There was a battery of blood work and "sleep" tests to go through. The techs running the machinery were baffled at the readings and every bit as tired by the end of each night as Quenton was all the time. He'd get to sleep, go though the stages, then as soon as REM hit various brain activity spiked. All the terrors started and he would sit bolt upright and instantly awake. One of the three would come in, ask some perfunctory questions, and then he was asked to try and go back to sleep.

Always try to go back to sleep.
It was so boring.
It was impossible.
It was the most boring, impossible battle he'd yet had to fight and it was with his own body.
A body I have been conditioning to supposedly master beyond mean things like habits, instincts, needs. So what is the problem that I cannot sleep through nightmares.

Quenton laid there on the last try of the sleep study, thinking more than genuinely trying to sleep. It would show on the monitors, no doubt. That was unimportant. Start at the beginning. What has the training been for? To make me more efficient and effective on the battlefield. Eliminate second guesses and hesitations from fear, pain, emotions. Heighten analyzation and response to danger.
I'm responding to danger.
Of all the-

There were some bings and a voice came over the little speaker, " You have to try to relax, Mr. Marinus."

The bings immediately stopped, and there was some hushed talking before the alarm went off-the immediacy unnerved them. But control while awake doesn't predispose the same while asleep. It could help. So? I have to ....give up to the Danger? Open up? I do not prefer. Sealing over all that tomb has taken a year and more of work as it is. The lady or the tiger. There is no winning in this.
Can I use the terrors, accepting the internal dangers, towards the conditioning? No telling right now, on a crinkly bed with a dozen sticky patches. No books here to check. No electronic devices to access research. But I can't keep not sleeping.
Fine.

Sleep. Open. Sleep. Do not react to the danger. Let it take hold.
And Quenton slept. But Thraen dreamed.

———•••———•••———

Terror came with searing heat at edges of skin that would not subside. But it wasn't the pain, it was the complete lack of pain in the middle of the swath of face, neck, shoulder and chest that lurched fear through his battered awareness. He couldn't stay conscious for more than a count of minutes at a time. Someone was dragging him. He heard Faust making demands- something about his legs weren't broken. Sight came into a blurry, colored confusion of passing structures.

One of the other Knights or senshi had him. Had Faust. The mauvian's voice felt like it was in his skull, "look at me!"

Thraen tried, but white sensation snowed out awareness again. When life turned back on, they were at one of the bolt holes of the mountains. Faust was curled nearby, looking out at rain, but turned as he stirred. "Keep your a** still. "

"My legs are not broken. The tar. Off." There was tearing, his own hand pulling the tar free from shoulder regardless of tissue damage beneath. Faust swore and pulled over the medical bag from the stash corner.

He had to work before fever or delirium set in. Before someone came back and decided he needed a healer. Wasting Ida or some other senshi's time with him. If it was already done, it couldn't be argued. It was already obvious that the eye was done for. Antibiotics were so precious-rare, but there wouldn't be any getting around using some in conjunction with sterile wrapping. His hand throbbed. Chunks and splinters meant to be bones came out of fingers at odd angles. "When they get back, I'll be passed out again. Tell then amputate what can't be salvaged and cauterize. It will wake me up."

He was shivering. No, shaking-

———•••———•••———

Quenton opened two eyes. Vision came with depth perception again, but pain like knives in his left eye.
The techs looked terrified.
His eye was red with the blood of broken vessels. Nails on his left hand were sore from the crescent tears he'd inflicted on the bed.

Can I go- No...no there is no home now. There hasn't been. I should....go..should what? What do you do now?
"Is the study done? "