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Sep. 28th, 2012 08:18 amOne of Francis' major goals at this time in his life was to keep on recovering. He was still a long way from where he had been, and even if he functioned well enough the simple thing of not being at full capacity made him feel a bit like a cripple.
He reasoned that it was much like after a severe injury to a limb. After it had healed it needed to be retrained to regain full strength and mobility. Maybe it never would be exactly as good as before, but without that training, it would remain weak.
It was the same thing with his mind, he felt.
To some degree he could work on it on his own, but he felt it would be even better if he had someone to work with him. So he enlisted the help of the only one he felt comfortable with letting into his head: Quinn. With everyone else, the mere thought of letting someone in was enough to make him feel anxious at best, or even afraid at worst. It was like that with Ford as well, which irked Francis more than he could say. He knew that Ford would never cause him harm, but still he couldn't turn to him with this.
At least he had finally figured out the reason for this fear. Before they mended him, there had apparently been several attempts to go into his head, both to study what had been done and to try to help. In every single case, Francis had reacted very badly, with pure fear and panic. That fear had stayed with him. He was afraid to let the people at Medical in, he was afraid to let Ford in. But Quinn, who had never tried to get inside his head when he was broken, he wasn't afraid of her.
This wasn't the first time they did this. She had helped him with his exercises a few times before, giving him something more to work with, someone who pushed back. It did help tremendously, he felt. It tended to leave him drenched in sweat and with a pounding headache if they kept at it for too long. Funny how just sitting at the dining table with their joined hands resting on the smooth surface could be so exhausting. But he would welcome exhausting any day. Because he was making progress.
He reasoned that it was much like after a severe injury to a limb. After it had healed it needed to be retrained to regain full strength and mobility. Maybe it never would be exactly as good as before, but without that training, it would remain weak.
It was the same thing with his mind, he felt.
To some degree he could work on it on his own, but he felt it would be even better if he had someone to work with him. So he enlisted the help of the only one he felt comfortable with letting into his head: Quinn. With everyone else, the mere thought of letting someone in was enough to make him feel anxious at best, or even afraid at worst. It was like that with Ford as well, which irked Francis more than he could say. He knew that Ford would never cause him harm, but still he couldn't turn to him with this.
At least he had finally figured out the reason for this fear. Before they mended him, there had apparently been several attempts to go into his head, both to study what had been done and to try to help. In every single case, Francis had reacted very badly, with pure fear and panic. That fear had stayed with him. He was afraid to let the people at Medical in, he was afraid to let Ford in. But Quinn, who had never tried to get inside his head when he was broken, he wasn't afraid of her.
This wasn't the first time they did this. She had helped him with his exercises a few times before, giving him something more to work with, someone who pushed back. It did help tremendously, he felt. It tended to leave him drenched in sweat and with a pounding headache if they kept at it for too long. Funny how just sitting at the dining table with their joined hands resting on the smooth surface could be so exhausting. But he would welcome exhausting any day. Because he was making progress.
