Return From Darkness 6/7
Terry Odell (tlco777@JUNO.COM)
Mon, 29 Oct 2001 14:07:15 -0500
Return From Darkness
Part 6/7
By T. L. Odell
Disclaimers in Part 0
Duncan led the other Immortal into the shop. Katana still at
the ready, he asked, "What do you want?"
"As I said earlier, I have no desire to challenge you. I'd just
like to talk to Richie."
"Why a Watcher?" Duncan spoke the words he knew Adam
must be waiting for.
"What better place to hide? I got tired of the Game and it
seemed a good place to disappear for a while."
"Does Joe know you're one of us?"
"No, and I'd prefer it stay that way."
"Then why reveal yourself to me?"
"I trust you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You
come from an age where honor had meaning, and you have
lived your entire life that way."
Duncan watched as Adam moved through the shop,
stopping to look at some of his most ancient and valuable
pieces. The look in his eyes made Duncan suspect that this
man had seem some of them when they were new. He
wondered how old he really was.
"Not bad," Duncan said. "You get to keep tabs on the
competition. Who's your assignment?"
"I'm not a field agent. I'm in research, working on the
Methos chronicles." He bent to examine a display case of
silver.
"Methos, as in the legendary 5000-year-old Methos?"
Adam looked up. "The same." He met Duncan's eyes at
last.
Duncan saw the bemused expression cross Adam's face,
and knew his own visage had just revealed the understood
connection. "You're Methos."
"It does make it easy to keep the dogs at bay, being your
own Watcher. And, as I said before, I trust your sense of
honor implicitly. I'd appreciate it if you'd just think of me as
Adam Pierson for now. But I really did come about Richie."
"Why should I let you talk to Richie? What can you do for
him? And more importantly, why would you come out of
hiding to help a kid who's still in his Immortal infancy?"
"I just thought I might be able to help." He paused.
"Someone helped me once," he added quietly. "I know how
he feels."
"How?" Duncan asked.
"Bergen-Belsen."
Duncan saw the look of pain and despair flit across Adam's'
face as he spoke those two words, then disappear behind
the mask of guarded neutrality once again. He nodded. "All
right. But so help me, anything happens to Richie and your
head is mine."
Methos raised his beer bottle in acknowledgment. "I
understand."
The two men returned to the apartment. Tessa stood, her
displeasure at being left outside the circle obvious. She
gave Adam a brusque nod. Duncan moved to put his arm
around her waist; she pulled away and stared at him.
"Please call Richie," Duncan said. "Adam would like to talk
to him. It's all right."
Duncan heard Tessa mutter something about brandy and
cigars as she went to Richie's room. The youngster followed
her back into the living room, his rapier still at his side.
"Richie," Duncan said. "This is Adam Pierson. He's one of
the good guys. He'd like to talk to you for a while."
Richie stared at Adam with the same haunted look he'd been
wearing since they'd found him.
"It's chilly outside, Richie," the old Immortal said. "Why don't
you get your jacket and we can go out for a walk."
Richie turned without speaking and went back toward his
room. Tessa started to interrupt, but Duncan touched her
shoulder. "It's okay, Tess. Let them go."
Richie returned wearing his jacket. His sword was no longer
visible, but Duncan knew it was with him. Adam slipped his
coat on, and the young Immortal followed the oldest out the
door into the crisp afternoon. Duncan stared after them as
they walked down the street, Richie's shoulders slumped,
head bowed. Adam walked alongside, his hands shoved in
his coat pockets. Tessa's voice brought him away from the
doorway.
"So, are you going to tell me what this is all about, or should
I just go crochet something?"
"Tessa, calm down. Adam, as you figured out, is an
Immortal. And no one else is to know that, especially Joe."
She nodded. "I can see why it wouldn't be good for Adam if
the Watchers knew he was immortal. But what does any of
that have to do with Richie?"
"It doesn't. But Adam is a survivor; he's seen some bad
times himself. He can understand what Richie's going
through much better than we can. I think someone helped
him out of the darkness once, and he's returning the favor."
Duncan enveloped Tessa in his arms, stroking her hair and
inhaling her special scent. "I love you. I think you'll just
have to trust me on this one."
"I love you, too. And I trust you."
"Good. Now let's try to get back to business. I have to open
the shop, and I thought you had a new project you were
supposed to be working on."
She half-smiled up at him. "Back to business it is, then."
Duncan left Tessa in her studio and continued into the shop.
An elderly couple wanted to know if the value of some family
jewelry would cover a European vacation. He let them down
as gently as he could; they might be able to afford a week in
Portugal as long as they flew coach and went in the off
season.
Tessa joined him a while later. "I couldn't concentrate on my
work. This just happened." She handed him her sketch pad.
Duncan glanced at the sketches she had been making and
recognized Adam Pierson. He looked at the eyes that stared
at him from the page; they were warm and caring.
"You have a knack for getting down to the essence, Tess. I
trust him."
"I hope you're right."
The traffic in the shop was slow but steady throughout the
morning, providing a much needed distraction. The shop
was empty when Duncan felt the return of Adam and Richie.
He turned the sign on the door to 'Closed.'
"They're back," he said to Tessa. The two of them went
back to the apartment. Duncan waited at the front door.
Adam and Richie came through the door, faces ruddy with
the chill, hair windblown. "I'll see you again, Richie," said
Adam as the youth went toward his room.
"Well," Tessa said. "How did it go? How is he? Where did
you go? What did you do?"
"Fine. The same. We walked. I talked," answered Adam.
"You don't cure this in three hours, you know."
"So, what's your prognosis?" Duncan asked.
"You certainly are inquisitive. May I have a beer, please?
I've been talking nonstop for over three hours."
"Mi casa es su casa," Duncan said, nodding toward the
kitchen.
Adam returned and lowered his body to the couch, took a sip
of beer then set the bottle on the table. Tessa wordlessly
handed him a coaster. "Sorry," he said and slid it under his
beer. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and
stared into the fire. "It was a start. If you don't mind, I'll
come back tomorrow."
Duncan and Tessa exchanged a look. "Fine," the Scot said.
Adam reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a
small vial of pills. "These should help you get some sleep."
"I'm sorry, but I don't think I'm going to take pills given to me
by someone I just met a couple of hours ago," said Tessa.
Adam smiled. "They're not for you, they're for Richie. If he
sleeps through the night, you should, too. Just use them for
a night or two; he'll have to confront his memories on his
own, but he needs some uninterrupted sleep first." He
handed Tessa the medicine. "Give him two of these at
bedtime."
She examined the label. "Excuse me, but how do you just
walk in and have a prescription for sleeping pills for Richie
Ryan in your pocket?"
"I was a doctor before I was a Watcher. I figured Richie
could use a good night's sleep. From the looks of things, so
could the two of you."
"Thank you," Duncan said. He took the pills from Tessa. "I
think you're right."
Adam returned the next day. "Good Morning. I see the pills
helped," he said.
"Yes. Thanks," said Duncan.
"Sleep deprivation is a terrible thing. Is Richie ready?"
"I'll get him." He went to Richie's room and found him sitting
on his bed, sword in hand. "It's okay, Richie. It's Adam.
He'd like to walk with you again. Get your jacket."
Richie picked up his jacket from the chair and shuffled off to
the living room. The two Immortals replayed the events of
the previous morning.
***
Richie struggled against the hands pinning him down.
"Please, no. Not again."
"Shh. You're dreaming, Richie. It's okay. Wake up."
Soothing words penetrated his consciousness. He felt
Tessa's gentle hands on his back. "Tess?"
"It's me. You're home in your own bed."
"I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"For waking you. I've been doing that a lot lately, haven't I?"
"Don't worry about it."
"I'm okay now, Tess. You can go back to bed. Really. I'm
fine."
Tessa gave him a skeptical look. Richie turned his back to
her and closed his eyes. As soon as he heard her leave, he
opened them again. He remembered one of his foster
moms had told him that going to the bathroom helped get rid
of bad dreams. That was easier than having to talk about
them. He pulled off the covers.
Back in bed, he stared at the ceiling. It bothered him that he
was still leaving the bedside lamp on at night, but no amount
of shame could counteract the terror that overcame him
when he turned it off. Duncan and Tessa said they
understood, but he still hated showing his weakness. They
seemed to accept the fact that he'd have these
uncontrollable crying jags for no apparent reason. He hoped
they didn't know that he'd been sick to his stomach on more
than one occasion since he'd come home.
Mac never goes off the deep end, Richie thought. Except for
right after Tessa's shooting, but that was different. Nobody
was hurting him; he was just worried. He's always in total
control. He'd have escaped from that basement. And taken
out those monsters, too. Richie fell into a troubled sleep.
A rare gleam of bright Seacouver sunlight shone through
Richie's window the next morning. He got up and waited for
Adam. They'd only met a few days ago, but Adam seemed
to know what to do. He never asked Richie to talk about
anything. He just walked. And talked. And talked. The
man never stopped talking; he talked about history, about
women, about music, about some of his challenges. He
didn't talk about being locked up in a basement or having
people slice you open and watch you heal. Richie knew
Adam was older than Duncan. Probably at least as old as
Darius, but he knew better than to ask.
Two weeks passed. The days merged into one another.
Adam came over every morning and they went walking.
They walked in the cold, in the wind, and in the rain. They'd
come back and Adam would have a beer.
Richie worked at getting back into his old routine. He tried to
help Duncan in the shop, but sometimes a customer would
come in whose build, or clothes, or demeanor triggered a
memory, and he would have to run from the room. He
started avoiding the shop during the day, going in after hours
to clean, arrange the stock, and do paperwork.
A month went by. Adam never missed a walk. Richie
enjoyed hearing about the past. Adam could do what his
history teachers had never been able to do-tell him what it
was like to be there. Richie began asking the occasional
question. Slowly, the topic of man's inhumanity to man crept
into the conversation. Richie asked him about the
Revolutionary War, the Civil War.
"No," said Adam. "I didn't own slaves then. I was a doctor."
"Did you know Mac? What was he doing?"
"I met MacLeod the same time I met you. Why don't you ask
him what he did during the Civil War?"
"Maybe. What about World War II? Where were you then?"
Richie saw Adam's expression go blank. "Hey, I'm sorry. I
mean, you don't have to talk about anything if you don't want
to."
"No, Richie. I don't mind. But let's sit down." The two found
a bench by a stand of pines. "I was in Germany for a lot of
the war. Trying to help. They thought I was a Jew, and sent
me to one of the camps. Bergen-Belsen."
Richie was silent for several moments. "And that's why
you're helping me." He paused again. "It was terrible,
wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was."
"How did you get over it?"
"I learned to deal with the images. And someone took me on
long walks."
Richie looked at him. "Can you help me? With the images, I
mean."
"Of course. You know I'll be back tomorrow."
"Yes. I'll be ready."
End of Part 6