Darkness Into Light 3/6
Terry L Odell (tlco777@JUNO.COM)
Fri, 31 Aug 2001 13:22:06 -0400
Darkness Into Light
T. L. Odell
Part 3/6
See Part 0 for Disclaimers
Richie hesitated, then followed Duncan into the cubicle. Tessa lay
there, connected to machines and tubes, things that beeped, hissed,
blipped and dripped. She was barely visible against the stark white
sheets. Richie stood against the curtain watching Tessa's chest rise
and fall as a machine breathed for her, and tried not to cry.
Duncan went to her side and gingerly touched her fingers, careful
not to touch any of the tubing. "I'm here, Tess," he whispered.
"I'll always be here."
Richie watched Duncan. The Scot was totally immersed in Tessa.
For now, his universe had room for nothing else.
The doctor returned moments later. "I think that's long enough for
now. She needs rest. You can spend a little more time with her
later this afternoon. Talk to her. It's good for her to hear your
voice, even though she can't respond. The nurses at the reception
desk outside will explain the visiting policies to you."
"Thank you, doctor. Thank you," Duncan said.
Dr. Weinberg escorted the men out of the room and walked toward
the nurses' station. Duncan leaned against the wall. Richie
watched him; he was getting very pale. "Mac. Over here. Sit
down." Richie led him to a bench by the elevator. "Put your head
down if you feel faint."
Richie was frightened. The Duncan MacLeod he knew had
endured war, plague, and goodness knows what else. He had lost
many people near and dear to him. He could come back from
slicing off someone's head and eat a hearty dinner. Yet just
looking at Tessa in that hospital bed had reduced him to jelly.
How would he defend himself if he were challenged? Now Richie
was worrying about saving two heads.
"Mac, you wait here for a minute. I'm just going over to ask the
nurses something. I'll be right back. Okay?"
Duncan nodded, lowering his head to his knees.
"Are you all right?" Richie asked when he returned moments later.
Richie had picked up on the waxing and waning of Duncan's
presence as he walked back and forth down the corridor. Surely
Duncan would have felt him as well. But he hadn't shown any sign
of recognition.
Richie wondered what would happen if it had been another
Immortal. Would Duncan even have noticed? Did Immortals feel
different?
Duncan nodded. "Sorry. I just couldn't ..."
"No problem. Look, come with me. We're going downstairs until
four. That's the next time they'll let you in to see her." Richie
reached out his hand. Duncan accepted it and pulled himself up.
Richie led the way to the elevator and pressed "two."
"We're going to wait in the chapel. The nurses will tell Grace
where we are. Mac, I know you're not ready to deal with anything
but Tessa. I have no idea what to do if one of your big bad friends
comes calling, so I plan to stick pretty close to holy ground. I
think you might want to do the same."
They entered the small chapel with its symbols of many faiths. In
its dimly lit interior, Richie felt a peacefulness unlike anything he'd
ever noticed in church before. Holy ground seemed to have a
different feel. He started to ask Duncan about it, but the man was
already seated on one of the benches, his head bowed.
Richie sighed and took a seat at the back of the room.
***
Duncan was at Tessa's side promptly at four. "Good afternoon,
sweetheart. Did you miss me?" He sat down in one of the red
vinyl padded chairs at her bedside.
Richie sat in the second chair, closer to the foot of the bed. He
concentrated on counting the times the ventilator forced the air in
and out of Tessa's lungs. Twelve times each minute. His own
breathing soon matched hers.
"Do you remember the first time I saw you?" Richie heard Duncan
say. "I jumped into that tour boat, and there was the most beautiful
woman I had ever seen. I knew right then that we were destined to
be together.
"And remember how you didn't want to see me at first? You
thought I was much too reckless and too old for you. How I bribed
you with chocolate until you agreed to go out with me?"
Duncan's voice grew husky; Richie saw the tears glistening in his
eyes. He slipped quietly out of the room and went back to the
chapel.
Four days later, Tessa came off the respirator. Richie liked that
she could speak a little, even if she sounded like a frog. The
doctors thought she'd be out of ICU in another day or two.
"Mac, take a break. You've been sitting there forever," Richie
said.
"I need to be here whenever she wakes up."
"I've watched you two when she wakes up. She says, 'Mac' or
'Duncan.' You say, 'I'm here, Tess.'" Then she falls back to sleep
again. I'll be happy to sit in for you while you use the john, for
God's sake. Your squirming is driving me nuts."
"I'm fine."
"You sure?"
Duncan glanced at his watch, glared at Richie, then looked at
Tessa. She was sleeping peacefully. He dashed out of the room.
Richie sat down and touched Tessa's hand. "You won't be alone,
Tess. One of us will always be here for you." Her eyelids
flickered but didn't open. "Get well. I need you. Mac needs you.
I need Mac. I can't blame him, but I really have to get a handle on
this Immortality thing. I'm scared, Tess."
Duncan came back into the room. "Anything?"
"Nothing. She's still sleeping."
Tessa's eyes opened. She looked at the two men standing over her.
"Mac," she said.
"I'm here."
"Richie?" she added.
"I'm here, too, Tess."
A smile played around her mouth, and then she was asleep once
again.
Tessa woke up for real on the sixth day. "Mac?" she said.
"I'm here, Tess."
"What happened? Where am I?" she croaked.
"Oh my God, Tessa. You're awake. You're really awake."
"Of course I'm awake. What is all this?" She fingered her
bandages, touched her I.V. tubing. "Mac, are you crying?"
Duncan wiped his eyes. "Not any more. You're in the hospital.
Intensive Care. Do you remember anything?"
Tessa was quiet for a moment. "I was shot! So was Richie.
Richie! How is Richie?"
"I'm right here, Tessa. I'm just fine."
"But I saw him shoot you. You were-" She stopped. She stared
at Richie, then at Duncan. "He's Immortal, isn't he?"
Both men nodded. Tessa didn't say anything more after that.
Richie couldn't blame her. There she was, lying in a hospital bed,
hooked up to half a dozen machines. She had to be in terrible pain
whenever the drugs wore off. And here he was, standing above
her, just as healthy as he'd been before the shooting. What he saw
in Tessa's eyes cut him far worse than Duncan's katana ever could.
He wondered if she'd ever feel the same way about him again.
Why isn't she the Immortal? Why me?
"Look," Richie said. "You two have lots to talk about. I'll leave
you alone for a while." His throat constricted. "Bye, Tessa," he
added quickly. "It's really good to see you awake." And then he
ran out of the room. In the elevator, something compelled him to
push the button for the second floor. He found himself in the
chapel, letting its feeling of peace push away some of his fear and
frustration.
"Can I help you in some way, son? You look troubled," he heard a
quiet voice ask.
Richie looked up and saw a short, bespectacled man with wavy
white hair and a beard that made Richie think of Santa Claus in
black. "I'm Charles Gardner, the hospital chaplain," the man said.
Richie shook his head, not trusting his voice. Troubled? Try
basket case.
"The Lord rarely gives us burdens we cannot handle," the chaplain
went on. He continued speaking softly, offering reassurances. The
words didn't penetrate, but their tone gave comfort. "If you feel
the need to talk, I'm either in here or in my office across the hall."
"Thanks. I do feel better, really." He certainly did need to talk,
but he hadn't the slightest idea who he could talk to.
Excuse me, Father, but I woke up from the dead a few days ago,
and the only person I know who could help me isn't talking to me
and probably doesn't ever want to see me again. Oh yes, and then
there's the lady who's fighting for her life upstairs-it's my fault
that she got shot, and she probably hates me now, too.
He didn't think that would work.
He chaplain put his hand on Richie's shoulder. "God bless, my
son. I'll leave you to your prayers."
"Prayers," Richie said after the chaplain left. "Why not give it a
shot?" He bowed his head and tried to remember something from
the days when he'd been taken to church every Sunday. God
wouldn't mind if he couldn't say all the right words. It was the
thought that counted, right?
Richie stayed in the chapel until visiting hours for the ICU were
ending. He met Duncan at Tessa's bedside. "How's she doing?"
"The same."
"It's only been a few days. She'll get better." He added, almost
inaudibly, "She has to."
Richie hesitated, then followed Duncan into the cubicle. Tessa lay
there, connected to machines and tubes, things that beeped, hissed,
blipped and dripped. She was barely visible against the stark white
sheets. Richie stood against the curtain watching Tessa's chest rise
and fall as a machine breathed for her, and tried not to cry.
Duncan went to her side and gingerly touched her fingers, careful
not to touch any of the tubing. "I'm here, Tess," he whispered.
"I'll always be here."
Richie watched Duncan. The Scot was totally immersed in Tessa.
For now, his universe had room for nothing else.
The doctor returned moments later. "I think that's long enough for
now. She needs rest. You can spend a little more time with her
later this afternoon. Talk to her. It's good for her to hear your
voice, even though she can't respond. The nurses at the reception
desk outside will explain the visiting policies to you."
"Thank you, doctor. Thank you," Duncan said.
Dr. Weinberg escorted the men out of the room and walked toward
the nurses' station. Duncan leaned against the wall. Richie
watched him; he was getting very pale. "Mac. Over here. Sit
down." Richie led him to a bench by the elevator. "Put your head
down if you feel faint."
Richie was frightened. The Duncan MacLeod he knew had
endured war, plague, and goodness knows what else. He had lost
many people near and dear to him. He could come back from
slicing off someone's head and eat a hearty dinner. Yet just
looking at Tessa in that hospital bed had reduced him to jelly.
How would he defend himself if he were challenged? Now Richie
was worrying about saving two heads.
"Mac, you wait here for a minute. I'm just going over to ask the
nurses something. I'll be right back. Okay?"
Duncan nodded, lowering his head to his knees.
"Are you all right?" Richie asked when he returned moments later.
Richie had picked up on the waxing and waning of Duncan's
presence as he walked back and forth down the corridor. Surely
Duncan would have felt him as well. But he hadn't shown any sign
of recognition.
Richie wondered what would happen if it had been another
Immortal. Would Duncan even have noticed? Did Immortals feel
different?
Duncan nodded. "Sorry. I just couldn't ..."
"No problem. Look, come with me. We're going downstairs until
four. That's the next time they'll let you in to see her." Richie
reached out his hand. Duncan accepted it and pulled himself up.
Richie led the way to the elevator and pressed "two."
"We're going to wait in the chapel. The nurses will tell Grace
where we are. Mac, I know you're not ready to deal with anything
but Tessa. I have no idea what to do if one of your big bad friends
comes calling, so I plan to stick pretty close to holy ground. I
think you might want to do the same."
They entered the small chapel with its symbols of many faiths. In
its dimly lit interior, Richie felt a peacefulness unlike anything he'd
ever noticed in church before. Holy ground seemed to have a
different feel. He started to ask Duncan about it, but the man was
already seated on one of the benches, his head bowed.
Richie sighed and took a seat at the back of the room.
***
Duncan was at Tessa's side promptly at four. "Good afternoon,
sweetheart. Did you miss me?" He sat down in one of the red
vinyl padded chairs at her bedside.
Richie sat in the second chair, closer to the foot of the bed. He
concentrated on counting the times the ventilator forced the air in
and out of Tessa's lungs. Twelve times each minute. His own
breathing soon matched hers.
"Do you remember the first time I saw you?" Richie heard Duncan
say. "I jumped into that tour boat, and there was the most beautiful
woman I had ever seen. I knew right then that we were destined to
be together.
"And remember how you didn't want to see me at first? You
thought I was much too reckless and too old for you. How I bribed
you with chocolate until you agreed to go out with me?"
Duncan's voice grew husky; Richie saw the tears glistening in his
eyes. He slipped quietly out of the room and went back to the
chapel.
Four days later, Tessa came off the respirator. Richie liked that
she could speak a little, even if she sounded like a frog. The
doctors thought she'd be out of ICU in another day or two.
"Mac, take a break. You've been sitting there forever," Richie
said.
"I need to be here whenever she wakes up."
"I've watched you two when she wakes up. She says, 'Mac' or
'Duncan.' You say, 'I'm here, Tess.'" Then she falls back to sleep
again. I'll be happy to sit in for you while you use the john, for
God's sake. Your squirming is driving me nuts."
"I'm fine."
"You sure?"
Duncan glanced at his watch, glared at Richie, then looked at
Tessa. She was sleeping peacefully. He dashed out of the room.
Richie sat down and touched Tessa's hand. "You won't be alone,
Tess. One of us will always be here for you." Her eyelids
flickered but didn't open. "Get well. I need you. Mac needs you.
I need Mac. I can't blame him, but I really have to get a handle on
this Immortality thing. I'm scared, Tess."
Duncan came back into the room. "Anything?"
"Nothing. She's still sleeping."
Tessa's eyes opened. She looked at the two men standing over her.
"Mac," she said.
"I'm here."
"Richie?" she added.
"I'm here, too, Tess."
A smile played around her mouth, and then she was asleep once
again.
Tessa woke up for real on the sixth day. "Mac?" she said.
"I'm here, Tess."
"What happened? Where am I?" she croaked.
"Oh my God, Tessa. You're awake. You're really awake."
"Of course I'm awake. What is all this?" She fingered her
bandages, touched her I.V. tubing. "Mac, are you crying?"
Duncan wiped his eyes. "Not any more. You're in the hospital.
Intensive Care. Do you remember anything?"
Tessa was quiet for a moment. "I was shot! So was Richie.
Richie! How is Richie?"
"I'm right here, Tessa. I'm just fine."
"But I saw him shoot you. You were-" She stopped. She stared
at Richie, then at Duncan. "He's Immortal, isn't he?"
Both men nodded. Tessa didn't say anything more after that.
Richie couldn't blame her. There she was, lying in a hospital bed,
hooked up to half a dozen machines. She had to be in terrible pain
whenever the drugs wore off. And here he was, standing above
her, just as healthy as he'd been before the shooting. What he saw
in Tessa's eyes cut him far worse than Duncan's katana ever could.
He wondered if she'd ever feel the same way about him again.
Why isn't she the Immortal? Why me?
"Look," Richie said. "You two have lots to talk about. I'll leave
you alone for a while." His throat constricted. "Bye, Tessa," he
added quickly. "It's really good to see you awake." And then he
ran out of the room. In the elevator, something compelled him to
push the button for the second floor. He found himself in the
chapel, letting its feeling of peace push away some of his fear and
frustration.
"Can I help you in some way, son? You look troubled," he heard a
quiet voice ask.
Richie looked up and saw a short, bespectacled man with wavy
white hair and a beard that made Richie think of Santa Claus in
black. "I'm Charles Gardner, the hospital chaplain," the man said.
Richie shook his head, not trusting his voice. Troubled? Try
basket case.
"The Lord rarely gives us burdens we cannot handle," the chaplain
went on. He continued speaking softly, offering reassurances. The
words didn't penetrate, but their tone gave comfort. "If you feel
the need to talk, I'm either in here or in my office across the hall."
"Thanks. I do feel better, really." He certainly did need to talk,
but he hadn't the slightest idea who he could talk to.
Excuse me, Father, but I woke up from the dead a few days ago,
and the only person I know who could help me isn't talking to me
and probably doesn't ever want to see me again. Oh yes, and then
there's the lady who's fighting for her life upstairs-it's my fault
that she got shot, and she probably hates me now, too.
He didn't think that would work.
He chaplain put his hand on Richie's shoulder. "God bless, my
son. I'll leave you to your prayers."
"Prayers," Richie said after the chaplain left. "Why not give it a
shot?" He bowed his head and tried to remember something from
the days when he'd been taken to church every Sunday. God
wouldn't mind if he couldn't say all the right words. It was the
thought that counted, right?
Richie stayed in the chapel until visiting hours for the ICU were
ending. He met Duncan at Tessa's bedside. "How's she doing?"
"The same."
"It's only been a few days. She'll get better." He added, almost
inaudibly, "She has to."
End of Part 3