Chapter 142

Claire POV

After another night of having my sleeping interrupted by nightmares, I woke up feeling more tired than when I went to bed.

A healing session with Dr. Baldwin after breakfast did little to take away my fatigue, or the aches and pains now haunting my body constantly.

I struggled just to drag myself through work, feeling extremely weak and under the weather, almost like I had the flu.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it wasn’t the headaches making me feel like this.

Maybe I just had a virus. A common, everyday sickness.

At least, that’s what I decided I would ell anyone who asked.

And I knew now that it was only a matter of time before people did start asking. Before they stopped just talking to each other and wondering and actually confronted me, as Amelia had done the day before.

Because now that I knew people had noticed my health issues and were talking about them, I could easily spot the concerned looks being sent my way as I did my best to get through the day.

Everywhere I went, I saw people exchanging worried glances, and whispering together in the corner of the room.

Feeling unable to confront them, I acted like I didn’t see.

But I also did my best to perk myself up, trying to look like I felt better than I did, and like my energy was returning.

Taking extra care with my makeup to make my face look brighter helped, but the rest was all a performance.

Something that nibbled slowly but surely at the last reserves of my energy.

The effort was utterly exhausting.

Pretending to be fine made me feel worse.

By the end of the day my body was screaming at me, demanding that I go home and crawl into bed.

That I just give up trying to act like I was okay, and accept that I wasn’t.

Just walking out of my office and down to the waiting car left me nearly whimpering.

But despite craving rest, there was something I wanted even more desperately than that.

And that was to talk to one of the few people I knew I could trust.

One of the few people who loved me unconditionally, who had proven that he would always be there for me.

And he was the one person I couldn’t reach.

My father.

I missed him deeply every single day, and his absence had only grown harder to deal with the longer it went on.

But even now, even knowing that I wouldn’t be able to heal him, or even try to in my current sick and weary state, I still just wanted to be near him.

I instructed the driver to pull the car around to the back of the clinic and leave me by the back door.

I knew it would be unlikely for Amelia to still be at work this late in the evening, but I wanted to be careful just in case.

Amelia loved me and meant well, I knew, but I just didn’t feel like arguing that I should go home or take a day off or whatever else she might suggest.

I missed Dad and needed to see him. I needed to speak with him. Even if he couldn’t answer.

Slowly, feeling miserable with every step, I made my way up to the third floor of the clinic and pushed open the door to Dad’s room.

Seeing him there in that bed, laying so still, always hurt my heart. And tonight my eyes began to fill with tears as I settled into the chair beside his bed.

He had always been so full of life and energy before, drawing everyone to him with his endless enthusiasm. His kindness and charm.

Now he looked almost like he was dead, and the thought of losing him tore at me.

It was almost more than I could handle.

Grief swamped me, of course, but so did guilt.

Would I never be able to heal him?

Even after all of my attempts to bring him back to life, I still felt like I’d never done more than scratch the surface of the wall that surrounded his inner mind.

No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried or how much of my power I threw at it, that wall would not come down.

And my father would not wake up.

Every single test we ran showed that he was fine.

Physically.

His body had healed of all the wounds from the attack on his transport that night, and even his frenzy condition seemed to be in remission.

But while his mind showed signs of activity similar to that of being in a very deep sleep, we could find no reason why we couldn’t wake him up.

It was truly mystifying.

And heartbreaking.

And tonight, feeling so tired and helpless, I struggled not to feel like the situation was hopeless.

But it wasn’t easy.

Needing the simple comfort of his presence, I reached out and took one of his hands in mine, holding that hand to my cheek.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I said, letting the tears fall. “I’m so very sorry.

“I-I just can’t seem to figure out what to do.”

Dropping my head to the bed, I wept without restraint, feeling so lonely and out of ideas.

What kind of healer was I if I couldn’t even fix this?

If I couldn’t help someone who mattered so deeply to me?

Still weeping, wanting even more connection and closeness with him, I reached out with my mind to touch his.

But rather than focusing on checking his previous injuries or trying to figure out the mystery of the strange coma he was in, instead I just let myself connect.

I didn’t think about healing, or what I could try next.

I only thought of my love for my father.

And I thought about how much I missed him.

How all I wanted was to get through to him, if only just for a moment.

Just to tell him that I was there, and that I always would be.

I’ll never give up on you, Dad, I sent through a mindlink.

I’ll never stop trying to heal you.

I let myself sink further and further into his subconscious.

I knew that at any moment I'd run into that wall in his mind. The one that was always such a shock to hit.

And yet, it felt so good to have even this limited connection with Dad. It felt so nice just to sense his thoughts behind that wall, to know some part of him was there.

I was so tired of feeling tired, of being in pain. Of struggling to deal with all of my responsibilities at the same time.

So I let myself sink deeper and deeper. Even when I sensed the wall ahead of me, I just didn’t care.

Just a few more minutes, I begged.

I just need a little more time.

But then, to my shock, rather than hit that wall I’d so often run up against before, I actually went through!

It was like being hit with a bucket full of ice cold water, washing over me from head to toe.

And then, to my absolute amazement, I could hear my father speaking.

And he was speaking directly to me!!