Okay, here's what happened ...

I had all my homework done, so I figured I would treat myself to an episode or two of Wild Wild West. I turned on "TNOT Howling Light," just to watch the ending where Jim saves Artie, before I put on the episode I really wanted to watch. (Not that it is important, but the one I was going for was "TNOT Fatal Trap.") I ended up starting earlier in the episode than I intended and noticed something when Jim was getting his final instructions:

Was that recognition when Dr. Arcularis said Artie's name?

That spawned a very persistent plot bunny that forced me to write down Jim's thoughts during that scene ... and the next scene ... and what happened to Artie in between ... and ... well, the next thing I know it's 1am and I'm contacting the only beta that I know who is still awake to go over the story via Facebook so I can get it posted and go to sleep. (I do have class in the morning ... make that in 8 1/2 hours.)

I huge thanks to my beta, 1monster2, who agreed to look over a story for a show SHE HAS NEVER SEEN. (And not from lack of trying on my part.)

BTW, if anyone got an email alert for this story with a different title, blame the fact it is now 2:30am and I'm dyslexic.

DISCLAIMER: Adding this late. I don't own them. Don't sue me.

Enjoy ...

The light.

The pulsing light.

All he knew was the light and that voice.

The voice that told him to kill.

The fog Jim found himself in was comforting, just like the tick of the metronome. The voice was back, but he barely understood what it said. He wasn't himself, but someone else. No; something else. He was in a void somewhere deep inside … something. What? His mind? It could be his mind. He was here with just the faint ticking pushing him deeper into the fog.

Warm fog.

Dark fog.

The void was empty except for his consciousness, but Jim was okay with that. Nothing mattered here, nothing could shatter the peace. He could stay like this forever.

"friend, Mr. Gordon … trying to find you."

The words broke through the darkness like a shaft of light. His friend was looking for him? He didn't remember having a friend, but could see his image floating in the fog. He tried to call out to him, force his voice to obey his command.

"Mr. Gordon."

The sound was almost hallow in his ears, but it made the image stronger. The dark hair and warm eyes. His friend and partner.

Artie.

Just thinking the name brought more light and made the voice easier to hear.

"We expect him to turn up at any moment. It will be interesting to see if he will be as difficult to condition as you have been."

Memories flooded back of the light … the pain … No! He couldn't do that to Artie. Jim couldn't let him. He tried to cry out from the void, but his voice remained silent. He couldn't move, could barely think, as the ticking of the metronome became louder in the silence.

"After you leave here …"

The prompt compelled him to answer, pushing the image of his partner back into the darkness. Jim struggled to hold onto it, but even as he tried he could feel it slipping away.

No.

The ticking was almost deafening now as he took a deep breath and droned out what his controller wished him to say.

"Find Ho-Tami."

"And where is that?"

The hold was getting stronger, but Jim reused to let the memory of his friend fade away again. If he could just hold onto the image of Artie, maybe he wouldn't lose himself. Still, he had to answer.

"Traveler's Hotel in St Louis."

"Very good," the voice praised. "Let's try it one more time. After you leave here …"

The struggle was harder, but he managed to pull the memory of his partner closer. Just a little more and maybe he would remember why he needed him. Maybe he would know why he was in a void. But even his grip on the shimmer of light that was his friend could not stop him from replying.

"I will go find Ho-Tami."

"Excellent," the voice continued. "And what will you do when you find him?"

The flash of a gun. The sound of a shot and another and another. He was losing his grip on the light and darkness was closing in again. He could barely hear his own voice answer.

"I will kill him."

The darkness become complete and Jim floated in the void wondering what he had been so worried about …

*W*W*W*

Artie awoke slowly, finding himself in a stone room with a row of bells along the ceiling. How did he get here? The last thing he remembered was approaching the lighthouse … then nothing. Someone must have got the drop on him, but who? Was it the same person who took Jim?

"Welcome, Mr. Gordon," a voice echoed from somewhere above him. "I'm sorry we don't have time for formal introductions."

"What have you done with James West?" Artie demanded, not really caring about formal introductions.

"My, my," the mysterious man almost chuckled. "You do come right to the point, don't you."

"If you've harmed him-"

"I would love to explain all that I have done to your friend, but I'm afraid we don't have the time. You see, I expect him back here in a matter of hours and that doesn't give you long to prepare."

A cold feeling dropped into Artie's stomach, making him almost afraid to ask just what he was preparing for. However, it seemed t didn't matter if he spoke or not; his captor was all too eager to explain.

"Tonight, Mr. Gordon, you will kill James West."

Artie shook his head, swearing he would never hurt Jim, but that just made the voice laugh outright. It seemed the man had used Jim to perfect some kind of system: a conditioning of the human mind. He boasted about how he had trained Jim to kill Chief Ho-Tami, though it did take the better part of a week to do it.

"As our time is limited, I will have to intensify things a little."

Artie barely had time to register his words before the bells began to toll. Clanging at the speed he didn't think was possible, the agent tried in vain to block out the painful noise. After an eternity the sound stopped, replaced by a silence that was almost as deafening as the bells. Without warning, two men entered the room and dragged him out. They forced him up the tower and into a chair where he was exposed to a blinding light and a freezing wind.

The pain was unbearable as they left him there to suffer. Was this what they had done to Jim? Artie couldn't dwell on the thought, on any thought as the pain eclipsed everything else. It took every ounce of his strength to hold on to what little mental capacity he could. He had to keep his wits about him, otherwise all would be lost.

Otherwise he would be forced to kill Jim.

Just when he thought he would lose control, strong hands moved him out of the light. He was nearly blind from the torture, but could still make out the shape before him.

"You are strong, Mr. Gordon," the voice said, "but so was your friend."

"Yeah," Artie grunted, "and it took you a week to break him."

"True, but I allowed him time to rest between sessions. Let's see what happens when one is not given that luxury."

Without another word, Artie was dragged back down the tower and thrown into the bell chamber. There he stayed, deafened by the noise, until his captor saw fit to bring him back to the light. From the light to the bells; from the bells to the light. That became his world until his mind was nothing but an empty fog. A void where there was nothing but him, floating in the emptiness. But something lingered, for a moment; something he was looking for.

What had he been looking for?

Nothing.

There was nothing but the fog.

Warm dark fog.

*W*W*W*

"Almost time, Mr. West."

The voice was different now, but something about it was the same. He could not see, he could not hear, but he could feel the gun in his hand.

"No. Not now, Mr. West," the new voice instructed as something took hold of his arm. "This is to be a public execution, remember?"

Remember.

Remember what?

Something important.

Something in the light.

"You will now begin to count very slowly," the voice instructed. "When you reach 25 you will come downstairs. Understand?"

Jim did not respond, but instictivly began to count. But even as he did, he tried to remember.

One … two … three … four … five …

There was a light.

Six … seven … eight … nine … ten …

The light was friendly.

Eleven … twelve … thirteen … fourteen … fifteen …

Something was in the light.

Sixteen … seventeen … eighteen … nineteen … twenty …

What was in the light?

Twenty-one … twenty-two … twenty-three … twenty-four … twenty-five …

A face. A friend.
He could feel himself moving down the stairs as his consciousness tried to focus. The light was warm and had a smile that he knew. He pulled it closer and recognized the face.

Artie.

Another face came before him, one he was seeing with his eyes. One he had to kill. No. Protect. No kill. No. He couldn't kill him. His friend … something about his friend made him turn away. His friend did not want him to kill.

"Mr. West!"

The voice was back, the one that chased away the light and made him turn back.

"Mr. West, what is your business with the Chief?"

The light was back, but it was not warm. It passed across his eyes as it had done when the pain came. There was no pain … not for him … for a friend.

Artie!

They were going to use the light on Artie.

They were going to use the pain on Artie.

He had to save Artie!

Even as he had the thoughts, he felt his hand go to his gun. Jim turned away, not wanting to kill. Wanting to save. Save Artie!

He had to fight back.

He had to stop the voice.

Swinging out his arm, he blindly stuck and turned, pulling his gun to kill.

To kill the voice.

To stop the control.

To save Artie.

The fog began to fade and he started to remember. He remembered what they did to him, what they tried to make him do … what they were doing to Artie. But even as he remembered, as he came to his senses, he realized what he had done. He had shot the aid to Chief Ho-Tami, and now the Native leader was advancing on him with a knife.

The fog was still too thick for him to run, so Jim could only brace himself for a fight. As the blade rose, a weakened voice called out. Ahkeema used his last moments to clear the agent's name, claiming responsibility for the plot. But he was only one voice. There was another that could – at that very moment – be warping the mind of Artie. Making him suffer as Jim did.

He had to save him!

Giving his assurances to the Chief that there was still peace between their people, Jim left the hotel and raced back to the lighthouse. He didn't know how long Dr. Arcularis had been holding his partner prisoner, but if his experience was anything to go by, even five minutes was too long. He broke down the door and looked around, hearing that taunting voice echo off the walls.

"Welcome back, Mr. West."

He was too confident, too calm, and the sound of it sent chills down Jim's spine. What if he was too late? No, he couldn't think like that. Until he proved otherwise, Artie was alive and able to be saved.

"Where is he?" Jim demanded.

"Mr. Gordon?" the voice asked, almost as a laugh. "Second floor, first door to your right. He's been waiting for you."

A cold sense of dread settled in Jim's stomach, but he couldn't let it get to him. It was too easy, he knew it was too easy, but he still had to go. Even if Artie was under the control of Dr. Arcularis – especially if he was under the mad doctor's control – he couldn't leave him there.

Artie had brought him back, and he was going to return the favor.

Entering the familiar room, Jim caught sight of the slumped form in the chair. He quickened his pace, praying that there would be a sign of his friend when he reached him. Lifting his partner's head, all hope of that faded.

His face was nothing but a blank mask covering an empty shell.

Was he too late?

Pushing aside any warning that instinct was giving him, Jim began to untie his partner. Dr. Arcularis had been confident; he had done something to Artie, turned him into a weapon. Even knowing that he was the doctor's likely target, he still freed his friend. How could he leave him like that: a mindless puppet just waiting for the fiend to pull his strings?

A bell rang and Artie came up swinging …

*W*W*W*

The fog was warm and dark, but something in it was wrong. Artie floated in the shadows, wondering what it was he forgot.

Was he supposed to do something?

See someone?

His hands were on someone's neck, he could feel them tightening. The one beneath them was struggling, but he couldn't let go.

Who was it?

Why was he trying to kill them?

Something struck him and he let go. Was he in a fight? Artie began to struggle against the void, see through the fog at what his body was doing. It was hard and unpleasant, but still he pushed to find the light.

A gun was in his hands.

He could feel it, but not see a target.

Who was he trying to kill?

A voice called out to him, warning him to not waste his bullet. The voice wanted him to kill.

Kill who?

The voice kept talking, but it wasn't to him. He could feel himself climbing higher … higher to the light.

The light.

The pain.

Artie didn't want to remember that, but he knew he had to. He had to fight the light, fight the pain, and remember what it was he forgot.

A hard blow sent him back into the darkness.

*W*W*W*

Jim stood on the staircase, looking from one of the doctor's victims to another. He urged them to break free, as he had done. His words were having an affect, and Dr. Arcularis was losing his grip. Even so, as the men marched passed him toward their collective tormentor, he stood at the ready.

Not just for himself, but for his fallen partner on the floor behind him.

Jim could only hope that the short amount of time that the doctor had with Artie meant that he could be easily broken from the spell. The fact that the rest could break from their trance was a good sign, but he wouldn't know until –

"Jim!"

He turned, ready to deliver another knock-out blow, but stopped when he saw his friend's eyes. They were clear and warm, just as he remembered them. There was even a smile on Artie's face, that faltered only slightly when he saw Jim's gun in his hands. When he returned the weapon, it sealed it.

He had his best friend back.

*W*W*W*

Artie leaned against the railing, marveling at how quickly the fog in his brain was receding. It truly felt as if he had awakened from a nightmare, but somehow he knew it had something to do with mind control. No, not mind control … programming.

Dr. Arcularis.

He remembered what he did … what the doctor had tried to make him do. At least Jim was standing next to him; that told him he had failed, and the lump he could feel forming on the back of his head gave him a pretty good idea how. When it came to hand-to-hand combat, there were not many who could stand up to Jim.

Thank God for small miracles – even if they caused big headaches.

The commotion below distracted him from the pain and he asked his partner what was causing it. Jim's casual answer let him know that he cared about the mad doctor's fate just about as much as Artie did. Still, they were sworn agents of the federal government and really shouldn't allow murder to happen, no matter how much they wanted to. But having a good reason to help wouldn't hurt.

"Say, uh," Artie commented. "You suppose that a woman could be conditioned so that she'd never nag, never complain, never be anything but sweet and warm and understanding and kind …"

"You got a reason," Jim agreed.

They hurried downstairs to save their tormentor from a mob of his own creation. It took some doing, but they managed to get them to stand down and they all left to go on their way. Each returned to their own life, the ones Dr. Arcularis had taken from them. Artie had only lost hours, Jim a week, but who knew how long the rest had lost.

"Do you think they'll be okay, Jim?" he asked his partner as he left the jail.

"Oh, I think they will be. They just need time."

"How about us?"

Jim paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn't have to say the words; Artie knew.

They were back together and that was enough for both of them.

So, how do you like my insomnia?

Feedback is always appreciated and I will (try to) get the final chapter of "TNOT Willful Witness" before I go to class.

Goodnight.