MY HEART IN STONE

PART 22:

His arms were still wrapped around Cort and the doctor in him went into gear.  He'd seen

that powerful downward blow, as well as the other harm Mikol had done.

The back of Cort's head was tipped over Henri's shoulder, his hands still clenching Rachel's arms. He could barely move under their combined weight. Rachel lifted her head, her face

still white, her expression dazed.

"Can you move, Rachel?" Henri asked and she was able to nod feebly and roll to her left.

Cort's grip on her didn't release, though, and she ended in an awkward position with her

arms angled to her right.

"You can let go of her now, Cort," Henri urged. "She's safe. You're safe." Cort did not let

go. His fingers, their knuckles white, seemed glued around her arms.

"Cort?"  Henri tried again.  Worried now, Henri wriggled out from under Cort, kneeling

beside him.

Cort's eyes were wide open, his lips parted, and his breaths coming in short, little puffs. 

"Cort?  Can you hear me, son?"

"R...Rachel?" he whispered. "Wh...where's Rachel?"

"I’m right here.  I’m safe!  You can let go now. Doctor, do you have a knife or something?" Rachel rasped, trying to twist in such a way as to give Henri the chance to release her.  She

was shaking badly, from terror, strain, her muscles still twitching from mistrust that the

ordeal was finally over.  Hearing Cort's own distress made her desperate to be free.  "Cort, sweetheart, are you all right?"

Henri scrambled around Cort, quickly cutting Rachel's bonds with a small pocketknife and

as soon as he did she rolled up onto her knees, grunting.

“I’m okay,” she told him, her hands automatically wiping away the sweat-soaked strands

of hair from his face and smoothing his brow.

Cort looked longingly at  Rachel,  needing terribly to hold her,  to know with  his  flesh

touching hers that she was safe. He tried to lift his arms to embrace her, but cried out with

the movement and Rachel gently pushed them back down to his side.

"Don't...don't, sweetheart.  You suffered bad blows.  Don't move.  You don't want to move

when you've had a back injury," she urged.  "Not until Henri has checked you over.”

"Maybe if you kissed me?" he half groaned, half grinned. "That'll make it better?" He

nodded, managing a little smile.

With a teary smile, Rachel obeyed.

"He may have broken ribs," Henri said softly.  "You two stay here.  I'll be back directly." 

He wanted to give them some time alone, and there were certain preparations he needed

to make as well.

Rachel’s throat was raw from screaming and all the emotions and aftershocks of terror

stifled her ability to speak anything more than words of love as she hovered over Cort.

Relief was the one emotion that shoved all others aside.  She watched Cort’s pained, weary

face gaze back up at her and found herself astounded beyond belief at his strength, by his

sheer determination…by his love.  His green eyes blurred in her vision because hot tears

filled and dripped down to land on his cheeks and forehead.  Slightly chagrinned, she bent

down and kissed them away.

"You held on," she whispered.  "I was so frightened, and you held on."

Tears stung his own eyes as he looked up into hers.  “I’m joined to you, my love.  Holding

on, it’s part of that.”  He didn’t say that at the moment of Mikol’s fists slamming into his

back that he’d thought he might not manage it.  He didn’t say that if he felt her slipping

from his grip, if he knew she was beginning to fall, that he would have fallen with her

rather than let her fall alone.  All he said was, “I could never let you go.  Never.”

She couldn’t speak for several more minutes, not when the certainty of it in his face and

voice was so clear and stunning.  So she laid her cheek against his, her breathing trying

to find rhythm with his.  Again he tried to move his arms to hold her, and succeeded in

pressing her hand to his chest.  She lifted her head to smile back at him.  Home.

There was a wild call out in the forest, a crow calling out its boundary, and Rachel lifted

her head  further to track its sound.   The evening was setting in, quiet, still,  as if the

terrible events they were recovering from had happened in the long ago, and not just

minutes hence.  Venus hung in the low horizon, already glittering for the coming night,

but not so brightly that it outshone the purer essence of a real star not too high above

the planet.

Rachel felt a piercing gladness for it.

"Look," she said, pointing.  "A star shines upon the hour of our meeting."

Within moments Henri had gotten back to Cort's room, untied the disgusting bow, and reassembled the cherry-wood bed. They needed a place to rest, recover, the both of them,

and Mikol's bed was not it. He intended to examine the two of them first, though. They

had been through too much, way too much, and it was time for that to stop.

He paused, remembering coating the dart with the solution in the second syringe. It had

taken him years of research, but finally he had come up with a formula deadly to the

replicant bodily structure. It entered the bloodstream instantly, dissolving the arterial

walls as it went. He had thought he would have to get close enough to Mikol to inject it,

a dangerous proposition,  but while in the armory with Cort had recalled the cabinet

with Mikol's collection of native South American weapons. Only a small amount of his

solution was required. The blowgun had made a perfect delivery system. He smiled

wryly. Mikol had never thought of him as anything other than a pawn. He straightened

his shoulders as he left the room. 

When he got back to the walkway, Cort was still lying on his back, Rachel leaning closely

over him as they talked.  He knelt beside them and Cort turned his head toward the doctor.

"I'm having a hard time getting up, I'm afraid," he said.

Rachel met Henri's eyes, trying to project her own concerns through her expression,

not wanting to speak it aloud for fear of alarming Cort.  Was his back broken?  It didn't

look as if that were true, not since Cort insisted on moving his arms to try and draw her

closer, but as powerful as Mikol was, as hard as he had driven his fists into his back.... 

She swallowed, feeling slightly nauseous now that she was coming down from the adrenalin. 

Her mind was having to process so much right now! 

Kneeling down beside Cort, Henri frowned in thought, remembering that double-fisted

blow to Cort's back.  Like Rachel, he noticed Cort seemed to be moving his arms fine,

though, and even his legs a bit, so his spine wasn't broken, but there had to be some deep

tissue trauma at the very least.  Mikol had been an extremely powerful man.  He closed

his eyes a second, enjoying the fact of being able to refer to Mikol in the past tense. 

When he opened them, he could see Rachel staring at him, expression a bit harder than

Cort's.  Something in her face made Henri sit back on his heels a bit.

She took a deep breath.

"Nexus six."  It was a statement, not a question.  “Mikol was Roy Batty.”

Henri hesitated before answering, glancing down at Cort.  He was watching the two of

them interact now.  Then, gave one brief nod.  "Yes."

It was Rachel's turn to close her eyes.  "My God!"

"You might say he wanted to become God," Henri answered.

"But...how?!  I mean, with Sid, it sort of makes...sense, but...Roy Batty?"

”This is Mikol’s movie?  Am I going to have to watch the thing?” Cort mumbled.

"You're not doing anything right now, Cort, not until I check you over. You, too, Rachel.

Then you can rest," Henri replied, touching Cort's shoulder.  He was trying to think how

best to get Cort to the medical section when he saw Vaclav coming out into the courtyard.

"Vaclav!" he hollered down to the aide.  The small wiry man looked up, surprised to see

the doctor kneeling  on the walkway.  He walked closer.   "Go down to  the lab section,

Vaclav, and bring Julian and Franco back here. I need their help.  And have them bring

a neck brace, back board and stretcher as well."

Vaclav, used to doing as he was told, turned on his heel, going back the way he had come.

"Who are they?" Cort asked, not really wishing any more people to get involved in this.

"My assistants. It's all right. I just want them to help you get to my examination room."

"I don't...," Cort protested, lifting his head off the paving. "Ahhh!" he cried, letting it

fall back.

"I think you'll be fine, Cort. You just need some recovery time for all the muscle strains."

Rachel caught Henri's eye again.

"That's all?"  she asked, as in 'no fear of a broken spine?'  Henri gave her a genuine smile

and a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

"That's all.  But the first thing we do is get him off this walkway.  We stabilize him until

we get below and then we see how bad the injuries are.”

Julian  and Franco,  two fairly burly young men in their early 30's,  appeared  on  the

walkway.

"What's up, Doc?" Franco said, a man of fairly good humor despite being an employee of Mikol's. Then he saw Cort. "Or should I say, what's down?"

"Very funny," Cort grumped, every muscle in his body in far too much pain to appreciate

what he expected was an attempt at humor.   He was, of course, completely unaware of

who Bugs Bunny was.

"I need you fellows to help me get him to the medical offices," Henri said, rising to his

feet.

He knelt behind Cort's head, gently lifting it just enough to place and fasten the neck brace.  Cort hated the feeling of the thing and pulled at it with one hand, his eyes widening."No,

Cort, that's to protect you if your spine is injured," Henri explained.

"I…can’t,” Cort gasped, his fingers scrabbling at the fastenings. "I can't."  He looked up

at Henri desperately, his pulse beginning to race. "Hanging,"he gasped.  "Too much...."

"Oh?" Henri suddenly understood, quickly removing it.  He'd really rather Cort wore

the device, but not if it was going to upset him so much. He could tell from the look on

Cort’s face that he’d have to sedate him to keep the brace on him and from the movements

Cort had been able to make, it was probably all right to skip it. He’d thought of asking

his assistants to get Cort down the steps by forming a seat with their arms, but without

the neck brace, he wasn’t willing to risk that.  Franco ran down the steps to fetch the

backboard and with some careful maneuvering and effort, managed to get Cort strapped

to it.  He disliked that, too, especially as they headed toward the steps, but gave in when

Henri threatened him with the brace again.

"All right, let's go," Henri commanded, trying to get his whole little group in motion at

once.

"Wait!" Cort said and, with some difficulty, wiggled his wrists toward  his pockets, trying

to pull out Rachel's shoes. "I don't want her walking barefoot."  He managed a grateful

grin as Henri leaned over, retrieving them and handed them to her.

As Rachel followed Vaclav and Franco, watching them carry Cort to the stretcher that

awaited him, she was becoming fully becoming aware of her own aches and pains. Her

legs were scraped from the rough stone of the crenellations, her head was pounding,

her heart still giving an erratic thump every now and again.  God only knew how many

bruises and  bumps were going to make  themselves known in the days to come.   Her

nerves, her muscles, were passing now to a different level of shock.  Suddenly, the space

between her and whatever resting place Henri promised to take them seemed like miles

to cross.  She had to put hand out to steady herself against the wall.  She looked down at

her feet, still bare despite Cort’s consideration, because something told her that if she sat

down to put them on, it would be some time before she could get back up.  She saw the

condition of her skirt, now mere inches covering her thighs.  Mikol had torn off quite a bit.

She had to sit down. 

"Rachel!"  Cort called out, losing sight of her. 

Vaclav and Franco had a time trying to keep Cort from twisting to locate her. 

"Henri, get Rachel."

Henri walked up to her as she was settling into a heap upon one step and held out his

hand to her.  She managed to stand again, taking his arm and letting him guide her down

the rest of  the steps.   He saw she was far from steady  on her own feet  and noted  an  

abundance of abrasions, bruises, as well as marks from where Mikol had bound her.  Heaven only knew all that she had been put through. 

There were two examination tables in Henri's medical office, one on either side of the

medium-sized room.  Cort lay on one and Rachel on the other.  Henri stood half-way

between them, looking back and forth. "Reminds me of a scene from Star Trek," he said.  "I believe it was called 'Journey to Babel .'"

"Spock and Kirk," Franco offered.

"Right," Henri agreed.

Cort looked at him, puzzled.

"Starship Captain," Henri explained. "Ask me about it some day."

"It’s all right.  Just as long as he doesn’t say 'He's dead, Jim,’ you’ll be fine," Rachel

said in a stage whisper to Cort, unable to resist joining in on the references.

Henri turned to the more serious business of laying out the medical implements he wanted

to use in his examinations. He could see Cort was not really comfortable with Franco and

Julian there, so asked them to leave, saying he might need them again in a bit to help

Cort get to his room.

"I'll call you," he said, smiling appreciatively at them. "Thank you for your help."

Rachel insisted he tend to Cort first, but she lay there, watching everything he did like

a hawk.  Henri was glad to see how much she loved Cort.  He wanted nothing but the best

for this  young man.   Then it dawned on him  that the two of them would probably be

leaving Kamen shortly and he turned quickly, opening a cabinet to hide the sudden tears

that stung his eyes. 

The back of Cort's right leg had an inch and a half wide abrasion down most of its length. 

He applied an antibiotic salve and dressed it lightly with gauze. Then he approached

Cort with a syringe. 

"This time you will let me do what I must, young man."

"Is it that energy stuff?" Cort asked.

"No. It's something else.  Something that will help the muscles and ligaments in your left

leg heal better."

"Ok, Doc," Cort sighed, too weary to object to anything. 

Henri really wanted to give Cort something to help him sleep, but knew he would not

want that, that all he wanted to do was be with Rachel.  He gave him another shot, this

one in his arm, that would help relieve the pain but make him only slightly drowsy.  A

portable x-ray showed one slightly cracked rib, none broken.  He was relieved, having

expected worse as a result of the force of Mikol's knee there.  His vertebrae were also

all right.  He taped Cort's torso and applied a lot of deep-heating ointment to Cort's

thigh and shoulder areas.

"You're going to be very, very stiff and sore for a few days, I'm afraid," he announced

when all was said and done.  "I'm surprised you've not been broken in several pieces,

my young friend."

Before  long,  Rachel was sitting on the side of her cot, legs dangling down,  a white

bandage across her temple, several smaller bandages here and there on her legs, rubbing

her arm where Henri had given her, too, a shot for pain.

“Would you like to go up to your room now?” Henry inquired.

Cort nodded toward the back board that was now leaning against a wall, its straps 

dangling.  “Do I have to use that thing?”

“Not any more,” Henri smiled.  “That was only until I could x-ray your spine. I do think

you’ll need some help getting to the elevator, though.”

He stepped to the door, summoning Julian and Franco.  This time the little party made

their way with Cort standing, though both his arms were about the stout necks of the

two assistants.  Henri kept a close eye on him, noting how Cort’s eyes were screwed

tightly shut and his teeth clamped together.  Again, he held Rachel’s elbow, supporting

her carefully as they walked.

When the elevator stopped, Cort hesitated, looking at Henri worriedly.  “The bed,

doctor?”

“I’ve taken care of it,” Henri smiled. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

There was, then, that final flight of curving stairs.  Cort thought that he would be glad if

he never saw a step again in his life.  Even with the help of the two men, he still had to put

both feet on each one as they mounted up to his room.  By the time they reached the top,

he was exhausted.  Henri quickly turned down the covers as Cort was settled on the bed,

his boots removed.  He needed help just to lie back on the pillows.

“Rest now,” Henri said, heading back toward the steps. “I’ll bring up a tray for you two

when you've had time to recover a bit.”

As the doctor turned and closed the entry door behind him, Rachel slid in beside Cort. 

She tried not to think how, just earlier, Mikol had flipped her off to land in an ungracious

heap on the floor.  She could see Cort’s form in the dim light of the room and felt intensely

the need to wrap herself up in his arms once more.  But she knew he would not sleep with pressure against his ribs, so she curled up along his arm as it lay at his side, tucked her

head into the pillow next to his.

“If I lean against you, you’ll hurt too much to sleep,” she explained when he urged her to

let him put his arm around her.  The sound of Mikol’s fists against Cort’s back wouldn’t

go away either.  She was beginning to come to grips with how frightened she had been,

how very worried she still was about his back.  To show Cort she wanted to be as close as possible, she lay her arm and hand across his chest, smiling to herself as she did so.  That

seemed to be their favorite signal to each other now.

He wanted,  how much  he wanted,  to turn on his right side toward her, but found  he

could only lie flat on his back.  He turned his face toward her, breathing the familiar scent

of her hair, nuzzling her forehead with his nose.  My God, what a day it had been, from lost nothingness to the rapture of love recovered, from the pits of hell itself to this moment of homecoming.

“You are my other half,” he murmured, his lips wandering about her hair, “that was

separated from me upon my coming into this world.  But now we are here, together,

again at last, and I am not only home because of you, but I am whole.”

"I love you," she whispered in reply.  She was so tired!  The heat from his body was so reassuring, she found herself struggling for words, relaxing after all, despite the emotional tremors that were disturbing her.  She yawned.  “Its not adequate for…” she began, but

sleep took over.

He sighed, nuzzling his nose a bit more deeply into her hair. "I missed you, my love. Even

when I didn't know what it was, who it was…there was this longing in my heart for you." 

He forgot, turned slightly toward her, grimaced, and settled onto his back.  In the morning

he would  ask her to check.   He was sure Mikol had  driven a fence post  between  his

shoulder blades.  The discomfort subsided with his lying still.  Just being there with her

in the softness of the bed, not having to move, just...being.  He let the quiet pleasure of it

mound around him.  "I'm so glad," he murmured, his lids growing too heavy to hold open,

"I'm so very gl...."

As the door closed over his head, something paternal in Henri began to glow.  The chicks

were safely in their nest.  The hunting falcon was no longer a threat.  Halfway down the

curving stone stairs, the relief of it almost overcame him and he sagged to one of the steps. 

The emotion of the day washed over him.  Truly he had not thought to live to see the coming

of this night.

His hand trembled slightly as he ran his fingers wearily through his hair.  He had killed someone today.  Even though Mikol had not really been human in the traditional sense of

the word, he had ended life.  It went against everything he was as a doctor, and, yet, had

he not worked for years to find the right formula to do just such a thing?  He buried his

face in his hands, too tired to think clearly.  All that mattered was that Cort was safe, that

the love of his heart was safe.  He craned his neck back up, looking at the closed doorway.  Cuddled together now.  As it should be.

Suddenly he remembered the cameras, remembered his own intrusions into that room, remembered that Mikol had seen Cort taking communion.  No!  He scrambled to his feet,

almost falling down the rest of the flight in his intense hurry.  It seemed to take forever

for him to make it through the system of elevators and corridors and gain the room he

sought far below.  A bank of monitors filled one wall, nearly every corner of Kamen

open to scrutiny.  There, on one of them, were the dim outlines of Cort and Rachel lying

beside one another.

"NO!" he shouted at the screens. "No more!"  And he lifted a small metal chair, swinging

it with all his remaining strength, its legs crashing through the glass of the screen.  He kept

on until every screen was destroyed and he was drained of energy completely.  Staggering

out of the room, he barely made it to his medical office where he flopped heavily onto an examination table, folded his arms over his face, and once more murmured, "No more...,"

before falling asleep.

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