CHAPTER 11

The next flight out wouldn’t be until later that morning, so they found a new, out of the way motel and Sydney paid for a room for her and Nigel and one for Preston. Preston didn’t say anything about the arrangements and Sydney didn’t offer any. She and Nigel often shared a room when accommodations were scarce, although admittedly it had been well over a year since they’d had to do that because the success of their hunts had resulted in the University giving them much more money to play with. Yet, for someone who had initially found such intimacy intimating, Nigel fell into the habit of sharing his personal space much with Sydney much faster than she would have thought; but then, Nigel adapted much quicker than any of her other assistants ever had. He learned to ‘go with the flow’ and he never assumed that in such situations, they would graduate to sex; as other assistants had done.

             In the beginning, when she and Nigel were forced to share a bed, or a sleeping bag, she suspected that there were times that he felt put out when they didn’t, such as that time with the Gypsies and he had been regulated to the men’s tent, instead of the one she and Claudia shared. If Sydney was honest with herself, she also missed those times when they didn’t share, but she had realized early on that with her strong personality and Nigel’s eagerness to please, she usually ended up running roughshod over him and she wanted him to keep as much of his independence as he could; separate rooms helped with that. 

            Another reason she chose to keep him with her this time was, aside from his new vulnerability, she simply wasn’t ready to let her assistant out of her sight just yet. M could have escaped that sand storm and she wasn’t entirely convinced what happened to Da Viega, so she didn’t want to take the chance of leaving Nigel alone. She’d feel so much better once they were on that plane going home. She was having trouble dealing with her feelings, now that the adrenalin of the hunt had subsided. Nigel’s death had almost destroyed her; his return to life was proving almost as unnerving. She was experiencing things she never had before, listening more intently whenever Nigel spoke, picking up the different inflections in his voice, recognizing and enjoying his scent, his mannerisms and all sorts of things that she had been too blind to notice before, or perhaps found too annoying or amusing to consider.

            “Syd?”

            Sydney turned from the window, where she had been lost in thought, and back to where Nigel lay on the small double bed. The motel wasn’t prestigious, but it was off the beaten path and they weren’t all that far from the airport. She was glad Nigel couldn’t see the room itself, it left much to be desired in the way of housekeeping and he was particularly anal about having a clean room.

            “Hey, have a good nap?” she asked, moving over to sit on the bed next to him.

            “I wasn’t sleeping.”

            Sydney frowned, she had convinced him to lie down when they first arrived, and he had hardly moved since; she had assumed that he was asleep, as she could not tell, due to the bandages over his eyes. “You’ve been so quiet, I thought you were asleep.”

            “No, I wasn’t.”

            She grinned at his evasiveness and gently poked his arm. “Then what were you doing?”

            “Thinking.”

            “That sounds dangerous.” She frowned when Nigel didn’t even crack a smile.

            “Okay then, I was listening to you think.”

            Sydney didn’t bite at his attempt at humor. “What were you thinking about, Nigel?” He had been unusually quiet since their escape from the temple, and certainly he had the right to be preoccupied with all that had happened, but he had faced worse and normally returned to his usual animated self, once they were out of danger.

            Instead of answering her question, he changed the subject. “I…I had a dream when I was at that place, Syd…I think it was a dream anyway.”

            “Really-what about?” Sydney, needed something to do, so she started to untie his boots.

            Nigel sat up and reached to finish, his fingers brushing against hers. “I can do it, Syd.”

            Sydney smacked his hands away and pulled off the left boot. “I know you can, but I’m doing it, so back off.” Her voice held the lilt of amusement so he would know she was teasing him. “You were saying?”

            Nigel sighed and lay back, letting her remove the other boot. “I…in the dream, I heard you calling to me, Syd. Telling me, to…to breathe, or…or something. To open my eyes, but I couldn’t.” He shook his head and sat up again, agitated. “You seemed so far away and the harder I tried to reach you the further away you seemed.” He lowered his head as he bent one of his legs up to rest his arm on. “I thought I was dying, and I guess that’s why I believed them when they told me you were d…dead.  I didn’t at first, I knew they had to be lying, but then it seemed like forever and…you never came for me. I…I thought the only reason you wouldn’t come for me was…well and then…then I had that dream and I think part, part of me thought the dream was your spirit, saying goodbye to me.”

            Sydney stared at him quietly, surprised that he remembered her trying to save him, or at least some of it, but did he remember the words that she said, the importance of what she had been telling him? “Do you remember anything else?”

             Nigel shrugged. “Not really, no. It’s all kind of a blur. I…I sort of remember walking toward the car…or…was I walking toward the sun? It was so bright, Sydney. I just remember this blinding light and then, nothing.”

            “That would have been the explosion; you were closer than I was, when it went off.”

            “Yes, I suppose that could be it, but you were in the light, Syd. I could see you in the light, your face coming toward me, whispering those things, but…” He shook his head. “It was shadowed all around you, I couldn’t see anything, but your glowing face,” he smirked. “You looked like an angel, I thought you were one.”

            Sydney smiled, patted his shoulder, and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower, do you need one?”

            Nigel felt like he did, but didn’t know how he would manage without his sight, and he had a feeling that Sydney would be obliged to help him, he wasn’t prepared for that. “No, maybe later, I’m really just tired.”

            “Okay, well, I’ll just be a minute, do you want anything first, a drink or something?”

            “No thanks.”

            “Okay, be back in a minute.”

            Nigel listened to her walk across the carpet, the shuffle of her boots, and then the bathroom door closed. It was amazing how much better his hearing seemed to be, but he certainly missed his eyesight. He hoped his doctor back home would have good news for him; he certainly wouldn’t be any use to Sydney if he stayed blind and if he couldn’t be with her, he didn’t know what would become of him.

            He’d realized just how much he cared for her when he thought that she was dead, and had wished more than anything to have a second chance to tell her how he felt, but now that he had one, he didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t her type, he’d resigned himself to that fact long ago and besides, they were the most excellent mates, real partners, and he didn’t want to ruin that by causing an uncomfortable scene for Sydney.

            Despite the concern over his eyes, and Sydney and his relationship, he couldn’t seem to rid himself the images of Rames’s Tome. He was a scientist first and foremost; he prided himself on his analytical mind and his need to find reason in the unexplained. He had seen his share of death, despair, and injustice, and had witnessed a lot of supernatural and unexplained things, especially since he started working with Sydney, but nothing had prepared him for the visions that had assaulted him at that moment. He could not even explain them, couldn’t put the visions into words; so he had remained silent about it. Now, however, he was terrified of falling asleep and even more uncomfortable in his new darkness.

            He felt badly for Da Viega, for whatever had happened to him.  He knew their enemy too well to believe that he was gone for good, surely he would return to haunt them sooner or later. The man had nine lives, but was he strong enough to stand up against whatever power the Tome had held? He had only touched the book for a second and felt such pain and fear, what had Da Viega felt? Had it consumed him, or had he fled when no one was looking?

            On top of that, he felt horrible about those men in the temple, being buried alive and he started to think of all the other people they had run into over the years, the ones that were hurt and the ones that had died; especially the ones that he had killed. There had been two, the voodoo priest that he had stabbed with an ancient cross; although he didn’t know if that counted, since the man was technically one of the living dead; and the relic hunter that he had pushed over the railing at an ancient church, to save Sydney and Shawn during their quest for Arthur’s Cross. He could not rid himself of the idea that there would be a third to come and he was frightened at the thought; he didn’t like to be responsible for someone’s death, sometimes it was unavoidable, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

            A knock on the door pulled him from his despondency and he carefully rose to answer it. He felt his way along, bumping into a chair and a tall lamp, before finding the source of the knocking.

            “Who is it?” he asked against the door.

            “Me, idiot.”

            Nigel made a face and fumbled for the lock to pull the door open. “Hey, Preston.”

            Preston stepped inside and closed the door, automatically offering to guide his little brother back to the bed.

            Nigel surprised him by pulling away. “I’m blind, not stupid,” he insisted. “I can find my own way back.” And he did, remembering where the lamp and chair were, so that he did not hit them again. He carefully crawled back on the mattress and settled against the headboard.

            “So, how are you doing, Podge?” Preston asked, pulling the chair over beside the bed and dropping into it.

            “Don’t call me, Podge!” Nigel warned, his head was starting to pound and he was not in a very good mood.

            “Sorry.”

            Nigel had opened his mouth again, ready to begin the age-old argument, but he snapped it shut at Preston’s reply. “Sorry?”

            “Yes, I’m sorry.”

            “No, I meant…I thought I heard you wrong,” Nigel explained. “What’s wrong with you? Did that guy hit you too hard in the head, Preston?”

            “What guy?”

            “One of those Neanderthals at the compound where you found me.”

            “No, well, yes, but I’m feeling okay, why?”

            “You never apologize for calling me, Podge, so I assume that blow to the head damaged you.” He smirked. “More than you already are, I mean.”

            Preston sighed, this was going to be harder than he thought, and already Nigel was getting under his skin. “I’m perfectly fine,” he insisted, gritting his teeth. “What’s wrong with me apologizing, you’ve heard me apologize before?”

            “Not to me.”

            “Nigel, don’t be stupid, I’ve apologized to you on a number of occasions.”

            “No you haven’t! I’d remember something as inconceivable as the Great Preston Bailey saying he was sorry, for anything; especially to me.” Nigel paused, remembering the last time he was in London. “Once you apologized to me, one time, and then you voided it by doing the same crap you’ve always done.”

            “You’re being childish.”

            “I am not!”

            “Oh for god’s sake, don’t start with the whining, you’re always whining.”

            “I don’t whine! If you’d take your head out of your arse long enough you’d…”

            “Hey!” Sydney interrupted, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. “What is wrong with you two, can’t I leave you alone for a few minutes, without you declaring war on each other.”

            Preston stood up and raised his hands in surrender. “I tried, Sydney, I tried to be nice, but Podge is being unreasonable, as always!”

            “Dammit, Preston!” Nigel yelled, bolting off the bed, despite not being able to see, and lunging for the older man, just as Sydney stepped between them. “I swear to God, I will break your neck, if you don’t stop calling me Podge!”

            Preston paused, realizing his slip, and his anger lessened. Sydney was right, he did it just to torment Nigel, he wasn’t even aware of it.

            Sydney firmly pushed Nigel into a sitting position on the bed, startled at her assistant’s anger; she’d never seen him so ready to attack. “That’s enough! Look, you two have to work this crap out, but now is not the time.” She turned. “Preston, go see if you can find us some food.” She faced Nigel. “Nigel, calm down or I’ll break your neck.”

            Nigel crossed his arms over his chest, petulantly. “He started it.”

            “I did not!”

            “Go!” Sydney yelled at Preston, who beat a hasty retreat. She turned back to Nigel, ready to start scolding him, but frowned at how pale he suddenly looked. “Nigel? Are you okay?”

            “My head’s killing me, Syd,” he admitted massaging his temples.

            Sydney walked over to the corner of the room, where her brown satchel was, and retrieved the tin of aspirin from the pocket. She found a bottle of water in another pocket and brought it over to him. “Here, take these.”

            “Thanks.” Nigel accepted the pills and popped them in his mouth, washing them down with a mouthful of water. He sighed and carefully lay back, his feet still touching the floor. “I’m sorry for the scene, I don’t know why Preston and I fight all the time, he just…”

            “Pisses you off?” Sydney asked, settling on the bed next to him as she towel dried her hair.

            “Incredibly, yes.” Nigel laced his fingers together on his chest. “He’s very good at it.”

            “I think you both are just experts at pushing each other’s buttons,” Sydney decided. “And it’s time you grew out of the habit.”

            “I know, it’s just…there’s so much…sometimes I feel like…like strangling him.”

            Sydney smiled as Nigel made the gesture with his hands. “Well, maybe you should try harder to mend those fences instead of fueling the fire to burn them down.”

            Nigel was silent.

            “Don’t you want to be friends with your brother?” she asked. “He is all the family you have left, right?”

            Nigel’s answer was slow, reluctant. “Yes.”

            “Then you have to make an effort too, he’s trying, Nigel-give him a chance.”

            “I’d rather give him a swift kick in the...”

            “Nigel!”

            “I know! I can’t help it, really. It’s…automatic.”

            Sydney shook her head at him and rose, startled when he sat up.

            “Where are you going?”

            “I’m just going to get dressed,” she replied.

            Nigel flushed. “You mean you aren’t already?”

            “Well, I’m wearing a towel.”

            “You came out here in nothing but a towel? With my brother here? My God, Syd, have you no…He’s not the gentleman he pretends to be you know!”

            “He didn’t seem to notice and I was trying to prevent a war, remember?” Sydney snapped. “It isn’t like you haven’t seen me in a towel before.”

            “That’s totally different!” Nigel insisted, agitated. The idea that he might never see her in a towel again furthered his annoyance. “I’m not Preston!”

            Sydney’s expression softened; that outburst was nothing like Nigel. She settled back on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

            Nigel shook his head. “Syd…I...I’m sorry I…I just…”

            “Tell me?”

            “Nothing,” he assured. “I…I guess I’m just in a foul mood. Please forgive me, I…I don’t mean to take it out on you; or Preston either.”

            “Well, that’s understandable; you’ve been through a lot, Nige.”

            “Yes, I…that’s it then, I suppose.”

            Sydney frowned and squeezed his shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

            Nigel shook his head. “Not really,” he said, and then contradicted himself. “I…I just didn’t think I’d ever see you…well, I mean be with you again, Sydney. I…I…”

            Sydney didn’t need any further explanation, she understood completely. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him sideways against her, so their heads touched. “Likewise,” she whispered.

Nigel’s arm went around her and he started rubbing her back, keeping his hand on the towel and not her skin above it. “It’s so dark, Syd. Feels so…so strange. My eyes can’t open because of the bandages, so I can’t see, but when I try to sleep, I…I feel afraid, so…alone really.”

“I know, Nigel, but you’re not alone. I’m here, so just listen to my voice, I promise I’m not going anywhere.” She squeezed him once before rising again to pull out a pair of stretch pants and a tank top from her bag. She tossed her towel towards the chair.

            “You missed,” Nigel advised, quietly.

            Sydney glanced at him, and then at the chair, sure enough the towel was on the floor. Her eyes flew back to him, startled and then her gaze narrowed. He couldn’t see her, she was sure of that, but his hearing seemed to be making up for it. She saw him smirk. She pulled her clothes on and grabbed her brush, before returning to the bed to sit beside him.

            “You think you’re cute don’t you?”

            “Just observant,” Nigel teased, allowing her a very small smile.

            Sydney shook her head at him, and then suddenly pulled him to his feet. “Come with me.”

            “Where are we going?”

            “I’m going to give you a shave,” she announced, grabbing his shaving kit from the bag before proceeding toward the bathroom.

            Nigel’s feet suddenly dug into the carpet in protest. “I…what?”

            Sydney smirked and tugged on his arm again. “Come on, Nige-the rebel-rogue look just doesn’t suit you.”

            Nigel scowled. “Why not?” Although, he hated having a scruffy face, her comment offended him. “Because I’m not a he-man like Dallas or one of your other boy friends.” He flushed, realizing that his wording insinuated that he was also her boyfriend. “I…I mean….I didn’t…I would never assume…”

            Sydney grinned again. “Relax, Hercules,” she teased and pulled him into the bathroom. “I know what you meant, and I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I just don’t think you should hide that pretty face behind any hair, you look much better without it.”

            “Really?”

            “Sure, you have great skin, Nigel,” Sydney offered as she propped him against the sink and started to fill it with water.

            “Yeah?” Nigel asked surprised, and then flinched when he felt something wet and slightly sticky touch his face. “Uh, Syd, I…I really don’t think…”

            “Hey, who’s better with a blade than me?” she teased, carefully smoothing the shaving foam across his chin and upper lip.

            “Well…no one, but…”

            “Trust me, Nigel,” she assured as she rinsed her hands and retrieved a disposable razor from the kit. “Just don’t move, or you’ll be eating through your nose.”

            “That isn’t encouraging, Sydney,” Nigel scolded grimly and then froze as he felt the first, slow stroke of the razor down the side of his left cheek.

            “No talking either,” she teased as she rinsed the razor and continued with another stroke, the fingers of her left hand angling his face, as she required.

            Nigel was silent, what choice did he have, really? He did trust her, of course, but it was odd having someone else shave you; it was also incredibly intimate, but then he’d learned that there were few boundaries anymore when it came to Sydney and his relationship. At times they were like an old married couple, constantly in each other’s personal space, sharing a bed, having a discussion between showers and a change of clothes. Not to mention all the uncomfortable, cruelly intimate, and certainly inappropriate ways they had been thrown together in different situations, while on a hunt.

            “There, all done,” Sydney announced as she wiped off the remainder of the cream on Nigel’s face with a towel. “And you still have your head.”

            Nigel automatically ran his fingers over his cheeks and chin, impressed. “Hey, not bad.”

            “See, I told you not to worry.

            “I wasn’t worried.”

            Sydney laughed. “Liar!”

            Nigel smirked. “Okay, maybe a little, but it wasn’t because I doubted your skill, Syd. It’s just…weird.” And he wondered how many other men she had shaved in the past. “Where…um… where did you learn to do that? Shave a man I mean?”

            “My grandfather had a stroke when he was only fifty three,” Sydney replied. “One of the things he was adamant about was having a clean face, so that was something I did for him every morning, give him a nice, smooth shave. He couldn’t do for himself and my grandmother was very busy with taking care of everything else that he used to do.”

            “That must have been rough on your family,” Nigel offered kindly.

            “It was,  mostly because it was the year my mother died.”
            “Oh, Syd, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

            “It’s okay, Nigel. My memories of my grandfather are all very good ones. I would shave him in the mornings, and then I would read to him from the paper as Grandmother fed him breakfast. It was hard seeing him like that, but I treasured the time I had with him.”

            “Did he recover from the stroke?”

            “No, he had a second one about six months later and it killed him,” Sydney busied herself with putting the razor and shaving cream back into Nigel’s kit. “That was just before I went away to boarding school.”

            Nigel was silent, unsure what to say and kicking himself for making her remember such a tragic time.

            Sydney’s maudlin mood quickly passed and she handed him her brush as she turned her back to him. “Your turn. Braid my hair for me?”

            “I can’t see, Syd.”

            “Try, just feel your way through it,” she encouraged. “It will help you relax, come on.”

            About four months after Nigel had started working for her, they had been on the trail of a special chalice belonging to a Viking king. They had followed a map to a hidden cave, and then had to wait for three hours for sunset for the remainder of the clues to reveal themselves. For once they had no one chasing them; but Nigel was getting more and more grumpy as time went on, plus he had a terrible headache and had hurt his foot on the climb to the cave, so Sydney had offered to teach him how to braid her hair, to pass the time. She didn’t know where the idea had come from, and Nigel had seemed surprised and skeptical, but then she made a joke of it, claiming that he could practice on her for when he had a little girl of his own.

            Nigel seemed encouraged at that thought and agreed, settling behind her on a rock and trying to follow her instructions. He was shy about touching her hair at first, and several times he’d only succeeded in tying a knot in it, but eventually he got the hang of it; and forgot about his pain and foul mood.

            “I’ll only make a mess of it, Syd.”

            “So, make a mess then.”

            “Sydney…”

            “Nigel.” She gently nudged him in the stomach with her elbow. “Come on, make me beautiful.”

            Nigel grinned and took the brush, using his right hand to find and smooth the damp, silken hair, while the left brushed it free of tangles. “You need no help from me for that, Syd.”

            Sydney laughed. “I’m glad you’re back, Nigel. I missed you.”

            Nigel remained silent as he brushed out her hair, and then carefully parted it into three sections. It wasn’t as hard as he though it would be, and he liked playing with her hair, although he’d only done it a few times, but he knew that Sydney was only doing this to relax him. As much as he appreciated it, it wasn’t working.

            He fastened the end of the braid with the elastic she handed him and let his hands fall away from her hair. “All done,” he reported quietly.

            Sydney lifted her hand to check his work and glanced in the mirror. She smiled. “Nice job, Nige.” She turned and noticed that Nigel didn’t smile back. Something in his expression worried her. “Are you okay?”

            “Yeah.” Nigel did not sound convinced. “Syd, tell me about the explosion.”

            “Nigel, there’s no point…”

            “Please? I…I need to hear what happened-there’s so much I can’t remember and I need to separate fact from dream.”

            Sydney closed her eyes for a moment, listened to Nigel’s steady breathing, and then opened her eyes to watch as his chest moved with each breath, his lips parting slightly on the inhale and she recalled when there had been silence and no movement. She closed her eyes tightly again as tears pushed against her eyelids and her lower lip started to tremble.

            “Syd?”

            “Nigel, I…can’t.”

            “Why, can’t you remember either?” Nigel’s soft voice asked, and she broke, weeping openly. “What’s the matter?” His arms reached for her, finding her back and rubbing it gently, offering an awkward form of support.

             Sydney pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around him. Nigel’s cheek brushed against her wet face and he inhaled, startled. “Are you crying, Syd?” He had never known her to cry, she had come close a few times, but he had never seen her actually shed any tears.

            Sydney pulled back, ashamed and quickly wiped at her face. “No,” she lied.

            “Then your cheeks are leaking.”

            Sydney started to laugh, but it came out as a strangled sob. There was that wonderful wit that she never thought she’d hear again.

            “Come here, Syd,” he requested softly, opening his arms to her. Sydney went, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

            “I…I’m sorry, Nigel. I…I just…” Sydney shook her head and buried her face in his neck again. “When that car e…exploded I…God I never…I was so scared, Nigel. And then…then you died and…”

            “I…died?” Nigel asked, surprised. “You…you mean they told you I died.”

            Sydney shook her head again. “No. After the explosion, Nigel, when…when I found you…you…you weren’t breathing and I…I almost died with you. I…I was so scared you wouldn’t come back to me…I was so…I’ve never been so frightened in my life and…I tried to get you to breathe, but you…and then you did and I…”

            Nigel was just starting to adjust to the idea that he had actually died, when he heard her mention the breathing and the vision of Sydney, glowing in the darkness, telling him to breathe, telling him to come back to her; to live. Sydney had resuscitated him, she’d literally brought him back from the dead, and there was something else, something nagging at his memory but he couldn’t grasp it.

            Sydney pulled back, immediately missing his warmth and the soothing motions his hands had been making on her back, and wiped at her face, sniffling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lose it like that; I’ve been a wreck all week.”

            The idea that his death had upset her so much oddly appealed to Nigel, of course thinking she was dead had almost killed him. Perhaps, there was more to their relationship than he thought; maybe his second chance needn’t be wasted.

            “It’s been a tough one all around,” he agreed. “There’s no shame in losing it once and awhile, Syd. No one expects you to be strong all the time.”

            Sydney nodded and reached for some toilet paper to blow her nose. Usually, she didn’t like to appear weak in front of men, but Nigel was different, he’d never shown the slightest disgust or alarm when Sydney allowed her softer side through, never teased her or tried to use it against her. She could be herself with him, and that was a new sensation for her.

            “Not even you?” she found herself asking.

            “Oh, no, with me you have to stay strong, I couldn’t cope with anything if you weren’t there to save my arse all the time.”

            Sydney laughed at his teasing.

            “Syd?”

            She turned at the urgency in Nigel’s voice, alarmed at how pale he suddenly was.

            “I…I think I’m about to be ill.”

            Sydney quickly guided him to the toilet.

 

 

Continue to chapter 12