White Silence [fanfic]

[Chris]

He was getting the hang of this, at last. It had taken long enough, but now Murdock thought that he could Heal most of the injuries the Yellows trusted him with (this is to say, nothing too urgent). Murdock couldn’t say he felt any specific thrills from doing so, but he was able to work with Saidin and it didn’t involve tearing people apart, so there was something therapeutic about the whole thing. Mirin Sedai would probably be nodding her head in approval as Murdock stuck in with helping out anyone he could whilst in the Infirmary, listening to their problems and pretending he cared two figs.

Really though, he was just listening to them and thinking about how their issues related to his, Giselle crossing her legs and nodding her head thoughtfully in a “you should be looking like this” sort of way. Murdock did try, but putting too much weight on his bad leg was a bad idea, and resting his chin on his hand might make him fall to sleep.

The conclusion he derived from talking to these people, was that he had zero interest in helping them whilst he was working through his own problems, problems he ought to be addressing by now. He didn’t though, instead he simply looked on at them, prodded them, and pretended he was doing something about them other than gazing.

That was why he preferred to do the actual Healing; he could fix those people, and as they moved on, so did he. That quiet Dedicated, moving from person to person, Healing them and being on his way. Sometimes he went for hours without saying more than a couple of words to any one person, but as long as he got the job done his bedside manner was not judged too harshly.

Murdock wasn’t generally watched quite as closely any more, not like the newer trainees. The younger ones. It was pretty well established at this point that he was fairly adept at Healing, possibly one of those people who was able to do it whether he wanted to or not (Murdock couldn’t comment on that one). He’d spent so much time learning to blow things up that Healing had never really factored into the equation, but now? Healing people in the Infirmary from their sparring injuries, or ailments caused by bubbles of chaos from the Dark One himself, or any manner of things, gave the man a lot of practice he would have never had at the Black Tower. There, a man had to deal with his pain. Here, it was nurtured and made all better. Murdock couldn’t fix the mind, but he could handle the body and that would suffice for now.

He was growing quite accustomed to the sight of blood. These trainees were more accident prone than Murdock had ever realised, and it made him glad he had never picked up live metal like the Wall Guard or Street Guard in Far Madding. Men weren’t to be trusted with such things and judging by the number of people Murdock Healed with slashes and cuts and various bits sliced off... he could see why. But in spite of how accident prone he thought the Warder trainees, he quite liked to Heal them. Murdock didn’t have to worry about any emotional baggage, any lingering scars from traumatic childhood experiences, or losses he could hardly handle. No, he just Healed them, cleaned them up and sent them on their merry way.

He would sit and watch the Asha’man Healing their own patients – the ones who were amber or red on the triage system, who needed more urgent attention than Murdock was currently trusted with. He saw the way they plucked out the different elements and used all five in their weaves. Murdock would try to remember, to commit it to memory, and unlike any of his other attempts to learn weaves, these seemed to come naturally. It was almost like a waterfall of learning, moving from a trickle to a steady pour as the more he learned, the more he was able to learn, and the greater his capacity for understanding grew. Twisting Spirit just so, had one effect with Fire, and another with Earth; he wanted to practice, but for now he had to watch, and take these efforts to his room to channel into thin air. One day, he would find a use for them.