HC1 Ch1

Chapter One

Benedict curled up as the foot connected with his side. Gasping, spittle splattering the ground underneath him, he flopped onto his side. His ribs ached, and he wheezed raggedly as every breath hurt. Above him, the trio of bullies that’d tormented him most of his life laughed at him. Weak… that’s why they do this to you. It’s because you’re weak, the snide voice in his head said. If you stay down, they’ll stop soon. He couldn’t stop himself, though. Something deep inside him had always refused to let him stay down.

Wheezing, Benedict rolled to his stomach. With shaky arms and legs, he got to his hands and knees. Years of torment by these three and many others had shaped his life. School hadn’t been safe, the streets hadn’t been safe, even his uncle’s home hadn’t been safe. It should’ve been a good day. He’d finished his mandatory schooling, and today was supposed to be graduation. Today, he was officially an adult.

The next kick connected with his battered side, sending him sprawling again as even sharper pain shot through him. Sirens whooped, and the sound of feet running indicated that his tormentors were gone. Everything swam in his vision, and he was having a hard time catching his breath. Heavy-sounding footsteps approached, and he grimaced at the thought of another person arriving to kick him.

“Shit… They did a number on you, son,” a man said with pity.

Vision starting to waver, Benedict managed to turn his head far enough to see someone new looking down at him. The law enforcer took a knee next to him, lightly touching his ribs and earning a sharp hiss.

Shaking his head, the man lifted his wrist toward his mouth. “I need a Healer. One older male child, beaten badly. Bruised ribs, possibly broken.”

With a wheeze, Benedict managed to speak, “Not… a… child… I… I grad… u… ated… to… day.” The simple sentence felt like shards of glass raking his lungs. Turning his head, he coughed, and red froth came out of his mouth.

“Broken ribs confirmed. The young adult is frothing red,” the man stated calmly before his face softened. “Easy there. Help’s coming.”

Eyes rolling up into his head, Benedict passed out, unable to catch his breath as he felt a burning pain in the middle of his chest.

~*~*~

“How are you feeling?”

The question pulled Benedict from unconsciousness. Blinking rapidly, he saw a clean ceiling above him. The memory of the latest attack he’d endured came flooding back. The last thing he remembered was the pain in his chest, but there was no pain now. Turning his head, he saw a man with a touch of gray in his hair watching him with questioning eyes. “I’m sorry, sir… What did you ask…?”

“How do you feel?”

“Better. This is a clinic?” Benedict asked, worry creasing his forehead. Clinics weren’t cheap; his uncle had stressed that enough in his lifetime. The angry drunk would be pissed that Benedict had been taken to one. He might even revoke his offer of letting Benedict stay with him for a few months longer until he could find a place of his own.

“It is. Watcher Vimes brought you in. You’d been in a fight with three others. Well, that’s not true. It was a beating, wasn’t it?”

Benedict closed his eyes, exhaling all the internal rage he felt. Eighteen years of being a punching bag was about all he could take. His parents were dead before he had any memories of them, which had left him to be raised by his uncle. His uncle had barely held on by himself, but with Benedict added to his life, the man became angrier and drank even more than he had before. That led to Benedict being the target of his uncle’s outbursts when he was drunk, which was practically every day. Add in the fact that he was bullied in school, too, and he’d never had a place to call safe.

“More than one beating. Your body had numerous scars, pointing to years of physical damage. Your bones had been fractured repeatedly over your lifetime, too. I’ve never seen a fresh graduate with so much damage. I’ve only known Holders to be so injured, and only after years of climbing the ranks to the Heavens.”

“Life happens,” Benedict said softly.

“Hmm? Philosophy? Unexpected.”

Benedict snorted. He wasn’t being philosophical; he was just pointing out that life could be hurtful to anyone. “Am I healed now?”

“Yes, and that’s the interesting part.” The Healer pulled over a seat. “Tell me about your scars, please.”

“The Watcher wants to know?” Benedict grunted the question. Telling on the others would only earn him a worse beating later. He knew that from the few times he’d tried it before.

“For one part of it, yes. The paperwork needs to be done. But there are other reasons. Humor me, if you would?”

The man sounded reasonable, and he wasn’t being demanding. He was just asking. Benedict knew if he didn’t comply, the Watcher would come to question him, instead. No one wanted a Watcher asking questions; it always led to worse happening. Failing to follow a lawful command by a Watcher was subject to punishment. No one was above the law, not even the Watchers themselves.

“I was going home after graduating…”

“Stop,” the Healer said softly. “Start from the beginning.”

Benedict frowned. “I was.”

“No. Start with the first time you were injured enough to scar.”

The memory hit him without him wanting to recall it: it was the time his uncle had burned one of his fingers at the age of five. Swallowing, Benedict felt tears start to well up. He hated that memory. He could still see his uncle’s face, how he’d repeatedly said it was an accident, a mistake, and it would be okay. It was far from the last ‘accident,’ and after a few years, his uncle stopped even trying to pretend that they were accidents.

Why fight it? Benedict thought. He’s going to be pissed when I leave here. There’s a shelter for the destitute on the far side of town… I’ll just go there. It’ll at least get me away from him and the rest. Taking a deep breath, he began to tell his life story to the healer.

The Healer listened the entire time, even handing over tissue for Benedict to mop his tears and blow his nose with. Benedict was waiting for the healer to laugh, deride him for being useless, weak, or worse. Even with that fear, he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out every injury he’d ever received. The Healer passed him some water while he talked, as he’d started to get parched. A small bowl of soup was even brought in while Benedict kept speaking. In time, he came to the attack that’d happened that morning. He was worn down, drained of every emotion, tired in ways he’d never been before.

“A tragedy of epic proportions…” the Healer sighed when Benedict finally finished. “How did everyone fail to see that you needed help?”

Benedict’s brow furrowed at that. How did who fail me? I’m the failure, not anyone else, the thoughts floated in his head.

A chirp got the Healer’s attention. Looking at the door, he stood up. “Ah, yes. I didn’t realize the time.”

“Can I go?” Benedict asked softly.

“No, not yet. We have to keep you a little longer,” the Healer said with a kind smile. “You had broken ribs and a punctured lung. Just rest for now.”

Benedict nodded, but he didn’t trust the smile. People only gave him those looks before something really bad happened. He wondered if the Healer was lying to him. He didn’t feel injured. His chest felt fine, maybe even better than fine. As the Healer left the room, Benedict lightly pressed his side where he’d been kicked earlier: there was no pain. Would the Healer lie about me having broken ribs? Even if he had fixed my ribs, they should still be tender, shouldn’t they? He’d never been seen by a Healer before, but they should be better than the back-alley quack that he’d been to for some of his previous injuries.

Chewing his bottom lip, Benedict sat up slowly. He didn’t feel any pain, but he did realize he was without a shirt. Lifting the covers up, he found he wasn’t wearing pants, either, but he still had his underwear, at least. The comm-unit that should be on his wrist was gone along with everything else he’d had on him. It took a moment for him to realize something else… his scars were gone.

That realization finally hit him like a hammer. The small scars that’d dotted his torso for over a decade were gone. Lifting his arms, he couldn’t find the scars on them, either. Tossing the blankets off, he pulled his legs up to check them, too. His whole body was unmarked. It was then that he came to realize he could see perfectly. It hadn’t dawned on him until that moment, that the fuzziness that he’d had most of his life was gone. He’d been used to the world being fuzzy. It wasn’t like he could afford to have glasses. Even if he had them, they would’ve been broken.

His heart began to hammer in his chest. How? Why? The two questions raced around in his head. Did the Healer do this? If he did, why? Taking away my scars won’t erase the past, so why remake my body?

Benedict was breathing fast when the door opened. Head jerking up, he focused on the Healer and Watcher Vimes as the pair came into the room. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and fear bubbled up in his gut. He was about to be arrested, he was sure of it. His uncle had told him what the work camps were like, as he’d been in one before taking care of Benedict.

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Vimes asked. “He’s sweating and panting.”

The Healer stared at Benedict before exhaling, then frowning at Vimes. “Tell him.”

“Uh… sure,” Vimes shrugged. “Benedict Aaron Rodney, you are coming with me.”

Eyes widening, Benedict’s heart clenched. “I didn’t do anything wrong, sir!”

“I said tell him, idiot!” the Healer snapped. “He’s thinking you’re arresting him!”

Vimes frowned at the Healer, but turned back to Benedict. “You’re not under arrest. However, as a Holder, you’re going to have to register.”

Benedict’s heart began to unclench when he was told he wasn’t being arrested. The second sentence didn’t sink in for a few seconds. When it did, he stared at Vimes, his mind refusing to accept what he’d heard. “W-what?”

“Spontaneous formation of a Sphere isn’t unheard of, but it’s shockingly rare,” Vimes went on, “more so when the Sphere is Regeneration. Healer Dinniman here said he found your Sphere already healing you when you got to him.”

Mouth moving soundlessly, Benedict tried dozens of times to form words, but failed every time. The thought that he was a Holder was ludicrous. The Heavens didn’t work that way. The only way to be a Holder was to get a Sphere from a Pocket. The rich got Spheres. The best and brightest students might get one as a gift from the rulers of the planet, but he was neither of those.

“Been a good while since we’ve had a spontaneous Holder,” Vimes said with a grin, enjoying Benedict’s expression, “but Dinniman scanned you and has assured me that your Body is now slotted with Regeneration.”

“Which is why you no longer have scars,” Dinniman said. “I’m sure you wondered. It must be shocking to find a lifetime of torment scrubbed out. Look at it this way, Benedict: this is your second chance. What you do with it will be up to you, but as a Holder, you’re expected to attend the Academy.”

Benedict just stared at them before looking down at his remade body. It was possible he was having a delirious dream, or maybe he was in a coma? It was even possible that he’d died, and this was just a last gasp of his brain to make him happy before the end. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he had a chance to be someone other than who he’d been all his life. He was a Holder, and he could strive for the Heavens themselves. Hands beginning to shake, he snorted, chuckled, then began to laugh. Tears streamed down his face as he laughed and laughed at the insanity of it all.

“Ahhh… maybe he needs a bit of a rest first,” Dinniman said. “The young man is in no shape to embrace what is before him right now.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I’ll need to get a report—”

“In a moment,” Dinniman said. He went to Benedict’s side and touched the young man’s head. “Sleep.” The word carried power and, a moment later, Benedict was fast asleep. Stepping back, he looked at Vimes. “My office.”

Vimes looked back at Benedict before he left the room. Benedict was about to find his life turned completely upside down, and Vimes hoped that it would work out for him.