“Took you long enough,” Bin said in an alarmingly cheerful voice. Riv’s mother kissed him on the cheek and pushed a piece of toast into his hand, slathered in honey and cinnamon.
“Yeah, well, I meant to say that you guys could go ahead, and I’d get Ducks and meet you there.”
“Which is great, except that none of us knows how to get there,” Marc pointed out dryly.
“Oh, I can take you,” his mum said, smiling brightly as she put the last of the breakfast dishes into the washer and cranked it on. She’d been young when she had him, and only in the last few years had she developed any lines to indicate that she was his mother, not his sister. There was a streak of grey in her dark hair, but even that only looked eccentric, not aged. “I haven’t got anyone but you folks for the next week or so, so it’s like a holiday for me too. I haven’t had the chance to sit on the beach and read in ages.”
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“Thanks, Ma, that would be great. I won’t be far behind you.” Still feeling more than slightly off-kilter, he shoved half the piece of toast into his mouth, catching a drip of honey with his tongue. Hopefully he wouldn’t be far behind them. Unless he could grab a repeat of that dream…
“Thought I was going to have to come in after you,” Del grumbled in his ear, swatting him on the arm under the cover of the counter.
Riv jumped and turned, giving her a guilty grin. “I’m a sound sleeper, what can I say.”
“I’m nervous enough about all this. I know you’ve got…got expectations.” She stumbled over the word, and then snorted. “And then you want to go and sleep all day, drag everything out.”
Instantly contrite, he squeezed her hand. “No expectations, I promise. Just a nice day on the beach.
And you get to meet Pryce. That’s it.”
“You say that now,” she muttered morosely. “We’ll see what really happens.”
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Chapter Seven
No need to ask for directions this time, and he tapped on Ducks’ door, fairly bouncing on his toes.
The door flew open. I didn’t think you were coming. Ducks pointed to his board accusingly, free hand on his hip.
Riv groaned. “Not you too? Del’s already laid into me this morning about being late.” Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the doorframe. “I can’t catch a break.”
The kiss was apologetic. Well, and damn hot, even with his spine smashed uncomfortably against the doorjamb.
“Get a room.”
The wolf-whistle from the lounge area across the hall made them jump apart, and Ducks laughed, blushing. I was just kidding. I thought maybe you’d forgotten your little meeting with the good doctor.
“Shit,” Riv exclaimed, horror-struck.
You did forget, didn’t you. It was a statement rather than a question. Ducks snickered. Oops?
“Maybe we could just pretend neither of us remembered, and go to the beach before he finds me?”
Nope. He wasn’t even finished writing it when Riv heard someone coming down the hall whistling, and turned to see the old geezer in question making a beeline for him. He was glad he’d at least buttoned his shirt before getting on the tram, even if he wasn’t exactly in his best outfit.
“Ah, good morning. I see you’re dressed for the weather.” The appraising glance that passed over Riv, and by extension his arm around Ducks, wasn’t exactly approving. “Come along then, and we’ll get you out in the sunshine.”
Ducks pulled himself away, scribbling a quick message to hold up before he waved. Have fun.
Fun had to be pretty much the last thing on his mind right now. No, tops would be a swift escape, but it didn’t seem likely. He realized he was scowling, and struggled to mold his face into something a little more neutral.
“My office is just over in the other wing, won’t take us a minute to get there. You have plans for today, Mr. Vickrishan?” He paused expectantly.
“Uh, Riv. Just Riv. And yeah, we’re going to the beach.”
“Of course. I wasn’t sure if you wanted something more formal.”
The Balance of Silence
Should he have gone for something more formal than his nickname? Would it have made the man keep his distance a little more? Riv winced when Terrell took his elbow, steering him through the door to the courtyard. Definitely should have gone for formal.
“Perhaps you can begin by telling me why you were on Maltana. I believe I heard something about a charity organization.”
The slightly condescending tone made Riv bite his tongue. In the most basic sense ReliefCorp might be considered a charity—they donated their time. But they were a little more than the doctor seemed to be implying. They weren’t just handing out coffee and doughnuts. They were saving lives. “I was with ReliefCorp,” he said stiffly. “Delivering medications into the guerrilla-controlled areas.”
“So, similar to what Pryce was doing.”
Riv nodded. “Except that he has more medical training than me. I was just making deliveries. I think he was actually treating people, at least on a triage kind of basis.”
“I see. And so you weren’t able to assess his condition when you first met him?”
“I’ve got basic diagnostic and first-aid training. He wasn’t in immediate physical distress when I found him. Anything else…” Riv shifted uncomfortably as the doctor opened a door into his office, waving him inside. “I could tell he was obviously recovering from a trauma, and that he needed help, but I’m not a therapist.”
“Chocolate drop?” The old man held out a small bowl, taking one himself when Riv declined. “So you felt compelled to help him?”
“I wasn’t going to just leave him there to play piano in the middle of the jungle. He couldn’t speak, he froze if anyone touched him…he needed help.” Riv settled himself on the edge of a leather chair, glancing at the couch under the window with barely hidden disdain. He looked back at Dr. Terrell, who seemed to be smiling at him.
“And now? Do you feel the need to spirit him away from our facility?”
“If you consider a day at the beach spiriting him away.” It was hard to keep the sarcastic annoyance out of his voice, so he didn’t bother. “I was going to throw a disguise on him, maybe a wild shirt or something, pair of sunglasses, and sneak him out the main gate right under your noses.”
Dr. Terrell nodded knowingly, as if he’d just proven a point, and Riv gritted his teeth.
“You don’t care for me, do you?”
“Don’t take it personally, Doc, it’s not just you.”
He smiled, taking a seat behind his desk. Steepling his fingers, he leaned forward. “Your last name isn’t particularly common, and I happen to know a Dr. Timon Vickrishan. He used to be the lead psychiatrist for the children’s ward here, in fact. He wouldn’t have something to do with your aversion to those of my specialty, would he?”
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Riv’s smile was decidedly less humorous. “He’s my father, and yes, he does. I’ve got no problem with somebody experienced cutting into me physically. I just prefer that they stay out of my mind.”
“And you think that should apply to Pryce as well?”
The man was trying to corner him with the conversation, trap him into saying something stupid, another one of those fucking head games these people were famous for. “That’s not what I said,” he ground out through a tight smile. “But now that you mention it, I have to question how much good it’s done, him being here. He’s no better than he was when I left him, the only difference I can see is you’ve given him something to write on. Not exactly a cure.”
“No, not exactly a cure. But he’s communicating now. You do see that that’s an improvement, don’t you?” The condescending tone managed to grate on Riv’s nerves even more. “Tell me what he was
like when you left him, why don’t you? Was he communicating with you at all?”
Riv unwillingly thought back on that separation. An emergency medical transport had taken Ducks off Maltana. There had been no room for him to go along, and the look on Ducks’ face as the paramedics gently herded him aboard had been one of sheer panic. But completely silent panic.
“Some. What he really needed to.” Hopefully he didn’t sound as defensive as he was afraid he did.
“Then perhaps,” Dr. Terrell said gently, “you’ll allow that it has done him some good after all, being here.”
Riv looked down at his hands, brushing his thumbs together, round and round as he tried to clear his head. “It’s not that I don’t think he’s being helped here. It’s more that I wish I could have helped him more.” Before he was even finished, he regretted saying it.
“You’ve just admitted that you had only field training, and that you knew enough to see that he was beyond your reach. It sounds to me as though you did the best thing possible by getting him to a treatment facility that could break through to him. Surely you see the difference between someone who wants to communicate and the man you rescued, who only made the attempt when he absolutely had to.”
“I do.” There wasn’t anything else he could say, so he sat there uncomfortably, waiting for the doctor to get on with it or let him go.
“Do you still think you can rescue him, Riv? Because I have to wonder if the attraction between you is based on who you see now, or on some lingering desire to finish saving him. If that’s the case, then I don’t feel I’m overstepping the bounds of professionalism to ask that you leave him here and not contact him again.”
“That’s not it at all,” he snapped, stung. Surely that wasn’t what this head-poking quack thought, that he was here riding on some ego-boosting trip. “As I’m sure you can agree as a professional, communication, or lack thereof, isn’t what makes a person.” Riv scowled. “Pryce is Pryce, whether he talks or not.”
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If the doctor was taken aback at his vehemence, he hid it well. “You resent the implication that your motives, conscious or not, are anything but pure?”
“And you wouldn’t?”
He smiled, nodding slightly. “Perhaps. But that’s not the case here. I’m the doctor, and my patients are my responsibility. Their well-being can be my only motive, I’m bound by oaths.”
Riv snorted. “Yeah, and you guys never break oaths,” he muttered. Sighing, he stilled his hands in his lap with an effort. “Look, I cared about Pryce then, I care about him now. And if he lets me, I’ll care about him ten years from now. But that’s between me and him, not you.”
The bland expression that met his scowl was disconcerting. Nothing ruffled the man. Riv shoved himself out of the chair. “I think we’re done, aren’t we? You’re sure I’m here to satisfy some white-knight complex, right? And I’m not interested in having someone manipulate me until I don’t know which end is up. You’ve got my word that Pryce is the one who has the final say in any of this.”
“Wait a moment, please.”
He was halfway to the door, back stiff, when the last word froze him in place. “What?”
“I’m sure that you mean Pryce no conscious harm. Your attitude towards the treatment he’s participating in here, however, could be very detrimental to his willingness to keep trying. I truly believe that we can offer Pryce a way back to himself, and I hope that you’ll consider that before dismissing us when you speak to him.”
The long pause was enough to make Riv clench his jaw. “Fine, okay, just…don’t expect me to sing the praises of psychiatrists.”
“I would expect nothing of the sort, but I would certainly hope that your care and concern for my patient would extend to not maligning the very difficult work he is doing. Feelings about those of your father’s profession aside,” he said mildly, the seemingly benevolent expression doing little to hide the sharp, knowing look. “Have a nice day. Don’t get too much sun while you’re out.”
Pryce was waiting for him when he ducked out of Dr. Terrell’s office. Riv didn’t do angry well. He channeled his anger into work, into meditation. He understood his anger, acknowledged his anger—did anything he could, really, to avoid actually feeling angry. Anger brought pain.
Some of it must have shown when he came out the door, though, no matter how hard he tried to breathe it away. Ducks backed away from him for a second, then tentatively reached out, putting a hand on his arm. He didn’t reach for the pad, letting his expression ask what was wrong and his touch say that he wasn’t alarmed.
“My dad was a shrink, a really well-known one here. Terrell knows him, tossed that fact up in the conversation.” He never talked about his father, but Ducks just nodded and quirked a corner of his mouth up. “Never did get along with them. He…hell, it doesn’t matter. But I want you to know, I’m not here for
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some unselfish reason. I’m not interested in saving you. I’m here for the entirely self-serving goal of seeing if I can tempt you into wanting me. Okay?” He let go of another explosive breath, then shook his head.
The snicker was a welcome sound, and some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. Ducks dropped his hand and lifted the pad. I’m okay with that.
“That’s good, since Terrell thinks I’m here because of some misguided need to save you and boost my ego.”
Don’t see a white charger anywhere. And where’s the shining armor?
“I guess you’ll have to settle for a tram and a bathing suit. Will you be horribly disappointed?” Riv found a sudden intense interest in his feet.
He jerked his head up at the heavy sigh, irrationally scared. And grinned when he saw the pad. I suppose I’ll survive. If the bathing suit’s appropriate. Ducks waited until he was sure Riv had seen the words before he continued. Appropriately revealing.
“I think I can manage that. Especially since the one I’ve got is the one I had as a kid. I’ll be lucky if I’m not falling out of it.”
Conceited much?
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Chapter Eight
The air conditioning was out on the tram taking them to the beach, and Riv leaned over Ducks to pull down the window. Plopping back down on the hot vinyl seat, he wiped a sleeve across his face. “Funny how the heat never bothered me as a kid. And it figures that we’re going all the way to the last stop.”
Ducks shrugged philosophically. At least it’s not Maltana. He grinned, then continued writing. Less bugs.
“Small comfort.”
For you maybe. He set the pad on his lap, freeing a hand to pull up his sleeve so that he could stare pointedly at the line of scarring down one arm.
“If you wouldn’t scratch…” Riv snickered and ducked the swat. “S’what Mum always used to tell me, anyway. Not that it ever stopped me.”
It ITCHED! Now the accusing stare was directed at Riv.
“I guess the bugs thought you tasted good,” he said, leaning closer. “I’d have to agree.”
You’re hopeless. Ducks rolled his eyes and pushed him away, laughing the whole time. A tap on the corner of the screen wiped it clear, and Riv saw that as he wrote, the tablet offered up possible words that he could choose instead of writing it all out. Thank you for talking to Dr. Terrell. I’m sorry it didn’t go well.
“Not your fault. I guess I just wasn’t expecting to be accused of leading innocents astray.”
Ducks nudged him, his grin teasing. He really accused you of leading me astray? I don’t remember being THAT innocent.
“Yeah, I guess I look suitably debauched.” Riv attempted a leer and an evil laugh. “Don’t you fear for your virtue? I’ll be really disappointed if you don’t.”
Lot of things I’m afraid for. My virtue isn’t one of them thoug
h.
“Really? Like what?”
It was the other man’s turn to shiver, and he stared out the window for several long seconds, light mood suddenly broken. My sanity?
Not a statement that could be dismissed with his usual flippancy. Riv was silent for a moment. “I don’t think that’s a worry now. Before…” He grinned wryly. “Before I was a little concerned; I’d be lying if I said otherwise. But you’re okay now. Despite having to deal with Terrell. Because that would definitely push the limits of my sanity.”
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You really didn’t like him. Is it because of your dad? Ducks’ face held nothing but innocent curiosity, but that didn’t stop Riv from wincing at his question.
“My dad used everything he knew about people’s brains to mess with my mom and me for years. I’m not really comfortable letting anyone else twist everything I say until I don’t even recognize what I’m thinking anymore.” He stopped himself, looking sideways at Ducks in the seat. “I don’t really think they all do that. I don’t think that’s what’s happening for you. But it gives me the creeps.”
I can see why. This is us, right?
Mercifully, it was. They shuffled off the tram in a knot of people with towels, Ducks flinching every time one of them accidentally brushed against him, and Riv trying to jockey everyone far enough away that it wouldn’t happen. The farther from the station they got, the thinner the throng grew, with most of the tourists opting for the stretches of beach linked with boardwalks. The sprawl of stores selling everything from sand castles to condoms was longer than he remembered, but a good twenty-minute walk took them far enough away that the greasy fried-food smells faded, and the pungent meld of sea and hot sand took up residence instead.
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