CHAPTER 2 Reach through the twilight

You disappeared in the darkness of the night – I wanted to follow you but something stopped me (BLUTENGEL, song "soul of ice")

=== Bay Ridge / Deveraux Manor ===

Anna Deveraux lowered her voice until it was barely audible against the background of the chimney's fire. "Frank" – she never addressed him as 'Frank' except she was really concerned about something. He raised his head from the newspaper immediately. "Yes?"

"I think Claire should see a shrink. She still can't remember anything. Maybe she suppresses the truth. This can cause serious trouble, if neglected. I spoke with Lauren about it today."

Up on the staircase, Claire backed off as silently as possible. She had been on her way down to the kitchen to get something to drink.

What? I don't need a psycho-shredder-thing! And certainly not by Mom's best friend! I'm fine!

She went back into her room and her bed again, but let the light switched on, a habit reaching back to her childhood days. Days of darkness, of blindness. Even if it was not dark anymore if she opened her eyes now – she liked it more if at least one little light was on.

=== In the Underground ===

I should not feel any pain. I should not feel anything! They separated the nerves from my spinothalamic tract. There's no way I COULD sense anything!

Peyton Westlake repeated this again and again, still incredulous after hours of self tests. His fatigue was completely gone and had given place to his old scientific curiosity. Nonetheless, he had no neurological equipment for more sophisticated checks. However, it was clearly no figment of his imagination. The result was the same. Every time. He could feel some sensations, in certain parts of his body, mainly the right side. His hand was the most responsive. But he sensed strong heat and coldness on the skin of his legs, too.

How is this possible?

He stroke over his face and massaged his neck. He could even feel the coldness of his fingertips. What happens to me? How can this BE?! He recalled the damned implant this criminal physician had put into him. But he had removed the item then. Except a nasty infection, which had pinned him with fever in his bed for days, nothing had remained. No side effects whatsoever! He had been as unresponsive to pain and other physical stimuli as before. So, the implant from years ago could not be the source of this… this…

Westlake was not sure how to call this change. He did not believe in wonders. A curse, rather? Will I completely loose my mind? Or find a method to control the rages?

One of the cats jumped on his lap. It was the grey one, the oldest. Smokey was her name. Somehow, despite all his sinister musings, the Darkman suddenly felt a nearly childish flame of joy inside. He stood up, with Smokey in his arms (who looked not quite happy) and danced through the cavern. He could feel again!

=== In the streets of New York ===

"My gosh, that must've been terrible!" Claire's friend Jenna said, while the two young women walked through the shopping lane. "I feel so bad about this…"

"It wasn't your fault. The mayor should pay more security personnel in the subway, my dad said, and that's right. I won't take the subway anymore, anyway. Dad will buy me a car. Then I will always be late, because of traffic!" Claire rested and watched the display in one of the expensive clothing stores, but without really paying attention. She thought of the plan sending her to a shrink. She had escaped this so far, and she did not want to talk about it to her friend. In the opposite corner the miserable figure of an old homeless cowered, trying to find some warmth. Had it been one of these people who had rescued her down in the subway, she wondered. Perhaps he had been afraid he would end up in jail if he showed with me in the condition I was then… If I only could remember something…

"Hey, Claire! Hello? Where are your thoughts?" Jenna waggled her right hand in front of her eyes. "I asked you what you think of this scarf there. Would it fit with my hair color or not? Should I rather take the cashmere one?"

"Ah…uhm… sorry. Guess I'm a little tired. I would say, take the cashmere." It was one of the fastest decisions she had ever made, not being interested the slightest in the matter, now.

Jenna smiled and hugged her. "I am sorry, my dear! Shouldn't have dragged you along on this shopping tour so soon after the incident!"

When Jenna entered the shop, Claire preferred staying outside.

…

Half an hour later her friend showed up again and wanted to persuade her going in for shopping herself.

"I cannot", Claire replied. "Not enough money anymore."

"What?! You took over a hundred Dollars with you! What did you do in the meantime?"

"I gave some bucks to him… ok, lots of bucks", she said, with a gesture to the homeless. Jenna gaped. She looked as if she had just seen a green-skinned Alien walk past her. "You're kidding, right? … Come on… you can't be serious!"

"I am."

"All this flee bag will do is buying booze or drugs! And you waste your money?!"

Jenna's reaction made Claire angry, because she started to feel silly about her decision some minutes ago. "I did it, okay?" She retorted defensively. "Just drop the topic!"

"Hey, calm down! Didn't mean it that way." She caught up with Claire again, who marched in front of her. "What I wanna say is, it's not OUR responsibility if some people screw up their life! It's the job of the Salvation Army or the Local Welfare! You shouldn't rack your brain about this… Woa… this scum is stinking! The shop should have a security here to remove him… Let's go over to "Toni's", I'm starving!"

Claire sighed and then shook her head. "No… thanks. I'm really tired. It's better I go home and take a nap."

"Okay. Whatever floats your boat! I accompany you to the cab station, then. Hope you are fine again tomorrow, for Peter's party. You know, my brother finally got his lawyer's diploma!"

"Yeah… of course. I'll be there." However, Claire was not so sure about it. She was not sure about many things, lately.

=== Two weeks later ===

"Claire, are you really sure? This kind of… work…?" Anna Deveraux had asked with a timbre betraying her disliking. "I appreciate your social engagement. But… wouldn't it be better if you participate in our annual charity ball, instead of distributing food in a homeless' kitchen?"

"I'm sure, Ma", she had answered. "It will be no problem. I already spoke with the responsible, Mrs. Copperhead. I can work one day a week in the kitchen. This won't be too much! It would only be for some weeks, until I take up my master-studies. And I won't start until my arm is healed, of course…"

Now, two weeks later and standing behind the distribution desk of the kitchen near the Central Station, Claire remembered these proud words and had to revise them a bit. The work was straining. Her legs hurt and sometimes she found it hard to overcome the repulsion she sensed. Some of the homeless waiting in a line were in that bad shape, dirty, toothless and ill… and, as Jenna had said, stinking…

…

The Darkman closed his coat and grabbed his hat. He did not exactly WANT to go out, but he had to: Jerky had injured his pawn on a rusty nail. A visit in the veterinary's clinic was better, he decided after trying to help his dog in vain. It was one thing if HE died – but not one of his furry companions right under his nose! Therefore, Westlake went on his way, the head covered with bandages as always the last year when he left his underground stronghold. He had used his artificial skin only when he had cared for this girl some weeks ago – in case the sedation won't work properly, he had not wanted to scare her to death with the view of a monster! But the durability of this 'prosthesis' was still limited to 120 minutes. This was the most he could achieve, given he was not exposed to plain sunlight! And 120 minutes were not enough to get Jerky to the vet and back…

As expected, the people in the waiting room at the vet's clinic stared at Westlake as if he would spread a contagious disease, notwithstanding that his cloths were clean and orderly. A child carrying a little rabbit and watching him in curious awe, was actually snatched by her mother and started to cry. This was, what hurt him most, even after all those years, all this time he had not gotten used to it. This pain was nothing any surgery could remove. The gazing of the people, full of disgust and horror the ones, with awkward mercy the others. No one treated him like a human being. In his former life, he had worked with a lot of more or less disfigured persons, due to his profession. He thought having treated them with respect and humanity. Now he was in their place… and he was an outcast, a monster for everyone else. He sat down near the door, padded Jerky and waited. Perhaps, it flashed through his mind, it was a curse indeed to partly regain his ability to feel. It would only make the loneliness more devastating.

Nearly 3 hours later the dog and his master were on the way 'home' again. It was already getting dark. Jerky was in playful mood again, after the medication. Despite the bandage on his leg, he jumped and 'fought' against the leash. Looks as if you need some serious work out! But Westlake was hungry and when he discovered one of the Salvation Army's soup kitchen on the other side of the road, decided to line in. A table was there filled with different donations from local super markets. However, the favorite in this wintertime was surely the hot soup and coffee! An elderly woman in uniform distributed slices of bred. Next to her, a young woman, obviously a volunteer, looked after the soup.

And… she seemed familiar… Stepping closer, the Darkman recognized her face. It was the girl he had rescued in the subway some weeks ago! She looked fine again; so everything went well for her. Good – he had hesitated first letting her sit in the subway unconscious and waiting for the cleaning team to find her. In fact, he had been standing in the shadows observing until he had been sure she was safe. He advanced in the line of the waiting, a very unruly Jerky at his side. Only for a very brief moment the ridiculous fear this woman might recognize him crossed his mind. Yes, really ridiculous, he scolded himself, closer to cry than to laugh, though. The moments when he forgot his appearance, became rarer and shorter, nonetheless it happened from time to time.

Suddenly, Jerky jumped up and barked like mad. Another man, a young black with ragged cloths and a mutt of a dog had come. Already drunken, he bleated and tried to push Westlake and two other people aside. "Ey, get your fucking dog outta my way!"

A gramp with long beard opposed and tried to calm the youngster, with the only effect that he yelled even louder about "white assholes" and the "fucking government". Westlake raised his hands to show he would recede and leave the place. All of a sudden, the young man had a knife in his hand. Before the officer from the Salvation Army could step in, Jerky was about to attack. Westlake seized him in the last second; and only he with his superior strength was able to get the bull terrier down and appease him with hasty words. The other people stood around him, while the angry youngster used the opportunity to grab a bunch of food and then get lost.

"It's okay. He 'on't do anything. Ha' hi' under control. 'lease… all okay." The Darkman stood up again from the pavement, Jerky firmly in his grip on a short leash this time. The bearded old man stepped closer. "Just wait aside here, man. I get you a nice cup of soup. And something for the dog, too."

"No, thanks. It's okay. I go."

Claire listened. Listened very carefully. First, she watched, too, but then she closed her eyes and just listened. It was him! No mistake. She was absolutely sure. The voice was a little blurred, not as clear as she remembered, but the characteristic intonation and timbre was there! Ah, moreover, he was about to leave! Alarmed, Claire turned to her colleague nearby. "Uh…Mrs. Copperhead? Sorry, I got to go for a moment!" Not waiting for the – supposedly negative – answer, the young woman ran away from her place, and around the table. "Wait! Wait, Mister!"

However, the man in the long brown coat and with the strangely bandaged head was on the flight the next second.

"Please wait! Just wanna thank you!"

He did not stop, and with his long legs, was much faster. Two lanes further Claire saw him lifting a gully cover and vanish inside. In the twilight of the evening, she did not trust her own eyes for a moment and simply stood there. But the Darkman was gone. Claire sighed. She felt bad somehow without knowing why. She owed this man her life, and could do nothing for him, not even say thanks or give him a warm soup. She had considered herself beaten by destiny so very often because of her bad eyes or her boring hair or anything else now sounding very stupid to her. Other people had experienced far worse, obviously…

A pang formed in her stomach when she walked back to the kitchen.

=== Somewhere else in New York ===

A nearly empty faceless apartment. A man shutting down his laptop, cursing. A moment later, his celly rang. On the other end was an angry voice.

"No, dammit, no success yet", the man on the laptop answered. "Can't get into his computer! It's a high level firewall protection. What do you think, what I'm doing here? Hacking into a high school-computer system? … Yeah, yeah, I know… I know Chang will see results. And I promise, I'll deliver them within a week."

+ I hope so,+ the voice from the celly sounded. + You know what's at stake! We need these schematics, and if we can't break into this damned computer, we get the information out of his brain! Understood? +

….to be continued…. Please review….thx