[Fiction] Cruel To Be Kind

[Ghostwriter]

They had returned to the island after Ulysses Bailey's meeting in Switzerland, full of thoughts and speculation. Now Regan sits on her sunning rock, braced leg stretched out as she watches the sea.

"I am sick of my failures," she says aloud. "I'm sick of my limits. Other novas can fly - why can't I?"

She looks down at her knee. "I'm sick of everything that binds me, especially you, Robert."

[Singularity]

In the ocean, Franklin finishes swimming to a piece of rock and coral poking out of the blue water, pulling himself onto it. He slowly stands to full-height on the sad excuse of an island, surveying the surrounding area. Enhanced eyes catch Regan's form several hundred meters away, unknowingly lingering on her petite body. Her words are easily lost in the distance and surf, even for superhuman ears, but her mood isn't lost to silver eyes and loving experience.

He settles his feet on the somewhat familiar rock, unconsciously calculating the distance to his golden mate. Once set on the rock and coral, Franklin closes his eyes and lets his thoughts quiet. Mind and body slowly integrate, reaching an almost meditative harmony before the silver eyes open again and he lets the destructive force explode from his legs. Air rushes through metallic hair as his mind tries to wrap around the concept of still moving upward. The losing battle finally ends as he reaches his apex and continues onto the second half of his projectile flight towards the island. He switches his focus back to the external world and landing safely.

Sand plums up near Regan, but far enough away to avoid hitting her. Franklin stands up straight from the imprint in the sand, quietly noting again that it didn't work. He strides over to her, a warm look on his face, "Hey, what is wrong?"

[Ghostwriter]

Regan forces a smile at the sight of Franklin. "Nothing much, love. I'm just feeling sorry for myself again," she admits with a faked wry laugh. "I can teleport through books and read any mind I wanted to on the planet, but I'm moaning because I have a broken knee."

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. Just seeing the 'more-nova-than-thou' crowd at the Assembly..."

[Singularity]

Franklin glides onto the ground next to the rock, sitting cross-legged before Regan, "Well, that was quite an impressive group of novas. I suppose it was a good reminder that there is always a bigger fish."

He gives her a soft, comforting smile, "If it makes you feel better, I am occasionally a bit envious of your powers and ability to grow. You can touch minds, make wonderful scenes, alter the world around you, and I have seen you expand your powers multiple times on your own terms." He nods at her brace, "But I am rather surprised about the knee... why have not your regenerative powers fixed it yet?"

[Ghostwriter]

"Because healing was the last thing on my mind when it was shattered, but my enhanced stamina fused the bones together. I can only theorise that deep down, I didn't believe such a horrific injury could heal fully. The operations allowed me to walk with a cane and knee-brace, while Sakurako's knee-braces allow me to walk unaided. Now that I have regenerative abilities..."

She takes a deep breath. "I tried to heal it, but it wouldn't. I can only speculate that it needs to be broken again..." She shudders visibly. whimpering softly in her throat. "Pain scares me."

[Singularity]

"Well, I knew why it was not healed during your eruption," Franklin says with a contemplative shrug, "but I suppose the lack of a new injury would be the reason why it has not been fixed yet."

He reaches to Regan and places a hand over one of hers, meeting her sharp eyes with his own softened pair, "Pain is nothing to fear, love. It is only a signpost, temporary at that. Plus, the pain alawys seems to go away after the rapid healing finishes. At least for me." He gently rubs her hand absently with his thumb, "Why does it make you afraid?"

[Ghostwriter]

"Because I ... It reminds me of bad times," Regan confesses softly. "I'm a coward. I took the least painful opportunity when I asked for help on my knee."

She hangs her head in shame.

[Singularity]

A comforting squeeze is followed by Franklin's confident reply, "Love, you are no coward. It is understandable to avoid pain: I still get out of the way instead of just taking a hit. Invulnerable or not, it still hurts."

He dips his head a bit in an attempt to keep an eye line with Regan, "More importantly, you know the litany of bold and fearless things you have done better than me. How could once surgical choice, how could one memory cancel out those other acts?"

[Ghostwriter]

"I haven't done bold and fearless things, I've done stupid things," Regan points out with a hint of her usual wryness. "Getting in the way of a rampaging gryphon twice isn't the smartest thing to do, love."

She sighs. "You're brave. I'm crazy. There's a difference."

[Singularity]

"Love," Franklin says with a smile, "if you want to compare crazy acts I assure you that you will never let me into Kashmir, parts of central America, and quite possibly the entire continent of Africa again. And I was not really brave until a little before I met you; I was a brash and stupid man."

He looks up briefly in acquiescence, "But, if I am brave then I should know bravery when I see it. Again, Regan, you are not a coward. Brave or crazy, the line is rather thin, but not craven."

[Ghostwriter]

Regan sighs and unbuckles her knee-brace. "Do it now then, before I chicken out forever," she grates in anticipation of pain.

[Singularity]

Franklin tips and slides his body with odd grace, positioning his sitting body at Regan's side. He gently places his free hand on her damaged knee, turning his other hand over to give her something to grip, "Are you sure you want to do this? Do you think it will work?" Hesitent eyes look to her, "I suppose this is a bad time to mention I wanted to be the last person to ever cause you harm..."

[Ghostwriter]

"It can't get any worse than it already is," Regan grates. "Do it!"

[Singularity]

Franklin let out a bit of a sigh, "Ready?"

Once Regan nods, his hand pulses quickly, easily shattering the fused joint within a fraction of a second and he pulls his hand away, leaving the other for her to bare down on with fingers and claws.

[Ghostwriter]

Regan clutches Franklin's hand, claws shooting out as she fights the agony to heal her knee. She feels quantum knit the bone together and she tries to force the knee to come together in the shape it was supposed to be.

It was hard. She was in so much pain that she couldn't scream, but she fought past it to try and heal the knee.

Suddenly it was over. She slumped back on her sunning rock, blinking back the tears.

[Singularity]

"Sorry," Franklin says with a quiet voice, moving up to his knees to be next to Regan, "I know you asked me to do it, but I know how much that can hurt"

He looks briefly at her now healed knee, then back to her face, "Can you feel anything else aside the pain? An itch or maybe a pulsing feeling?"

[Ghostwriter]

The pain eventually subsided. As soon as it was gone, Regan experimentally bent her knee. When she encountered no pain, a tremulous smile passed over her face.

However, when she tried to stand, she found that her knee was still too weak to support her. If not for Franklin, she would have gone sprawling to the ground.

"I'm sorry..." she gasps. "I wasn't expecting this."

[Singularity]

Franklin keeps one arm tucked about Regan's side, helping her to remain balanced, "No, there is no reason to apologize. It has been over six years since you have used it so I am sure there must be some lingering affects.

A deft sweep and lift of his foot brings the discarded brace to his open hand, "So... how does it feel to have your knee back?"

[Ghostwriter]

Regan bursts into tears at Franklin's words.

[Singularity]

The brace subtly slides down to the sand behind Franklin as he draws Regan closer to comfort her, "I am sorry, love, I did not mean to... what is wrong?"

[Ghostwriter]

Regan doesn't reply in words, but sends a burst of pure joy through the psychic link, snuggling against Franklin.

*Thank you,* she sends through the pure emotion, *thank you.*

[Singularity]

*Anything for you, love, anything.*

Regan is scooped up by Franklin, her slight body easily and gently supported in his arms, "What do you say to some ice cream?" He smiles playfully, "Or do you want to see about how soon you can get back on your knee?"

[Ghostwriter]

"I want food and lots of it," Regan says, snuggling up to Franklin. "I'd better eat healthy stuff... Are we out of meat?"

[Singularity]

"Not yet," Franklin answers while starting back towards the bungalow, "We should have enough for today... I think. Best to have the next resupply pushed up."

He deftly carries Regan into the structure, carefully guiding her wings through the door, "You do not worry about a thing for now, food is on its way. Then we can figure out what next to do." The boyish smile appears again, "Maybe this means I can talk you into some of those adventures I had mentioned a few months back..."

[Ghostwriter]

"I'm still scared of heights," Regan points out as Franklin puts her on the couch and heads to the kitchen. "And I will have to do therapy. I know it..."

She sighs, but happily. "But I won't need that fucking brace again, I hope."

[Singularity]

Franklin sticks his head into the refridgerator, pulling out a stack of wrapped parcels, "Well, we need to find some way for you to get around while you are nursing the knee back to health." Flames ignite on the grill as meat is unpacked at a normal pace, "Neil might be able to provide some names, most likely good and talented people. With your physiology and determination it should not take long to complete the therapy."

Loud hisses escape from the grill, sending the thick smell of cooking meat out of the kitchen area and towards Regan, "And do not worry about heights, love: you have got wings! Besides, not everything involves flying. And if we really need to get somewhere high, a simple jump and we will be there."

[Ghostwriter]

"I haven't learnt to fly, remember?" Regan points out tartly. Her stomach growls at the smell of the meat cooking. "Of course, I could just toss myself off a cliff and see how I go..."

[Singularity]

"Oh no, I would not advise doing that," Franklin says, flipping the steaks to another chorus of sizzles and plumes of smoke, "Leaping off cliffs to learn how to fly normally results in leaving a nova shaped indent on the ground. At least that is how it has always worked out for me."

A quiet chuckle escapes from him, "And if you did know how to fly already you know I would be the first person asking you for help."

[Ghostwriter]

Regan chuckles as she glances at Franklin. "I think that your idea of flight and mine will be very different - I need to flap my wings."

She smiles crookedly as the steaks finish cooking and is served up at her preferred medium rare. She wolfs her meal down, enjoying the rich juices and tender meat.

[Singularity]

Franklin lounges easily in a chair as Regan eats, finding grace even while relaxed, "Pundits, baselines and nova alike, always seem to say all novas fundamentally use the same method to fly. Though you are most likely right and I will have to figure it out on my own. I probably need to find a cannon and be shot out of it."

He smiles, "So, physical therapy then? Maybe it will be a good excuse for us to get out and see the world again?"

[Ghostwriter]

"Yes, I need to get off the island... Not that being alone on a deserted tropical with you is bad," Regan says hastily as she belatedly offers a steak to Franklin. "Oops... Are you hungry?"

[Singularity]

"Thank you but I am all right for now," Franklin answers before switching to a mock incredulous expression, "And deserted? How can this lovely bungalow, complete with nova age ammenities, be considered deserted? Granted, the inhabited islands are rather far away from here..."

His face effortlessly slides back into a smile, leaving the playful act with a content sigh, "But you are right, too much time here can take away from its value. Maybe you could name a few palces, I can toss in some of my own suggestions, and we can see where the world takes us?" He grins boyishly again, "I am sure there are plenty of people who would just love to see us out, about and in good health."

[Ghostwriter]

"And a few people who won't," Regan points out, finishing her meal. "But wherever I go, I know that I have you to come home to. Thank you for everything, croi o mo croi."

[Singularity]

Shoulders roll in a silent chuckle, "Just do not forget me when going to and from the island. It is a long, boring swim to the island."

[Ghostwriter]

Regan chuckles and smiles at Franklin. "I won't." Her eyes gleam ferally for a moment. "You know, I'm tired, but not that tired..."

[Singularity]

"Well, I suppose we should see about fixing that," Franklin responds again with a grin. "But I should do one thing first."

Air swirls for a beat as he disappears then reappears mere inches from Regan, "Now, where were you going with that idea..."

*****

Al had been running his butcher shop for twenty years, experiencing recessions and economic booms alike. Even the Nova Age had been a great thing for Al's Meat Emporium thanks to a capacity capable of catering to the occasional nova outlet. But once again an order came in from customer #175 and the grizzled old man shook his head. This one was going to deplete his stock for the rest of the month. "Well," he said with a happy sigh, "'dis ought ta pay fer Mona's new fur coat..."