Darkness Series
Part 6: ...A Light At The End...

 

"You don't know what to do?" Ann demanded in disbelief. "You tell him, that's what you do."

 

"No!" Nicole's voice held a note of panic. "I can't!"

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because I can't... I can't be in love with him..."

 

"...because of Paul," Ann finished for her.

 

Nicole nodded slowly. "I can't do this again. I can't let someone else inside me like that. It hurt too much, when he died, and…"

 

"And why does it have to happen again?" her friend queried calmly.

 

"It… it doesn't." She stopped. "But it might! Ann, I can't go through that again!"

 

"But you already have. You've gone through most of it with everything Jarod's gone through in the last few weeks. And that's what caused these feelings in the first place."

 

"I know." Her voice was low and Nicole sank down onto the bed, feeling that her legs weren't able to hold her up anymore.

 

"So what makes you think you can just throw those feelings away now?” Ann continued. “It's been four years since Paul died and you're still desperately hanging on to everything you felt for him. If you forced Jarod away, or if he left, all you’d do is transfer what you feel for him onto what you felt for Paul and it'd be like he'd died all over again."

 

Nicole looked up, her lips twisted into a half-smile. "I didn't know psychiatry was your specialty."

 

"It's not." Ann smiled. "But you are."

 

* * *

 

Nicole stared blankly out of the living-room window until Ann walked over and pushed a mug into her hands, taking a seat opposite and speaking quietly.

 

"Paul was right. You do have to get on with your life."

 

"I should have done it a long time ago."

 

"You weren't ready 'a long time ago'. I don't think you were ready until now. It's been kind of like a security blanket, but now something's come along to replace it."

 

"Don't say that!"

 

"Say what? That the things you feel for Jarod will replace the negative emotions you've felt since Paul's death?"

 

"They weren't... all negative," the woman choked out.

 

"Nic, it's been four years and there are times when you act like it was only last week. You've shut yourself away from people, and particularly men, ever since it happened, and lived like a nun in a cloister. Paul would have hated to see you do that."

 

"I know." Her voice was soft. "I thought that almost every day, but somehow I couldn't change it."

 

"And now some tall, dark, handsome and otherwise totally non-clichéd stranger comes along and offers you the chance to break away from all of that, and you'd knock it back for a chance to keep living like a hermit?"

 

"He's not giving me any chances," Nicole muttered.

 

"Only because you haven't asked. And you won't know until you do."

 

"He doesn't even know what I look like."

 

"So much the better. If he ever gets his sight back, he can fall in love with you all over again."

 

"Is he... in love with me?"

 

Ann shrugged. "I can't say for sure. But as much as he loves me, Roger never made a gourmet breakfast for me. Not even on the morning after we first slept together."

 

Nicole smiled faintly. "But then Roger was never the greatest cook."

 

"And Jarod is. That roll was great."

 

"So the guy can bake a good loaf.” Nicole shrugged. “That doesn't mean he loves me."

 

"If he didn't, would he have come back? And would he still be here? Somebody who settles down somewhere doesn't live out of a bag. I saw what he carried around with him too, and everything he owns was in those things."

 

"And, if he left again... if he left me..."

 

"He wouldn't do that if he was truly in love with you. Besides, you got rid of his reason for running. It's just another reason for him to attach himself to you. And I think he has."

 

Nicole closed her eyes, wrapping her hands more firmly around the hot mug and willing the tears away. Suddenly she glanced sharply at her friend. "Jarod knows about Paul, doesn't he?"

 

Ann nodded reluctantly, wishing Nicole wasn’t so quick at picking up small details. "He overheard you mention the name after you brought him back from the hospital the second time and asked me while you were out."

 

"And you just - told him?"

 

"Do you want to know what he said? His words were 'Nicole's done a lot for me and I don't want to say something that might hurt her'. Now correct me if I'm wrong here, but that sounds a heck of a lot like concern to me."

 

"You told him... everything?"

 

"Would you rather he had to ask you?" Ann returned pointedly.

 

Nicole paused. "When... Paul was brought into the hospital - do you remember?"

 

"Probably not as clearly as you do. I was horrendously busy because of a bus crash at the same time, much as I wanted to stay with you. Tell me."

 

"So it’d be easier for him while they made certain there was nothing they could do, they knocked him out and kept him on painkillers for the first couple of hours, until he finally refused to have any more. But..."

 

Her voice broke and she swallowed hard before looking up at her friend.

 

"When he came around from the first shot, Paul put his hand in mine and begged me to take him home. He sounded about six. And when I tried to leave the room so Phil could check him over, he cried like a baby who was scared of the dark." She closed her eyes briefly. "The day when Jarod was playing his 'I don't need medication' game, I got home late. But I couldn't sleep. I just kept on thinking about him. Finally I rang the ward."

 

"To check how he was doing?"

 

"That was what I told myself. Now, I can almost believe that it was just because I wanted to hear his voice."

 

Ann smiled but said nothing.

 

"That voice - his tones and what he said - was word for word what Paul had said that day: 'When can I come home?' I came so close to breaking down then and there." Nicole’s voice shook. "And every time when he talked like that, it was almost always exactly what Paul had said and I felt like - I know how crazy this sounds, but it's true - I felt like he’d come back and was punishing me for forgetting him and not doing enough for him."

 

"Or else that he’s telling you it’s okay for you to be finally getting on with life," Ann stated softly.

 

Nicole looked up. "Is that how you see it?"

 

"Of course I do. And I don't know how you can ever feel that you didn't do enough where he was concerned. You sat beside him almost every minute, for crying out loud. Every word you said and every single thing you did was proof of how much you loved him and Paul knew that. If he hadn't, that letter would never have been written."

 

"You knew about that?"

 

Ann nodded slowly. "When you finally dropped off to sleep that night, he called me in and said he wanted to write a letter to you but, in case he didn't have the strength to finish it, could I write the end if necessary? Of course, I said yes, although I didn’t have to do that, as it turned out. When it was done, Paul asked me to read through it to check that it made sense. It was hard for me, very hard - and I knew it’d be even harder for you to read. But I did what he asked, read through it, and then he wrote out the envelope. I found someone who could transcribe it, the way he wanted, and gave it to the lawyer when he came in later that day."

 

"I thought… he must have written it earlier."

 

"No." Ann shook her head. "It was within the last eight hours. And I don't know how he managed to get through it without breaking down."

 

"He had a lot of fortitude."

 

"He's not the only one."

 

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "I suppose you're talking about..."

 

"For Pete's sake, Nic, you know exactly who I'm talking about!" Ann cast a frustrated glare at her friend. "I hate it when you do that whole 'pretending not to be all that sure what I mean' thing. You did it with Paul and it will drive me completely crazy if you do with Jarod as well."

 

"Maybe it's just my style." A small smile curled the corners of Nicole's mouth and Ann snorted.

 

"You're about as subtle as a brick! Your style! Give me strength!"

 

* * *

 

She walked into the building and, after glancing at all the tables and large seats, finally found him curled up in a beanbag, his crutches and a pile of books on the floor beside him. Going over, Ann saw his fingers racing over the pages.

 

"How you'll ever get out of that is anyone's guess, let alone how on earth you got down into it."

 

He recovered from the shock and turned his head in her direction. "It'd probably be much easier if my system wasn't being turned sour with an adrenaline rush right now."

 

"All right, Mr. fake-doctor, fake-demolition expert, fake-whatever else you feel like being. For that, let's see you get up unaided."

 

With a grin on his face, Jarod shut the book, bent his good leg under him, keeping the injured one out in front, and rolled onto his knee. Using the hand rest of his crutches, he slowly got to his feet and smirked.

 

"I think it was rather unkind of you not to help me. I could have hurt myself."

 

Ann gave him a gentle slap on the arm. "Stop making me feel nauseous." She glanced at the pile of books. "How many of these are we taking with us?"

 

"All of them. I've already checked them out." He put a hand into his pocket and produced a bag. "I thought we could put them in this and then..."

 

"I'll carry them, thanks. I don't feel like watching you overbalance."

 

"Well, that's very generous of you, ma'am." Jarod doffed an imaginary cap in her direction, trying to look innocent. "But how will I know where to go?"

 

Sitting in the car, he turned his blind eyes in her direction. "Is she okay?"

 

"She's the cat's mother," Ann retorted automatically.

 

"What?!"

 

The woman laughed. "When I was a girl, if I ever called someone by a personal pronoun without having named them first, my mother would always say that. It got on my nerves but unfortunately I now do it as well." Ann rolled her eyes. "It's most annoying."

 

"You're telling me." He grinned and then became serious. "Is Nicole all right?"

 

"Yes, she is. But I thought we'd give her a bit of time alone so we're going to do some shopping."

 

"What kind of shopping?" he asked suspiciously.

 

"Clothes shopping. Nic said that your all-black gear is making her feel like she's living in a funeral parlor."

 

Jarod laughed. "Hey, I'm dead, remember?"

 

"That's what I said, but she felt that wasn't a good enough excuse, so tragically we’ll have to buy you a few new outfits."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."

 

"No, I'll see. You'll do as you're told and like it."

 

He saluted in his best military manner. "Yes, ma'am. Who's paying for all this fancy new gear?"

 

"At this stage, me. But you can pay me back later."

 

He nodded and then turned towards the front of the car, his voice hesitant, unsure of whether he wanted to hear the answer to his question. "And… after shopping?"

 

"I take you home."

 

He turned his head sharply in her direction. "Do you mean that?"

 

"Yes, Jarod." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "I do."

 

* * *

 

"This is bizarre."

 

"Get out here and let me look at it."

 

He sighed and pulled the curtain aside. Ann eyed him up and down, taking in the jeans and t-shirt that showed off his arm and chest muscles strengthened by the use of his crutches, turning just in time to watch the eyes of a shop assistant standing nearby widen in appreciation.

 

"I like it. It suits you."

 

"It feels weird," he muttered.

 

"That's only because you're not used to it." Ann picked up another t-shirt, handing it to him. "Swap that one for this."

 

Jarod peeled off the t-shirt and Ann smothered a laugh as the girl almost collapsed. Looking back at him as he settled the collar in place, she nodded. "Good. We'll get both."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

 

She laughed. "You wish. I have to fulfill Nicole's expectations and they're always very, very high."

 

He rolled his eyes. "And I have to submit, right?"

 

"Exactly." She took a casual shirt from a pile beside her hand, giving it to him. "It's unbuttoned."

 

Jarod took off the t-shirt and put it on, rapidly doing up the buttons and coming up one short at the end. "What the...?"

 

"It's obvious that you aren't too used to those." Ann stepped forward, unbuttoning and refastening the shirt before stepping back again. "Yes, it's very nice indeed."

 

"You're telling me," stated the shop assistant. The girl walked past, casting a last lingering look of admiration over her shoulder as she left the changing rooms.

 

Jarod raised an eyebrow. "What was that all about?"

 

"You had an admirer. It was most entertaining."

 

"I'll bet." He laughed, beginning to undo the shirt. "More?"

 

Ann snorted. "Do you want to know how big this pile of clothes is?"

 

"No." Jarod shook his head and grinned. "Not really."

 

* * *

 

He listened to her put the last bags onto the back seat of the car. "I can't believe you got the lot."

 

"Nor will my bank manager. And Roger will die!" She giggled as she slid in behind the wheel. "But he should be used to me spending money on clothes by now."

 

"I'll pay you back soon," he promised, running his hands over the jeans Ann had insisted he wear out of the building and then over the sweater that he had tied around his neck by the sleeves. "I don't know when I'll get used to this."

 

"It won't take long," Ann promised him. "You seem to get used to changes in life pretty fast."

 

He nodded.  "I've had a lot to get used to."

 

"I believe it."

 

"Did she tell you everything I told her?" he queried, half-resentfully.

 

"As far as I know, yes. She didn't show me the DSAs, but she thought it would be a good idea for me to know in case Lyle came in with a question or two about you. But only Nicole, I, the coroner and Dr. Barnard know."

 

"That's more than enough," he grumbled, before abruptly turning his head to the left. "Why did Dr. Barnard have to get told?"

 

"Because your autopsy said that he was called in as a consultant for your spinal injuries."

 

Jarod thought for a moment before realization struck. "You said I had the same injuries Paul died of, didn't you?"

 

"Yes,” she admitted. “We had such detailed records of them that it seemed the best thing to say." Ann paused. "The photos that we included in the autopsy report were of him too."

 

He sat silently for a moment. "Was that why she cried?"

 

"When?"

 

"I'm not exactly sure, but I have a vague memory of her standing beside my bed and crying. I felt a few tears on my hand. It was some time after the surgery."

 

"That's possible. But..." She paused briefly and then continued. "Jarod, I'm not going to tell you all the things we talked about, because, like you said, she'll tell you if she wants you to know. But it was hardest on her when you were fairly heavily sedated."

 

His expression was curious. "Why?"

 

"Because your voice would become childish, the way a lot of people's do, and that was also how Paul was up until only a few hours before he died."

 

Jarod nodded understandingly. "There were a few times that she would sound quite amused - like when I was arguing with Dr. Barnard about the I.V. for instance, and then I’d say something and it would vanish from her voice completely."

 

"I know it's not something you can do anything about, but you do say things very like what he did. Even after four years, that sort of thing doesn't fade. That pain."

 

"I know." He nodded again, abruptly, his tones curt. "I lost my brother a couple of years ago, and, although I dealt with it at the time, there are still times when it hurts a lot."

 

"How did he...?"

 

"You never met Lyle, I know, but he killed him. He was trying to kill me, but Kyle got in the way."

 

Ann was going to remark on the similarity of the names but, glancing at the man in the passenger seat, she saw the firm set of Jarod's jaw and rapidly changed her mind.

 

* * *

 

"Hello, we're back!"

 

Nicole came out onto the veranda, staring as Jarod got out of the car. "Hey Ann, I hate to mention this, but I think you brought the wrong person back with you by accident."

 

"It was no accident. I found this place where they offered free trade-ins…"

 

Jarod grinned as he reached into the car for his crutches before quickly making his way around to the rear of the vehicle. "Can I help?"

 

"And what? Fall over again? No. Shoo. Go away."

 

He sniffed in mock-indignation. "Well, I know when I'm not wanted."

 

"You're right,” Ann told him. “You aren't. Go in and find a place for that new wardrobe of yours."

 

He laughed again and went into the house. Nicole watched him for a second before coming down to the car. "He's getting better on those."

 

"You should have seen him in the library - curled up in a bean-bag!"

 

Nicole snorted. "He does seem to like getting into situations that he'll have difficulty getting out of again."

 

"Well, I'm sure, if you keep a close enough eye on him..."

 

"Stop right now or I'll close the lid on your head." She glanced into the back seat, staring at all the bags. "Are you broke?"

 

"Almost. Luckily I got paid yesterday so there was enough money." Ann looked at her friend with a grin. "Besides, you said you wanted him to look different..."

 

* * *

 

Jarod closed the last drawer and shut the wardrobe door with a sigh.

 

"Was that exhaustion?" Nicole’s voice asked from the doorway.

 

"Regret." He laughed somewhat ruefully. "I'll kind of miss being able to fade away like a phantom in the night."

 

"Would you want to?"

 

He caught the change of tone in her voice and turned his head sharply toward her. "Not anymore, Nicole." He paused. "But it's been a way of life for a long time. And in the Centre my clothes were always gray or black too."

 

"Then it's more than time for a change." Nicole came over, opening the doors. "Ann's really good with clothes and she picked such a great variety that you could wear just about anything together, so you won't have to keep asking me how you look." She eyed him. "Not that I'd mind if you did."

 

He grinned. "As long as you can cope with the dramatic change..."

 

"Can you?"

 

"I only have to feel it. I don't have to see it as well."

 

She turned away and heard him follow her down the hall. "What do you want for dinner?"

 

"That depends on what you want," he replied. "I was planning to cook."

 

"You made breakfast," she retorted quickly. "And you're still an invalid so you're going to sit in the living room and read one of the books you got today while I cater."

 

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted her. "Between you and Ann, I'm in very real danger of being ordered to death. Even on the U.S. naval destroyer, I didn't get this many orders."

 

Nicole laughed. "Is that a hint? Because I told you I don't generally listen to advice. Especially not from patients."

 

For a moment, Jarod was tempted to ask her if he was still just a patient, but the remembrance of the painful scene from early that morning before prevented him. He made his way silently into the living room and turned on the stereo, putting on music she had said was her favorite before going over to the sofa, sitting down and picking up one of his books.

 

* * *

 

Jarod shut the book that he had almost finished and listened as she walked over to sit on the sofa opposite him with a slight sigh.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Just a little weary. It's been a long day."

 

He flipped up the cover of his watch to feel the time. "It's not that early. You could go to bed."

 

"I had thought about that, but I don't know if I can..."

 

"If you're going to say 'trust you'," he laughed, "I'll start complaining again!"

 

"I won't say it! I promise! Anything but that!"

 

He grinned. "Sleepy sarcasm doesn't have quite the same effect."

 

"Hey, it's better than nothing." Nicole was about to continue when a yawn took her by surprise. "I think I might take your advice."

 

"I didn't think you..." He stopped himself before he went any further and reopened his book. She hesitated for a second before getting up and, unwilling to break the awkward silence, abruptly left the room. In her bedroom, she shut the door and pressed her back against the surface, one tear slowly making its way down her cheek.

 

"No, Jarod." The words were a whispered admission. "You aren't just a patient any more."

 

* * *

 

Jarod made his way onto the veranda and sat in one of the deck chairs. Closing his eyes, he felt the warmth of the rising sun on his face.

 

"It's a little late in the season to be trying to get a tan now."

 

"Good morning." Jarod grinned as he turned his head in her direction. "I've been inside so much lately that I'm starting to forget what it feels like to be out in the open air."

 

"I had been thinking that, if your leg was up to it, I could get you used to going to a nearby park before I start back at work."

 

"That's Monday, right? Three days away?"

 

"Unfortunately." She sighed. "Just as I get used to being on vacation..."

 

"Oh, come on," he grinned. "You enjoy your job."

 

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "How could you tell?"

 

"Because of the way you talked about it with Ann when we met them on the first night I was here."

 

She laughed. "I'm not sure I like you knowing that much about me."

 

"You know an awful lot about me, Nicole." His voice was serious and she looked at him, surprised to find that his eyes were staring directly into hers.

 

"Then you know why it makes me uncomfortable." She looked towards the sun for a moment and then back, relieved to find that he had also turned away. "I'm going to make coffee. Want some?"

 

"Sounds great." He slowly and somewhat awkwardly got out of the chair.

 

"Why on earth do you insist on getting into spots that it's hard to get out of?"

 

"Ann told you about my bean-bag seat yesterday, I take it," he commented knowingly.

 

"She did,” Nicole agreed. “So why do you?"

 

He shrugged. "Just a bad habit, I guess."

 

* * *

 

Jarod sat on the park bench, placing the crutches where he could reach them easily, and turned his face up to the sun.

 

"Nice?"

 

"Very." He wriggled slightly. "But I'm still..."

 

"Trying to get used to the new wardrobe. I noticed. Still, it does suit you."

 

He laughed. "The Centre would never find me, dressed like this."

 

She sat down beside him. "Particularly not if they were looking for a corpse in black leather."

 

He smiled, listening to the sounds of children playing on a nearby swing set and a couple jogging past them. Slowly the smile faded as the thoughts that had been randomly circling in his mind for several days now sorted themselves into some sort of order. "It's weird."

 

Nicole turned to look at him. "What is?"

 

Jarod hesitated for a moment and then began to speak. "When I first got out of the Centre, I was trying to deal with a world that I knew almost nothing about, and, to be honest, it scared me. The only parts of it I knew were what I'd seen in relation to the sims I performed and that was almost never positive - only people killing other people, planes exploding and that sort of thing. So I kept expecting that the real world would be like that too. I mean," his voice lowered, "sometimes it can be. When I was helping people, I’d often see the dark side of it. But then I could turn around and see the good side of it, too. And I do mean 'see'. I could watch a sunset, or see people smiling or something like that. And then this happened."

 

He stopped and, for a moment, an expression of pain came into his eyes. Nicole remained silent but nodded understandingly.

 

"When I was lying in that hospital room, I was thinking that I might as well call Sydney and tell the Centre to come and get me. I just couldn't work out how I could continue to appreciate life when I wasn't able to see it. And I hated that thought because just the idea of willingly going back to that place has always been - frightening, to put it mildly. But I was trying to figure out some way for me to continue being useful in the world when I couldn't see and nothing came to mind."

 

He stretched one arm out on the bench beside him away from her, ensuring that he could feel the crutches, before he continued.

 

"A few years ago, I helped a woman who had been blinded by a bomb. It seems a bit ironic now, I guess. But I helped her deal with the fear she'd started to develop of going outside and punished the guy that did it. Then it happened to me - and I just couldn't deal with it. I couldn't deal with the fact that it might never go away." He hesitated. "If you hadn't come in when you did, I don't know what I would have done."

 

She smiled faintly but still remained silent, feeling that he didn't need her to talk, only to listen.

 

"The day when I fell, I do remember what happened now. I didn't at the time - I wasn't lying to you - but I've remembered since. I turned on the kettle and went into the bathroom. Something caught around my ankle and, instead of sitting down and unwinding it, the way I should have and the way I know you’d have told me to, I tried to kick it aside. Of course, that didn't help. But, even as I fell, I remember hoping that you'd come home early to find me. And then I came around, angry as all heck with myself, and grabbed the first thing handy - it was the towel that was still tangled around my ankle - and went into my room. I don't know why, but I thought it’d be the last place you'd look for me and, by then, I didn't want you to know what I'd done."

 

There was a long pause.

 

"After I came around from the anesthetic, you were the only person I thought would be there." He stopped abruptly before continuing softly. "I'm sorry, Nicole."

 

"No, Jarod." Nicole blinked away the tears that would come, no matter how much she tried to get rid of them. "Don't be sorry. I was glad to be there. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else."

 

He smiled. "When I woke up, after we had the scene with the I.V.," he grinned at the memory and paused before continuing. "I sort of assumed you'd still be there then, too. Of course, I know it's a very selfish idea, but the only excuse I can offer is that I wasn't exactly thinking very clearly at the time. There was a nurse in my room, though, and she told me that you'd left already. I understood it, but I was still a little disappointed. Then you called and I could almost believe it was just to find out how I was. I mean," he spoke hurriedly, "it probably wasn't, but that’s how it felt to me."

 

Nicole was about to speak when she looked over at him and stopped herself. A moment later, he leaned back against the seat, lifting his face so his eyes looked blindly into the sun again. She put a hand into her bag and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, slipping them onto his nose. "I think we'll avoid frying your retinas in direct sunlight, if you don't mind."

 

Jarod grinned, settling them more firmly on his face, glad that she understood enough of what he wanted to say not to interrupt and even more grateful that the scene was finished.

 

"Picky, picky, picky." He passed a hand over the lenses, recognizing the shape. "Hey, these are mine! Unless you have a pair exactly the same…"

 

"No, they are yours. I rescued them from your jacket pocket before your PEZ dispenser scratched them to death."

 

He smiled gratefully. "I thought you must have handed them on to Lyle and I like them so the idea was a little irritating."

 

Nicole snorted. "Did you have images of him wearing them or something?"

 

Jarod laughed. "Yeah, something like that. Eating my pop tarts, wearing my sunglasses, playing with my toys…"

 

She grinned. "You really don't like that guy, huh?"

 

"Do you?" he asked seriously.

 

"I've come across people with personalities I like less in my time - but not many."

 

He nodded, the smile gone from his face, and Nicole glanced at him. "That woman you helped – I don’t suppose her name was Rachel Newton, was it?"

 

His jaw dropped as he turned to her. "How did you know?"

 

"She was one of my first patients after I got my sight back. She’d moved here and came because she was having some pain and wanted to check that it was okay. She mentioned you."

 

Jarod smiled faintly. "Nothing bad, I hope."

 

"Quite the opposite. She feels like she owes you a big debt." Nicole reached over and touched his hand. "Jarod, even if you hadn't been able to find a place in the world where you couldn't see, the memory of all those people you helped would surely have been enough to prevent you from doing anything that extreme."

 

"In hindsight, I can say yes,” he agreed. “But then I couldn't have brought myself to think about it."

 

Nicole smiled. "Well, we should both consider ourselves lucky that you had time to realize it then."

 

She was about to continue when a voice stopped her.

 

"Dr. Austen?"

 

The doctor turned to see a woman behind them. "Rachel! We were just talking about you."

 

"We?" The redhead smiled. "Who's 'we'?"

 

"Hi, Rachel."

 

"Jarod!" The blind woman’s voice was startled. "What are you doing here?"

 

"Getting treatment," he replied somewhat abruptly.

 

"You mean...you're blind?"

 

"Yes," he admitted softly. "I went into a building with a bomb in it."

 

"We seem to make a habit of it, between us."

 

He laughed somewhat ruefully. "It does begin to look that way, doesn't it?"

 

"Rachel, did you wait for me?" A man came up to the group at this moment, a little out of breath, and the woman turned towards him.

 

"I just stopped to chat, Chris. I knew you'd catch up." She turned back. "Jarod, this is my fiancée, Chris Evans. Chris, I've told you about Jarod."

 

The blind man held out his hand and felt it firmly shaken.

 

"It's a real pleasure to meet you, Jarod. I've heard a lot about you."

 

"It's good to meet you, too."

 

Chris grinned and then looked down at his future wife. "Do you want to hang around here or...?"

 

"No, we'll keep going." She slipped her hand around his arm. "It was fantastic to talk to you again, Jarod. Hopefully, if you're staying around here, we'll get the chance again. And, Dr. Austen, I'll be by in a couple of weeks."

 

"I'm looking forward to it, Rachel."

 

After hearing them walk away, Jarod spoke. "She sounds happy."

 

"Oh, she is. She came to see me a couple of days after they got engaged and I’m sure she was walking on air then. It doesn't seem as if she's come down yet and that was almost three months ago."

 

Jarod laughed. "He's a lucky man."

 

"And she's a lucky woman. Chris works at the hospital and was interested in her from the first day he saw her. He came to me to learn everything he’d need to know to live with her. He'd decided to marry her before they were even introduced. I taught him Braille and other necessities and now she thinks he's fantastic."

 

He smiled, gathering his crutches in one hand, and she grinned.

 

"Do I take it that that means you want to go home?"

 

The smile widened. "How did you guess?"

 

Nicole laughed as she stood up. "Oh, I'm getting to know you pretty well by now."

 

* * *

 

"What are you thinking about, Jarod?"

 

Nicole glanced up from the book she was reading as she asked the question, seeing him raise an eyebrow as he lifted his head.

 

"Why do I have to be thinking about something?"

 

"Because, if you aren't thinking then you're always doing and you haven't moved for nearly twenty minutes."

 

He laughed. "Maybe I'm just tired."

 

"No." She shook her head. "If you're tired, you do more in the hope that I won't notice."

 

Jarod raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea you kept such close tabs on me."

 

"As a former patient, it was my job."

 

She spoke without thinking, realizing what she’d said as blood rushed up to her face. Desperately Nicole tried to think of a way to change the meaning of her sentence. Jarod gave her no chance.

 

"'Was,' Nicole?" He turned his face in her direction, his voice soft. "Is it still only 'was'?"

 

"No, Jarod." Her voice was low. "It isn't."

 

"I'd like to think that we're friends, Nicole, and no longer just doctor and patient."

 

She nodded slowly, her voice hesitant. "I'd like that too, Jarod."

 

He smiled. "I'm glad."
 
Part 7

 

Series Index

 

Home