#dove_oc

Everything felt like a burning sensation; the air, the bed sheets, their own hair was no exception. Everything that touched Paloma's scared back and legs caused excruciating pain. The "Jazzy Bird" alarm sound on their phone only antagonized Paloma more. They laid on their stomach as they whimpered into their pillow, "Fucking damn it…"

With strained movements, Paloma managed to turn off the alarm. In the silence, their heartbeat reverberated in their ears. Paloma moved like they were being puppeteered through sludge, even with the help of their cane. "I'm getting to the lab on time…"they complained. They found their phone again and dialed the contact of their supervisor.

"Witika?" the concerned voice on the other side answered. "Is everything alright?"

"No," Paloma replied. "I'm having a flare up today."

The supervisor sighed, "Oh dear…I figured as much with a call this early, but I still had hope you'd say something like 'I had a vision we won the Nobel Prize'!"

"Hehe, I wish that was the case too," Paloma weakly laughed.

"So, is this a 'low effort' sort of day or a 'if I have to come in, the lab will burn' sort of day?" she asked.

Paloma answered, " Low effort."

"Got it, dear." There was some shuffling of papers on the other line before the supervisor spoke, "I'll have you calculate and interpret the p-values of the Everfrost Analysis, transcribe the findings of the Elemental Alleles into tables to be graphed, and supervise the apprentices' while they reorganize and catalouge the chemical cabinet. Plus any other paperwork you may need to complete from your other projects. Everything should be able to be completed at either your desk or with very minimal movement."

"That all sounds…reasonable," Paloma sighed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Of course. It would do me no good if you collapsed on the job," the supervisor laughed. "But with that said, if I see you looking like death in my lab I'm kicking your crispy ass home. Got it?"

Paloma chuckled, "Understood. I'll see you…hopefully soon. Maybe a little late."

"That's quite alright, Researcher Witika. Take your time coming in," she assured.

With that, they hung up the phone.

Paloma rummaged through their medicine cabinet for their stash of pain killers and ointment. The cool cream gave a brief respite as they applied it to the taut scars that climbed like vines. They took frequent breaks as they got ready. By the time they were set to walk through the door, it was well past an hour of when they were supposed to be at their desk. The walk to the Institute felt miles longer than it usually did. The cool breeze made them shiver, which would turn into a flinch. Paloma grumbled under their breath as they continued.

Oh, Cereal is probably going to give me an earful when he comes around. Paloma thought as they set their bag on their desk. Immediately, they pulled out their support pillow for their chair and the foot rest they kept under their desk.

"Look who finally showed up," a familiar voice came from the doorway.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Paloma chuckled. They turned around to see Cyril standing in the doorway, annoyed pout and all.

"What makes you think it is fair for you to just waltz in whenever you feel like?" he asked.

Paloma leaned on their desk with a heavy exhale. They tried to hide their wince with a smirk. "Oh you know," they said, "the phone call I had with my supervisor saying I'd be late and them approving it."

Cyril's ears pinned downwards. "What in the world happened to cause you of all people to be late?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Cereal," Paloma cooed.

"It's Cyril," he corrected.

"I know."

Paloma smiled condescendingly as Cyril turned on his heels with a huff. He stormed off with flushed cheeks. Once he was gone, Paloma's legs gave out. They took deep breaths as they clung to the side of the desk for support. The sensation of a thousand daggers embedded in their calves as they trembled. Carefully, Paloma pulled their chair closer to them with the help of their cane. They collapsed into the seat and let out a shaky breath. "Okay…reset," Paloma mumbled.

The burning sensation throughout their body brought with it the sound of crackling fire and the smell of smoke buzzing around them. Paloma wiped the tears from the corners of their eyes, took a deep breath, and got to work. Sitting at their desk, the pain fell to the background as they got lost in the sound of their typing and scribbling of a pen. A few times, Paloma reached into the mini fridge they kept close by for a snack or two. It was peaceful and productive.

"Uh, Researcher Witika?" a timid voice came from their open door.

Paloma didn't up from what they were typing. "Let me finish this sentence," they said. After a few more rapid clicking of keys, Paloma stopped and took a quick peek at who was at the door. They pulled out a clipboard that had a roster of names and photos secured onto the hard surface with packing tape. After a quick reference to it, they smiled at the him and asked, "What brings you here Brandon?"

"The others wanted to know if you were coming to the courtyard for lunch today," Brandon said. "A food truck that serves really good loaded fries is stationed outside."

"Not today, I'm afraid." Paloma answered. "Tell everyone I said hi though!"

Brandon nodded and waved goodbye when he left. Paloma looked at their watch with a sigh. "Dang, is it really lunch time already?" They rubbed their temples. "I forgot to pack a lunch, but I don't think I could handle being in line at the canteen. Crap!"

Paloma leaned back, but quickly sat up again. They held their breath as the tightness in their back pulsed with their heartbeat. As they pain barely began to fade, their cell phone rang. Paloma looked at the caller ID and a smile pushed it way through. They answered, and in their best attempt at sounding normal said, "Hiya Kalli! What's up?"

"You're having a flare up, aren't you," came the concerned, melodic voice on the other end.

Paloma clicked their tongue. "How could you tell?"

"I've known you since you were 12, for one thing, and I'm the one that helped heal you after the incident. I know what you sound like when you lie, especially about your pain," Kalli scolded. "You better not be work right now. You know how sensitive your back and legs are when you're like this."

Paloma sighed into the phone as they played with their stack of sticky-notes. "It's not that bad today, Kalli. Besides, there are so many projects that need my help. I can't afford to miss a day."

"Pal."

"Anyway! Why'd you call?" Paloma changed the subject as they pulled out some salami and cheese sticks from their mini fridge. "You know us Witikas aren't really known as the 'phone call' type."

"I know what you're trying to do Paloma," she said. "You're not subtle."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"Gosh, I'm reminded that you're your brother's little sibling," Kalli chuckled. "I wanted to invite you to Desirae's dance recital next month."

"Ooo, little Desi's dance recital?" Paloma cooed. At that moment, they noticed a pair of pointy ears poking around the doorway. They rolled their eyes. "Of course. I would love to watch a bunch of two year olds bounce somewhat to the beat of a nursery rhyme. I gotta go now, but text me the details."

"Will do, and GO REST!" yelled Kalli. "Love you, bye!"

"Love you, bye," Paloma hung up the phone. They leaned their head on the arm of their chair and called out. "I never took you to be someone to eavesdrop, Researcher Cereal."

"Ah- I was not eavesdropping!" Cyril proclaimed as he stepped into the room. "I was waiting for you finish your conversation, like a decent person."

"Mhmm," Paloma hummed.

Cyril mumbled, "So…why are going to watch two year olds?"

"I thought you weren't eavesdropping." Paloma chuckled as Cyril started to puff up like an angry kitten. "My sis-in-law invited me to my niece's dance recital."

"Oh, your niece."

"Yes, my niece. I'm not just going to watch a bunch of random toddlers." Paloma resumed writing their notes as they munched on their sorry excuse of a lunch.

Cyril scrunched his nose up. "You know they have a food truck outside, right?"

"Yep, don't want to move," Paloma answered. They looked at him over their glasses. "Did you need something?"

He flinched. "I, uh- you've been a shut away all day. I'd usually hear the annoying tapping of your cane at least ten times by lunch, so I was just making sure you weren't dead at your desk or something."

"Aww, you missed the sound of my cane, Cereal?" Paloma teased. "I can tap it on the ground right now if you want."

"I did not miss it!" Cyril vehemently denied. "It's more like when you get used to the sound of a busted pipe in the walls, so when it stops you check it see if it got fixed versus actually exploded. I was just confirming that it wasn't worse off."

"Well, I'm not dead. Just trying to get paperwork done before I go babysit a bunch of apprentices," Paloma assured.

"You're on paperwork and babysitting duty?" Cyril scoffed. "Did you actually anger your supervisor when you came in late today?"

"No, I asked for these assigned these tasks," Paloma answered. They kept working, even though the stabbing in their legs crept up. Paloma couldn't help the jerk of their leg that had them suck in a sharp breath.

Cyril stepped forward. "Hey, Witika, are you all right?" he asked, concern just audible in his voice.

Paloma put a hand up to stop him. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Cyril asked, "Does this have anything to do with whatever you told your sister-in-law wasn't 'that bad' today?"

"I said I'm fine, Cyril," Paloma snapped. "It is none of your concern, what I talk about on the phone, nor why I came in late, so just worry about completing your own assignments before I become your superior. All right?"

Cyril pinned his ears back. "As if you would ever become my superior!" he yelled back. He stomped toward the door. "Go ahead and wither away stuck as a babysitter! See if I come running when they find your corpse mummified under all that paperwork!"

He slammed the door behind him and Paloma crumpled to the floor. They sat under their desk, taking deep breaths. Tears threatened to fall at the corners of their eyes.

"Why do you always act like you know everything, Paloma?!"

"You aren't the boss of us!"

The memory of voices reverberated in Paloma's head with each stabbing ache. They repeated to themselves, "Its okay. You're okay. It will pass. It is the past."

As they calmed down, they felt an all to familiar light headed-ness.

A ladder jostled as the person on it held a glass container. It hit the ground, and the shattered glass accompanied someone's scream.

Paloma grunted as they rested their head on their desk drawers. "Cool, like I didn't have enough going on already," they grumbled.

They managed to get back to their feet and grabbed their cane to steady themselves. Paloma gathered some papers and their clipboard with their profile cheat-sheet and headed out to the chemical supply room early. Once they got there, Paloma donned their lab coat, gloves, and goggles. Apprentices trickled in as Paloma took a seat on a stool in the corner.

"Don't spill, break, or ingest anything. Wear the proper PPE and remind yourselves of where the eye-wash and shower station is incase you need it," Paloma prattled off like they were an automated safety message.

One apprentice grumbled, "We know about lab safety."

Paloma looked at their roster and asked, "Apprentice Shoemaker, need I remind you of when you nearly burned your face by having it over the bunsen burner during the Pyromancy-Fire Elemental Power Comparison?"

The apprentice's face flushed while he looked away. "I thought you said Researcher Witika was the nice one!" he whispered to another apprentice close by.

"I'm nice to those who don't act like imbeciles with their work," Paloma called out after them. "You are all now affiliated with The Institute. Don't sully its reputation with your idiocy. Now, get to work."

The apprentices did as they were told and began sorting through the chemicals to find what was expired, out of stock, and correctly put in their places. Paloma would verify everything and sign off on the documentation. Everything was running smoothly until they heard one of the apprentices say, "Gerald, be careful!"

The apprentice from before was on the ladder trying to grab a particularly large jar of an unknown chemical. He responded, "Calm down, Beatrice. I'm fine!"

She didn't stop. "But, we were just supposed to do the compounds up to the third shelf!" She looked around the room and met Paloma's gaze. "Researcher Witika!"

Paloma pinched the bridge of their nose as they began their march across the room. Beatrice yelled, "Gerald!"

Paloma saw the ladder teeter and their stomach dropped. They forgot about the pain and dropped their cane as they ran towards the two apprentices. "Move!" they commanded. With quick reflexes, Paloma grabbed the base of the ladder as they hip chucked Beatrice out of the way. It was a dull thud followed by the wet, sharp, and burning feeling of the chemical seeping through their lab coat. "Fuck fuck fuck!" Paloma hissed. The started stripping their clothes off and limping towards the shower station. "Someone call up to the infirmary! And get off the damn ladder!"

Paloma pulled the chain and ice cold water drenched them. They couldn't tell if the pain they felt was from the old thermal burn scars or the possibly forming chemical burns. Either way, they were barely standing by the time the Institution's medical team arrived. While they checked everyone, they wheeled Paloma to the infirmary immediately.

"You just had to go and get it on your old wounds, didn't you Researcher Witika," the healer said as he used his magic on them.

"It was either this or I was going to send two apprentices up, one with chemical burns on her face and the other with broken bones," Paloma retorted. They sat on the edge of the cot with their shirt off as the received the help. "Would you rather that?"

"Absolutely not." The healer finished with a huff. He set a tub of cream on the table next to them. "You won't have any new scarring, but you should apply that to the old ones before you get dressed again. Do you need any assistance?"

"I do this everyday on my own. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Someone is bringing your cane up, so you can leave once it does." With that, he left the room.

Paloma groaned as they began putting the cream on their back. "Damn apprentice. What was his name again? Tamold…Shoecleaner? Ugh, either way he's written up," they mumbled.

It sounded like an elephant stampeding down the hallway as Paloma rubbed their back. It got louder before it stopped in front of the room they were in. The door swung open as Cyril ran through with their cane in hand. "I heard what happened, are you okaAAHH!" he screamed.

Paloma sat there stunned. They yelled, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

"I'M SORRY I WASN'T THINKING!"

"OBVIOUSLY! AREN'T YOU THE ONE THAT'S ALWAYS SOOO HUNG UP ABOUT KNOCKING?"

"I FORGOT DAMN IT!"

"YOU FORGOT TO KNOCK ON A DOOR IN THE INFIRMARY?"

"ARE YOU OKAY OR NOT?"

"I'M NOT GONNA DIE FOR GOODNESS SAKE! JUST SHUT THE DOOR, CEREAL BRAIN!"

Cyril slammed the door and they both were panting. Paloma buried their face in their hands. "Oh my fucking god…" they sighed. "Did you really have to rush all the way over to see me half naked?"

"That- I was not- You absolute Terror, I-" Cyril kept restarting.

"Pick a sentence and stick with it," Paloma ordered.

Cyril's nostrils flared as he tried to collect himself. He finally noticed their back and the color drained from his face. "Is that from today?"

Paloma froze. They clenched that jar of cream tighter as they tried to position their scars out of his view. "No," the whispered, "these are old."

"What do you mean old?" Cyril questioned.

"Thanks for bringing my cane. You can go now." Paloma said. They held out their hand to receive their belongings.

Cyril hesitated to give it back, but eventually did so. He asked again, "What did you mean by those scars are old, Paloma?"

They grabbed their cane, but Cyril didn't let go. They glared at Cyril. The pain on his face felt like blow to their gut. Paloma focused their eyes on where they had a grasp of their cane. They answered, "I got them over a decade ago when I was 16. I…got caught in an old factory as it was burning down."

"Why…why would you go into a burning building?"

"It wasn't burning when I went in, okay," Paloma snapped. They yanked their cane out of Cyril's hands and placed it in their lap. They kept their head down and stared into the medicinal cream. A few tears fell in.

Cyril awkwardly sat next to them. He spoke mostly to himself, "I knew you had accommodations, but I thought it was for a leg injury, or something."

"I do have a leg injury," Paloma explained. "I got shrapnel in my legs and the burns run from my ankles all the way to my shoulders."

"What?!" Cyril gasped. "How are you even alive?!"Paloma just stared at him. He muttered, "Sorry."

Paloma sighed. "Kalliope, my sis-in-law, is a Healer Sorcerer. She used her magic in secret while I was treated in an unattuned hospital. By all means, I should be dead."

There was a long silence.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Most days, not really," Paloma answered. "I usually can't feel anything on my legs or back. But on bad days, like today, it's excruciating." The couldn't stop the tears from falling. "It feels like I'm back in those flames again, and all I can do is try to ignore it with the help of creams, salves, and pain meds."

Paloma scooped up some of the cream and started to apply it again. Cyril watched them awkwardly try and apply it. He reached out, "Do…do you need help?"

Paloma slapped his hand away and jumped back. Their cane hit the ground as they stared at him like cornered prey. Cyril stood up and backed away. Paloma snapped out it, and finished applying the salve. "I, uh, I don't need any help. I don't like being…touched near my scars," they quietly explained. "Thanks again for bringing my cane. I'll be fine now."

Cyril nodded and left the room. Paloma got dressed as they silently cried. They dried their tears and composed themselves before they left the infirmary. They got back to their office and after writing up the incident report left for the day.