Scene Nine Baltimore, MD, September 1872

Courier, hidden behind a living façade constructed for his impersonation of James West, walked into the Bridgeport Hotel on the morning of September 3rd.  A meticulously worded wire had been sent to West's partner, Artemus Gordon, saying only that 'West' would arrive there, early in the month. Registering, Courier asked and was told Artemus Gordon was already at the hotel, in Room 282. Now the most rigorous testing of his patterning outside Aynsley's laboratory would begin, with pitfalls and bear-traps everywhere he stepped. Technically, the agents were expected to spend the next week and a half in Baltimore, preparing for the President's meeting with local politicos and regional leaders. But as Courier picked up his valise and strode across the hotel lobby, something decidedly outside his patterning happened.

''Jim! Jim!'' Artemus Gordon shouted, hurrying down the long, central staircase towards Courier. Grinning from ear to ear, the actor-agent pulled Courier/West into an embrace and then pulled back to welcome and to rebuke him. '' You look like ten miles of bad road in winter! Where in the Sam Hill have you been, man? Why didn't you wire anyone, until now? Why haven't we heard one peep from you, since the middle of March, for G-ds sake?''

''Artemus, calm down! I've just been up to my neck in crocodiles!  And all them usually looked at me like I was dinner. And all of them were watching me, pretty much around the clock.'' Courier explained, reaching for the set questions and answers part of his constructed self. They're a really, really nervous bunch of crocodiles, I can tell you. And I did send a whole haggle of wires. Nobody got them?'' Courier's briefings from Aynsley included the fact that several telegrams were sent to his colleagues, above the signature of James West.

'' As a matter of fact, no. Well, not any since March. And those were to say the least, brusque, my friend. Never mind that for now. Who 's this nervous bunch of crocodiles? Who have you been with, Jim? And why in the devil aren't you answering my questions?'' Gordon demanded.

This reaction was within Courier's patterns, and he favored the older man with half a crooked smile. '' Well partly because you're not letting me get a word in edgewise, partner.''

'' And partly what else, James?'' the actor-agent demanded.

'' Not partly, mostly.'' Courier said, turning around to scan the lobby. '' We're in a kind of public place for this kind of discussion, aren't we?''
             

 ''Oh, oh, right. C'mon then. We'll go back to the rooms and send down for room service while you get cleaned up and I get those answers.'' Artie suggested.

''Sure, Artemus, sure. '' Courier nodded. '' But I have a question too. Where is everyone else? Why wasn't Mac down those steps ahead of, or right behind you? Why isn't Jacques standing here, right this minute, giving me my yearly health examination and the what-for? And I don't see Jeremy, or Frank or the Colonel either. So, what's going on, partner?''

'' Well, mostly none of them are supposed to be here till at least the end of this week, if not later.''

''And partly what else, Artemus?'' Courier asked, echoing the agent's question.

''Well, let me see. Jere and Frank were still looking for you, down around Raleigh and then trying all the way down to N'Orleans, until they got my wire telling them about yours. They'll be back here, and on your case, by next week. Jacques is on his way to Mon'real, to take care of his niece's inheritance, the way he does every year. And we practically had to chain him to that northbound train, too, Jim, or he would be here, right now, reading you the riot act.

Colonel Richmond and Mac are still down in the District, although Mac was saying he'd have to go down to Norfolk sometime real soon now. And I suppose you can guess, James, that he was planning that trip about as reluctantly as possible, because he'd be seeing your relatives down there, to tell them we still hadn't found you!   And Mac will be here, as soon as possible, James, and he will be reaming you a new one, at that time, you can bank on that!. And the Colonel wired me back, when my wire reached him, saying on no account should you be let out of my sight until he can call you on the carpet, personally!''

''But the President's meeting.'' Courier asked, showing the 'proper concern' for their assignment. '' That's still being held here, isn't it? That's still on schedule, isn't it?''

'' Yes, unfortunately.' Gordon sighed, turning towards the lift as it came back to the lobby. '' The Man wouldn't hear of missing this meeting with the Governor and legislators here. And believe me, Jim, I did my utmost to convince him that there might be something chancier than usual going on, these days. ''

 '' But why would you say that, Artemus?'' Courier asked, following Gordon. His patterning indicated the older agent would suspect any and all parts of his/West's reemergence.

'' Well, maybe because one of the President's chief security advisors, who happens to be a damn-fool young friend of mine, by the way, went missing for the better part of eight months, and that's only counting from March! '' Gordon growled.

''But I'm back, now. So, stop worrying.'' Courier suggested.

''Yeah, sure, easy for you to say, apparently.'' Gordon muttered, scowling. ''I'm just a little bewildered by your behavior, partner.''

'' And why would that be?'' Courier half smiled. The patterning meant for Gordon to be perplexed. He was still on the faultless path.

'' Because you've never done this kind of undercover work before, James m'boy. And yet you insisted, according to what Frank tells me, on taking on this 'costume-drill' as you always used to call it, instead of him, or Jere, or even Jacques. And then, you disappear from the surface of the earth, without so much as a breadcrumb to show us your path. And now, out of a blue sky, you turn up again!'' Artie went on, listing 'West's' transgressions.

'' Like a bad penny, Artemus?'' Courier asked, as they both stepped off the lift. ''Where are the rooms? And where are the baths? I could really use one, before dinner. Oh and be sure to order up a whole lot of dinner, I'm famished. ''

''The rooms are down this way to the left. And don't you mean supper, Jim? It's nearly four o'clock.'' Artie asked, puzzled by the younger man's usage.

'' Is it? No wonder I'm hungry, and bushed!'' Courier said, turning to stride down the corridor Gordon pointed out. 

'' Did you lose your grandfather's pocket watch, James? Or did you think to leave it with Frank, before you went out?'' Artie asked, frowning again, and following 'Jim West'. 

This was on the periphery of the patterning, Courier realized but still available to him. '' No, of course I left it with Frank. The way it's inscribed; it could have given me away to the bad guys. Besides, Grandfather would reach down from Glory and paddle me good, if I lost his gold watch.''

'' Alright, here's the room, and there's the gentleman's bath.'' Artie told him when he stopped in front of a numbered door, and pointed to a larger door with a sign above just down the hall. ''What do you want first, Jim, food or a good scrubbing?''

'' Well, food, I'd say. But I'm carrying about a mile of those ten you mentioned around with me. So, I'll go on and wash up.'' Courier answered, pulling on a rendering of one of West's trademark grins. ''Get lots of food, Artemus. Lots.''

''Sure, James. Hey, wait a darned second, there.'' Artie said as the younger man was walking towards the bath.

'' What's wrong now?'' Courier asked, searching for any error he might have made.

'' Oh nothing, partner, except you didn't say who's paying for all this food.'' Artie told him, cocking his head and waiting 'West's' answer.

''That's easy. We're here on the government's dime, aren't we? Well, this can go on their accounts, too. We're not here on vacation, after all. We're working now. And, at any rate they can better afford it. They've still got all the gold in Fort Knox and the Denver Mint, after all, don't they? Relax, will you, Artemus? Everything is right on schedule.'' Courier said, and stepped into the gentleman's bathing room.

 ''Everything is right on schedule?'' Artie repeated, scratching his head as he opened the door to suite 282, and walked inside.  ''What in the very devil does that mean?'' The phrase and a handful of other things about 'West' were perplexing the actor-agent badly. Keeping to his word, he sent a huge dinner order down the pneumatic tube system for the hotel restaurant, and only then, strode down the hall to the bath.

'' Artemus, what is the matter?'' Courier asked, turning towards the door. '' You don't look nearly as glad to see me now, as you did, coming down that staircase.''

''No, no, I'm delighted to see you, James. Well, maybe not as much of you as I could see right now if I took another step or two. But you've really got to answer at least a couple questions for me. Because if you don't. I'm liable just ...implode from pure frustration, at this point.''

''And we cannot have that.'' Courier nodded, his meaning literal. Gordon's continued survival was a key element of his patterning; with the sole caveat that no one would be allowed to prevent 'West' reporting to Ulysses Grant.

''Yeah, right. Who'd clean up the mess?'' Artie sighed. ''Alright, now I've got you as a more or less captive audience, James… Let me ask you this:  Do you realize we've all been searching every inch of ground between Boston and N'Orleans, and between the Chesapeake Bay and the Ohio river south of Cincinnati for you? Do you realize that in the last eight months we've checked in every morgue, every hospital, hospice, and clinic for you? And let's not even go into how many flop houses, bordellos, saloons, and yes, cemeteries we've gone to in that time, in that last case, hoping NOT to find you. And we've searched at every county, state and Federal lock-up, too. In fact we looked everywhere we could think, including sanitariums, to use the most polite term.''

''You meant to say madhouses?'' Courier asked him, with a taut smile.

 '' We had the great fun of looking in a few of those, two, yes. Why, Jim, is that where you've been, locked up in some nuthouse, somewhere?'' Artie demanded, looking even more worried, now.

''No, not insofar as I could tell. '' Courier offered, with a polite chuckle. ''And in fact, I've been all over the map with this case. You know, the one where all those Confederates were turning up dead, all around the District?  Why? What have you been doing?"

''What? What have we been doing, the man asks!'' Gordon exclaimed, jumping to his feet. ''I just got done telling you that!  The whole team has been going just about nutty ourselves, looking for our reckless, headstrong, youngest partner, the one with the new, improved 'disappearing-Jim' act! And we found nothing, my friend, not even the smallest lead. We've suffered through hundreds, if not thousands of pointless meetings we've all had with worthless, money grubbing, know-nothing snitches for eight months now! And when the rest of the team does arrive, you do know they're going to want your head on a plate for this, don't you?''

''They'll just have to get into line for that, I would have to guess. '' Courier answered, hanging his head. '' I've been remiss, I suppose, in not letting you know more of what I was up to. It only seemed impracticable, at the time.''

 '' All right. All right then, James. If you've been so busy looking for the murderers of all those Rebels; lets have your report. Who have you arrested, on what charges? And can we make those charges stick? Oh, and what sort of leads have you been following, when none of the rest of us could find even one, and did you find them?''

''It must be that infamous, unstoppable Torrance charm you're always complaining or plaguing me about, partner. I charmed the facts right out of … the people I talked to. A lot of them are members of a charitable organization they call the Society of Loyal Confederate Veterans and their Survivors.

And they absolutely ARE NOT those crocodiles I was talking about, before. But they do know a lot about what's going on. And you're not going to like what they told me, and neither is anyone else. Now, with your kind permission, Mr. Gordon, Sir, can I get out of here, dry off and see if that dinner's here, yet?'' Courier asked, putting all the seriousness and worry he could into his tone. In fact, when he looked it seemed much more as if Gordon was uncomfortable with 'his partner', right now. And that was within the patterning, too.

''C'mon out, I'll dry your back.'' Artie offered.

'' No. Go on back to the room. I've been taking baths by myself for a really, really long time, now.'' Courier shook his head. The older man was clearly making an innocent offer of help. Nevertheless, the patterning told the automaton to strictly limit the amount of private exposure he allowed with Gordon, or any others of West's partners. The wiry frame Courier walked around in now had taken a great many beatings during the long process of his patterning. Now, it bore only the few scars and marks Aynsley left showing, and those it carried before their encounter.  There might be a time during the next few days, when Gordon got a glimpse of the damage done. But the more Courier delayed, the patterning said, the smaller that probability became. The less Gordon knew, the less he'd have to ask questions about.   

''Well, will you go on, Artemus?'' Courier asked. ''Somebody could have gone off with the food, while you were in here jabbering.

''I'm going, already I'm going.'' Artie laughed, thinking at least 'Jim's' appetite was just as expected, voracious.

When 'Jim West' had demolished his dinner and the half Artie said he didn't want, he sat back, grinned at the older man and said.  '' All right Artemus, here is the gist of what I found out: The men we found dead, last fall and last winter, weren't just murdered, they were silenced. They somehow or other got up to their eyeballs in another plot to kill the President. And the plotters slit those men's throats for them, so they never had a snowball's chance of talking to anyone about this. And the only good news in all that is that it couldn't have been those same murderers who targeted you, partner. Because, as badly as you were beaten up, I don't recall anyone mentioning knife marks on your throat. So, now, go ahead with the rest of your questions, partner. Fire when ready, Gridley.''

''Thank you, Admiral Faragut, Sir, I'll do just that. Gordon asked, rubbing at his throat, and wondering why, all evening long, 'West' hadn't called him 'Artie'. First of all, you talked to members of this Society of Loyal Confederates, and they're the ones who know about these killings, you said. So, they aren't loyal at all, not in the way we think of it. Their loyalty, is to the Confederacy, or to whatever they imagine will come from assassinating the President. Is that what you're saying, partner?''

 ''No, no! You're getting it all mixed up, six ways from Sunday! Which means you're not listening!  Every man jack in that Society took the Loyalty Oath and they were all just as glad to see the War over and done, as we were, maybe moreso. So they're not the bad guys, here. But they're Southerners, and like all Southerners, they've got a mortal lot of relatives and friends and neighbors, and folks they visit with spread out all over the South and half way up into the Middle States, too.'' Courier went on, easily spinning tales he'd memorized.

'' Alright, but how did that lead you to the real bad guys, Jim?'' Gordon asked.

 '' Well, it's sort of a cultural thing, partner. The members of the Society learned about these murderers from their extended families and friends. And they were appalled that it was Confederate veterans, down on their luck who were being targeted, and murdered. And they were even more dismayed to find out it may be other Southerners behind all these killings. So they put the word out to some of my relatives down around Norfolk and Raleigh and San Antonio, too. And my kin put out the word, to me. And that's how I picked up what leads I started with. And that's likely the reason you and Frank and Jere, not to mention Mac, all dyed in the wool Yankees, couldn't get much. And Jacques, when he's not doing a costume-drill himself and hiding it; his accent might pass for Cajun in Boston, or Creole in Charleston, but that's about it. It's not that hard to understand, Artemus. They could tell right away I was born and raised South of the Mason-Dixon line, and the rest of you Billy Yanks, weren't. ''

''All right Jim, I understand that. I do, even though I'd be willing to match my Cajun or Creole or Panhandle or northern Virginian accent, for that matter, against any native born Johnny Reb, any day of the week.''

'' Artemus, it's not just a matter of accents, and you know that better than I do.'' Courier protested. '' It's also a matter of asking people to trust someone they don't know from Artemus, with information that seems to be getting Southern boys murdered. It's just that much easier for them to trust someone who was born in Frederick and raised outside N'folk. Now, here's the rest of what the Society members told me:  These murderers, these plotters keep trying to use the Society and any other group of genuinely loyal Southerners they can infiltrate. The bastards want to take advantage of the respectability and high regard these groups have. And they are still trying to use whatever means come to hand, partner, to disrupt, to block, to delay and to destroy any efforts to make the country whole again, to make the peace real, for everyone. Like I said, they're crazed. ''

''It sure sounds that way to me.'' Artie agreed, standing, stretching his big frame and turning towards his domed traveling trunk. ''All right. Now you've told me the gist of this, Jim. The next thing is, I've got to wire Mac and the Colonel, at the very least about these madmen we're actually up against.''

'' No, Artemus. You can't do that.'' Courier said. Then he jumped to his feet, strode after the older man and stopped him, with one hand on his shoulder. ''I said, you can't.''

'' All right, I'll bite, James. '' Artie sighed, still more bewildered. '' Why can't I?''

'' You don't know why?'' Courier asked, his eyes wide, his tone of voice astonished.

'' No, but I'd have to guess you're about to tell me.'' Gordon half-smiled.

'' Artemus, when I meet with the President, I will be reporting my findings in full. But if there's one thing I learned during the War, and learned again, since joining the Service, it's that you can't put sensitive information like this out on an open wire! If you do, it will be in the wrongest possible hands, or being completely misread, in the right hands, before you can say Chickamauga!'' Courier hissed at the actor-agent, his mouth taut, his eyes all but throwing green sparks.

'' And did I say I was going to use an open, public wire, James?'' Artie asked, frowning at the younger man's obvious alarm.

'' No.'' Courier said. '' But you're still not listening, partner. Or worse, you're deciding to ignore what I've been telling you ever since I got here. These killers aren't fooling around, Artemus. They aren't playing games. And they're not going to stop, until and unless we stop them, dead. And that's why I'm not committing anything I learned or did the past few months to a telegram. Not now. The Man's life is at stake, Artemus, and maybe more."

"What more?" Artie demanded. ''What more, Jim?''

'' The Society's leaders, the ones who got word of this plot sometime last fall, believe these plotters don't just want the Man dead, but that they want to take down the whole, entire government! They want to take over the country. And the Society folk don't think they have enough men or materials or the wherewithal to pull it off, not just yet.

But there are some wealthy, influential and well-connected Southerners who are being targeted by these killers, only in a different way. The word is, these conspirators are also using every dirty trick in the book to get either funding or contacts from those families, coercion, kidnapping, false contracts, false records, and false imprisonment or commitments. These maniacs in other words, are threatening to put sane people into nut houses to get what they want, or what they think those folks have. And if enough of those rich folks give in, the bad guys could end up with quite a war chest. It makes me cold all the way through. And it almost makes me glad my grandfather Randolph's gone, and my … parents, too. These bastards can't get to them, at least. So, like I said, this is damn all complicated.'' Courier explained, watching the agent intently.

''Alright, James. I think I get the point you're meandering towards. But it only brings up a couple more questions, for me.'' Gordon told 'West', studying him, right back.

'' Go ahead.'' Courier nodded.

''These people are dangerous, deadly conspirators, you say. These people are aiming at taking over the entire country. And they're only going to stop when we get them on a gallows, or otherwise, planted six feet under, that's what you've been telling me, right?''  Artie demanded.

'' Right. You were listening, that time, I guess.''  Courier cocked his head and offered a slight chuckle.

'' Very funny. But here are my questions: First, If they're so deadly dangerous, James, how is it after hanging around with them for at least part of the last eight months, that you're not dead, yourself? And secondly, how is it possible, after all that time with these maniacs, that you…what, just walked away, safe and sound?'' the actor-agent growled.

Courier gave a small sigh, and walked around the trunk to look the older man in the eye.  '' Artemus, remember I said you're not going to like some of what I found out?''

''Already I don't like it.'' Artie told him, frowning. ''What now?''

\'' Well, my sources seem to have a difference of opinion on who grabbed you last winter and beat you within an inch. Some of them think, because you got out alive, it couldn't have been these murderers.'' Courier stopped, shaking his head, the picture of hesitation.

'' Yeah, so the rest of these sources they think I was in the hands of these conspirators? That wasn't much of stretch to figure out, James. '' Artie shook his head

'' No, probably not. And I'm still leaning towards the first point of view. But Artemus, if those killers had you, it was for less than a fortnight, remember?''

'' No, not really. I'm still pretty hazy on that time. Go on, I'm fascinated now.''
 

   ''Artemus, when I was trying to get my 'Sergeant' in with that crazy lot, they watched me night and day, especially at first. '' Courier told him, and it was completely true. '' And if they were the ones who beat you, then I can only think they must have been gun-shy. I can only think they must have found you out. ''

'' And then they did such a slapdash job of leaving me for dead… somewhere? And they somehow erased my memory, too?'' Artie looked away, disgusted. ''No, no, I get it. I screwed up and they could have killed us both, because I somehow slipped up. But how did you get away this time, is what I still don't know.''

'' Yes, yes, you do. Partner. I used a trick I learned from you, years back.'' Courier told the older man. '' You'll remember, when I tell you what you said to me, when I was trying to get the hang of it. ' If there's a whole town, or regiment or worse, a whole division ready and willing to fight you, James, or if you're worn out from the trouble you just got out of, and you can't get away, play dumb. That's right. When you can't t get out of their way at a dead run; just relax, sit back and make them think you're about as dangerous as a mayfly. And so that's what I did, this time. And it worked, Artemus, it worked like a charm.''

''Glad to be of service, Sir.'' Artie said, with a mocking bow. '' So, you're here, what else can you tell me about these crazies?''

''Not much else, about them.'' Courier answered, in perfect veracity. He'd given the agent all the responses about the genuine conspiracy the patterning allowed for.

''All right. I suppose we can set that aside, for now. But you're not going to wire the Colonel or Mac, tonight with even a coded summary of all this?''  Artie pressed that question, again.

''Nope. As it turns out, I did lose my code book.'' Courier joked.

'' You're really a laugh riot, friend. You can make up a code faster than anyone else in the Service!'' Artie laughed, but the younger man's jaw was taking on it's most determined angle, now, so he gave in. ''You look to be all in, Jim. Why don't you go on and sack out, and we'll talk more in the morning?''

'' I'm not all in. And I … Artemus, I'd really like to try to tell you more, try to give you a better picture of the Society. They really got me thinking… about the way I think.''

''Alright, chatter-bug, we'll talk. But my money says you'll be out like a light in ten minutes, tops!''

'' Twenty.'' Courier shook his head. '' Loser buys breakfast.''

''Done! So, talk, already. I'm listening, James.'' Artie agreed, wondering if more substantive answers would flow from this part of their conversation.

'''Well, it was strange, listening to them and talking to them after awhile, the folks in the Society, I mean. They 're …they 're not crazy, Artemus.  They 're not even a little bit disloyal. But they are watching their lives and their children's lives being taken apart and broken because of crazies like the fellows who did all these killings.  They want what we all want, for the War to, finally be over. And yet they admit they fought against the Union. They  admit they thought they  were following their lights, the way my grandmother used to say. The Society members, they're a lot like the people I grew up with. They want the country together again and real peace, almost more than we do. But they have a very different perspective, on some things.''

'' Such as what?''

'You must have heard me say something like this a few thousand times, That President Grant is and always will be the greatest man I know, the greatest man I'll ever know, someone I respect and admire and believe in. He's someone I think of as a second father, a part he has to share with Mac, I guess. And I honestly don't think my father would mind them standing in, there, too much. '' Courier said, dropping his eyes and lowering his voice, to counterfeit Jim's long term reluctance to talk about Stephen West.

''But what, Jim? There was a pretty loud 'but' at the end of that sentence.'' Artie probed.

'' You're right, there was. But I've begun to wonder…if I see …if I think of the President as a hero, which he surely is, too much to see him as a man. And the President wouldn't like that either. I know it. He doesn't want to, he never wanted to be seen as a hero. We all know that, don't we? He just wanted to do his duty, and go home to Julia and the kids. That's all.''

'He's very much aware of being a human being, that's true. What else, Jim?''

'' Artemus, I spent a lot of time, lately, talking to people who never have and likely never will see President Grant as a hero, or a great man at all. I've spent a lot of time listening to people who hated him with all their hearts, at one time. But … somehow they're able to … somehow they really seem to have let go of that hatred. And it pretty well amazed me, to listen to them.'' Courier shrugged and stopped talking.

 Artemus studied the younger man closely. In their entire acquaintance, he'd rarely known Jim West to speak so seriously at any length. And when he did, it was often the beginning of a kind of prank.  So, Artie was staying quiet and keeping a serious mien, himself. But he was waiting for Jim to look over at him. Because at any minute, Artie expected Jim to crack up laughing at his partner; for buying his latest scam, hook, line and sinker. But Jim wasn't laughing, not even smiling. So Artie kept a serious tone, too.

 '' A lot of us came out of the War wanting somebody's head on a plate, Jim. The only real disagreements these days, come when you start asking whose head, and on which plate. ''

'' Yes, I guess so.'' Courier answered him, looking, Artie thought, not just tired but distracted. Now, 'Jim' stood up, stretched and started pacing the width and length of the room. The automaton was feeling more pressure than his patterning really allowed for, after talking and listening to Gordon for several hours. The risk involved with meeting any others of Macquillan's team was even plainer to him, now. He couldn't leave Baltimore, his patterning ordered him to be there waiting for Grant's arrival. He couldn't leave this hotel, the same patterning demanded he spend at least a week on his secondary mission, of creating confusion and suspicion in the actor-agent's mind.

Instead, it was Courier who was becoming more and more confused. Something that couldn't happen according to his patterning seemed to be happening, just the same. The actor-agent was an enemy and thus someone for whom Courier should have nothing but well-concealed contempt, even hatred, considering Gordon's failed attempt to infiltrate 'the grand endeavor', the 'faultless path'. And instead, the dimmest of voices, half buried, somewhere in Courier's re-constructed mind was identifying Gordon as someone to absolutely, absolutely trust, and confide in.

 That voice could not even possibly be James' West's, Courier knew the man whose shell he walked around in had been wholly destroyed, by cruelty, deceit and the remorse they bred, weeks ago, in Aynsley's laboratory. So it was only a figment, brought on by the stressors of this first 'real world' testing of Courier and his patterning. Courier was the stronger entity. He would simply shrug this temporary difficulty off and continue on his path. Courier nodded to himself and stopped stock still, as that movement made him, again, impossibly, lightheaded.

The turncoat, the traitor to his own land and kin is trying to unbury himself and reach his damnable snake-oil salesman of a partner! Courier suddenly knew, and fought the other identity back as hard as he could. Nothing, not even you, turncoat, can or will prevent my mission being carried out! Courier insisted You are only a memory, now, Turncoat. And when I have accomplished my mission, you won't even be a welcome memory, to this actor, or anyone else you knew!

I'm a memory of yours, too, Courier. That terribly weakened voice answered. You came out of me, not the other way around. We're at least brothers, because of that. But I can't help thinking I must be your father, since I'm pretty much your source. Whatever I am, now, I'm not your enemy. Courier, and neither is Artie. And all he wants right now, is to make certain sure Jim West is all right. And you and I, working together, Courier, we can give the man that much, can't we? Work with me, on this, brother, won't you?

This is wholly outside the patterning! This is just a weakness of your human stamina, Turncoat, which is now attempting to drag me from the faultless path I must tread! Courier replied, but the voice seemed gone again. Just as it should be, he knew. Artie was ready to dismiss "Jim's' pacing as his partner just needing to move after sitting and talking so long at one stretch. He was ready to do that, until he saw 'West' stop his pacing and start looking around the room, confusedly. When the younger man turned back and blankly stared at Gordon, the actor-agent frowned and got up, walking hurriedly over to 'West'' side.

'' Alright, young man, you just march off to bed, and right this minute.'' Artie joked, taking a light hearted tone to hide his concern. '' Jacques isn't here to nudge either one of us, right now. So unless you do as I say, I'll have to pull out my rather good rendition of our Quebecois docteur-ami.''

'' No, Jacques was born in Lyons.'' Courier tried recited from his rote learning, using it to hold Jim at bay, within his mind. 'And didn't emigrate with his family, until he was seven or eight. So, he's French, isn't he, not French-Canadian?''

'' Well, yes, if you want to start splitting hairs that way. Myself, I'd rather split hares… well, when we're roughing it, anyway.'' Artie chuckled at his own pun, waiting for 'Jim' to groan.

A muted groan came from the younger man's throat just as expected, and then he turned an exhausted bright green gaze on the actor-agent. '' Sure, sure. But you think roughing it means no indoor plumbing on the premises, Artie.''  Jim West whispered. Then his hold on this place and time started to slip away, and his knees started to buckle, all at once.

'' Jim!'' Artie cried out, breaking the younger man's fall towards the heavy, metal studded trunk.

 '' 'M okay, Artie.'' West managed to say, as his partner sat him back on the divan by the fireplace, even though he could feel Courier coming back at full strength. '' Don't bring Jacques in on this, not yet, okay? He needs to see to 'genie's funds and all… 'Sides, 'm okay… just 'rode hard and put up wet', like Mac says. And Artie?''

''What now, James?'' Artie asked, pouring Jim some brandy and shaking his head at the patent differences in the younger man's voice and affect, between a few minutes ago and now. 

'' Don't send for Mac, or Jere, or Frank, right away, either. I'm really not up to a party, right now.''

''Well, it will take Frank and Jere another week or more to get back. They were almost on a boat headed for Galveston, next, just in case you'd decided to head for your grandfather West's old stomping grounds in San Antonio. Mac will come up here as soon as he can, and I don't know anything short of an act of G-d that can prevent that, James, do you? No, I didn't think so. Here, drink this, and then you really are going to bed, my friend.''

A slow building, warm, very familiar chuckle rose from Jim's throat, now. And with that, Artie knew he was about to be skewered by the younger agent's wry wit. ''Gosh, Artie, I didn't know you felt that way.'' Jim cracked wise.

''Shut up, drink the damn brandy and then, while you're busy closing things, shut down that depraved imagination of yours, too.'' Artie demanded.

'' Shutting up, Sir.'' Jim said, getting one last quip in, just before Artie's eyebrows drew together ominously. Still glowering, Artie took back the glass, bodily lifted his partner and carried him to the next room. Once there, Jim found himself unceremoniously dumped on one of the beds. He was slipping badly and there was nothing for it, not right now. In the next instant Jim was 'buried' within Courier again, unable to move or utter a single sound.

''Good night, James. Glad to have you back. '' Artie said and left his partner there.

 ''Good night, Play-Actor.'' Courier answered, too quietly to be heard. The patterning slipped back into place and he was once more on the faultless path, and more determined than ever, now to see his mission out to its 'proper ends