The Night of the Gilt-Edged Mirror An Adult W3 Tale
–by Gabrielle Caitrin Roniyah Bhaer
- Following 'The Night of the Murderous Spring' W3, Season One
Disclaimer:
I don't own rights of any kind to the characters or storylines of the classic series 'The Wild, Wild, West', and that's a darned shame. James T West, Artemus Gordon, Colonel Richmond, Jeremy Pike, Frank Harper and 'Miguelito' Quixote Loveless do not belong to me. Dang it anyway.
Those rights belong to the late Michael Garrison and Leonard Katzman's estates,
to Bruce Lansbury, John Kneubuhl, who wrote 'TNOTMS' and who created the character of Miguelito Loveless for Michael Dunn, the other producers of W3 and to the Columbia Broadcasting System CBS. No copyright infringement or profit taking of any kind is intended by this work of fiction. So please, don't sue me; it would be a huge waste of attorney-billing hours.
This work of fiction is based on a premise of a committed, consensual, same
gender relationship between the principal characters. It this were a teleplay, it
would therefore carry a rating of PG-17. If such topics or fictional representations are not to your taste, or if you are below age 17, please, read no further.
This story is dedicated to three gifted actors, in alphabetical order Michael Dunn, Robert Conrad and Ross Martin who, with their incredible creative talents of contributed so very much to the series which inspired this story; Michael Dunn, Robert Conrad and Ross Martin. It is my thank you to them all for the fun, the fantasy and the terrific 'ride' they gave so many others and me by letting us come onboard the Wanderer, and share their adventures.
Sadly, Michael Dunn and Ross Martin are no longer with us, so I can't thank them in person, now. Nevertheless I want to say that W3 would never have been the marvelous show it was, without both of them and their boundless talents. What they shared with all of us was manifestly their great passion for acting, for characters, and for story telling on a grand scale. We were and we still are very lucky to have shared the world with them. And if the opportunity arose I would want to say this to Robert Conrad; thanks so very much for bringing James T. West so vividly to life, and for all of your other incomparable work. That is a tremendous gift of yourself, which we can never repay.
Cast of Characters: Night of the Gilt-Edged Mirror
'The Team' the good guys
Charles Aidman as Tobias Jeremy 'Jere' Pike
Stockard Channing as Julia Dent Boggs Grant
Robert Conrad as James Torrance Kiernan West
Ross Martin as Artemus Alastair Lachlan Gordon
nee Adamech Elisha Auriel Gorniak
William Schallert as Thomas Benjamin Franklin 'Frank' Harper
Martin Sheen as Ulysses Simpson Grant
John Spencer as Thomas Micheal Kieran Macquillan JD
Prologue:
''What d'you want to be, a hero!'' Jim demanded, glaring at his partner; his head still echoing to the horrible headache he'd had all day long.
''Hey, wait a minute.'' Artemus Gordon answered, looking more bemused than annoyed by
his partner's brusque manner, and more worried about that same partner, James West than anything else. ''This is me, remember; Artemus Gordon, Mrs. Gordon's son?''
West blinked and shook his still aching head. Suddenly, he felt as if he hadn't really seen Artie standing in front of him until now. '' Sorry, Artie. '' He apologized, shocked and ashamed by his words and his tone. ''For a minute, it was like I almost hated you. ''
SCENE ONE: An hour after Loveless' 'escape' to the lake.
Doctor Miguelito Loveless was dead and gone, drowned in his own private lake. So were Kitty and Antoinette, lost under the water so deep Jim West couldn't find them after more than ten minute's diving, surfacing for another deep breath, and diving again. All he'd found were the oars from their ill-fated rowboat; the one West sunk himself with one well placed shot. He didn't like killing women ever; It wasn't the way he was raised to think or act. But what was there to do, when they insisted on trying to escape, trying to help 'the little doctor' escape, once more?
Now, at least, the latest and, so it seemed, the last plot from the amazing brain of that 'little man with a giant rage' was just as dead as that trio. The case would soon be closed, after droves of vigilantly gloved and masked government scientists removed and disposed of every last ounce of the doctor's deadly powder. As far as Jim West was concerned, all of it couldn't be destroyed even a second too soon. He knew in his own mind and memory and gut the horrors it was capable of wreaking. He knew how horribly afraid he'd been for the moment it seemed Loveless would 'try' it on Artie.
And now Jim knew just how terribly, how efficiently that nightmare compound would have worked on thousands, on millions of unsuspecting men, women and children, around the world, if Loveless got his way. He'd made himself go back inside the doctor's ''asylum''. He'd squared his chin and his shoulders and made it back to the door of the staff dining room. There was no doubt in his mind that a genuine nightmare waited on the other side. And it was a nightmare he had no little responsibility for, himself, the soldier-agent considered.
Taking another deep breath, West opened the dining room door, strode inside, and choked back a gasp. Not since the last firefight of the War, in the spring of '65, had he seen so much violent death in such a small space. The room couldn't have been more than 9 by 14 feet, crowded with a heavy dinner table, chairs and two highboys. The people in the room, the bodies were strewn about as if an artillery barrage had been opened on them, or a wave of enfilading fire. And the marks of the terrifying way these staffers died were plain to be read on their faces, so that their last shrieks and cries seemed to linger in the air above them, still.
''Was he right? Did my 'Doubting Thomas' routine call this horror down on twenty innocent men and women? Jim wondered. If that's so, the least I can do is take burial detail for them. It's the very least I can do for them, in fact!
Nodding to himself, West now bent to shift the first corpse he came to, the body of a wiry, red headed man he'd seen in Loveless' employ for years.
''They're not on your due bill, Jim.'' Artie said, walking into the dining room behind him. ''Loveless made that hellish compound; and he mixed that poison of his in their wine, my friend, not you.''
'' When did you start reading my mind, Artemus?'' Jim asked, not really minding the actor-agent's understanding; but not willing to admit he almost liked it, either.
''When did I start? When did I stop?'' Artie chuckled, and laid one strong hand on Jim's right shoulder. '' Let's just say I can guess what the little doctor wanted you to think, when you heard them, James, much less when you finally saw them. Not that I'd like to think I could read his mind!''
''You never had to; he's… he'd always tell you what was on his mind… '' Jim said and then realized he was repeating what he'd told Artie hours before. ''C'mon, Artie, let's at least get them … decently laid out. if that's even possible. Then we can find the telegraph he's sure to have had somewhere in the house; and get the word out. Washington will be really relieved,
I guess, to hear Loveless' died. ''
''You still don't believe he's dead?'' Artie questioned, canting his dark head and studying Jim intently. This was something else his partner did that used to be damned annoying, West thought. Now he didn't mind the scrutiny of those wide-dark/bright eyes at all.
''I'm not sure I'd believe it if I saw Loveless killed and laid out himself, in front of my eyes.'' Jim admitted, and shuddered. ''I'm not sure I believe anything or anyone could stop the small doctor. Not after the past… was it really only two days?''
''Just about.'' Artie agreed, and bent to help Jim carry the first dead staffer out of the blood stained dining room.
When that grisly duty was done, an hour later; the actor was sure his partner would jump onto the first available horse and take off away from this fake asylum as fast as four hooves could carry his lithe young frame. Instead, Jim went in search of the doctor's study and once there began tapping out one telegraphed report to their superiors after another. He went on sending those reports, and noting the answers they received for the rest of the day, and well into the evening.
Jim was in what Artie called 'full not really retired Regular Army officer mode'; putting every possible element of what seemed his duty ahead of any other consideration. He was therefore, hardly talking, much less making conversation. Also, Jim wasn't really listening, he wasn't eating, and he scowled darkly when Artie suggested a break, a walk or G-d forbid, a rest! And all of that told the actor that the younger man was profoundly, almost overwhelmingly troubled.
He had every right to be troubled, of course. He'd been sent on a journey to hell. Artemus' own lively, creative imagination told him something of what that must have been like; coming to believe you'd shot down your own best friend. The actor-agent suppressed no few shudders of his own, as that nightmare scenario, but in reverse, played itself out more than once in his own mind. The sheer cruelty involved was horrendous, even coming from Loveless. And yet the 'small doctor' had claimed he did it only as an experiment, a final test of his compound? Artie scowled and shook his head. Loveless' envy and hatred for Jim West had been evident in all their encounters. But this time the mad little genius had topped even himself for malevolence!
Jim admitted 'I nearly went out of my mind.' Added to that were the witnesses in town, whose accounts Artie would certainly take over Loveless or Kitty's, who said the younger agent had gone raving mad. Now, as they listened to official responses coming in from the long list of officials they were called on to report to, Artie found himself watching Jim more surreptiously than usual. Something more was going on in that handsome young head. The more he studied his partner's bearing, movements and expressions, the surer Artemus Gordon became of just that.