Chapter 18
Derek's Room...
Joseph set aside the empty bowl and wiped his friend's mouth with a napkin. "There," he said. "All finished. Porridge, or whatever this is, makes for an odd dinner, but it sticks to the ribs and isn't half bad with a little cinnamon and sugar."
Throughout the meal, Derek's actions had reminded him of a baby bird's... as soon as the spoon had touched the lips, the mouth had opened. There had been no attempt to chew, only a reflexive swallow. He wondered if the man was doomed to baby food... pureed everything... for the rest of his life.
With a desolate sigh, the priest rose to stand beside the open window. He tried to ignore the iron bars. He tried to see the beauty of the garden beyond.
"You enjoy the view.... Wouldn't you like to go outside?" he asked. "It's a lovely evening?" He turned towards the still man, propped up in bed, and as he expected, got no response.
A flurry of movement outside caught the priest's eye. He watched as a bird plummeted from the sky to settle on the ivy that twined up the wall of the old manor house. "Did you see that?"
Looking closely, he saw a small falcon perched opposite, almost close enough to touch. He was surprised when the creature's black eyes met his own, then stared past him, into the small room.
"Well... for goodness' sake...." He turned back to Derek. "You've attracted an audience." Returning to his seat beside the bed, Joseph chased a thought through his mind.... A falcon.... Wasn't "merlin" a species of falcon? "Foolish, old man," he lectured himself. "What in heaven's name brought that thought?... Do you honestly think that Merlin... who died... what... fifteen hundred years ago... has returned... metamorphosized into a tiny bird." He shook his head ruefully. "Hardly a suitable idea for a good Catholic," he admonished himself. Still, he drew a strange comfort from the presence of the small creature.
Suddenly, the door opened violently and yanked his thoughts back to the real world. Nick Boyle entered; the very air around him seemed to seethe with rage.
"Father, I'd like to talk to Derek.... Alone."
"Very well, my son." The priest rose and offered the briefest of smiles. "I know you'll take care... not to upset him."
Nick remained silent as he held the door for the old man, then closed it behind the retreating figure. He turned back to face his precept, his friend, who continued to stare out the window, giving no sign that he was aware of the former SEAL's presence.
"What's so interesting out there?" Nick asked bitterly. Ignoring the chair, he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
"You knew... didn't you?... About all this... this place?... What was happening to you?... You've known all along!... Jesus!... Derek... I don't get you.... I thought I did, but I don't.... Now, I guess, I never will." The harsh words spilled forth. "After all this time... all we've been through... couldn't you trust me?... Did you think I'd betray you?... Let you down?"
He took a deep breath that neared a sob. "I thought we were friends... 'buddies'... not just guys that worked together.... Jesus!... You gave me this!" He twisted the bulky blue and gold ring angrily round his finger. "What was it?... Some sort of second prize... for not quite measuring up... not coming up to the standards of the great Derek Rayne... not good enough to be trusted?
"Well... maybe... just maybe... this time you out-smarted yourself. You gave me this ring... and the load that goes with it. Fine!... I can't split myself in two again, Derek.... I can't divide my loyalties between you and the Legacy.... I've gotta live up to this damned ring... not for you... but for me."
He turned beseechingly towards the still figure. "Don't I?" he asked in a small voice.
If Nick had hoped his rage would generate a reaction from his friend, he was disappointed. He reached for the hand that rested lightly on the coverlet, winced at the bandages on the arm, which concealed evidence of yet more pain... this time self-inflicted.
"Derek... please...," he begged. "I can't go through this again. Don't make me. Come on... look at me... say something."
The impassive expression on the precept's face tore at the younger man. Deep within, something shattered and died. This is it, he realised in horror, as he looked into the dull eyes that bore no trace of the personality he'd known. "You're really gone," he murmured. "I've lost you.... Whatever... whoever... you are... you're not Derek Rayne any more."
< < + > >
Later...
Ian Kincaid paused outside the door. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and turned the knob. Derek's room was dark. He peered and waited for his eyes to adjust. The moon gently illuminated the bed on which Nick sat, his back to the door. Startled, the young man turned. He dropped Derek's hand and roughly scrubbed at his face with his cuff.
"Sorry, my boy.... I didn't mean to startle you," Ian spoke quietly, allowing Nick to dry wash his face before he flipped on the light.
"I was... well... I guess, I lost track of time... you know," Nick said, his voice thick and husky.
"I do know." Ian gave the younger man the briefest pat on the back. "I do... really. You were saying good-bye."
Surprised at the insight, Nick turned to face the old man. "I think this... might be... the last time I see him... until...."
Kincaid gave a small, weary smile. "...And you feel guilty... for leaving him... like this. You feel like you're running out on him... and you're afraid there's no one who'll do for him what you'd do."
Nick nodded, unable to speak.
"I can't tell you not to grieve... my boy.... To see him like this... is dreadful... for all of us... but you're not to blame... for any of this." Ian's head dropped for a moment. "If anyone is... it's...."
Before he could complete the self-accusation, Nick interrupted. "You know," he said, gruffly clearing his throat, "ummm... back when I was... so much younger... and angry at myself... at Derek... at the world... we got involved in a case because the victim was an old girlfriend of mine... Lizzy. She'd slipped into a diabetic coma. To make a long story short, a surgeon was using black magic on her to stave off arthritis... in his hands.... I got trapped in this weird netherworld with Liz... in her coma. Derek went into a trance... risked himself to come in after us. He guided us out... guided us back to consciousness. When he was in his coma... that was my greatest fear... that he was trapped in that awful place... with no one to rescue him... no one to lead him out. What was happening to his body was... awful... and awful to watch... but....
"Later, after he came out of it and told us about that 'other' Angel Island... told us that he'd shared the mind and body of 'another' Derek Rayne in 'another' time stream... had known 'another' Nick Boyle... who was just like me, he said.... It was such a relief to know that while his own body had been wasting away, the 'real' Derek Rayne had been 'elsewhere', still fighting, still living... that I was still there, backing him up... even if it was real only to him.... I guess... now..."
Nick shivered slightly and let the thought die as a breath. The hairs on his arms bristled and he realised for the first time how cold the room had grown, how much time had passed. He rose to close the window, then returned to the bed. "His fight back...," he told the old man, "his fight to recover... has been amazing... braver... more pigheaded... than anything I've ever seen... but, why did he try so hard, if this is what he foresaw?"
"Perhaps, this is what he was really fighting against," Ian suggested. "Perhaps, he thought he could change his future."
"That sounds hopeless.... It means that we are all nothing more than slaves to Fate," Nick gave a weary sigh, then turned to address the still figure. "Come on.... Let's get you more comfortable.... It's gotten cold.... Do you want a drink first?" he asked, putting the plastic cup to Derek's lips and pouring. He heard the swallow, then offered a bit more before returning the cup to the table and wiping his friend's mouth on the sheet. He paused and looked up at Ian, directly into the gray eyes. "I guess... I'm afraid he really is trapped... this time... in here," he explained, touching Derek's temple, "...alone... in this shell... in that netherworld... and there's no way for us to know... no way to help." Nick gnawed on his lip as he and Kincaid settled Derek into the bed. Raising the quilt, he tucked it close about his friend's chin.
"Why didn't he trust me, Ian?" Nick whispered.
"Trust you!" the Englishman turned to face the other man, utterly amazed by his statement. "He left the most precious thing he had in your hands.... How much more could he trust you?... You're his heir... the one he relied on to do the right thing... with the Legacy... with his House... with the foundation. He gave you his ring... and all that goes with it."
A quirky smile crossed Nick's face. "He didn't trust me with his life."
"Oh... Nicholas... how many times over the years has he trusted you with that?... The truth is...," Ian considered, "Derek never valued his life that much.... Why do you think he took risks... alone?... Why do you think he shut himself away from everyone?... He didn't want to bring more pain to those he loved.... I think that maybe he hoped he'd be able to pull himself out with no one the wiser, but perhaps, in some strange way, what happened in New York was his Portal.... Both Dereks, in their own way, faced the flames of Hell and paid the price.
"He picked Joseph and me because we're two old geezers... our lives are nearly done... less baggage.... What's a little more pain to lives already filled with it? Perhaps, he assumed we'd be able to bear all this. Jesus!" Kincaid looked away, up at the corner of the ceiling. "In that, he was wrong.... He was our heir... mine, Joseph's, Winston's...." A slight smile crossed his lips. "Even that aggravating youngster, Sloan's...."
He paused a moment. When he continued his voice had changed. The precision had returned to the accent.... The tone had grown harder. "Now, my boy...down to business. I've had a discreet word with an old pal.... You've got a ride back to the US of A courtesy of Her Majesty's Royal Air Force.... You leave tonight.... Do you trust me?"
"I guess so," Nick replied, hesitantly.
"I swear," the Englishman said firmly. "Derek's in good hands. He gave us this job.... We won't give up... and you have to do the job he gave you."
Nick slowly nodded, then, avoiding the silence, quietly asked, "Any news of Willem?" In his heart, he already knew the answer.
"Nothing.... I'm afraid he's lost.... So many good people... lost.... The scars will
last a very long time. You'll be going home to a different world, Nick. We all will."
| NEXT |
| CONTENTS |
| E-mail: Dubricus | E-mail: Susan Lay |
