Doc says Rawr!

“Roads to Normal” is the sequel to Lordaeron’s Lost and largely picks up Quin’lisse Adama’s history from that point onward, which flashes forward in time here and there to various points in time in the first twelve months after ships began sailing from Stormwind to Northrend.

Sections of Roads to Normal will be whited out so not to expose sensitive readers to more racy sections of the text.  It is, in fact, rated somewhere between PG-13 and R as a story.

Roads to Normal

Six months after ships began sailing to Northrend from Stormwind

            She held the letter in a trembling hand, tears welling in blind eyes.  She was careful not to let them fall on the parchment, even though she couldn’t read the words herself.  These pages were the last she’d ever hear from him, and though the feeling of inevitability made the loss easier to bear, it wasn’t that much easier, in the end.
            When you went north without me, without the Retribution, I knew that last good-bye was probably forever.  Quin swallowed hard, wiping at her tears with the heel of her hand.  The bracelet he’d given her, the enchanted one, shifted against her skin.  The catch was loose—the catch had been loose for weeks, and she’d been intending to have it fixed, but she hadn’t yet.
            She set down the letter slowly, then reached for the bracelet, fingers trembling.  The catch came free easily and not for once she thanked the goddess and the Light that she hadn’t lost it somewhere in the Plaguelands, in the midst of having her revenge, meting out some small measure of justice of her own against the Scourge.
            She closed her eyes and brought the bracelet to her lips, cradling it in her palm.  “I have loved you, Pysan,” she murmured softly, kissing it gently.  “Remember me fondly.”
            Quinlis Adama carefully folded her lover’s last letter back up again, thumb brushing lightly against the wax of the seal, then slid it into the lacquered box that had been a birthday gift so long ago.  She laid the bracelet on top of it and closed the box slowly.
            Then she turned and walked out the door.

Four months before ships began sailing to Northrend from Stormwind

            Sam Auroran held her until her tears dried up, comforting her as if she was still the child she had been, the girl that had left Lordaeron for Northrend nearly six years before.  She struggled to breathe, taking slow, deep breaths as she tried to calm herself.
            He finally let go, held her at arms’ length.  She bowed her head, rocking back against her heel, toward where she thought Xaq should have been.  His fingers wrapped around her forearm and she relaxed a hair more, taking one more deep, slow breath.  Quin tilted her head slightly toward Xaq.  “We should go see Mariaeh.”
            “Quin,” Sam’s voice trailed slowly away as Quin took another step back, letting the old soldier’s fingers fall from her shoulders.  She shook her head slowly at him, not daring to lift her face again.
            “I’m not the little girl you knew, Sam.”
            He shook his head slowly and put his arm around her shoulders even as Xaq took her hand.  “That doesn’t matter, girl.  You’re home, now, and safe.  You’ve come back to us.”
            The girl I was died in Northrend, Sam.  The Quinlis Adama you knew is gone.  The last part of her died with Andry on the zeppelin coming here.  She licked her chapped lips but said nothing, not right away.  Xaq squeezed her hand.  She could almost imagine his brave smile.
            She closed her eyes.  I don’t have anything left anymore.  Nothing more to give.
            Sam kissed her on the top of her head, like he had when she was a girl.  She almost broke down again, even though she had no tears left.  She shook her head again.  “Sam, please…”
            “We’ve…we’ve been through a lot, Lord Auroran.  Can…can we have a little time to adjust?”
            The old soldier paused, then nodded slowly.  “All right.  Come on, let’s go inside.  It looks like rain.”  His arm stayed locked around Quin’s shoulders.  She gave in, gave up, leaning into her second father’s protective embrace as he led them inside, upstairs.  He kept his arm locked around her shoulders as the refugees were guided into the empty wing of the barracks there in Theramore, though he didn’t say much—and she wasn’t trying to figure out if he kept stealing glances at her or not.  She was silently grateful that he didn’t ask her what had happened, or how they’d come back.  The questions would come later, she was almost certain of it, but for the moment, there was only quiet, except for when Sam would let go for a few moments, stop to help one of the other refugees, to give orders to a soldier there to help, or something along those lines.  Xaq stayed within arm’s reach, his presence reassuring her.
            Stayed within arm’s reach, at least, until Sam cleared his throat quietly as the refugees were getting settled.
            “Someone needs to have a look at you, Xaqriel.  You look like hell.”
            Quin winced a little, chin dropping to her chest.  Don’t want Xaq too far…  “I’ll come with you, Xaq.”
            Sam showed no sign of letting go, not this time.  “It won’t take long.”
            Ungh.  He wants to talk.  I don’t want to…
            Xaq squeezed her arm gently.  “Can you promise me it won’t, sir?”
            Sam shrugged.  “Isn’t for me to say.  Depends on what our medics see when they look you over.  Go on, get checked out.  We won’t be hard to find.”
            Quin turned toward Xaq, biting down on her lip hard.  He squeezed her arm again.  “I won’t let them keep me long, Quin.  Save some spiced wine for me.”
            Spiced wine.  As if that’ll make this easier.  She exhaled slowly, nodding a little.  “Promise, Xaq?”
            He nodded slightly.  “Promise.”  He hugged her briefly and a nearby soldier led him away, leaving her alone with Sam.  The old soldier gave her shoulders a squeeze.
            “What are you so afraid of, Quin?”
            “Everything,” she whispered, closing her eyes.  “Everything.”

           The room was small, adjoining to the barrack where the other refugees were.  She could only assume that it had been meant as the sleeping quarters for the officer in charge of whatever unit should have been housed in the barrack.  I’m not sure why I rate this much privacy.  I’m just like the rest of them.
            Quin perched precariously on the edge of the wood-framed bed, hands curled into fists on her knees, curled so tight that she prayed that Sam wouldn’t see the tremors, wouldn’t see them and ask too many questions she didn’t want to answer.  Sam settled a chair from the desk in front of her, keeping his back to the door, though someone could have slipped inside if they wanted to, as long as they weren’t very bulky—any one of her fellow refugees could have come and gone as they pleased.
            Sam touched her knuckles gently.  She bit her lip.
            “What’s wrong, Quin?  You tried to hide.  Why didn’t you want me to see you?”
            Not exactly the question I expected.  She bowed her head, chin almost touching her breastbone.  “I’m not the person I was when I left, Sam.”
            “You’ve said that before.”
            She shook her head slowly.  “And it’s the truth.”  She chewed her lip, tasting blood as they cracked.  She sighed, pressing the knuckle of her index finger against the crack.  “You can’t tell Mina, Sam, or any of them.  I…I won’t put them through losing me a second time.”
            He shifted the chair nearer and ripped a piece of cloth from somewhere, gently taking her wrist and pulling her hand away from her face.  “Quin.”  His voice was quiet as he gently pressed the scrap of linen against her bleeding lip.  “If that’s what you want, I won’t say a word.  But I can’t understand why you’d want it that way.”
            She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that suddenly threatened, touching the old soldier’s wrist gently, fingers trembling.  “The Scourge took everything save my life, Sam.  Everything that I ever was, every dream I ever had.  My hands…will never stop shaking.  I can never trust them the way I would need to, for…” her voice faltered.  “For spellcasting.  I can’t trust them to go through the motions.”  She pushed his hand away from her mouth gently, licking her lips, tasting the drying blood.  It was a sadly familiar taste.  “And I can’t see, so it’d be hard to learn another way to cast spells without being able to read, or to watch, Sam.”
            “Acch,” he cradled her cheek in his hand.  “We don’t care about any of that, girl.  We never did, never could.  You’re like a daughter.  We’ll take care of you.”
            No.  I don’t want that.  I don’t want…I don’t want you to have to take care of me, Sam!  I can make it on my own.  I can do it.  I have to.  I won’t let you hurt more.  “I can’t let you do that, Sam.  I can’t…I won’t be a burden on you.  I won’t.  I can’t.”  She wrapped her hands around his wrist, gently, holding on loosely.  “I hurt all of you so much when I made the choice to go.  I can’t imagine how much…how much my not being here, how much the not knowing hurt.  But I won’t make you hurt anymore.  I don’t want you to have to carry me.”  If I let you carry me…I’ll never be able to forgive myself.  I’m stronger than that.  She swallowed hard, leaning into the hand that still cradled her cheek.  The little girl you watched grow up as part of your household is gone, Sam.  I wish she was still here.
            His thumb wiped away the tears that had begun to trickle down her cheeks.  “You were never a burden, Quin’lisse.  You never could be.”  She could sense the weak smile in his voice, and it made her ache more.  “And you won’t be.”  He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently.
            For the second time in as many hours, she pressed her face into his shoulder and cried.