn’t it?”

*

The three got together at one of the London airports, Alannah, Pheus and Ayve. Alannah hurried forward, rushing into the arms of her bond-mate, holding him close. After a few moments she let go of him and radiated a silent contentment and happiness.

They checked in – a time-consuming process since they were on their way to the United States of America that Pheus shortened for himself because he refused to be patted down by anyone – and then agreed to sit down in a café until their flight was announced.

After telling Ayve what he should order for her, Alannah hurried off to the bathroom.

“So,” Pheus raised his voice after they had placed their order, “that went very fast, didn’t it? I thought I’d have to drink one of your teas after the other to refrain from sexually harassing you but your body doesn’t react to her as it did the last time. No Ayve-wants-to-fuck-odour in the air. I take it she’s pregnant?”

Ayve nodded minutely, gazing into the airport hall. That’s my guess, too. And from the looks of it, her interpretation was the same.

Their drinks were served.

It’s funny, isn’t it? The hypocrisy of my people. I mean, if the strength of the sexual pull decreases this noticeably after the impregnation has been successful, why still going on with ‘the ritual’?

Pheus smirked. “Perhaps you’re just exceptionally successful in your attempt to procreate and they need longer. Or you just tried harder than they did. How many times did you do it? Two in the evening and once the next morning?” He shook his head in pretence of dismay.

Ayve smiled benignly. The sexual pull of a female nymph on her bond-mate is surprisingly overwhelming – you should try it. Even in Pheus’ mind Ayve’s voice had a mocking note.

He shrugged. “Pity. As you happen to know I’m more into the bond-mates than the female nymphs. D’you think she’d lend me hers?” Pheus fixed Alannah with his stare as she returned.

*

It was around twenty degrees (Celsius) when they arrived in Florida the next day. Since the specialist they were about to consult owned a private clinic, they were fetched by one of the clinic’s cars from the airport.

At the entrance to the clinic, a formally dressed lady (definitely not human) welcomed them. She offered them a tour around the premises which they declined and led them into a comfortable apartment that had already been prepared for three people.

“In case you need treatment, you’ll have to move into a room closer to the medical facilities of course,” she explained in her mother tongue, addressing Ayve, “but just because we take advantage of some human inventions that does not mean we have to make our patients feel as uncomfortable as is often the case in human hospitals, right?” She winked.

“I will gather you tomorrow at ten to nine for a meeting with the doctor. Is there anything I can do for you until then?”

They negated that and the lady left.

The next morning after they had caught up a bit on sleep, the three of them were escorted to the appointment. The area that belonged to the clinic was huge and cropped richly.

Similarly impressive – at least for people who were impressed by architecture, the two tall, black-haired men were not to be counted into this category – were the buildings: wide and light-loving.

The office of the doctor was situated on the ground floor and a terrace was attached to it that faced a pond that was surrounded by trees and inhabited by a number of animals. Hardliners like Pheus would still call the place ‘humanised’ but it had at least been attempted to keep it in line with their originally close to nature life style. Even the roofs of the two-storey-buildings were covered with plants (between the sun-collectors).

The doctor shook hands with them – his gaze sticking to the men’s rings just a fraction too long to go unnoticed - and motioned for them to take seats in cream-coloured armchairs.

“You’ll excuse the furniture. For office work a desk and matching chairs are more convenient than the floor, I fear,” he said to the whole company. Then he turned his attention to Ayve.

“Your uncle was kind enough to inform me of the nature of your health problems and how they came to be already, so unless you feel something needs to be emphasised, I think we can omit a detailed discussion of your anamnesis at this point.”

Ayve threw a side-glance at Pheus. He nodded.

“So, I’ll just list the symptoms for the record: -,” the medic went on, leaving Ayve with a sudden regret for taking Alannah along. He knew that if Pheus went as far as writing a letter (or more likely an e-mail) to someone, he had a reason to do so. In other words: apart from sparing Ayve the uncomfortable situation of talking about this part of his past, Pheus had doubtlessly also written to the doctor to make sure none of Ayve’s problems were left unmentioned. He had guarded them against the eventuality of Ayve leaving things out because he did not want to talk about them. Ayve knew he would have. Which in turn meant that the list would contain all those little problems he would never have cared to tell Alannah about and he not only had to listen to it but also to put up with Alannah’s reaction to all that. Well, at least she knew about his voice already.

He kept his face unmoved as the scientist recounted the following.

“You have various scars at various locations of your body, some of them originating from wounds of sword strokes that where intended to kill you and that were not treated correctly afterwards; one stab in the chest, two strokes on the neck, close to the throat, which bereaved you of your ability to speak.” The medic looked up and set his eyes upon Ayve’s neck. He nodded in recognition.

“Your uncle further reports that you have problems with your respiration, especially in cold, wet weather. He associates this with a period of several months that you spent in the aforementioned climate. At times, so he says, you resort to a self-made kind of cigarettes that contain muscle-relaxants to be able to breathe properly.”

That was the point at which Alannah couldn’t make her face hide her consternation anymore.

“Moreover, he has informed me that your digestion system causes problems that culminate in you being permanently underfed.” The doctor looked up again. The light clothes Ayve wore in this spring weather couldn’t hide much.

He pointed at Ayve’s head. “I’ve never seen one of us with grey hair. A stress-symptom that first appeared when you received those other injuries, I deem?”

Ayve nodded. He felt Alannah’s right creep up to his left and stroked it with his thumb as sign that he was okay and she did not need to worry.

“Well, before I can give my opinion I need to get an impression of the severity of your injuries. How deep the wounds reached, what is the cause for your breathing and digestion dysfunctions, how much is left of your vocal cords. But no matter how grave your body might have been violated, be assured that I am experienced in the field. I have been able to help several people of my kind as well as nymphs already who had suffered under injuries similar to yours. It is now upon you to decide when we’ll begin the examinations.”

I want this over as soon and fast as possible, Ayve replied.

Alannah had - to Ayve’s delight - decided that it was sensible to refrain from questioning her bond-mate immediately about the things she had got to know. She had silently accompanied him to the several stages of his physical examination and had also picked light topics to discuss during their meal breaks.

Now she dozed peacefully in their bed while the two men sat outside on the small terrace enjoying the fresh evening air.

You didn’t tell him everything, Ayve annotated, sipping on his warm tea that was just the right thing since it had cooled down.

“There are things that are not meant for strangers’ ears – or eyes,” Pheus replied. “I hoped he’d get enough information through his test results.”

Ayve nodded. Thank you.

Two days later, all examinations had been conducted and the test results had arrived. They shook hands with the doctor once more and took seats. Ayve wasn’t exactly comfortable with being the centre of attention. He was glad whenever Pheus took things into his hands although on the other hand that meant that he might appear dependant.

Now the professor faced him once more. “The results all in all are positive,” he started. “Concerning you digestion system we could not find any organic damage. Please don’t misunderstand me, but could the cause be psychological? Stress symptoms?”

Alannah looked at Ayve.

Ayve nodded comprehending.

“In regards to your respiration problems I come to the conclusion that you have what in scientific terms is called ‘Hypersensitivity pneumonitis’. That is a disease that results from a continued exposure of the patient to certain organic substances in the air it inhales. The patient’s immune system overreacts to it and raises antibodies that attach themselves to the strange substances – called antigens – and can together with them form immune complexes. Those immune complexes can adsorb in the capillary and cause damage to your organs and they can also lead to inflammations.

The disease is caused by fungi spores, germs and the like. In your case, from the antibodies we have found in your blood, I would assume that you react to certain fungi in damp wood. I guess you only perceive the symptoms to be stronger in winter because your immune system is more strained in winter and is therefore less able to cope with the symptoms of your disease.

From what you’ve told me I would exclude that your infliction is chronic since you report you feel noticeably improved when returning from your journey and having spent some time in a properly heated environment. Our endurance test of your lungs showed the same result: if you were chronic, your lungs would not be able to perform as well as they have.

I would also exclude an acute form of the disease since you did not mention fever, chills, sickness, headaches or other symptoms that usually go along with it.

Therefore what remains is the subacute form of the Hypersensitivity pneumonitis. Its symptoms are a productive cough, shortage of breath, fatigue, loss of apetite as well as weight loss and in some cases pleurisy. I think that fits your description.”

Ayve nodded.

“Your lungs themselves are mostly intact. It seems as if they have been damaged at some time but your body has managed to heal them itself. There is scar tissue at some places. Yet even though you claim to be fine at the moment, my colleagues told me that they have detected that your pleura shows signs of a not completely healed up inflammation, as I’ve already mentioned a typical symptom in regards to your allergic reactions. You have admitted yourself during the lung endurance test that inhaling deeply causes you pain. My guess is that you are accustomed to flat breathing and therefore don’t notice the limitation of your lung performance in daily life, only during your travels when you are physically more active, which you then associate with the climate.

I’d like you to remain here, enjoy bedrest and take some medicine to cure your pleura for once. This should be followed by respiratory exercises to make you used to proper breathing again. I cannot determine whether a lack of treatment would be dangerous because for all I know you shouldn’t have been able to live like you have with pleurosy in the first place but I would not advise you to risk your health unnecessarily.

As for your allergic reaction to the named organic substances: you should try and avoid any contact with them.”

Ayve raised his eyebrows. That’s not possible. I have to attend to my tribe and they live in the forest. I’ll hardly be able to avoid damp wood in there.

The doctor fixed him with a severe look. “I can only tell you what needs to be done in order to improve your medical condition.”

“What about his voice?” Alannah intervened. “Can you help him with that?” She held Ayve’s hand firmly.

The doctor smiled. “Indeed, yes. Our examinations have revealed that your vocal cords were completely severed. But the rest of your voice organs seem to be in good condition. Now, what gives me hope that we might be able to help you is that in recent years scientists have developed the ability to grow vocal cord tissue. In other words it is possible to regrow vocal cord cells in the laboratory and place them subsequently in your throat, so that after a certain period of adhering you should have a voice again.”

Alannah looked up at Ayve full of hope. Her bond-mate however remained unimpressed.

How new is this method? I wouldn’t like to be the guinea pig.

The doctor tried to reassure him. “There have already been patients treated with this method successfully over the last two years. In one out of five cases the new tissue wasn’t accepted by the body but as long as the patient is supervised properly there is no risk in this procedure.”

I’ll think the matter through, Ayve concluded the talks for now. He agreed to the treatment of his pleurisy however.

“If you don’t mind, I’d use the time given to cast for additional interviewers while we’re here. I mean, your treatment is light, isn’t it? It should be okay if I steal myself away for a few hours the day…”

They were sitting around their dinner at a round table in Ayve’s new room, in the medical facilities, as announced. Ayve’s meal differed from his visitors’; obviously the staff had been instructed to put him on a diet that was easier on his stomach.

Of course, go ahead, Ayve replied. I have no intention of keeping you from work. This is ridiculous anyway. I’ve had hundreds of years with less on my schedule than now to see to my health.

Pheus swallowed a large piece of meat. “You’ve still got enough time. Stop setting yourself constantly under pressure. The responsibility is not yours alone. Perhaps it’s even better that I’ve found a means of putting you out of operation through this. This way you’ll have to get used to the idea of task-sharing, of handing over control.”

Ayve didn’t reply to this. Of course he could’ve talked back, could’ve argued that he practiced task-sharing already, one only had to consider his cooperation with Seya but he knew that Pheus had a point. He was afraid of letting go, of passing tasks on because the other person might not see everything, might make the wrong decision, might make a mistake. If he messed things up himself then he’d at least know he’d done his best.

Ayve had stopped knowing exactly why he felt obliged to do that but he still did it. In the beginning he had assumed leadership because his father (or foster-father or whatever he was now) had asked him to. And presumably also because that gave him a task, a sense in life, a perspective. But these days it felt more like a habit, something he was used to do.

Of course, a part of him had still things to look forward to, things he had just recently acquired: a private life. A home perhaps, someday. He was establishing closer ties to his family, there was potential. And that seemed worth fighting for. Yet there was another part of him, a part that had been responsible for a lot of his behaviour in the past. A part that wanted just to be left in peace. A part that was just tired.

Oh, yes: and then there was this third voice that reminded him constantly how disgusting his passiveness was, his self-pity (was it self-pity?) and how much he could have achieved if he only had acted. And now he was slowing down everything again, keeping people from following their business, their task.

He looked up at Pheus. You needn’t stay either. I mean… it’s not as if they were operating on me. I think I can manage without holding you up.

Pheus smirked. “You’re not going to get rid of me this easily.”

Ayve dropped his gaze onto his salad and picked at it.

After dinner, Alannah took her leave, promising to see Ayve in the morning. There was one bed for a companion in the room that had probably been prepared because Pheus had expressed his wish to be at Ayve’s side all the time during his stay very clearly in advance. He was taking advantage of that now.

Ayve took a shower. When he exited the bathroom, still massaging his scalp with the towel, Pheus was sitting in front of his laptop. He used the telephone extension of the room to go online.

I’d like to write an e-mail, too, if you can spare the computer for a moment. Won’t take long, Ayve said and sat down on his bed. He wore shorts and a t-shirt, since a nurse could come in any minute and he didn’t wish to encourage a certain kind of feeling in his ‘roommate’.

“I fear how long it will take has nothing to do with you – this sort of internet connection is slower than a snail.”

Ayve smiled mildly, watching the man who detested anything that had to do with humans sitting gloomily in front of a slow working computer waiting for it to load a website. This wasn’t their world. They had been dreaming of something else. And yet here they were, trying to adapt to the new ways in order to ensure the future of their people. Two loners fighting for people they didn’t really belong to. What would they gain through this?

Ayve sank down onto his pillow and covered himself with the blanket. The bedding was heavy, protective, and smelled fresh. Yes, just holing up for now, dozing away in the comfortable bed and tomorrow he’d be able to push those thoughts aside again. He needed to be strong now after all. Not just for those people he didn’t really care about but also for Alannah and the baby.

Goodness, a baby. A small patch of warmth turned up in his stomach. Becoming father. Having something, someone that genuinely belonged to him… He curled up, savouring this feeling. He drifted off to sleep.

Pheus got up silently and crept up to the side of Ayve’s bed. He carefully pushed a strand of his hair out of Ayve’s face and then tugged the blanket over his shoulder.

An hour later, around nine o’clock, a nurse knocked at the door and entered. “Oh, is the patient asleep yet? He needs to take his medicine.”

Pheus just nodded while he got up once more and knelt down in front of the sleeping man. He seized his hand that stuck out from under the cover. “Ayve? Wake up,” he said in a warm tone.

Ayve stirred and reluctantly opened his eyes. A familiar face loomed in front of his.

Pheus motioned to the nurse that still stood near the door, waiting. “Your therapy starts.” He straightened up.

Ayve sat up, brushing his hair back. The nurse approached him with a tray that held a glass of water and the prescribed medication. He took it.

“Didn’t you want to write an e-mail to blondie?” Pheus asked when the nurse had shut the door behind herself.

Ayve nodded, still a little drowsy, and slipped out from under the cover. Making a telephone call was always very exhausting when you had to transfer your voice mentally and even more so when the other person was at the opposite end of the world. Writing an e-mail was much more convenient.

Pheus handed him a bathrobe that he took gladly. Pulling his hair free, he stepped over to the table where the notebook was still running and took Pheus’ seat.

Pheus withdrew to the bathroom.

Ayve typed in the URL of his webmail-host and waited for the site to be loaded. He leaned back, absent-mindedly chewing his teethridge. No matter how much he thought about it, the different parts of his life just did not seem to work together. Alannah, his tribe, Stephen, his political engagements… How could he balance all that? Neither of these four parts could – on the long run – be put off with just a quarter of his time. The support of his tribe took up about half of it already and yet Ayve knew he was doing a poor job there. He wasn’t doing his task justice. He saw those members that didn’t live in his sister’s group about once a year. Which basically meant he had hardly any impact on their lives. No wonder they remained doubtful of his.

Stephen and Alannah both deplored his constant absence.

And Ayve was not satisfied at all with the time he invested in the reorganisation of their people and the negotiations with the humans. Things could work much better, much more efficiently, if he only had the time and energy to devote himself to the task.

He typed in his username and password and clicked enter.

As if this all was not enough, now he was told that he wasn’t fit for his task as leader anymore. No big news there. Why should he pay attention to that prognosis now when he had known all along that those travels weren’t doing him good?

And yet – this could be seen as chance as well, couldn’t it? What if Ayve accepted that he was no longer suitable as tribe leader anymore? What if his sister agreed to completely take on the task she had helped to carry for several centuries already? She stood in high regards, she would be accepted. Even with child her schedule would be less stuffed than his.

Where would that leave him? He was not only carrying on the negotiations for his own tribe, he was also doing it for the sister-tribe. So he’d still be some kind of ambassador or minister for foreign affairs (he smirked at that and clicked on ‘new email’). He’d still have a function, a link to his people but he’d also have more time. That didn’t sound too bad.

Alannah was already involved in the political project so that Ayve would be able to fulfil two tasks at once there. Tasks. Hm. That didn’t sound nice but sometimes Ayve felt that way. He was so torn between all the aspects of his life that sometimes everything got degraded to a duty and lacked the right flavour in his thoughts. Only when he was at it had he the mind to appreciate the different parts of his life properly.

No, he had to do something about this. There might be people who could handle his workload, there were men who could handle a job and three separate families, but he was not one of them. He felt hounded. Going on the way he had been living the last years would be risking what he had obtained. Stephen wouldn’t accept the present mode of their relationship much longer and Alannah wasn’t content either. Ayve was aware of that. He did not want to lose either of the two, although it wouldn’t be easy to juggle them. If only Stephen finally tolerated Pheus’ place in Ayve’s life, things would be manageable.

He typed a short recount of the examination result and what would be happening in the next weeks, asked for Stephen to excuse the shortness of his message and pressed the ‘send’ button.

***

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