A Lost Function of Humanity Found

Pushing the heavy double doors open, I breathe in the cool fresh air of the evening. I pass my hands down my tunic, carelessly smearing the blood that stains my skin, down the sides, as I walk with a slow but steady gait to the gardens. It’s ruined anyway. I’ll never wear it again. But a soiled tunic is the least of my worries right now. 

This is my one quiet place, separate from the room where I rest my head after long days and nights like these. No one is here, and I breathe a sigh of relief and blessing that I can have a few moments to myself. Cast in darkness, this place looks solemn and peaceful, almost ethereal, with moonlight catching the dew, making my beauties sparkle and glitter as though they still hold some magic I’ve yet to discover. I run my fingers along the herbs and flowers we’ve planted here. I should pick more before I head back in to start all over again. 

Catching one particularly dewy leaf in my fingers, I bend down to touch my tongue to the fresh, pure drops the Earth offers. I send up my thanks, and walk to my preferred, usual seat under my favourite tree. Closing my eyes, I try to centre myself, clear my mind. Slough off the last few hours, so I can recharge and go on another good few more. 

I would be the first to tell you, the endless parade of wounded and dying never ends. It will never end. Wearing myself out has never been an option. I am needed. Here. I’ve long accepted that. 

And this is my home. Why would I want to be anywhere else.

But tonight, I am weary. Bone and soul weary. My heart is on the precipice. I feel such a mix of sadness and loss, and exhausted anger, frustration, and yet there’s still a level of satisfaction and peace that settles over me. I managed to get through the last of the imminent and urgent, those who had little chance left. And one, the most difficult I have ever faced, whose loss will soon break my heart, once I let myself feel it. 

But not yet. Not now. There’s still so much left to do. And a new little life to coach back to health. 

Nights like these are difficult to describe. Sometimes even harder to comprehend. I was trained to never take such things to heart. It is, the way of life. A cycle that will never change, one that has long been accepted since the dawn of time. And who are we to circumvent that. 

But even for me, sometimes, things creep in. Tonight was a bad night. I need the calm of this place, of my bloodline. I need to feel connected to something other than the metallic stench of rusted death that permeates my skin. 

But I can hear his steps as they come towards me. I know his footfall now, I’ve tracked it through the floors of my home, while I’m meant to be resting. Recuperating. 

He’s a distraction I don’t need. I wish I could ignore him, but he remains persistent. 

At least he lets me teach him. When he’s in the mood to learn.

I’m not sure about tonight though, and I am so very tired, even speech feels like effort at the moment. 

He stops feet behind me, and I hear him take a breath before he speaks. 

“Why do you do what you do?”

I hesitate a moment, finishing my breathing before I respond. 

“That’s an odd question to ask someone. Why not ask, why do I breathe, and I’ll give you the same answer.” 

Even with my eyes still firmly closed, I can see his perplexed frown in my head. I briefly wonder if I should be troubled by how intimately I seem to know the man who brazenly tried to steal from us, not a few days before. 

“I don’t see how can they be the same.” 

Patience has always been a virtue. I always try to retain it, even though he vexes me sometimes. “Then ask yourself a question. Is your breathing deliberate? Do you have to think about taking air into your lungs, and breathing out the toxins?” 

“No,” he replies. “It’s a function of humanity.” 

“And is it not a function of humanity to bleed? To expel poison and pain in an attempt to keep the body alive?”  

“I suppose that’s true.” He takes a breath, fidgets behind me. “Yes, but why do you do it.” 

“Do what.”

“What you do.” 

“I guess that depends on what it is, you think that I do.” 

“I don’t know. Sit with them. Try and keep them alive?” 

“Would you rather they sit alone?” I ask. “Would you rather sit alone?”

I hear his uncomfortable grunt. “Of course not.” 

“Then why ask such a question.” I take a moment, measure my thoughts wisely. Look up at him from my seat. “Is it not also a function of humanity, not to let someone die in vain? Or go through the pain of it alone?”

“Maybe.” He concedes. “But isn’t it pointless? They’re just going to die, aren’t they. What possible good are you doing them. If not saving them.” He waves his arm behind him directionally, vaguely pointing to the building behind us, but his eyes have never left mine. “We were both in there. We both saw the same thing.” 

I turn towards him. “Did we? See the same thing?” I pick up a leaf from the ground. Absentmindedly, I run my fingers along its veins. The act is soothing. Nature always calms me. “Tell me what you saw in that room then.” 

“I saw men and one woman, bleeding and dying all over your clean floors. Good people. Lives wasted.” 

I shake my head. “Was that all you saw?”

“I saw the young girl they mistakenly brought from the enemy camp. I saw you tend to her before you tended to the others.” 

I shrugged my shoulders, a new wave of fatigue setting in. “She was in a condition that was worsening by the minute.” 

“But she belongs to the enemy.” 

I frown, cracking my head. “Do people belong to other people? How so.” I continue tracing the leaf. “Does she look so different from us? Was she baring her teeth and threatening violence if I were to try and touch her.” I look at him. “Was her life worth so much less because of who she was born to? Is that what you saw? Is that what she should grow up believing? Now that she will grow up.” 

“People believe what they see, we can’t change that.” He pauses as I shake my head and sigh. “Should we believe in something more?” 

I shake my head again. “If you need to ask that question, then I think you already know the answer.” I close my eyes again, lean back against the tree for support. “Have you learned so little in your time here. Would you rather go back to stealing people’s livelihoods to survive. Is this, what we do here. Are we not worth your time.”

He huffs out an impatient breath. “You will never be a waste of time. But you have to understand what I’m saying. They were your people. She was your friend.” 

I take a breath, bank the grief. “She was my sister.” 

“And you chose to save a child from the other side, than do everything in your power to save her.” 

“I chose to save the one that could. I could not save her. I would have lost them both, had I chosen wrong.” 

“You did choose wrong.” He states.

“That, is a matter of opinion, and since I was the one doing the saving, I was the one to make the choice.” I snap. “When it’s your hands cavity deep in your sister’s broken body, you can make the choice you feel is right.” I take a breath. “Until that day, I ask you to respect mine.”

“She was my sister too. Or have you forgotten that.” 

“I’ve forgotten nothing.” I say, the weight of those words heavy on my tongue.

“So then why aren’t you as angry as I am. Why won’t you cry.” His words sound accusatory, and they sting. “Are you so unaffected that she’s left you with such a massive debt to repay, and a new oath to honour. Why is it so easy for you to cast it all aside.” 

“Is it?” I toss back. “Her blood stains my hands. I will never wash it clean. I am not, unaffected.” I close my eyes to the harshness of my tone. “I’m far from unaffected. But would you rather I let my emotions get the better of me, and lose control of what these people need from me most? What good would that do?” I shake my head. “How am I a help to them in such a state. Tell me that.” 

He sighs heavily. “Well that, is a function of humanity it sounds like you have yet to master.” 

“I need to stay strong. For them. For her. That is my duty. My honour.” I look at the hands clutched in my lap. Will them to stop trembling. “That is what they need.”

His arm wraps around my shoulder. “They need more from you than that. They need to know you care. And you don’t have to bear that burden alone.”

“I always have. The cost is too high otherwise.” 

He reaches up, wiping away a tear I never saw fall. “Let someone else decide what’s worth the cost for once. It’s a function of humanity to lean on others, when the weight of the world gets to be too heavy.” He says, coaxing my head to his shoulder. “So lean on me now. Let me carry the world a little while.”

As he continues talking in soft, calming, comforting tones, I feel the strength in my body wane, and I sag against him. And as the tears start to flow, I think of my dearest friend. And the child she’s left for this world, for us to raise. I think of the future we now have to plan for. Without her. 

He says nothing, but assurances and words of support and love and I feel safe in the circle of his arms. 

It’s okay. Everything will be okay. 

And when he says my name, it sounds like a prayer. A chant. Repeating and resonating deep within me. 

The sound grows louder and louder. Closer and closer. And suddenly I feel hands gripping my shoulders, gently but firmly shaking me. 

The garden and the night around us begin to shimmer and fade away, as the arms that hold me feel more and more real.

My head snaps back and forward again and I wake with a start, to my husband gripping me tightly. As he sees my eyes open, he thanks whatever deity brought me back and cradles me to his chest.

“I heard you crying in your sleep. You didn’t wake me when you came home. I figured it was a rough shift.” He strokes my head and I burrow closer to his warmth. “Will you tell me now?” 

Wiping fresh tears from my eyes, I sigh. “It’s nothing. Really. I just lost a patient that I kept alive for so long. I really thought she’d make it.” I shudder through another fresh spring of tears. “I should have done more and I lost her. There are no excuses. I let her down.” 

He let the tears flow for a minute. “That’s not nothing. That’s a whole lot of something.” His hand strokes slowly around my back. 

“I’m sorry I woke you. Worried you,” I say quietly. 

“Don’t be. I want you to turn to me when you have a rough day.” I feel his head shift above me, and now he’s holding me as close as he can. “Of course you did what you could. Baby, I’ve never doubted your dedication to your patients. If only everyone spent as much time helping them live a good life, instead of just helping them stay alive.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’m so proud of you. Constantly telling people that my smart, talented and beautiful wife, is the strongest person I know. And when I don’t, they remind me of that because they know it too. Baby, you’re just something incredible.” My breath hitches as he continues talking. “Whenever you have a hard day, baby that is why I’m here. And why I’m so grateful to be your husband. You make me believe in good people, and miracles in uniforms every day. Because you’re my miracle.” He raises my chin, kisses my lips. “And hey. Baby. Did you ever know, that you’re my hero?” 

I groan against his chest. “Oh god. Please don’t...” 

“You’re everything I would like to be.” 

I push against him as he shifts. “Babe. I really don’t need-“

He jumps up, his voice rising and echoing through the room as he recites words I think he honestly may really believe. “I can fly higher, than what was it again?”

He points to me. I shake my head.

“Come on, you know you want to.” He coaxes.

“Really?” I sigh as he waits for me. 

“You can’t stop me, so you might as well join me...”

I let out an exaggerated groan” “Fine.” 

He grins and goes back to his recital. “What can I fly higher than?”

I hold off another few seconds, just to make him suffer longer, but finally with a small smile, I relent. “An eagle.” 

“Damn fine one.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I chuckle lightly as he continues. “Cause you’re like the best beer on a hot daaaaayyy!” 

I burst out laughing. “What?” 

“You heard me. Best of both worlds.” 

I shake my head. “You’re insane.” 

“Insane about you.” 

“Okay, okay.” My heart melts a little, as I look at the time and sigh. “I need to be up again in five hours. Another double shift. We’re just...slammed, I’m sorry.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, I know full well the woman I married. And I’ll never regret it.” He plops himself right down against the pillows. “I’ve got just the warm and cozy place for you right here, my darling.” He opens his arms and I fall back into him. Just the sound of his beating heart is enough to lull me back to sleep. 

“I’d never want to be anywhere else.” I murmur as I drift off. 

“Good,” he says. “Because I’m here to shoulder your part of the world with you. Lean on me. We’ll get through it together.” 

I wish he could see himself the way that I do. He’ll always be my very own personal hero.