Gone (a follow-up on the previous entry)

Ok, I'm bored and in need of updates, so here is a little more from the previous conversation, picking up where we left off.

"He sounds like an asshole. Is he cute, at least?"

She stiffened and I regreted the playful flirtation instantly.

"Relax, I'm just kidding," I reassured her. "In all honesty, you remind me of someone I used to," I paused awkwardly where the word "love" caught in my throat, "know. So I'm sorry if I'm being too familiar."

The tension didn't leave her body.

"You are," she replied, tying a knot in the last stitch. "There, all patched up. Now that the blood flow has slowed and the wound edges are closer together, you should be mostly healed within a few hours."

I raised a brow.

"Impressive knowledge of therianthropic medicine. They taught you all that in Psych 101?"

Sun blanched slightly, taking on the sort of look a person gets when they are caught up in a lie. I didn't let it go this time. Leaning forward on the edge of the cot, I tried to catch her gaze. She turned her head sharply.

"As a psychiatrist, you probably know that most basic moods have corresponding biochemicals. You know how they say dogs can smell fear? In a way, they can; they pick up on the scent of minute chemical changes in the body, the same way they do when they predict seizures. They also pick up on things like a quickening pulse, changes in breathing and body language." I inhaled deeply. "Whenever I'm around you, your entire body screams sadness. And it doesn't take a therian to tell when you're skirting the truth, either."

"You have no right to be intruding like this," she strove for anger but sounded too defeated for it to be effective.

"I'm not intruding. I'm just asking." I reached out to gently touch her arm, and she moved away; my hand fell back. "Won't you tell me about it?" I cocked my head.

She stared at her feet.

"I know about therianthropes because I used to be very close to several of them. But they... well. What happened to them is what made me want to fight for victims of violence - and you won't find that on the website." She met my gaze fleetingly. "As for you... it pains me to even be around therians any more; there are too many memories I'd like to forget."

I grew somber at her words, a frown stealing my smile. Then, I had a thought. I peeled my shirt off, cast it aside, and grabbed one of her hands. She startled, attempting to pull back, but I gently maintained my grasp.

"Please?"

She relented, and I laid her hand over the deep waxy hollow of scar tissue just below my left collar bone.

"Do you feel this?"

Her eyes were wide, and she nodded.

"What happened?"

"I'll spare you the gory details, but part of me is gone now." I pulled her hand lower, laying it over my heart. "Do you feel this?"

She frowned, confused.

"What?"

"You can't touch it, or see it, but part of me is gone here, too. And losing it hurt a hell of a lot more than this," I indicated the scar. "People tell you that the pain of losing a loved one is something that gets better over time, but that's like telling an amputee their leg will grow back. Once a part of you is gone, it's gone forever. There's no "getting better" from some wounds; there's just coping." I squeezed her hand gently. "So I understand your pain, and I am deeply, truly sorry if my being here has forced you to re-live it."