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The Lab Rat - Part II

"Did you mean what you said in the ethics class?" Kaith leaned against his shoulder.

"Yes." He did not look up from the coeurl crouched between his feet. The animal, sensing the note of agitation in the single word, turned its head so that the long turfed whiskers tickled his nose. He batted them away and stifled a sneeze.

"I've been trying to decide if I can think about it. I'm not sure it's possible for a person to really understand her own death. It's like trying to think about nothing or not think about chocobos." She laughed nervously, a harsh forced sound.

Nooj let his head fall back against the ridge behind him, his face to the sky. "It's possible. I do it all the time. All it takes is nearly dying when you're nothing but a kid and knowing you were meant to die then."

"You don't have to tell me." She laid her hand on his forearm and squeezed lightly. He was never comfortable talking about himself, she knew that and was careful to respect the areas he indicated to be off limits.

"No. You have the right to know. You're the only one." He wound one of his braids around his finger and pulled it tight.

He was conscious of her waiting, however he remained still. Shifting his position, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the grass. "I need to stretch," he muttered and leapt to his feet. He reached to touch his toes, the still vivid scars standing out clearly on his back. Kaith watched with fascinated eyes as they seemed to take on a life of their own, writhing like narrow snakes as he bent and twisted.

Then he was off, running across the plains of the Calm Lands with the coeurl pacing him. The two young animals were glorious in their movements, the red breeches of the one and the silver fur of the other scrawling streaks of color on the green of the turf. They raced and leaped and then fell down, wrestling together, rolling over and over, their bodies combined into a mythical shape of the beast/man. Finally, they lay panting, their limbs twisted together, the lips of both pulled back in a grimace of pleasure, their breaths combining in a cloud.

When they had made their way back to the waiting Kaith, Nooj wiped the sweat from his forehead and explained in a perfunctory manner, "I've been too still all morning. I needed to burn off some ..." Unable to find the exact word, he stopped rather than be misunderstood.

Kaith patted him on his damp shoulder. "It's ok. Class can get a little boring and you need exercise. You and Nepetu, those long legs of yours were never meant to always fit under a desk." She laughed and ran an appreciative hand down his thigh and calf, feeling the lean muscle and strong sinews. "You can run almost as fast as he does. Ever thought of joining the relay team?"

Nooj caught up her hand and planted a kiss on her palm. "Nepetu lets me keep up with him. He doesn't want to be out ahead, alone. And you know I prefer our games to any others." He pushed her onto her back and lowered himself on her body, looking down at her with a meaningful gaze.

She opened her own shirt and shivered with delight as she felt his bare chest brush her nipples. "Let's play."

After a few minutes, he rolled away from her with an almost inaudibly whispered, "I'm sorry."

After a prolonged period of brooding silence, Nooj, his arms folded on his bent knees, spoke. His first words were unnaturally loud and he quickly modified the volume. "I said I would tell you and I will." he began, his voice as firm as though they were discussing the duty schedule for the second year cadets. "This may sound peculiar but it's true."

She made an indeterminate sound and settled herself to listen, re-buttoning her shirt and looking at the ground in order to avoid his glance.

"I told you I was washed out to sea when Sin came and destroyed Kilika. I was only six years old and somehow I got caught in the branches of a tree which was floating near me. I believe I died there, in that tree. I had nothing to eat, nothing to drink and I was a skinny little rat with not much to draw on. I am sure I died there." He paused and looked away from her into the distant mountains which ranged one behind the other until they dissipated into a flux of blue-grey shadows.

Kaith waited uneasily while he gathered his thoughts and continued, "Then I was on a beach with a stream of fresh water flowing into the ocean. The tree was gone and I was naked, lying just below the tide-line, in a hollow washed around my body. I crawled to the stream and rolled into it. I don't know what happened. I thought I was on the FarPlane and just lay on that rocky creek bed and absorbed water. I wasn't hungry, you see, just thirsty. I took in that sweet water through my pores, my mouth, my nose, my eyes, all my parts. Live people can't do that. So I knew I was dead and on the FarPlane. You understand?" Suddenly he turned his head and looked intently at her. He seemed to feel any disbelief would make her vanish like the fantasy of his story.

"That's why I can think about Death and it doesn't bother me. When you have already died, it can't scare you again." He looked up into the sky. "It didn't scare me then and the soldier I killed on Kilika didn't scare me, so I guess I can say I don't fear it."

It was Kaith's turn to stare. "You never told me you killed somebody. Where? Why?"

He grimaced with irritation at himself. "Never thought to mention it. Now, don't go telling anybody else. This is secret. Do you hear me? Nobody here knows about this. And I don't want them to."

She nodded, her eyes wide and worried.

"I was out with some friends, exploring, two years ago when we ran into one of the temple guards on the island. He would have killed us or held us for ransom and I didn't have any family to pay for me. So I killed him. I had to."

She shook her head at the matter-of-fact tone. "How? You were just thirteen."

Incredibly, Nooj grinned at her. It was less a grin than a rictus. "Yes, I was still a soprano then. The girl with us, she was a lot like you, stabbed him and got his attention and I took a dagger and gutted him like a fish. He took his time dying."

Kaith sat up suddenly, "I don't think I could do that. In cold blood."

"Oh, my blood wasn't cold. It was damn' hot running down my arm. He shot me in the shoulder before I could get my knife in him." He touched the scars remaining from the adventure.

"I thought those were from the flogging. They look like part of the same group."

"No. These were there first. I think by the time I am a full man, I will be nothing but scars. Some of the ones here are from the teeth of Nepetu's mother, you know. She took a bite out of me before the gunshot had finished healing." He laughed with that note of bravado she had noticed before when he was forced to talk about his wounds.

"So all this is why you think about death and aren't afraid?"

"Partly. Kaith, I'm serious when I say I think I died back when I was six. How could I have lived? No food, no water, just a baby really? There was no way I could have lived."

"Maybe it wasn't as long as you thought it was. You said you didn't know. Did anybody ever tell you how long you were lost?" She reached to touch him and quickly drew back her hand at his expression.

"I was lost for more than ten days. When they gave me to my uncle, he said he had already held a ceremony to send me." His face was rigid with control.

"But they don't know how long you were on the sea and how long on the beach," she insisted.

"No. But I have been sent once so need not have that done again." He flexed his hands in a mockery of the sacred gestures. There was a brittleness about him which was unfamiliar to the girl. "I am dead and just have to finish the formalities of turning into pyreflies."

"Nooj, don't think that. You are live, I have every reason to know that." She was convinced logic was the way to reach him.

Nooj turned and pinned her with his steady gaze. "Do you? Are you sure? Come on, we need to get back to camp. It's getting dark." The bleakness in his voice was echoed by his posture against the setting sun. He looked broken.

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Commandant Jounne absently aligned the stack of papers and tapped their edges on his desk, making a muddled noise which sounded somehow appropriate to his state of mind. He held in his hands the latest reports on their experimental case, the youth Nooj. They were a mixed bag to his mind. The expedition he had requested to test the lad's judgment had been completed in a satisfactory manner. Jounne smiled at the ingenuity of Dvala who had the inspiration to make the mission a copy of the one which had landed Nooj stretched across the flogging horse toward the end of his first year of training. The man remembered with amusement the look on the Cadet Captain's face when he had been told he was to lead a group of his fellow students to retrieve a badge from a chest on a ledge to the west. He had stammered something about having done that before snapping to attention and saluting like the good soldier he was being taught to be. That was the ticket! Keep him just a little off balance and see how he did.

If only the reverse were not also true. Jounne separated out and re-read the report from Marant. He should not have been surprised at what he saw there. He had known much about the boy's background from the beginning of this term and should have assumed Nooj would have thought about death. After all, he had nearly died himself and had killed a grown man before coming to the training camp. However, this report of a coolly calm response to the idea was unsettling. The report from Pathel was also disturbing. The boy was not sleeping well; Pathel had found him sitting on the edge of his bunk far into the night on several occasions and, for some reason, he had banished the coeurl from his bed. The beast lay disconsolately on the floor as near his master as possible and menaced any who came close.

Jounne had himself observed Nooj often during the past week. There were obvious changes taking place in the cadet. He had had another growth surge, which was not uncommon amongst Spiran youths at his age and was now near what his adult height would likely be. But he had not bulked up as was also usual. The mess attendants, set to watch, reported that he was eating little and skipping meals more often than was healthy. His legs, which had been strong and shapely, now appeared rather spindly although he was still the fastest sprinter of his year, his long limbs covering the ground with wide strides, seeming almost at times to fly.

With a resigned sigh, Jounne again tapped the edges of the sheaf on his desktop. It had begun as an experiment to try to keep and mold a promising cadet, perhaps the most promising of his generation. Now, was it all falling apart because of some unknown flaw in the subject? He made a mental note to tap some sources he had cultivated amongst the students, some toadies he despised but nonetheless found to be useful.

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When he was nine years old and the Sin which had killed his parents was in its turn slain, Nooj had felt a sudden panic in his gut. Who would he now fight and kill to avenge his family? Where would he find the honorable death he required? Too young to realize another Sin would soon appear, he mourned the loss of his chance to die properly and feared he must resign himself to bearing the shame of his inaction forever. For in fact, he could not conceive of dying from natural causes - not for himself.

When the new Sin arose and the world girded to fight again, he was comforted and eager to join the Army to take his chance. All had proceeded as expected and he had felt himself on his way to his destiny until the instructor had thrown the topic of death onto the table. He was still unafraid to die, but the memory of the last Great Calm had floated again to the surface, carrying with it all the urgency it had accrued during the past six years. What if he missed this one as well? Would he be able to last through another Calm of uncertain length with his skills and strength intact? He cursed his youth in a frenzy of impatience. The frustration of being prepared to go to war without the right to do so drove him like a maddened beast to lash out and withdraw simultaneously. He was prickly, unable to tolerate any persons, edgy even with Nepetu. Food actively repelled him and he found relief only in running until he fell numb from exhaustion. He crept often into the more barren areas of the great plains, with only the coeurl beside him and ran, senselessly and blindly, until he felt only the aches in his legs and chest and would throw himself on the grass to stare vacantly into the sky, the cat panting at his feet.

When he saw Kaith, he felt a guilt toward her. All his desire for her had vanished yet he could tell she still wanted him. There was nothing he could do, not even a sensible explanation he could offer her. His entire consciousness was fixed on the need to go hunt his Death in confronting Sin. It was a compulsion more powerful than the passions of the flesh and consumed his body and mind. He lusted for the Nothingness he believed lay waiting for him when next he faced the Great Evil. He hungered for extinction as gluttons dream of feasts and could not be satisfied with less. He could not wait. It was intolerable. Life itself rasped him like sand on exposed nerves.

Feverish with a longing for Death, Nooj clawed mindlessly into the rough ground, the coeurl observing its master with unease. Suddenly the youth surged to his knees and, spreading out his arms, flung back his head and howled a huge despairing cry to the stone deaf and unheeding heavens.

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"So, we are agreed the third year cadets will be permitted ..." Jounne looked up from his notes at the sound of a scuffle outside the closed door of the meeting room. Muffled shouts gave way to the crash of a door forced open with some violence.

"You can't go in there!" the sentry's voice was nearly a scream "They're meeting!"

The assembled senior staff stared with astonishment as a bedraggled body was propelled into the room, stopped only by its collision with the wide conference table. The figure emitted a sudden explosion of breath as its midsection met the edge of the wood.

"Nooj!" Jounne was the first to recognize the intruder. "What do you think you're doing? Get out of here at once!"

"No. I have to talk to you. I'm leaving. I can't wait - I've got to get ..." He lost his voice as he became aware of the eyes transfixing him with astonished glares. He shook his head like a baffled bull in the arena and slowly drew himself into a military pose and saluted his Commandant.

"Sorry, sir. Permission to speak, sir."

Jounne scowled at the lad before him. What in the name of Yevon had happened to the youth? He was painfully thin, his hair tangled into clumps, his eyes wildly showing the whites on all sides and the starched uniform which he always affected reduced to a soiled, wrinkled mess which looked as though it had been worn for a week or more. "Permission denied. You are out of order, cadet. Leave this room at once."

Again, Nooj shook his head. "No sir. I have to speak to you - now."

Jounne gestured, "Guards, remove this cadet and put him under arrest."

As though only now understanding the dismissive words of his superior, Nooj drooped and slowly crumpled to the floor, collapsed into an unseemly heap as he was dragged from the room by two soldiers. He made no effort to resist, not even when one of them gripped him by his long disheveled braids and used them as a handle to pull him to his feet.

Whainlee let out a long breath. "Well, so much for the experiment."

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In the area of the armory which served as a makeshift jail, Nooj sat with his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands, fighting against the vertigo which threatened to fell him. Whatever had possessed him to do that? He knew better. Why had he done it? Now he was in for it again. They would certainly flog him; he was resigned to that. Then a thought hit him with a chilling blow - they might take Nepetu away. He could bear the scourge but the loss of his other self? ... It was as though a fever had broken and his madness of the past month had dissipated. With a snort of disgust, he smelled himself. How long had it been since he had bathed and changed his clothes? He could not remember. He retched dryly at the stench of his body. If his stomach had not been already empty, he would have vomited up his repulsion. What had happened to him? He had more control than that. The noise of the barred door creaking open made him lift his head.

Jounne stood there, his arms folded and his expression stern. "Are we going to have to play out this scenario once a year? What is it going to take to make you a decent Warrior?" He advanced into the room. "Well, let's get it over with. Strip."

Shivering, Nooj stood and obeyed, then followed his Commandant into the largest room, occasionally touching the wall to assure his balance. They were alone together and without a word, the youth staggered over to the flogging horse and stretched himself across the framework. Also silently, Jounne buckled the worn leather cuffs around the narrow wrists and picked up the whip he had placed in readiness before he had unlocked the cell. He would do the punishing himself. His anger and disappointment needed an outlet. He looked at the ribs showing as clearly as in an anatomical textbook and firmed his purpose. Discipline was not always a pleasure. With an inward sigh, he brought the lash down on its target.

When he had finished and thrown a bucket of water across the blooded back of his victim, he caught Nooj by the forearm and hauled him upright. "Now, what the hell was the idea of that? By rights I ought to kick you out on your arse all the way back to Kilika."

The boy stood naked before the man, still shaking and unsteady, his head weaving with exhaustion and confusion. "I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again. May I stay?"

"Oh, get dressed. I've invested too much in you to throw you out now. I know it won't happen again. I want to know why it happened in the first place. ... Don't look so patheticl, I know what you're worrying about; you can keep your cat." Jounne smiled grimly at the look of surprised happiness which illuminated the lad's face. "Get dressed and let's talk."

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More than an hour later, the Commandant stood up from the barrel on which he had been sitting and walked to loom over the youth, "You should have told me this when you first came. You've let it fester like a deep puncture. No wonder you went crazy. Lad, you have time. This thing will not be over as soon as you fear. The Summoners have not even started their Pilgrimages yet. You have time to face this Sin after you've been trained. You'll be useful then. You can go into the Crusaders; they're the front line. Don't worry, you'll see all the action you want with them. But you don't have to die, you know."

Nooj did not meet his eyes. He had told his story slowly and haltingly, encouraged by the calm demeanor of the older man, the intense attention paid to every detail he was willing to share. He had held back only the part about believing he had already died, instead substituting the less incendiary, if somewhat specious, claim that he felt himself required to fight Sin in order to avenge the deaths of his family. His back stung with the touch of his shirt on the torn skin but he was calmer in his mind, persuaded his greatest fear was unfounded. He would have his chance to die with honor - as a Crusader. "Yessir. May I go bathe now, sir? I stink."

"Go ahead. Then go to the mess hall. You need some food and then some sleep. You're excused from classes today." Jounne watched carefully as the frail figure moved through the heavy doors and disappeared. Had this advanced or set back the experiment? There was no way to be sure so soon but at least Nooj was functional again. He would fit well with those maniacs in the Crusaders.

Just outside the wide doors, Kaith had been waiting. She had cringed at the sound of the snapping whip and strained to hear if its prey cried out. All she could hear was the angry voice of Jounne and, later, the soft murmur of two male voices of differing timbres. So she waited. She supposed she would be punished for missing classes. Somewhat dazedly she wondered if females were also flogged. She had never heard of such a case, then the door opened and he emerged.

"Nooj," she called softly. "I've got some ointment. Come, let me help."

"Kaith, you'll get in trouble." It was the first time in weeks he had spoken to her as though he remembered what they had been to one another. "I'm going to shower. I smell like a stable."

"I'll wait for you. You must hurt." She stretched to gingerly stroke the sweaty hair back from his face and smiled tremulously at him. With a hesitant finger, she traced the line of his lips. It was the first time she had touched him since the day he had revealed so much of his history to her.

He caught her hand and kissed the palm. "It's not that bad. Only ten with the whip, not the cat. But all right. We'll figure out an excuse for you somehow." The assurances from Jounne had steadied him and he thought he could make it to the barracks without falling. Particularly if he rested his hand on her shoulder.

Unnoticed behind them, Jounne smiled with satisfaction. The experiment could continue. He would personally arrange cover for the girl.

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That night, Nooj stretched out on his bunk, of a necessity on his stomach. Kaith had spread the soothing salve over the fresh cuts on his back and it had helped but he was not yet up to putting more pressure there. The other cadets had uttered a louder than usual gasp when he removed his shirt but they were not all that surprised by the marks since the story of his importunate actions had spread throughout the camp during the day.

He was sleeping nude this night because the rough texture of the sleeping shirt was not to be considered. With his cheek pillowed on the soft warm neck of Nepetu and his belly moderately full, he was comfortable enough and the combination of exhaustion and the easing of his worries made sleep far more certain than it had been in recent nights. He felt as though he had passed through a fever dream and now the world was solid again.

He shifted slightly, feeling deep within himself the comforting core of the knowledge that in little more than a year, he would be free to go hunting Death with the blessing of authority. No longer frantically driven, he calmly bedded down with his destiny. He owed the Universe a life and he was ready, no - eager - to discharge that debt. In addition, he had neither flinched nor cried out under the whip. His dignity was intact. He was as close to happiness as he was likely to come for a long time.