The Leopard's Apprentice
By
Lady of the Shire
Chapter 5
The Things that are Lost in Translation
DISCLAIMER: MegaMan NT Warrior/Rockman EXE and all related entities are the property of Shogakukan, ShoPro, Viz Media, Ryo Takamisaki, and related partners.
A/N: REVISION AND REVIVAL. Frist of all, just want to thank those who have been patiently waiting for updates (if anyone at all). I did not have the entire story outlined when I started this project so progress was very slow and I was concerned that the plot would become muddled without direction. I am happy to say that is no longer an issue and more updates will be coming out this year. Though, if I provide a more specific date I will be made into a liar very quickly so I will not dig myself into that hole. Blame it on thesis writing and graduation. For those of you that are curious, the overall scope of the project has not changed, but I did alter some details of the plot that I thought were too convoluted or no longer concurred with the outline. Also, at the time of this update, two additional chapters have been completed and are in the proofreading phase. If it has been a while since you read the current chapters, most of the changes were grammatical so don't feel obligated to re-read before venturing into new chapters. On a side note, two more original characters are introduced in this chapter.
"Frank, I wanted to talk to you about your daughter," said Mrs. Liddell, the English teacher.
The gentleman across from her gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Yes. I was a bit surprised when you called yesterday Sara," he sheepishly replied. "We did not see any bad marks when she brought home her report card."
"Well, it isn't her academics that are struggling. I am glad to say that we have never had a problem in that department," the woman smiled. "However, what I do want to discuss with you might take priority over that," she continued with a more serious tone. "I was hoping that Michelle would be with you as well."
"Oh, I am sorry about that. My wife had already made her travel arrangements and was unable to change her plans in time," Mr. Merchant apologized, rubbing the back of his head.
"That is quite alright," said Sara. "Now, if you don't mind, I wanted to begin by asking this question: Is your daughter normally confrontational at home?"
Mr. Merchant closed the door to the teacher's classroom behind him. He then checked to make sure he had all of his belongings before wiping his brow from the summer heat. It wasn't even April yet and the temperatures had already hit records only seen in July. Then, he looked down to note that someone sat to his right. A girl no more than about twelve with chin-length dark brown hair accompanied by two pink barrettes was slouched on the worn wooden bench that erected out of the cream-colored cinder block wall. Her dark arms were folded tightly around her chest, clad in a white shirt with mid-length pink sleeves and her equally-dark scrawny legs crossed in front of her jutted out of her orange shorts. She lightly knocked her white sneakers together. The girl stared at the empty playground with an intense glare in her features. Then, she looked up at her father with the same expression.
The man smiled back at her before he let out a small sigh. "Let's go Alicia," he quietly beckoned.
During the car ride home, Alicia mimicked the same posture. Her father glanced at her from time to time with a look of concern but dare not break the silence. To make matters worse, the suffocating humidity left him with a twinge of irritation. Finally, after the fifth traffic light in silence, he spoke up. "Mrs. Liddell tells me that you did very well on your creative writing essay," he said. "They are even considering entering it into the local writing competition."
No response.
"I am glad that you found a topic that you enjoyed. I know that you were having a hard time with that part," he continued.
Still nothing.
"We have to tell your mother, when she gets back. I am sure that—"
Alicia muttered something inaudible.
"What did you say, dear?" he asked.
The girl straightened herself in the seat. "I said he called you a 'jackass'," she grumbled.
Mr. Merchant scratched the side of his beard. "Who did?" he asked.
"That boy," replied Alicia.
"You mean the one who you punched in the face," her father confirmed.
"Yeah, and then dragged him over to that puddle to show him what a real jackass looked like," she hissed.
"Alicia—"
The girl's eyes widened. "I made that little punk cry like the fat little pig he is!" Alicia sneered.
"Alicia!" her father cried out as he directed his full attention to his daughter.
"He started it!" she retorted as she turned on her father.
"You…you can't just go around beating up everyone who you don't agree with," Mr. Merchant quietly countered. "There is a time and place—"
"For everything, I know," Alicia finished as she rolled her eyes. "Nobody likes that bully anyway. I did everyone a favor," she said.
"I know, I know. And I can't say that I am not happy that you stood up for your me," he laughed as he returned his attention to the road when the traffic light turned green. Then, his expression softened. "Just promise me that you will be a bit less blunt with what you do and say?"
"You make it sound like it happens every day," the girl said as she averted her gaze.
"With the way you're going, it will!" Then, he glanced at his daughter and noted her somber expression. Mr. Merchant sighed. He reached over and placed a hand atop of her head.
"You're okay kiddo," he softly mumbled.
"Dr. Merchant?" called out a voice.
No response.
"Dr. Merchant."
"Dr. Merchant!"
"ALICIA!?"
"I heard you the first time!" the woman exclaimed.
"Then, why didn't you answer?" countered the other individual.
"Because I was thinking! You distracted my thoughts!" she grumbled as she turned away.
"Well if I could just disrupt your ever important thought process for one second," the gentleman replied with a sarcastic tone, "they are letting individuals into the ballroom now."
Dr. Merchant glared up at him. "You're lucky you are almost a foot taller than me, Jan Masaryk. Otherwise, I would wipe that smug look off of your pale face."
The man's blue eyes widened in horror. "That is just rude! With all due respect, I don't make any derogatory comments about your appearance!" he hissed while maintaining some level of decency.
Dr. Alicia Merchant was born in the countryside. Her mother owned a small alterations store and her father was a teacher at the local elementary school that she attended as a girl. The family's community was about an hour from the nearest metropolitan area. It was peaceful there. International affairs were trivial. The elders never spoke about the numerous riots or insurgents that happened on a daily basis. Nor did the children ever overhear such conversations from their parents. So, it came as a surprise to everyone when the Merchant couple's only daughter decided to go into politics.
Alicia's parents were perplexed. The young woman had never even shown such interest. Actually, she had remained rather soft-spoken. Most of her classmates already had a general idea of what discipline they might be interested in by high school. In contrast, she continued her studies, apparently oblivious. In fact, she was indifferent towards most of her peers. Alicia was rather modest, so to speak; she preferred discretion. However, she did engage in conversation occasionally, cultured yet frank with her responses. As a result, others eventually noted her honesty, regardless of their overall opinion of the woman. Yet, Dr. Merchant became rather outspoken when challenged; a disturbing contrast to her normal persona. Her demeanor became assertive and her language more potent, even destructive. Such an unlikely individual could transform into a force that was to be reckoned with. She often reminisced of one instance while she was in elementary school. An older student passed a rather rude remark concerning her father. Alicia could not suppress her desire to explode. She deemed her anger as justified and effective, given that the boy had to be homeschooled for the rest of the year….
Despite such confrontations, Alicia actually acknowledged people as intriguing. Yet, her opinions of them were rather cynical at times. The language, appearance, and mannerisms that characterized individuals varied drastically. The woman preferred to quietly observe these distinctions and note the idiosyncrasies that she believed defined a human being. Her persona might have been part of the reason for such curiosity. She did not necessarily consider herself isolated but did have a difficult time understanding the emotions of her peers. Consequently, she had experienced a number of…less than desirable encounters. Needless to say, she didn't get along with people. However, she never shared her insecurities with anyone, not even her mother and father. She did not wish to burden her parents with her shortcomings. Perhaps the unconscious lessons of her peers were more than enough to address what she perceived as flaws in her personality. Alicia viewed the comprehension of the human psyche as an interesting challenge. Yet, an isolated analysis was too abstract and impractical. However, the political environment had appealed to Alicia as a tangible application of the same elements she longed to understand.
Thus, Dr. Merchant focused the remainder of her education on the fundamentals she required for such an endeavor: the field of psychology. During that time, she also developed a more open persona. To Alicia, the most effective means of comprehension was through communication. Dr. Merchant presented herself to others with a more "diplomatic" air, even if she was nowhere near the level of an engaging conversationalist. However, diplomacy proved to nurture her personality well. She discovered that such a profession surprisingly complimented both extremes of her personality: from the reserved spectator to the relentless combatant.
This time was no different.
She and another representative, Dr. Jan Masaryk, had been requested to meet with a number of military delegates from the adjacent country of Sharo. Despite her displeasure of having to meet with these individuals in particular, she found nothing wrong with that portion of the assignment. It was just business.
However, if she was strictly here on "business"—
"Then, why am I at this party?" she asked herself.
The hosts of the delegation had arranged for a cordial "meet and greet" for everyone the night before. Dr. Merchant did not want to go. She would have rather retired early in preparation for the next day. In her opinion, it was just another publicity stunt. A minstrel of fools. Despite her progress to improve her social skills, the woman only chose to do so when necessary. She did not make it habit to voluntarily approach people. Thus, such functions proved to be unbearable. To make matters worse, Alicia would have actually gotten away with not attending if it hadn't been for her mother. The woman regretted letting it slip during her last call. How her mother ever figured out that it was a black-tie event, Dr. Merchant will never know. By the morning of Alicia's flight, there was a courier on her doorstep with an oversized package; she did not even ask who it was from or what it might be. Alicia quickly signed for the large item and brought it inside. This was her mother's doing; that woman always sent her a "gift" in such a scenario. Not that she had not inherited some of her mother's eye for clothes but how these dresses always ended up being a perfect fit without her ever being fitted each time was a mystery, even if it was her mom. How did she know if her daughter had gained or lost five pounds, especially since she had not been home since last Christmas?!
She sat at the farthest table from all of the excitement in the ballroom and watched everyone mingle as they exchanged heartfelt laughter and gestures of camaraderie. It was only then when she realized that she was the only woman in the room that wore a ball gown that was probably ten shades lighter than her dark complexion, fitted in beige satin and embroidered silver hibiscus flowers that ran down the length of the dress, from the strapless bodice to the hem. Alicia shifted in her seat and noted the uncomfortable coarse fabric tightly wrapped around her frame, especially across her small chest. She sighed and craned her neck over the back of her seat. Not too long after, Alicia realized that such a position would lead to a sore neck and quickly straightened her posture. The frigid air that circulated throughout the ballroom left goose-bumps across the woman's arms; she wrapped the dress' shawl tightly about her as she hunched her shoulders. She even had to suppress the desire to drape the fabric over her head in order to eliminate the cold air's caress over her bare scalp. The woman felt drained as she wiggled her pedicured toes exposed to the air by her heels. Then she looked at her hands. She was not necessarily keen when it came to such feminine habits.
But, her profession carried a particular image.
Just another necessary evil.
"A penny for your thoughts?" asked a familiar voice.
The woman flinched, hopeful that the gesture was interpreted to be caused by the temperature of the room.
"You should refrain from exercising such hackneyed idioms, Dr. Masaryk. Some will view it as a feign attempt at appearing scholarly," Alicia said.
Masaryk frowned. "You know, you could have just said nothing."
He received a very indifferent glance from his partner. "If you are implying what I think you are then shut up."
Dr. Masaryk was five years her junior, another psychologist by trade. Dr. Merchant was assigned to act as his mentor for the past three years upon his completion of the civil service exams. Obviously, she had no say in the matter; so he did not have as pleasant a transition into his new profession as he would have liked. However, much to the surprise of most of their colleagues, he appeared to have grown immune to most of the woman's caustic remarks in a rather short period of time. Even more shocking was that Dr. Merchant had apparently grown tolerant of his presence. "I was going to go get some refreshments. Would you like something to drink?" he asked as he turned around to leave. Alicia did not even look up at him. "No, thank you," she sighed. Jan looked at her for a moment before he nodded. As he walked away Dr. Merchant decided to change her posture. She reclined back into her chair, crossed her legs, and bowed her head once more. She did not want to give the impression that she was bored in the middle of such a lively gathering but she was tired from her travels and wished that she could just disappear.
Then, as she pondered over that thought for a third time, a shadow entered her field of vision as she gazed down at the floor.
"Did you change your mind about the refreshments, Masaryk?" she asked the figure.
"No. In fact, I suggest that you help yourself to a number of the hors d'oeuvres before the night is over," replied a new voice.
Alicia snapped her head up.
The gentleman in full uniform stared down at her. He smiled. "I am surprised that you are being so reserved, Dr. Merchant," commented the man as he folded his hands behind him. "As exquisite as you look tonight, you should be fluttering around the room as the beautiful social butterfly you are," he cooed while leaning towards her. At first, Alicia returned a blank stare. Then, the edges of her lips gradually curled into a smile. With a sideways glance, she cradled her head with an arm propped on the table. "Dr. Verstand, your wife is here isn't she?" she flatly asked. The gentleman's eyes widened. "Of course she is not!" he chimed. Then, she shot the gentleman a glare. "Does she know that act in this sort of fashion?" She casually casted her other hand at his current stance. Dr. Verstand stood erect. "She is okay with it as long as it is with you," he laughed. "She knows that I haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell," he added darkly as he averted his gaze.
"Well, in that case I am flattered," Alicia replied. "Now, what is it that I can do for you, Brigadier General?" she asked.
"Oh, no, no, no!" he cordially countered, waving a disapproving finger at her. "My dear, I have been promoted since the last time we have seen one another!"
"Oh, really?!" she chimed with feigned enthusiasm. "So what should I refer to you now?"
"I, Major General Verstand, do believe it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am," he announced as he bowed briefly. "As for my business here: Would you do me the honor dancing with me?" he asked with an outstretched hand.
Dr. Merchant froze.
It was as if time had stopped.
The fluttering of her eyelids.
A subtle twitch around her left temple.
Even her pulse had paused.
She couldn't dance.
He knew that.
"That ill-hearted son of a bitch!" she hissed. "I'll kill—"
"That's a wonderful idea, Major General," called out a voice from behind Alicia's chair. She twisted around in her seat as Dr. Verstand looked up to greet the newcomer.
"Dr. Merchant has been rather down this evening," continued Jan as he approached the two. "I think that she should be a bit more proactive, don't you think Dr. Verstand?" he smiled.
Alicia shot daggers at her subordinate. "That damned idiot!"
Oblivious to her shortcomings, he returned a smile. "Oh, don't be nervous Dr. Merchant. From what I hear, Verstand is very nimble!" he chimed.
"Ah, Dr. Masaryk, it is a pleasure to see you again," greeted Verstand as he shook the other man's hand over Alicia's seat. "And what you have heard is true! That's one thing that my age hasn't stolen from me as of yet!" he laughed.
Alicia was going to be sick.
Suddenly, she felt a gentle grip about her arm, which lifted her out of her seat. Before she realized it she was arm-in-arm with the Major General.
Verstand looked down at her.
"Shall we?" he gestured towards the center of the ballroom. Alicia stared back at him with an impassive expression on the surface while underneath she was in a bewildered turmoil. But, there was no way that she would betray those terrified feelings in front of this man.
That is all he would need to destroy her.
As she processed in her mind what the Major General's ulterior motives could be, she had already been spirited away. "Damn him," she thought. For once she thought that she could come out victorious during one of their encounters. Since the first time she met Verstand, this man successfully chiseled away at her pride. If her suspicions were correct, this time would be no different. It would be an understatement to say that the two did not always see eye-to-eye on affairs. The only problem was that there was something very disturbing about Aldrich L. Verstand that the woman could never put her finger on. Never had she ever seen the man act out in a violent manner nor suggest any sort of aggression as a solution to the issue. He always carried such a sophisticated and scholarly demeanor. Nonetheless, Alicia always felt psychologically drained after debating with him. Even a casual conversation with him left her on edge, even if it didn't show. One lesson that she had learned long ago was to never betray her emotions in front of an opponent. This proved to be even direr in her current profession, especially each time she stood behind the podium or the opposite side of the negotiation table. She observed how even what appeared to be the most innocent of his expressions, body language, and word choice destroyed an individual's constitution within seconds: the epitome of psychological warfare. Rationally, she was terrified. However, such communicative skill enthralled her philosophical side; comprehension of this man's persona was critical. Needless to say, he was very successful when it came to…the art of diplomacy.
Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.
But, tonight he was his overly-cordial self.
Unlike her, he was a very social individual.
These settings were his natural habitat.
It was her who felt the most alienated.
Her heels clicked against the ground, which signaled to her that they had reached the crowded dance floor. Alicia glanced from left to right. Instantly, she recognized a number of prominent representatives who were also attending the negotiations tomorrow. A plethora of laughter and excited dialogue bubbled amongst them. As they weaved through the crowds, she watched as couples pranced by as they followed through with a quickstep or leisurely flowing with the graceful strides of a bolero. Alicia frowned. Suddenly, Verstand spoke up. "You don't have to worry Dr. Merchant," he said as they strode. "All you have to do is follow my lead. Remember, it is supposed to be fun so don't concentrate too much on your movements," the gentleman continued as he reassuringly patted the woman's hand. Merchant glanced down at his hand, which now rested atop of hers, then observed his stern expression as he faced forward into the crowd. There. This is what frightened her most: Verstand appeared to have a split personality. The Verstand that walked at her side carried a completely different demeanor to the one she observed behind closed doors: the gentle, out-going gentleman versus the stoic and dogmatic officer. From that experience, she had come to one important conclusion:
It was very difficult to read this man.
That could prove to be dangerous….
Very dangerous.
"Are you alright, Dr. Merchant?" asked Verstand.
Alicia looked up to greet his concerned expression. It was only then that she realized that they were engaged in a waltz. She glanced around, slightly bewildered as she noted instinctive moves across the dance-floor. Then, she snapped back her attention to her dancing partner as he erupted into a loud guffaw. "See, I told you! There was nothing to be worried about," he smiled. However, Alicia only returned a blank stare. "I suppose you were not trying to deceive me, Doctor," she finally replied. Verstand looked hurt. "What?! Why would I do such a thing?!" he cried. "I am insulted that you would actually consider that I would do something so calculating, so deceiving, so conniving, so—"
"Alright!" Alicia snapped. "However, even you would have to admit that your personal history is not in your favor," she continued.
Verstand's eyes widened. "Well, I suppose in that context…you do have a point," he said, downcast. "Regardless, this is hardly the time or place—"
"Precisely, this is hardly the time or place," Alicia quietly interrupted, with an intense expression.
The gentleman returned the gesture. "I cannot say that I have made the most chivalrous actions but it…is a means to an end," he replied. "We are not here purely for aesthetic purposes." Then, he averted his cold gaze. "You out off all of these people in the room should know that," he slowly said, as he returned his attention on her. For a moment, the woman almost wished that he had not looked at her.
"I understand that Dr. Verstand," she mumbled.
"You, in particular, have a very important goal in mind, Dr. Merchant," he said coolly. His tone of voice had changed. She recognized that tone.
When?
When did this Verstand surface?
"You cannot deny that you have an ulterior motive as well," he continued.
Alicia remained silent.
"In such a time, there are instances where we must sacrifice our personal morals for the sake of our endeavors, especially if our goals impact an entire society," Verstand said. After, a smile crept on his face. "I know that you do not like me, Dr. Merchant," he almost whispered. "I do not blame you either. You and I are entangled in a conflict of interest, after all. Nonetheless, that does not change the fact that I will try everything in my power to make sure that I go home with as many victories as possible. I suggest that you do the same."
Alicia narrowed her eyes.
Suddenly, his demeanor reverted back. "That reminds me," he began with an inquisitive air. Then, he leaned towards her ear, his coarse white beard tickled. "Is your father well, Alicia?" he whispered.
SLAP!
The woman's face was in disarray. She had taken a defensive stance while the sting on her flattened palm lingered. A tremor of seething anger had ravaged through her body, which forced her entire frame to tremble due to the remnants of exhaustion. Her heated bosom rose and fell heavily through the tight bodice as she gasped for air. Verstand's head was still placed in the direction it had been twisted from the blow, which left an eminent welt across his face. By this time, the other occupants of the dance floor closest to the two had become distracted by the sudden upheaval. The hands of some of the women flew to their faces in order to hide their astonishment while the men simply stood as they exchanged perplexed glances.
But Alicia didn't care. She didn't care how many people watched. She didn't care how this would affect the opinion of her peers.
She had never cared.
Nor was she disheartened by the glare that man had casted on her flustered state out of the corner of his eye.
And she didn't care about what she was about to say:
"You uncouth swine! You manipulate the lives around you as if they are expendable playthings! You corrupt people!"
A storm of violent words was followed by clatter of heels away from the center of the floor with only a gather of confused and flustered bystanders in her wake. She did not turn around to even note if the object of her aggressive outburst had pursued her, with a mirror of her livid expression. Unfortunately, Alicia did not anticipate another familiar to be on her tail. By the time she had flung open the door to the ballroom, a broad hand gripped her about her shoulder. Upon instinct, Dr. Merchant spun around to retaliate against an expected counterattack, only to be greeted by a man of taller statue, younger physique, and an even more enraged demeanor then she had anticipated.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Dr. Masaryk hissed as he drew closer.
"Let go of me," she snarled in a deeper tone than expected.
Dr. Masaryk's scowl only deepened. "Might I remind you that we are not here to stir animosity!?"
"You want to observe a harbinger of animosity?!" she began with an unsteady tone. Then, she jabbed a finger towards her former place in the room. "Befriend that monster over there!" Dr. Merchant spat.
Her partner dragged down her arm. "I am not going to let you ruin this entire assignment over your own personal hostility towards others!"
"Don't be an idiot! As if I could even show my face in there again after what that man said!" Alicia spat.
Masaryk's expression darkened. "That was of your own doing!"
Alicia wrung out of Dr. Masaryk's grip. She shot her most scathing glare at her protégé. The one she reserved for her most heated opponents. Like that man. "Disgusting." Then, with a turn of her heel she was gone. Masaryk stood at the ballroom doorway as she stormed off.
It hurt.
It truly hurt.
No matter how many times he tried to prove himself, she always belittled him. He never felt that she fully acknowledged his ability.
Never.
Dr. Masaryk simply watched his mentor storm down the hallway towards the hotel lobby. All his thoughts halted to a standstill, frustrated at his lack of rebuttal. He felt as if he had reverted back to a child, just scolded by his mother and unable to retort in his defense for fear of being reprimanded. But, he continued to watch her until she was out of sight, with his head held high. Regardless of the situation, he was well beyond the age where he could respond with tears and sputtered nonsense, all fueled by frustration at his own self and towards a lack of comprehension of her psyche.
"There is a common proverb that speaks of every hundred or so roses that bloom there is at least one born without thorns, hidden within a thicket of its brethren," someone said from behind Masaryk.
The gentleman did not have to turn around to know who was addressing him.
"I would say that she is the epitome of such a statement," Verstand continued as he held up something to the side of his face.
"It would seem that you have upset her, Dr. Verstand," Masaryk replied with more of a hardened tone than he had intentioned.
Unfortunately, Verstand noticed. "An easy achievement when it comes to her."
Jan drew closer to the officer while he maintained eye contact. "Maybe so, but this is hardly the place for engaging in such conversati—" He stopped when he noted what Verstand had rested against his face:
"Why is there a wine glass against your cheek?" he asked flatly.
"It was the coldest thing I could think of to minimize swelling," Verstand nonchalantly replied. Then, he averted his gaze. "That is probably the first time a woman has slapped me and nearly dislocated my jaw," he nervously chuckled.
Masaryk gawked. "Did I miss something? I thought she only slapped you in the face!"
"She did! But, she is much stronger than she looks," Verstand said while he took a step back. "Though I must admit, I actually anticipated that she was going to punch me."
Masaryk sighed. "Dr. Verstand—"
"However, I still have a bit of my dexterity and agility left from my younger days—"
The younger man cleared his throat. "Dr. Verstand—"
"Which I don't think could ever compare to hers—"
"I believe it would be best if you went and apologized to her," Dr. Masaryk said.
Aldrich responded with a dry expression. He then squared his shoulders and leered at him. Masaryk was rooted to where he stood, unable to move under such an intimidating situation, but still able to prevent his unsecured mask of stoicism from slipping off of his eyes. However, his glasses were slightly askew.
Finally, when the doctor's gaze seemed unbearable, Verstand finally looked away and rolled his eyes out of apathy.
"On the contrary, I would suggest you pass on the following trivial piece of advice to your mentor," he began. Then, he turned to face Jan. "If she is going to continue placing her faith in such a naïve philosophy, she will not exist for very much longer."
Perhaps it was the gentleman's tone at the moment that caught Masaryk off-guard. Otherwise, it had to be that dangerous expression on his face. Regardless, Jan had left himself completely vulnerable and thus betrayed such an expression.
"No. I was told never to express any form of hesitation in front of this person. She told me that."
In response, Verstand grinned, but that action did nothing to alleviate Jan's simmering anxiety. In fact, the gesture only deepened such uneasiness.
"I see that you fully comprehend my sentiment," the doctor said calmly.
Jan said nothing. His composure was uncomfortably rigid, his mouth clamped tightly.
Verstand chuckled and then turned to leave. "Despite what she may say about you Dr. Masaryk, I believe she knows that you are much smarter than most—"
Then, after a few moments he added: "—especially her."
How quickly life takes a detour.
Meandering through each trial and tribulation. Throwing obstacles and hurdles at him in whatever manner it saw fit. Monoliths to climb with raw, blistered fingers. Hundreds of miles of winding roads engulfed in the oppressing blanket of isolation. Alone. To venture out on a journey from birth with neither a set destination. Sometimes he felt if his life was purposefully inclined to destroy him. But it was fine. As long as those obstacles distracted him from turning back. Reflecting on the past. Suddenly, that same path turned once more and passed the employee lounge on his right. Then, it ventured to the end of the hallway and through the double doors leading to the entrance to the stairwell. Up three flights of stairs (the elevator would have allowed his mind to become congested with too many impeding thoughts) and out to another hallway, almost identical in the decorum shared by both the inanimate and the living on the previous floor. However, there was one exception: the "Division of Psychology and Psychoanalysis" sign overhead. He phased through the two heavy double doors and continued forward. His daily routine was composed of 12-hour shifts, including early mornings and late nights within this area of this hospital. The only advantage was that he was only required to be at the hospital three days a week. Unfortunately, the last time he remembered doing so was during his first week of being hired to the physician staff, not to mention that he was technically on call 24-hours a day for any emergencies, which seemed to be quite frequent for this division.
Today was no different. He arrived at his mailbox. It appeared as if a number of new patients had been admitted for "psychological evaluation", which could mean as many negative possibilities as there were stars in the Milky Way. Of course, it was his job to pinpoint the "acceptable" solution to address each patient's ailments. It was obvious that some of these veterans would never be fully diagnosed. That is just how abysmal the mind could be; it developed multiple conditions that could overlap, conflict, or substitute themselves for one another at any point in time. Sometimes only a menial event was necessary to trigger such a metamorphosis, depending on the source of the traumatic experience.
Jan emptied the contents and carefully arranged them in order of the room number. Then, he walked towards his office. As part of his normal routine, Jan evaluated the notes left by the technicians, nurses, and other personnel who had encountered the patient prior to him. Sometimes that was the only information that he was able to work with. Jan thumbed through the third file in his tidy stack. Again, similar symptoms suggested that this patient had developed an all too common ailment; one that was establishing a growing trend quickly as of late. It was expected. In light of recent insurgencies that have become daily bread for the press. Despite the morbidity of the situation, this common ground translated to an opportunity to connect servicemen that had underwent similar experiences. Such camaraderie assisted in the recovery process. A promising strategy for the first five cases he had analyzed so far.
But then there was that sixth case…
Aside from basic personal information, most of the data on the patient was either labeled not available or left blank. Most likely the person who filled out the form had not been the doctor (which usually occurred if there had been a serious emergency). So with very little information, this case would most likely have to be prioritized over the others. More data would be needed before the official evaluation could be conducted. Translation: Jan would have to personally go to that patient.
Which meant he would have to get up out of his seat….
The blond sighed. The last thing he wanted was something to break his usual routine, especially since this new development meant that what would normally take only the morning would most likely languidly stretch on into the afternoon or more accurately into the evening. In other words, he would have only completed a quarter of the things he had wanted to accomplish today. With a grunt of disgust, the doctor shot out of his seat and slammed the respective folder shut. Then, he stormed over to the door—and then clamored back to summon a pen. That would have been the straw that broke! If he had gone all the way to the fifth floor and realized that he had not brought anything to write with, he would have surely needed to be admitted to a room the same day.
Down the hall once more, past the stretchers, monitoring equipment, and personnel that crossed his path. He quickly sneaked past the nurses' station. Heaven forbid they stopped him to add any more to his work load.
Finally, he was at the elevator. The stairs would have slowed his pace. He needed to keep moving forward. Forward.
After 20 minutes, Jan reached the right floor. Once more he evaded the nurses' station and made a sharp right at the second hallway from that point. He quickened his pace as he reached his final destination and weaved around the relatively crowded corridor. Finally, he found room 503. Instinctively, he grabbed the binder that rested in the document holder adjacent to the door and briefly thumbed through its contents. Still nothing. Relinquishing the binder with a grunt of frustration, the doctor practically rammed through the door and slammed it behind him.
He froze.
The room was empty.
As with most of the rooms on this floor, it was a private room. No one could afford to even fathom the idea of housing two mentally unstable individuals in close proximity. The room was rather sparse, only housing a hospital bed positioned close to the door, complete with privacy drapes collected on one side and cabinets for housing medical supplies on the other. One large window allowed morning sunlight to highlight the numerous whitewashed tiles residing in the empty area of the room. The lights were off to conserve energy and the bed was neatly made. And empty. There were no monitoring devices housed in the room. So, was the patient moved to another room or undergoing another medical examination?
Jan furrowed his brow in confusion. In the meantime, he glanced at the folder in his hand. The room number's matched. "I don't have any record of the patient being relocated," he muttered to himself. Then, Masaryk opened the folder once more. "This records the admission yesterday at 10:30 AM," he continued as he scratched his scalp. "If that is the case, perhaps they should have finished admitting him by now."
Glasses askew, he sighed. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet and he already felt an overwhelming amount of fatigue. "Coffee, coffee," Jan whispered to himself. "That is what I need." He shook his head and turned. He now had an axe to grind with the nurse's station, grumbling about who he speculated to be the culprit as he made a beeline for the door. His digits wrapped around the knob and prepared to twist.
Jan paused.
He stared down intensely at the doorknob. Gradually a frown enveloped his features and his head made contact with the door with a slight thump. He continued to stare downwards. The heat pooled about his fingers and slowly penetrated the frigid metal. His other hand gripped the wad of folders tightly. The manila began to feel warm and clammy under his fingertips. Slowly, he pushed away from the door. Jan turned around. Only now was his gaze fixed on the fragile sliver of morning sun that slipped through the blinds at the opposite side of the room. His vision traced the thin beam to the floor. As if in a trance, the doctor began to walk forward. Quiet footfalls echoed through the nearly empty room. On instinct, Jan dropped the wad of folders onto the neatly made bed as he walked by. He approached the window. The sliver now illuminated the right side of his face. He sighed. Why? He had been cruising forward, unhindered. Why, had he turned to look behind him?
"What day was it?"
He slowly parted the blinds.
"The sun."
Something about that slender illumination against the bleached tiles reminded him of something. Something he didn't want to remember. "When I woke up that morning... the morning light had slipped through the blinds just like this."
Five years ago.
After all this time, he couldn't shake Verstand's words that night, especially since he had developed a rather keen memory. Courtesy of his former life. Today was the anniversary after all. The officer's foreboding words had been some sort of prophecy. "If she is going to continue placing her faith in such a naïve philosophy, she will not exist for very much longer." But he wouldn't have known. How could anyone have known? Verstand? Who had been kind enough to offer him this opportunity after all that had transpired? No. He could have never comprehended the weight of his own words. "Despite what she may say about you Dr. Masaryk, I believe that you are much smarter than most…."
Verstand, who had become the harbinger of misfortune.
"…especially her."
Verstand, the mastermind.
"I am truly sorry."
Verstand, the villain.
"So very sorry."
Five years.
But he couldn't have known.
"She held so much promise."
Five long years to that day.
"Such a beautiful mind."
He couldn't.
"Then, why am I still here?" the blond whispered. "You know why. You know exactly why." Jan stepped away from the window. A voice. Alienated and yet so familiar. A vindictive, cold ego crept into his conscious. A product of her mentoring. Unbeknownst to the blond, it had firmly rooted itself in the fertile soil of his insecurities and suspicions. "Why are you still here? What are you waiting for?" it sneered. Jan retreated his hand. The light peaked through the subtle metronome as the blinds gradually went still. "No. I don't. I don't know what I am doing anymore." He scoffed.
"I believe she knows that you are much smarter than most…."
Jan frowned. "Then why am I still here, Aldrich?" He quickly turned on a heel and marched back to the door, grabbing the abandoned paperwork as he flew by.
"Why am I still…."
"I'm telling you Dr. Masaryk, I don't know what happened! I just started my shift two hours ago. How am I supposed to know how a blank wound up in your hands?!" the mousy brunette huffed, darting her equally brown eyes in contempt upon the countertop of the nurses' station. They slipped to a tablet nearby. "Check with Carla. She would know who was on shift last ni—" During her monologue she had redirected her attention back to the doctor, only to fall silent upon observing his blanched expression. Jan swallowed thickly, as if his throat had been stuffed with plump cotton swabs and straw. He parted his lips to orchestrate his next words carefully. "The…reason why I am asking you is so that you, me, and the remainder of this floor can avoid the pandemonium that would ensure upon following your…recommendation." He then lunged forward, planting his clammy palms atop the freshly planted counter top. His face hovered a mere inches from the woman's. She recoiled in fright. "Please…Please! Tell me that you have at least some sort of indication as to what might have happened!" he nearly begged, almost on the verge of tears. But the nurse only took this as a declaration of war, stretching her lips into a thin, line. Her eyes flared.
"Ah! Finally! There you are!"
Both the doctor and nurse froze instantaneously.
"Here I am rampaging through the entire hospital looking for you. You responded to neither the intercom nor my emails. I go to your office. No one is home. You aren't even answering your phone! Wait—" the newcomer raised a submissive hand "—let me guess: it was in the office." The gentleman chuckled. "Jan, do you honestly intend for me to receive my full days' worth of exercise every time I have to locate you?"
Speak of the Devil.
Literally.
The blond slowly shifted his gaze. He took note of the person's beaming smile, almost indistinguishable from his bushy starch white beard. Jan frowned. "Sir, I didn't think you would—" Verstand waved a dismissive hand, furrowing his brow in disgust. "Why must you always be so formal?!" The older man shrugged his shoulders. "I never am." He then stepped forward and propped himself against the station counter. "But on a separate note, have you taken up the habit of harassing innocent nurses, Jan?" he mused with a sly grin on his face. It took a moment for Jan to collect his thoughts…and realize his current stance: towering over a mundane and gaunt woman who appeared three gestures away from introducing Jan's face to the sole of her white tennis shoes. The blond flew back from the counter. Heat immediately rose to his cheeks as he held up the source of his woes. "I was only trying to get information on—" But, before he could finish a sudden swift blur caught the man off guard. It took Jan a moment to register that the manila folder pertaining to his "mystery" patient had been relinquished from his grasp. Verstand idly stretched his hand open, beckoning the item to reveal its contents. Grey irises nonchalantly scanned over the information. Then, the folder was clamped shut and dropped behind the counter. The officer eyed the nurse.
"Where is Carla?"
Jan, startled out of his trance, stepped forward. "Sir—" But, an outstretched palm silenced him, followed by a steely gaze. "She won't come for your blood Jan." It then snapped back to the nurse, who was silently working on answering the doctor's inquiry. "You know that." Verstand then addressed the woman. "When she stops by, hand that to her. The culprit will be fired or flogged by lunch time." He then adds in a lower volume, averting his eyes to the floor: "Whichever comes last."
Verstand then stood to attention as he clapped his hands in front of him and bowed towards his subordinate. "I apologize for my brashness." The doctor than sprung up, his beaming smile restored. "Now that has been settled, may I have a moment of your time, Jan?" The blond stood in silence. He was still processing what had just transpired. The term "unscrupulous" did not even begin to describe the man before him. "What the Hell just happened?!" he internally cried, confusion had comfortably settled into his features. But in an instant Jan recovered. "No. Never to express any form of hesitation in front of this person. She told me that." But, how valid was that advice now? The two of them were no longer on opposing shores, per se. Verstand and Jan had shifted their roles. Or at least, Jan has. Demoted from envoy to a mere subordinate. "What good is following that advice now that I am no longer a threat?" he mused, frowning.
Finally, the blond sighed, resigned to his fate. "Of course," he muttered while mustering up his most amiable grin. A hand fell heavily on his shoulder. The gentleman laughed. "Finally, my journey comes to an end!"
As Jan was whisked away from the nurses' station, he couldn't suppress that vindictive voice in the back of his mind. Her voice.
"Such stupid prey. Strolling right into the beast's maw."
Jan would never grow accustomed to this.
This.
He shifted uncomfortably in the coffee leather guest chair. He briefly eyed its empty mate before taking in the rest of the office. The room was rather modestly furnished. But, it wasn't as if the furniture was substandard. Just basic. Faint blue eyes focused on the desk before them. It appeared to be comprised of oak, adorned with a matching set of guest chairs—one of which he currently occupied—and executive chair, occupied by his…host. Jan eyed the older gentleman, who was attentive to his computer monitor for the moment. Verstand's expression was neutral. His brow was relaxed as he blinked methodically. But, his mouth, almost concealed by his neatly trimmed beard, took on a grim line rather than adorning his trademark grin. "Typical. He laments on how he had to go on a wild goose chase to find me but then has me wait when I finally give him my undivided attention," the blond grumbled to himself. Though, a small part of him was very grateful. Better to delay the inevitable. A conversation. Light banter. A quaint discussion. An outsider would only note trivialities. But to Jan, it was more than that.
And that is what filled him with dread.
"No. I was told never to express any form of hesitation in front of this person. She told me that."
That was the second time today he echoed that statement. And for the second time he questioned how applicable that advice was. After all, he had nothing to fear right? He wasn't under suspicion of any wrong doing. Though, he couldn't say the same for the unfortunate soul that would be reprimanded for this morning's fiasco. Jan should be able to relax. Verstand probably wanted to be updated on some minimal affair or status of the patients left under the blond's care. Nothing special.
But then Jan remembered what day it was. The morning light had proved to be a potent reminder. He contemplated on how good the director's memory was in his golden years.
"Is that what he wants to talk about?"
A stone plunged into the pit of his stomach. No. It couldn't be that. "Verstand had never made it a topic of discussion for the past three years since I joined." What would compel him to start now? Still that didn't change the fact that…well….
"I was told never to express any form of hesitation in front of you."
A pause. The older gentleman's eyes froze presumably in mid-sentence. His guest took in the slightly soothing ambiance of cold air that whisked across the back of his neck. It would appear that the air conditioning vent was located not too far away. Hopefully that would minimize any evidence of perspiration on his brow. The blond blinked. His face mirrored that of his host but carried a slightly severe air. That is when Jan realized the trap that he had erected for himself. A conversation. How easily Aldrich extracted the worst out of people. Something about him…compelled people to embellish their darkest thoughts. Secrets. Their innermost opinions about him and others.
Aldrich L. Verstand somehow….
"You manipulate the lives around you as if they are expendable playthings! You corrupt people!"
In an instant he felt the cold venom seep into his veins. In response, the director relaxed his shoulders. "That isn't the reason why I called for you." He then resumed to reading the computer screen. "But, I wondered why you never mentioned it." He sighed. "I thought it too soon without losing your composure." Jan shrugged his shoulders. "What is there for me to lose my composure over?" The older man smirked at his monitor. "Typical. Even from beyond…she still haunts me." Curiously, his tone was more nostalgic than vindictive. "They never found a body," he replied rather sternly. To his dismay, a pair of sliver eyes slowly slid in his direction.
"You don't have to get testy."
"I'm not being testy."
The senior doctor returned his attention to the monitor, engaging himself in a subtle cadence of fluid keystrokes. "So you say…with such a defensive tone."
"I'm just restating the facts," Jan replied with a slightly elevated volume. "A body was never recovered."
"So you take that as an optimistic sign. That there is a possibility that she is still alive."
"I never said—"
Verstand lightly chucked as he relinquished his broad hands from the keyboard and planted both against the edge of the desktop. He distanced himself from the distraction on the computer monitor. "There it is again." His eyes fell once more on the blond. "For someone who asked such a rhetorical question I am thoroughly surprised that you are struggling to answer it."
The younger man maintained his relaxed expression. But his grip about the seat's arms subtly tightened. "Please Aldrich, don't patronize me so early in the morning."
Verstand snorted. "This barely even qualifies as humoring oneself, much less patronizing."
"I'm simply not in the mood."
"For what? A light discussion?" Verstand shook his head dotingly. "Jan, I never considered you to be a non-conversationalist."
"Please don't start."
The officer relented. He sighed as he resumed is attention to the computer. "But I suppose it is expected….given what today is."
"Vers—"
"How many years has it been now?" The doctor muttered more to himself than his guest as he stroked his beard inquisitively. His eyes never left the monitor.
The blond waved a dismissive hand. "That's enough. We don't need to—"
"My God, it feels like yesterday when she struck me across the face."
Jan couldn't help but slip a taste of annoyance into his tone. He leaned forward in his seat. "Aldi—"
"How quickly things fall apart." The blond froze. Such a somber tone. One that he had become all too familiar with. Reminiscing on something that can never be reclaimed. The preemptive string of harshly orchestrated words died in his throat. He watched the director recline in his chair. "Millennia of evolution to achieve the modern marvel of mankind. And how easily they can be whisked away from this planet." With a low growl he added: "Like a languid trail of smoke." Jan casted a hardened stare upon the old man. He swallowed. "Don't do this," he silently begged. "Don't talk about this. Not today." He could be willing to discuss tomorrow or the day after that or the following day. Any day from tomorrow to the end of the world. But not today. Just leave today alone. Quietly stow it away in the farthest corner of your long forgotten memories and let the dust of regret settle along its edges….
"How easily history repeats itself."
The blond blanched. But he remained silent. On cue that annoying voice had resurfaced. "How indeed. Wouldn't you love to know why you hadn't gone first?" So much for remaining a spectator. "What do you mean?" It was only after a moment that he realized his inquiry to the ghost in his head had been heard by another audience. Verstand's attention was fixed on him. Slowly the officer narrowed his eyes, as if analyzing some foreign creature that he had encountered for the first time. The old man frowned. Then, he shook his head before resuming his work. "Oh, just something that happened recently reminded me of…."
"It's just….It's nothing really," he added with a dismissive wave of his hand.
To be continued…
R&R
LOTS