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CHAPTER FOUR
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A few evenings later Sydney was coming down stairs when Dr. Reinheart tossed open the study door. “Get Preston would you, dear, there’s a girl.” He closed the door and Sydney could hear thumping noises from inside and something breaking, like glass. She ran to find Preston who was just coming out of the library. She told him about Phil’s request and they both rushed to the study and ran inside. The doctor had lost his glasses and his clothes were slightly askew as he tried to calmly persuade a rather uncontrollable Nigel to put down the fireplace poker. Preston rushed over and knocked the poker away, catching hold of Nigel’s shoulders. And then the screaming started. Sydney watched, horrified as her assistant screamed and clawed and fought his brother with everything that was in him and part of her was proud of it, wondering if their power struggle a few nights before hadn’t helped break his submissive routine. Phil managed to get the other side of Nigel and together they subdued him. Somehow, this enraged Sydney and she stepped forward. “Stop it! What are you doing? You’re hurting him!” “If we don’t, he’ll hurt himself!” Preston hissed, as he once again tried to get Nigel in a body lock, but Nigel wasn’t having any of it and managed to squirm his way free. “Jesus Christ, Podge! Calm down, it’s Preston ! We’re trying to help you!” Sydney stepped closer. “Nigel. Nigel!” For just a minute, Nigel seemed to register his name and he stopped struggling. “ Sydney ?” he repeated and then screamed her name. “Sydney !” “Let him go!” Sydney demanded, the sound of his agony shredded her heart as she dropped to her knees in front of him. He’d been doing so well, and she couldn’t fathom why he would react like this. Phil released Nigel, Preston was not so trusting. “ Sydney , he’ll hurt you.” “He won’t.” Preston let go of his brother and scooted back, warily awaiting his brother’s next tantrum. Nigel pushed back against the wall, away from them, frightened and cowering. “Nigel,” Sydney said gently, moving a little closer. “Nigel, it’s okay.” “ Sydney ’s here,” Nigel muttered staring at something off to the left as he protected his head. “Sydney’s here, but she’s not, they’ll take her you see, they’ll take her away and then they’ll hurt you, see? Sydney is pain, Sydney is pain, you can’t see Sydney , Sydney is pain.” Sydney forced her tears back. “Nigel, I’m here, I’m really here, and no one’s going to hurt you anymore. Remember? You have the power to fight them. You say when, you say who.” “ Sydney is pain! Sydney is pain! Make it stop, make it stop!” His voice dropped to a whimper and he started to rock himself. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” He was so frightened, caught in his own private hell. His gaze focused on the staggered reading lamp in the corner, all three of the lights burned brightly and seemed to sear his eyes. “There are five lights, but I saw four. Five only there’s four. Why does he see five lights? Where is the fifth light? I can only see four! He says there are five lights, FIVE!” Sydney took a chance and reached for him, startled when he suddenly focused on her and captured both of her wrists in his hands. “There are five lights! Five! I thought there were four but there must be five! He says there are five and he hurts me until there are five, right? How many lights are there, Sydney ? How many?” Sydney followed his gaze back to the lamp. “How many do you see, Nigel?” she asked brokenly. Dear God, what had they done to him? “How many lights do you see?” “I…I see five, no I see four…” Nigel released her and shielded his head again. “NO! D…don’t hit me, please! There are five lights!” “There are no lights, Nigel,” Sydney whispered, wishing she could take the confusion and pain away, absorb it into her own body so he would no longer feel it. She waved at Preston , who quickly ran around to switch off the lamps and lower the overheads to a dull glow. Phil understood as well and quickly drew the drapes, blocking out the street lamps from outside. “You’re safe now. There are no lights, see? It’s dark. The lights are gone, Nigel. It’s okay. You’re safe.” Nigel seemed to relax a little in the dimmer atmosphere of the room, but continued to mutter to himself. It was dark, his pit was dark…No the study was dark. He opened his eyes, tried to focus blurred vision on the familiar bookcases on the wall, and the ivory trim around the ceiling. He was in the study, his father’s study…No! His father was dead. Whose study was it? It was all a lie! They were tricking him again. God, why couldn’t he tell what was real? Sydney couldn’t make out what Nigel was saying, but she took a chance by moving in and folding her arms around him, pulling him into her chest. He didn’t resist, he just kept muttering, as if trying to work something out. Sydney rocked him and caressed his hair, wishing that she could do more. Preston adjusted his hair and clothing as he stared at his little brother, frustrated. How much longer was this going to go on? Would Nigel ever be right again? He suddenly felt an overwhelming resentment against the woman that now held Nigel, it was all her fault he was in this mess; she’d destroyed Nigel’s sanity. Sydney glanced up and caught the fury in Preston ’s eyes. Oh yes, he blamed her, but no more than she blamed herself. She lowered her eyes and concentrated on Nigel, humming to him as she caressed his hair. “Well,” Phil said, breaking the tension as he finally found his glasses and set them in his pocket. “That’s what I call progress.” Preston spun around and gaped at him. “Progress? My brother’s a babbling lunatic! You call that progress?” “He may seem like a babbling lunatic, Preston , but in reality he is coming to terms with what was done to him, he’s allowing himself to question the things that they told him. He’s breaking the pattern. It may not be pretty and it certainly is uncomfortable to watch, but this is really the best thing for him.” Preston huffed and pointed at Sydney . “The best thing for him would be to keep that woman away from him! She’s risked my brother’s life countless times and now this, and you!” He pointed an angry finger at the doctor. “You just let walk back into his life?” Preston directed his next words to Sydney . “You should have left him alone. You should have let us take care of him and not gotten involved! It’s your entire fault that he’s like this, none but yours. I wish that it had been you that this was done to and they’d let my brother alone!” Sydney couldn’t argue because she completely agreed. All she could do was stare back and let him have at her. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say in your defence? Where is the great Sydney Fox now? The champion, the Amazon, the woman that is always right? Where is she, Professor?” “What do you want me to say, Preston ?” she asked, wearily. “I hate that this happened to Nigel as much as you do and I blame myself just as much, but it doesn’t change anything, does it? Nigel is trying; he’s trying. What more would you have him do? If he wants me here, if he needs me to help him recover, then I’m sorry but I will stay. I will do whatever he needs me to do and you’ll just have to deal with it.” “I want you out of my house, Sydney .” “No.” “I’ll have you escorted forcibly if need be,” Preston warned. “I want you the hell away from Nigel, before you do anymore damage.” “When Nigel tells me to leave, I’ll leave. Not before.” “Stop it, please?” a quiet voice, requested and they both looked down at Nigel, who had stopped babbling and now seemed more coherent. “Don’t fight. Please, don’t fight.” Preston crouched beside them. “Nigel, I just want to do what’s best for you.” “ Sydney is best for me, Preston . Please, I…” He slowly sat up, away from Sydney ’s warm embrace and held onto his head. “Ooooh…My head is killing me. I…I think I need to lay down.” He paused as he realized where he was. “Perhaps, somewhere other than the floor?” Both Preston and Sydney helped the smaller man to his feet. Preston glared at Sydney over Nigel’s head and she released her friend and allowed Preston to guide Nigel, alone, to the sofa. “Here we go, Podge. Lay back, or would you rather your bed?” “No, here is…fine…” Nigel waved at him as he stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes, still holding his head. “And don’t call me Podge.” Preston fairly glowed; it was the first time since Nigel had returned that he’d had responded to the hated nick name. Nigel opened his eyes and squinted up at Preston . Even the dim lighting seemed to assault his senses and worsen his migraine. “Don’t be mad at Sydney , it wasn’t her fault.” Preston’s smile disappeared and his jaw tightened. “Please, Presie? I…I need all of you, around me now. Okay? You and…and Sydney . Okay, is that…” He winced; all this talking was making his head worse. “Can we do that?” Preston’s gaze softened at the fact that his brother had shortened his name. Nigel hadn’t done that since they were very long and were actually getting along. “Whatever you want, Nige. I’ll go fetch you some aspirin, then?” “Hmmm.” Preston headed out of the study as Phil gathered his briefcase. “Well, same time tomorrow, Nigel?” He’d started coming after supper because it seemed Nigel had taken to having naps during the day, usually with his trusted friend, Sydney Fox. He’d decided not to encroach on the nuances on his patient’s relationship with the beautiful professor, some things really were none of his business and whatever helped Nigel to recover was a good thing. “No, no more talking, no more sessions,” Nigel refused and closed his eyes again. “I’m done. No more.” “Now, Nigel, you won’t get better if…” “I will get better!” Nigel insisted with a sudden vehemence. “Because I’ll make myself better not because of your ‘how does that make you feel’ crap questions, so bugger off!” Phil just smiled and snapped his brief case shut. “Right, Monday then, I’ll let you have the weekend to relax.” Nigel opened his eyes and growled in frustration as the doctor went out, leaving him alone with Sydney . “Syd?” Sydney knelt beside him, smiling. “I’m here.” Nigel stared at her, seriously. “Be a dear and go break his femur or something, would you?” She laughed. “Nigel!” Nigel smiled, and then winced again. “Oh God, this hurts.” “Can I?” Sydney paused and raised her hands to his temples, waiting for permission before she actually touched him. He had gotten so much better over the last week, but after his episode she didn’t know what would trigger him. Nigel nodded and closed his eyes again as she slowly started to massage the pain away. “Hmmmm…feels better, Sydney. Thank you.” “Least I can do, Nigel.” His eyes flew open. “Don’t you start with that blame nonsense! I won’t have it from Preston , and I definitely won’t have it from you.” Sydney nodded, meekly. “Yes, Nigel.” He sighed. “Sorry for the scene, Syd. I…I don’t remember much about it, but I’m sure it was awful.” “Nah, you screamed, tried to bite Preston , which I personally think he deserved, and then you let me cuddle with you.” She leaned closer and wiggled her eyebrows, suggestively. “I think I got the sweet end of the deal.” Nigel flushed. “I tried to bite Preston ?” “Well, only a little, and he was trying to hold you down.” “Yes, well…um…I didn’t hurt you did I?” Sydney stared at him, seriously, never stopping the gentle movement of her fingers. “No, I knew you wouldn’t.” “How could you? I didn’t even know what I was doing, Syd.” Sydney leaned in close again and whispered. “Remember that time with Carson and the necklace? I pulled a knife on you because I was under her spell?” Nigel swallowed and nodded. “You knew I wouldn’t hurt you then, just like I knew that you won’t hurt me now” “Right,” Nigel said, quietly. “Right, of course.” He closed his eyes again, her fingers making him sleepy. “I…Sydney, I…” “Sssshhh, relax, Nigel. Go to sleep.” “Yes, I…should.” Sydney smiled and when Preston returned a moment later, Nigel was already sound asleep. Sydney put her fingers to her lips and carefully stood, reaching for the afghan that boarded the back of the sofa, and gently covered her assistant. They tip toed out and closed the door. Preston stared at the aspirin and water in his hand, rather than at Sydney . He felt ashamed for his earlier behaviour. “Sydney, I…I feel that I should…” Sydney shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We both love him and we’re both worried about him. I understand.” Preston smiled gratefully.
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Nigel was playing a tune on the baby grand in the parlour, waiting for Preston to get home from work, and putting his all into the music, as he always did. His brother was a more accomplished pianist, but Nigel played for himself and not for accomplishment. He was once told that he could move people with his playing in a way that his brother never could with just skill. Nigel absorbed the music; let it flow through his body and out through his fingertips in waves that were little pieces of heaven for him. He had not played in a long time, and it felt good to sit down and tickle the Ivories, now that he was alone and could do so in peace. He finished the classical peace that had been his mother’s favourite and caressed the keys, trying to decide what to play next. The ballerina music box on the mantel caught his attention and a moment later the first notes to Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer’ found it’s way through his fingertips and he started to play, his voice singing to the music.
Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band Turning back she just laughs. The boulevard is not that bad Sydney entered the room and quietly watched Nigel play. She’d never seen him as passionate in a task as he now was, his soft, melodious voice keeping perfect tune to the notes he played, his eyes closing often, barely glancing at the keys and the music pulsed through his body better than any concert pianist. She never even knew he played anything but classical music, you had a busy day today Hold me closer tiny dancer you had a busy day today Sydney was entranced, watching her assistant play, listening to his voice as he sang each note with undisguised feeling. This was a side of him she had never seen, she wondered why.
Oh how it feels so real you had a busy day today Sydney applauded enthusiastically, starling Nigel and he flushed. “Wow!” “God, Sydney you scared me half to death!” She walked over, grinning. “What else do you know?” He shrugged modestly. “Mostly classical, and anything by Elton John, really.” “Crocodile Rock?” “If you sing, I’ll play.” Sydney made a face. “You might have a relapse,” she muttered grimly. Nigel chuckled and patted the bench beside him. “Come on then, what was all that about trust and facing your fears?” “I’m not afraid to sing, I just don’t think you should be subjected to such torture.” She immediately regretted her words as a shadow flitted across Nigel’s face. “I’m sorry. God, that was…stupid!” He lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I think I can handle it.” He lifted his eyebrows and started playing the danger them to Jaws. Sydney laughed. “Okay, okay. But you sing too.” “I have no problem singing. I have a very good voice and am excellent with harmony.” She gaped at him, surprised to hear him toot his own horn when he was usually so modest. She couldn’t resist teasing him. “Aren’t you going to tell me now that Preston has won competitions with his voice?” “Only if the were hog calling competitions, his squeaky voice is identical to their mating call.” Sydney laughed again as Nigel started playing the intro to Crockodile Rock. She started to sing, softly at first as she really did consider her voice to be horrible, but as Nigel’s voice joined hers she grew louder and more confident. He was good at harmony, his soft, deeper voice blending nicely with her untrained soprano. She watched Nigel’s fingers fly over the keys with barely a glance, impressed that he played it so damn well. They raised their voices on the chorus and Nigel grinned when she started to really grove to it and hopped up on the piano. Nigel made faces at her when they did the la la la part and she started laughing hysterically, causing him to stop playing because he was laughing too much to concentrate. “What’s all this?” Preston demanded, stepping inside and grinning at their foolishness. It was so good to see Nigel laughing and back to his old self. It had been almost four months now, since he’d been in that pit, and Preston had to admit that Sydney ’s presence here had made the world of difference in his little brother’s recovery. Sydney slipped off the piano and Nigel lowered his eyes to look at the piano keys. “I’ll…um, go check our...ah…things, Nigel,” she offered, knowing that the two brothers needed to talk. Preston watched her leave, set his briefcase down by the door and walked over to Nigel. He leaned on the piano and clasped his hands together. “What things is she talking about?” Nigel absently played a few notes on the piano, before finally meeting his brother’s gaze. “Not much, really. Um…Syd and I are headed back, Preston .” Preston frowned. “Headed back…where?” “To the university.” Preston gaped at him. Nigel couldn’t seriously be considering going back to work for that…that woman! “Have you lost your mind?” “Well, yes, actually, but I’ve got it back now and I…well I need to get on with my life, Preston .” Preston ignored Nigel’s attempt at humour. “Nigel, you’re still not fully recovered.” “I am…well, as much as I can recover here anyway. I need to get out there again. I need to find out if I can handle the world outside the grounds here.” “Nigel, come on, look, why don’t you get a job at the museum here? They’d hire you in a heart beat and…” “I already have a job, Preston .” “No. No! Nigel, you can’t go back to that. What if the next time she gets you killed, or…or what if you have an episode during on of your…Whatever the hell they are?” “Relic Hunts,” Nigel offered, quietly. “And I haven’t had an ‘episode’ in weeks. I have to do this, Preston . I can’t keep playing it safe or I’ll never get my life back.” Preston dropped onto the bench next to his brother, who had moved over to accommodate him. “This is what you really want?” “Yes.” “What does Dr. Rienheart think?” “He thinks it’s a good idea, Preston .” “What the hell are you listening to him for? He’s a complete nutter!” “No, that would be me.” Preston ignored Nigel’s dig at himself. “You hate him! He’s a quack and has no idea what he’s doing. You’ve said so a hundred times!” Nigel smirked at Preston ’s reversal of opinion. “He’s a bitter pill to take, but he is the professional.” He met Preston ’s gaze. “And you hired him, idiot.” Preston silently swore. He stared at the black and ivory keys of the piano, trying to come to terms with what Nigel was telling him. He was afraid for his brother; he wanted Nigel here so that he could protect him. They’d become close and Preston was afraid of losing that. Nigel, mind reader that he was, nudged Preston . “I’ll call you every day.” His past resentment of his brother had been melted away by the more pressing fear and uncertainty that he’d had to deal with lately. Preston had been good to him these last few months, had showed that he could be a good brother and Nigel was determined to hang on to that. He’d almost lost everything, everyone that meant anything to him. The idea of never seeing Preston again, his only family, finally pushed Nigel finally forgive and forget. “I’ll let you know I’m okay, I promise.” “Every day?” “Well, until you start to get annoying, anyway,” Nigel teased, pulling a smirk out of his brother. “I’ll E-mail you and…and I promise to let you know if anything at all happens, okay? You can call me, anytime you feel…worried too, but I…I think I’ll be okay, Preston . I really do.” Preston turned to face him. “You’re my little brother, Nigel,” he said, his voice filled with emotion and trembling slightly, a sign of how difficult this was for him to say. “I almost lost you and it made me…realize what an idiot I’d been these past years. I’m afraid….I’m afraid that if you leave I’ll go back to that again, not having you around to worry about will make me forget.” Nigel tossed an arm over Preston ’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Preston , I’ll be sure to tell you when you’re being an idiot again, I’ll never get tired of reminding you.” Preston laughed and hugged him. “Yeah, sure thing, Podge.” Nigel pushed him off the bench, and then grinned down at him. “Don’t call me Podge.”
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