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The River

Part Thirteen: Joe

Joe sat on the bed, watching Ash sleep. She was quiet now, deep in the embrace of the drug that she needed to help her sleep. He had given her this peace by shooting heroin into her veins, even though he hadn�t wanted to. But she was in such obvious pain that he had to do something, and the heroin was there, and he knew that it would work, so he had done it.

Ash was a tortured soul, though she hid it well from everyone, except him. Why did she show her weakness to him, Joe wondered, why did she trust him? Why not Methos? Ash had known Methos for two thousand years, yet Joe knew more about her pain than she would ever allow Methos to see. Was it the gladiator training, never show weakness to a potential opponent? Was it something else? And why am I so involved with her, is it just that I recognize her pain? Joe seldom lied to himself; he was avoiding the truth, but wouldn�t allow himself to hide for long. Ash had attracted him from that first night; he had felt some strange connection. Joe realized he was in love with her, however hopeless that was. She had been with Methos, and Duncan, why would she want him? It didn�t matter, he decided, he wanted to help her, no matter what. Who had hurt her so much she couldn�t even say his name? How long ago? How could he help her get it out, like lancing an abscess, draining the poison, relieving the pain for good? He would have to try when she could talk, when she was high and it was less painful for her to remember.

Joe got up and went into the bathroom, came back with a wet towel, and washed Ash�s arm and hand, removing the blood from her self-mutilation. She was motionless, oblivious, and looked so peaceful. At least now she could rest for a while, until the drug wore off and the pain returned. He took the towel into the bathroom and dropped it into the hamper, then returned to the guestroom. Joe pulled the chair close to the bed and sat down in it, rather heavily. He was tired, but he wanted to be there when the heroin wore off, when she floated up out of the darkness, maybe she could talk then. He tried to stay awake, but the stress of the day�s events finally won, his head nodded, finally resting on one shoulder as he fell asleep in the chair.

Ash drifted, the dark water was warm, comforting, but it was receding, leaving her on the desolate shore, abandoned and lost, again. She opened her eyes, looked around the room cautiously, realizing where she was, and that Joe was asleep in the chair near the bed, watching over her. �That�s what he does, he�s a Watcher,� she thought. Ash knew of the Watchers, she had avoided them all these centuries, only to end up in a�in a what? What was this? They had barely met, and yet she had revealed more of herself to him than anyone in more years than she cared to remember, and she had no idea why. Except that he seemed to understand her, in a way no one ever had, and it was so compelling to just let go, not maintain the fa�ade, to be what she was and not the invincible gladiator.

Ash sat up, and saw that her hand was not bloody or her arm. For a moment she thought that it was a dream or a drug-induced hallucination, but she knew she had been tearing at her arm, and that Joe had removed the traces of her distressed repetition of past behavior, the desperate clawing to remove the tattoo. It�s hideous mark had been gone for a long time; she had ripped it from her skin more that half a century ago, but the invisible scars remained, indelible, on her soul. The mud, the barbed wire, the trains, always coming, always bringing more� �No, don�t think of that, don�t I won�t allow it!� She pushed it down, deep, where she couldn�t see it anymore.

Ash got up and went into the bathroom, stumbling slightly, her balance off; most of the heroin had worn off, but not quite all. She washed her face and her hands, there was still a little skin under her nails and she removed it, washed it away, if only she could wash away the memories that made her do this to herself as easily. She had shut them away, but they had come rushing back, along with the feelings she had buried so deep, the feelings that had come back with the love. She thought, �Damn you, Methos, it was bad enough when it was just Duncan, but you had to be involved and you always cause me pain, whether you mean to or not.� She went back to the guestroom, pulled the blanket off the bed, and tucked it around Joe�s sleeping form, She hadn�t intended to wake him, but Joe did wake up. He looked at her sad face.

He reached up and touched her, put his hand on her shoulder, and asked in a softly rasping voice, �Are you all right?�

�Not really, but it will have to do, I have to get back to the barge soon, I can�t let Methos sleep forever.� Ash�s voice was just as soft, and almost as raspy.

�Did you knock him out again?�

Ash sat down on the bed. �He wanted it this time, I asked him. He�s in such pain; he wanted to get away from it. If anyone can understand that, I can, I�ve been hiding from pain for a long time. If there is any danger from another Immortal, he will wake up immediately. What happened between them, Joe, what did Duncan do to him?�

Joe sighed and said, �I don�t know what caused the final break. I know that Mac�s drinking was hurting Methos, and that Mac was hitting him and hurting him emotionally, being abusive, but whatever it was that finally made him leave� I don�t know, he never said. It must have been something particularly cruel though, Methos took so much abuse and stayed, it amazed me. I never knew he loved Mac so much.�

�The old man has an amazing capacity for love, if you reach him. He keeps it well hidden, it can hurt him worse than anything, to allow himself to love.�

�As it hurts you to allow yourself to feel,� Joe thought.

She stunned him by asking, �Are you going to report me to the Watchers?� She wasn�t looking at him, not using her eyes or her voice to influence him.

�You know about the Watchers?�

�Of course, how do you think I�ve managed to hide from them all this time?�

It made sense. How could she take precautions from an organization like them, with members following the lives of almost every Immortal, unless you knew they were there to be avoided? Joe shook his head, and answered her question, �No, I won�t tell them, just as I haven�t told them about Methos. They don�t even know that you exist, and it will stay that way.�

�Thank you. I didn�t think you would, but I had to know for sure.�

He noticed she was staring at the needle laying on the night table. He didn�t want to encourage her drug use, but he had promised her that he would not try to stop her, he wanted to get her to talk about what she was keeping buried, and she had said that she might be able to when she was high. �Ash, if you want to get high again, it�s all right. Methos is where he wants to be right now, and Duncan will take several more days to come back.�

Ash turned her head and looked at him, her amber eyes wide. �You amaze me, Joe. I know you promised me that you wouldn�t stop me from doing what I need to do, but to shoot me up yourself, and now you�re encouraging me to get high?� She smiled and shook her head. �You just want the chance to pick my brain, don�t you? You want to dig around and find the dirt. I�m warning you, there�s enough dirt to bury the fucking pyramids. Are you sure you want to take that on?�

Joe smiled back, although his eyes were as sad as hers. �I�m not afraid of dirt, no matter how high it�s piled. You can tell me anything, or nothing, I just want to try to help you.�

Ash could hear the caring in his voice and wondered where it came from, wondered why he should give a damn about her and her pain. Maybe it was because of Duncan and Methos, because if she were too disabled by her own problems she would not be able to help them. All she knew was that she wanted to get off again, to fly away from all of it, and he was offering her an excuse she could live with. She reached over and picked up the needle, prepared the shot and took it, then laid back. Ash drifted off, floating lightly, hearing Joe�s soft smoky voice asking questions, and hearing her own detached voice answering. It was like someone else�s voice, not hers, not her story.

�Where were you born?�

�Good,� she thought, �start at the beginning, how logical,� and answered, �Britannia, at least that was where I was found, as a baby, left under an ash tree.�

�Who found you?�

�A woman named Adana, she and her husband had no children, she took me home with her, and named me Ash, after the tree.�

�Was your childhood happy?�

Ash smiled, her eyes were closed, and she looked at peace with the memory. �Yes, it was.� She was remembering a green place, all soft leaves and birdsong, and her mother�s voice calling her name.

�You said your father was a drunk.�

Ash�s head turned away, her face changed instantly, the peace transmuted into grief. �That came later, after she died, that was when he drank, only after she died.�

Joe decided to change the subject, he knew her problems were much more recent, he had just wanted some background; there was no reason he could see to drag up ancient pain. He skipped ahead. �How did you become a gladiator?�

�A man tried to rape me, and I killed him.� It was a flat statement of fact; she showed no emotion at all. �My father was dead, so I was sold to a slave dealer. They didn�t want to kill me, I was only twelve, and they felt the man had deserved it. The slave dealer later said there was a market for twelve year olds who could kill, and he had made a good bargain. He tested my courage, he told me to hold still, no matter what, and he slashed at my face to see if I would flinch.�

Now Joe knew where the scar on her cheek came from, the barbarity of a slave dealer.

Ash continued, �I didn�t flinch, he took me to Rome and sold me to the Imperial ludes gladatorium, I was now the property of the Emperor, and in training as a gladiator.�

Joe knew something of this part of her life, the trainers, the cruelty, he would explore this later, though, he could see Ash was slipping under, and he wanted a line on what was at the bottom of her problems. He leaned over, and asked a question that he knew was going to hurt. �Who pounds on the doors?�

Ash jerked as if electrocuted, and twisted away, saying, �No, no, no��

Joe took a different direction, trying to distract her, and yet get a clue as to what was tormenting her. �Ash, where are you?�

She curled into a fetal position, Joe thought he had pushed her too far, but then he heard a whisper, a single word, right before she retreated into unconsciousness, a name that at first meant nothing, then it registered, hitting him like a fist to the face, and he shuddered in revulsion. A single word, yet it meant such horror. Ash had whispered, �Birkenau.�

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