Chapter 10:

Dave stood impatiently behind Veronica, holding most of the groceries, so she could pull out her building key. "Do you think he's back yet?" he asked for what had to have been the tenth time in as many minutes.

Veronica didn't even look at him. "I hope so," was her only response.

"If he's not here, I'm going out to find him."

She glanced back at him, smiling a little. "You could at least wait until morning. You know he's on his way back. He called when he crossed the state line." She opened the door, holding it for Dave.

He slipped in past her, using his back to hold it open for her—trying to be a gentleman. "I'm not waiting. Three days was the limit, and that was technically before seven o'clock this morning, which I'm well aware of since that's when I realized he'd soundproofed my room so I wouldn't hear him leave and try to follow him." He let the door go as soon as she was through and followed her to the elevator.

She stopped in front of the lit panel and pushed the up button. "Dave," she responded patiently. "Give him until tomorrow. I'm worried about him, too, but he won't be later than that unless something happens."

The door slid open and, after letting an elderly gentleman and his dog out, they stepped inside.

Dave jammed his finger into the button for their floor. "And what if something already hashappened, Veronica? He thought the trip would take two days and we're already partway through day three."

She shifted one of her bags to her other hand so she could tuck some loose hair behind her ear. "Two days was unrealistic to begin with. He couldn't have made the trip in less than three at best."

"It's Balthazar," Dave argued stubbornly. "You know him. When he decides to do something—"

"He's much older now," she interrupted quietly.

That silenced him.

"He's a very strong person, Dave, and very determined... but he was around sixty years old when he left. And he's probably approaching seventy now."

"Sixty isn't old."

"He moves more slowly now," she continued sternly, "and has to rest more often. He's in pain, and I'm certain that riding that car of his isn't helping. Whether or not he wants to admit it, we both know that something's wrong with his back."

"Yeah, I know, but he's been dealing with it fine, so far. He brought painkillers. I saw him toss them into his bag."

"You do realize that the fact that he's bringing medicine is another sign for worry," she responded. "Anyway, that might not be enough for such a long drive. You haven't seen what shape he's in when his guard is down. I have. Just trust me when I say that he couldn't make the trip in two days if he actually wanted to accomplish anything. I'm honestly surprised he's returning so soon. Relieved... but still surprised. I really was afraid he'd wind up having to stay out the week."

The elevator door opened just then. She stepped out and began walking down the hall.

Dave followed close behind. "You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm sorry." He sighed. "I just hate this waiting. I'm already not looking forward to suddenly seeing him years older. The gradual aging was bad enough. This is going to be like having him return after five or six years." He winced. "And I keep thinking of that breaking point you mentioned. I don't like seeing him get old so quickly. I'm going to hate it when he starts having to really actold."

"Me, too," she replied quietly. She stopped at the door and twisted the knob open. The light was already on in the apartment. Balthazar's keys and cell phone were on the table.

Dave breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God.He walked to the sofa and tossed the bags down, intending to hunt the old man down and get the initial shock of seeing him again out of the way.

Veronica would have none of it. "Pick them up and put them away," she scolded. "There's milk in there. And eggs."

Dave sighed and began gathering them up again.

"Balthazar?" Veronica called as she set her own keys beside his.

"In the kitchen. I'll be right out."

Dave froze at the sound of his master's voice. It had changed again, this time sounding rougher still. Worn. And tired. He couldn't blame bad cell phone reception on the changes this time. Veronica had been right. The drive had taken its toll on him.

Before Dave could even haul the bags into the kitchen, Balthazar stepped out, commenting, "There's tea in there. I made extra. We need to talk, and I thought we could all use some."

Upon seeing his master, Dave dropped the bags onto the end of the sofa once more. This time, Veronica didn't stop him, setting her own down on the coffee table, her eyes locked on Balthazar as well.

Up until this point, Balthazar could still be described as having simply grown older. Now, however, even Dave had to admit that Balthazar had finally gotten old. His hair, which had been slowly frosting over with silver, was now shot through with grey. Balthazar's face had been lined before, but now some of those lines, such as those around his eyes and mouth, appeared to have deepened and multiplied. Dave uncomfortably accepted the fact that Balthazar actually had clear wrinkles now.

His body was showing wear as well. His clothes hung a bit loosely on his frame, implying lost weight. And given the shape that Balthazar was normally in, Dave could bet that weight had been muscle.

Dave averted his gaze, trying to pull his panicking mind together. Focusing on whatever else he could that would keep some of the horror and worry off of his face. His eyes dropped to the man's hands which were wrapped around a coffee mug, presumably filled with the tea.

Dave was momentarily thrown by this small detail. Where was that damned little teacup that Balthazar liked so much? His eyes roved to the man's hands, and it clicked. The arthritis. It had been paining Balthazar before he'd left, when he'd been years younger. It must have gotten worse. Delicate little cups were now likely becoming awkward and impractical.

Dave had always hated those stupid little cups. He'd actually enjoyed that one time his plasma bolt had accidentally blasted one out of the older man's hand. The stupid little thing had looked so ridiculous in the hands of someone Dave knew could kill him on the spot if he'd wanted.

He missed that cup now.

Balthazar lifted the mug to his lips and Dave winced at the sight. God, that even looked like it hurt. The joints were noticeably swollen. Enough so that Balthazar had removed all but his sorcerer's ring. His hands looked naked without them.

Balthazar caught him staring and commented mildly by way of explanation, "I prefer good old-fashioned heat to anti-inflammatories."

Dave stared blankly back up at Balthazar's face. "What?"

"You were staring at the cup."

Dave shook his head incredulously. "Balthazar, I was staring at your hands... right now your cup choices are the the least of my worries."

Veronica quietly approached her husband, worry etched into her face. "Welcome back," she said, kissing him softly and resting her hands gently on his. There was a dull glow to her ring.

"Thank you," he said simply, gently brushing some hair out of her face when she released him.

It took Dave a moment to understand that she'd used magic to help ease some of the pain. And after another moment he realized that she'd probably been doing that all along. Which meant that the pain he'd been seeing in the older man's eyes had already been dulled for him. Dave suddenly understood what Veronica had meant when she'd said that he'd never really seen the shape Balthazar was in when his guard was down. He felt sick.

"Are you okay?" Dave finally managed to choke out, grasping desperately for anything to say. "How's your back?" Subtle.

Balthazar simply shrugged. "It's fine."

Dave's lips pressed together in an irritated line. "Come on, Balthazar. If it's anything like your hands, then I'd like to know what your definition of 'fine' is."

"It means that I'm standing up straight, so I'm obviously not dying from the pain and agony." His voice was laced in sarcasm, his expression unimpressed. Shockingly he didn't seem to want to discuss how he felt.

At the moment Dave was worried enough not to care. "Don't give me that look, Balthazar. You knew I was going to ask." He took a step forward. "I have a whole list of things I'm going to ask right after it, so you might as well bring out the entire teapot. You'll need it."

Balthazar glanced away, walking toward the sofa. "I said it's fine," he insisted irritably, easing himself onto one of the cushions. "Save your concerns about my health for later. I just got older while I was gone, which we expected. That's all."

"You aged a great deal more than we expected, Balthazar," Veronica responded quietly. "You shouldn't be this old yet."

"Yeah," Dave agreed, still trying to shake off his discomfort at his master's worn appearance. He dropped into the nearby armchair. "What happened to 'late-sixties at most?'"

"We were wrong."

"I realize that," Dave replied sharply.

"Then it was a stupid question, wasn't it?" There was no heat to the old man's words, though. He was merely stating a fact.

Veronica walked to the sofa and lowered herself to the seat beside him, slipping one arm around him. Resting her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped one of his own arms around her in a comforting hug.

For a fraction of a second there was obvious strain to his features... worry in his eyes. The expression disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, but it was too late. Dave had noticed. And Dave knew Balthazar well enough to realize that if he was worried enough to slip up and let it show, even for a moment, things were worse than he was making them appear.

"What's going on, Balthazar?" Dave said seriously. "You're worried now. And if you are finally worried, then Ishould probably be terrified. I'd like to know what I'm going to be terrified of before it happens."

Balthazar studied his apprentice a moment before finally responding. "You're being melodramatic again, Dave," he responded, his voice a touch amused. Something was still off in his eyes, though, and Dave didn't miss that fact.

"What's going on, Balthazar?"

"Two things."

"Which are?" Dave asked through gritted teeth, as usual growing annoyed with his infuriating master.

Veronica gently tightened her grip on her husband. "It's speeding up isn't it?" she asked softly, fear for once written in her eyes.

He looked down at her, managing a small, comforting smile. "I don't think so," he replied, gently. "I think we just miscalculated."

His apprentice shook his head. "'Just miscalculated?' Balthazar, miscalculating is just as bad as having it speed up. Either way you got really old in three days." He stopped there, realizing that his master was likely to take that the wrong way, true though it may be.

Surprisingly the old man didn't comment on the youth's tactless reference to his advanced age. "Miscalculating is a lot better than having it speed up, Dave. Speeding up means anything goes. It could jump again and I could be dead by morning." Veronica tightened her grip on her husband and Dave went white at those words. Quickly Balthazar continued, mentally kicking himself for adding to their obvious concern. "Miscalculating," he clarified, "means that I'm older because we were wrong to start with. That means it's remained stable and in the medical world, stability—even with a chronic illness—is always better than a turn for the worse. Yes, I'm older than we'd expected, but at least we don't have to figure another variable into the equation. We just have to tweak the numbers a bit." He paused, thoughtfully adding, "Based on the shape I'm in now, I'm guessing I'm aging closer to two and a half to maybe three years, rather than two."

Dave shook his head, unplacated. "So you were only six months off? That's not a big difference, Balthazar. Are you sure? I mean, you got pretty old for only a six month difference." He winced as soon as those words were out of his mouth. One of these times, his master was going to lose his patience with his apprentice's penchant for saying exactly the wrong thing—true though it may be—at the wrong time.

Lucky, the old man simply turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "It's been over two weeks since this started, which means those six months per day have accumulated enough to make us almost a decade off on our estimate of my current age. That throws me into my seventies now, rather than just my sixties like we'd expected. I've been older all along. I was probably already in my mid-sixties when I left. Apparently I just aged well back then. It didn't really start hitting me hard until recently."

Dave's expression grew dark. "You've hit your breaking point then." It wasn't a question. It was what they'd feared. The smooth, gradual aging was over. From here on in, his master was going to be visibly changing every day. The changes would likely be abrupt now... and they wouldn't all be physical. He shot his master a suspicious look. "You've known about this from the beginning, haven't you? You knew this was running faster than just a year or two."

His master's brows drew together, lines on his forehead and around his eyes deepening. "What?"

"You hid it because you knew I'd freak out," the boy responded, trying not to focus on how every expression on the man's face seemed to further age it in Dave's eyes.

The old man's expression darkened. "No, Dave. Those were the numbers." At his apprentice's incredulous look, he added. "When have I ever lied to you?"

The boy rolled his eyes at that. "You hide things all the time, Balthazar."

The older man's eyes flashed. "But that's not what you're accusing me of. We specifically told you that we'd calculated my age progression at one to two years per day, and that's what we believed. I may hide details, Dave, but I'm not going to blatantly lie to you. You may not like my moral judgment, but even I have my limits and flat out lying in a life-or-death situation is far beyond them."

"Stop it," Veronica commanded, her voice quiet but firm. "Now isn't the time to fight. If we're going to figure anything out, then we need to be working together. Immediately." Her gaze drifted back up to her husband's tired face. "Balthazar, if you're aging three years per day, we don't have a month left."

He shook his head. "No. We have a week—maybe two—at best."

His apprentice's eyes widened in panic. "That's not enough time. What are we supposed to do in two weeks?"

Balthazar shrugged, then winced slightly at the sharp pain in his shoulder it caused. "Accept it?" he responded simply. "Move on? We have other issues to worry about. No need to waste time on something we can't fix."

He'd barely gotten the words out before Dave and Veronica both snapped in unison, "No."

"Balthazar," Dave growled, running his hands through his dark hair in absolute frustration. "Why are you giving up? You're willing to fight to the death for any other cause, but when it comes to your own life, you're willing to die without even putting up a fight."

"I'm just being realistic," the old man replied. "Think about it. I'm already in my seventies. In another two days, I'm going to be in my eighties. Anything over a week is actually pushing it. That's a best-case scenario, and it's assuming that I'm aging less than three years per day and that I'm going to live to be pretty damn old."

Dave squeezed his eyes shut and tilted his head back covering his face with his hands. "God," he moaned out through his fingers. "Like we needed to make this more difficult." He dropped his hands limply back to his lap, lowing his face again. Desperately, he suggested, "Maybe it's just stress making you look so much older. Maybe your first estimate really was right. You could just look really old for your age..." He trailed off at that, knowing how unlikely that was. A man in Balthazar's shape, even a man who didn't take care of himself as well as he should, was still probably not going to be in this bad of shape if he were only in his mid-sixties. It wasn't impossible... just not likely either.

His master shook his head, sending Dave a surprisingly sympathetic look. "No, Dave. I've been feeling older than I should, too. That's one of the reasons I made this trip in the first place... so I could get some outside opinions."

Dave scooted forward in his seat, his eyes taking on a somewhat more hopeful quality. "Yeah. How did that go? Did they help?" He tried to ignore the fact that Balthazar should be more optimistic if he'd learned anything useful. But you could never tell with him. It wasBalthazar, after all. He wasn't exactly a prime source of joy and optimism even at the best of times.

"Who are these friends of yours?" Veronica added, hope also glimmering faintly in her eyes.

Balthazar straightened in his seat for a moment, twisting his back a bit, trying to work a kink out. He winced, apparently failing, and Veronica moved her hand to his back, gently resting her hand on it, likely easing the pain there as well. His expression was a combination of annoyance and relief. She was obviously helping, but he hated needing it. Dave couldn't imagine how bad the drive must have been without her at his side.

"Balthazar?" he quietly prompted, trying not to think too hard on that one. Now he understood why Balthazar had packed the painkillers.

The old man sighed, taking Veronica's other hand in his own. "I know a man who works at the federal DNA lab at Marshall University. He owes me a couple of favors. I hate having to call them in, but he's got the capability to do a detailed comparative analysis of my blood. If the problem's genetic, he's the best person I know to figure it out."

Dave's brow furrowed at that. "Wait... comparative analysis? Doesn't that imply that he'd need blood from before all this started?"

Balthazar paused a moment before answering. "Don't ask."

"Right. So how long's that going to take?"

"A couple of days."

Dave sat up straight in his seat. "A couple of days? Balthazar, we don't have a—"

"We don't have a choice." Balthazar's voice was firm. "That's how long it will take."

"And your other friend?" Veronica prompted quietly.

"Dr. Kirk from University of Pennsylvania. He's done extensive studies on medieval sciences and magics."

Veronica cocked her head to the side slightly, considering. "An alchemist, then?"

Her husband shook his head. "No. A researcher of alchemy. There aren't any alchemists left that I know of."

Dave had just been staring at the couple quietly throughout that entire exchange, trying to dredge up the very little knowledge he had of this topic. "Alchemy...?" he asked hesitantly. "Is that like Sorcerer's Stone stuff?"

Veronica shot him a puzzled look. "What kind of stone?" Her confused eyes flitted over to her husband.

"You know... the immortality rock," Dave responded tentatively, certain that he was somehow about to be ridiculed. He wasn't disappointed.

His master took a deep, deceptively patient breath. "That would be the Philosopher's Stone, Dave."

"In Harry Potterit's the Sorcerer's Stone."

The old man's lips flattened into a tight, irritated line. "Dave, what have I told you about basing the real world on children's books and video games?" Before his apprentice could come up with a comeback, he continued, "They changed the title for American readers. Probably figured you guys were too dense to get the alchemical reference." He snorted at that. "Apparently they were right."

Dave's eyes flashed. "If that makes medense, then so are you."

"I'm not American, Dave."

"We're getting off topic," Veronica cut in sharply, a strain in her voice that silenced both men, reminding them of the problem at hand.

Dave winced, feeling guilty at how easily distracted he was, though to be honest, it had been nice to banter with his master for a moment, even if it hadmade him feel like an idiot as usual. For that short time, he'd managed to forget the problem at hand and relax, even in the face of his master's aged frame. He'd had too few moments like this in the past few days. He missed them.

Balthazar merely nodded, gently squeezing his wife's hand. "Right." He shot a quick glance at Dave. "The Philosopher's Stone isn't real, anyway. It's just something people tried to will into existence because they wanted their lives to be perfect and unending." He snorted derisively at that idea, and Dave wasn't really surprised. He knew his master's opinion of immortality. He'd been stuck in that state for long enough. A"living hell" he'd called it once. Dave wouldn't be surprised if Balthazar had hated it worse than the rapid aging he was experiencing now. "I was just looking into some remedies. Just because they never found their stone, doesn't mean that some alchemists didn't come close. Most of it was crap, but some was valid. I thought he might know something I'd forgotten."

"Did he?" Dave prompted.

Balthazar shrugged. "He said he has to look into it. Could take a—"

"Couple of days," Dave finished for him. "Of course. So what are we supposed to do while we wait for him? Just sit around an watch you hit your eighties?"

"We train."

Dave merely glared at him. "Not funny."

Balthazar's expression didn't change. "I'm not joking Dave. I offered you three days off. You got four. Don't push it."

"No. We aren't training, Balthazar."

"You gave your word."

Dave leapt to his feet at that, finally unable to take it. "Dammit, Balthazar. You were supposed to be a decade younger than this. I'm not training with you aging so quickly."

Balthazar let go of Veronica's hand. He stood stiffly to face his apprentice. "I may be getting old, Dave, but I'm still fully capable of training you. This is my choice, not yours, so get over it. I'm your master, and we are training."

"No, Balthazar. You were in enough pain just sitting there. Training is going to kill you." He flinched at his poor choice of words.

"My choice."

Dave gritted his teeth. "What about my choice? I don't want you to wind up in worse shape than you're already in. Bones break easier and they take a hell of a lot longer to heal when you get older, Balthazar, and you're definitely older."

The man's blue eyes flashed. "Let me put it this way, Dave. I'm dying. And if we don't manage to fix things, the next couple of days may be the only time you've got left to work with me. I'm already angry that I may be leaving my apprentice half-trained. At least give me this much time to finish what I can."

Dave fell silent at those words. How did Balthazar do that? Suddenly change it from a stupid training session to something so important to his master that Dave would actually feel guilty refusing? He sighed. And he knew he wouldn't say no. Not now. Balthazar wanted this, and the man rarely asked for anything for himself. There was no way Dave could refuse him one of the few times he finally did.

"Fine," he snapped. "Not until tomorrow, though. You're hurting and I want you to get some rest first. Can you at least give me that much?" His voice was steady, but his eyes were pleading.

Balthazar hesitated a moment before nodding. "Fair enough," he responded simply. "Tomorrow morning, then." He lowered himself back onto the sofa, and reached to the coffee table to grab his tea. He took a sip and made a face.

"You're going to gripe about it being cold, aren't you?" Dave muttered, eyeing the man.

Balthazar sighed and slowly moved to stand again. "I'll just heat it up."

Dave quickly walked over to his master before the man had even gotten to his feet, something he'd never have managed even three days ago. "Here. Give it to me."

He reached for the mug, not wanting Balthazar to have to get up yet again. "I'll get you some fresh stuff. I'm getting myself some, anyway," he added at the last moment so that his master wouldn't protest. He glanced at Veronica. "Want some?"

"That's all right."

Dave nodded and turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Dave, wait..." Balthazar, began, but Dave didn't let him finish, commenting as he reached the room, "It's fine. I'm thirsty and I know you... if I don't drink some of it, you'll finish the whole pot. You don't need that much caffeine." He didn't wait for a response, walking the rest of the way to the kitchen. He clicked the light on has he stepped into the room. It took him a moment to process the scene before him. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the confines of the room. He stood there a moment in dead silence, unable to imagine what could possibly have happened. He'd passed the point where he could register anything new. Quietly, he turned and stepped back out of the kitchen and in a deceptively calm voice asked, "Balthazar... what happened to your kitchen?"

"The kitchen?" Veronica asked, glancing warily at her husband. Her voice took on a firmer, somewhat suspicious tone, "What's wrong with our kitchen?"

Dave's hands clenched tightly around his master's mug as he noticed the way the man carefully avoided both of their eyes. "Well, the toaster, for example, is in like five pieces, some of which are wedged into the cabinets. I hope you guys don't plan on getting your security deposit back."

Veronica's eyebrows lifted as she sent a hard look in her husband's direction. "Balthazar, what happened before we got home?"

The old man rubbed his hand over the stubble along his jawline as he responded calmly. "That was the second thing we needed to discuss." He finally locked eyes with his apprentice. "We had a visitor."

Author's Note: First of all, a thank you to kaytori, lolo popoki and FrostPhoenix for their beta work! And thanks to you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Second, a little plug. My dad's 5th grade class writes a book every year. Lately, I've been helping him put these stories online on fictionpress so the kids can get reviews and people can read them. There are some great stories out there. We're working to get all of the old ones out there (generally one story written per year by different classes), so there are already quite a few of varying genres. It would be great if you'd check their stuff out. They would love the reviews and honestly, they get really excited seeing which countries people are from who read their stuff. Would you mind stopping in, even if you only check out and review one of their stories. They aren't super long, but they're all a lot of fun. Here's the link (I added spaces between each symbol so the link shows up):

http : / / www . fictionpress . com / u / 761829 / Brussel _ Sprouts