A SECRET CHORD

Chapter Eleven

Arizona, 1985

Thomas lay in bed and stared at the inside of his eyelids, trying to convince himself that he was seconds away from sleep. Heat pressed up against his body like a second skin. On the floor, his sheets lay in a tangle where he had thrown them. His pillow was a solid, sweaty lump. Boxer shorts and a Pink Floyd t-shirt were all that he wore, but even they felt oppressive, clinging to him with such intimacy that he began to feel an irrational sense of panic. If I lie here much longer, he thought, I'm going to melt and slip right through the mattress like some B-movie monster. Thomas the Blob…

That image made him scramble to sit upright, gasping for air in a room that seemed to hold none at all.

"I can't stand this," he grumbled to the shadows. "I'm getting out of here."

It took a while to detach his arms and legs from the bottom sheet, which clung to him as though it never wanted to let go. Standing up at last, he gave a shudder that had nothing whatsoever to do with the temperature and everything to do with his unsettled state of mind.

"Weird day," he complained, as he plodded down the stairs. Very weird, in fact, and with the fearful clarity that always came to him at three o' clock in the morning he could see the flaws in every single decision he had made since crossing the road and taking Adam into his home. That was the circular theme of his brooding, and had been from the moment he set his head down on the pillow, hours earlier.

Adam.

How had one small boy burrowed into his thoughts so completely in such a short space of time? And what on earth should he do about it? After all, he was the adult; the responsible one, to all intents and purposes. He'd offered Adam an open invitation – but what if the boy did return? How far should he let it go; this friendship, or whatever it was?

"Don't be stupid." Thomas pushed away the errant questions. "You helped him out and that's enough. He won't come back. Why should he? Just forget about it."

Turning on the kitchen light, he gave a guilty start when he saw the mess creeping over every surface; remnants of the sandwich party and his own half-eaten supper. Easy to ignore last thing at night, when he could walk away and make excuses. Difficult to face when he came back to it like this. He could blame his lack of domesticity on the second-rate boarding schools that had raised him on behalf of his absentee parents, but there was an honest reason too, and the witching hour left him no place to hide from his own shortcomings. "You're a slob," he told himself bitterly, searching the counter in vain for a clean glass. In the end, he took a long drink of orange juice from the carton, pouring it straight down his dry throat so quickly that he began to feel quite sick. Thomas staggered over to the table, sinking down with a heavy sigh and resting his head on his hands.

"This is fun…" said an unexpected voice beside him.

The echo made him start. He looked up – and found, to his relief, that no one else was there. Only the ghost of a boy; wide-eyed and cheerful as he smeared peanut butter onto bread with questionable skill and great enthusiasm. Thomas smiled in spite of himself and lingered in the memory…

"Try some jelly beans. They'll make it sweet, and kind of chewy."

"Okay. Thank you, Mister Thomas…"

Adam had been breathless with excitement - over a sandwich and a bit of silliness, Thomas thought with some consternation, coming back to the present and the overwhelming state of his neglected kitchen. His mind was trapped in a loop; a kind of doublethink. He wanted to know more - to understand Adam and his situation – yet he did not want to know at all because the truth would bring its own dilemma.

"I'm so sorry," he confessed to the boy who wasn't there. Spoken aloud, the words sounded weak and terribly selfish. "I don't know how to handle this."

"Don't worry," said a whisper. "It's okay. I understand…"

Thomas stared at the rubble and the scattered candy. Guilt took him by the shoulders and shook him. "Not good enough," he said at last. Rising to his feet, he began to collect the dishes. As he did so, in his mind, the loop began again…

-x0x-

New York City, 2005

Adam could have worked throughout the night; he was so absorbed by the task of sifting through Volker's messages and contacts as he attempted to find a trail that led to the elusive Mr. Piper. In the end, it was Mac, of all people, who sent him home. "Don't fall into that habit," the detective cautioned. "Trust me; it's not good for you. This isn't college, when you can pull an all-nighter and sleep in the next day, or doze through your classes. This job is life and death."

"Yes sir." Thrilling though it was that Mac had given permission for Adam to use his first name, instinct was difficult to fight and he knew it would be a long time before he did so freely.

Mac gave a wry grin. "I'm not promising to lead by example, mind you. I'm just offering advice. Take it, Adam. Go home and get some rest. Maybe you'll get a fresh perspective in the morning."

Peering at his watch, Adam couldn't resist a sly question. "Are you leaving too?"

"I am," Mac said and, this time, the grin was wider. "I hate to think what Stella will say if I don't."

"And zombies won't help Ruth Eggar, right?"

"Something like that." Mac shrugged. "Did you make notes on what you've learned so far?"

Adam tapped his notebook. "I did. And, you know, if you wanted… I could just run through…"

"Is there anything urgent? A real name for our suspect? A way to find Ruth?"

"No, I guess not. The Piper used a burn phone – it's off right now – and most of the strands between them consist of instructions for Volker. A business deal, by text. What to do; where to go; how to get paid." Glaring at the cell phone, Adam's eyes were full of disappointment. It would have been quite something to break his very first case on the very first day. Not to mention the fact that he would be saving a young girl from danger. Like a superhero, he thought, wistfully. Yeah, right. 'Cause that's what you are, Adam Ross…

Mac's lips were moving again. Adam realised that he hadn't heard a single word. "I'm sorry, Boss," he said carefully. "I missed the last bit. What did you say?"

"I said, in that case, you can brief everyone on your findings in the morning. At the team meeting. Eight o'clock sharp." Was that… concern on Mac's face? "Think you can handle it?"

"Oh, sure; no problem. I'll look forward to it…" Adam bit his lip. Ridiculous choice of words, but he couldn't take them back. Already, Mac was passing through the doorway, heading off down the corridor in the direction of his office. Going home? Adam thought. I doubt it. For the Boss Man, he suspected, there would always be 'one more thing'...

Working on until he found a suitable place to stop, Adam cleared away all trace of his own work with absolute care and precision. Then he collected his coat and his bag from the locker room – so exciting, to see his name in print like that – and made his way back up the short run of steps to the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, another man ducked through to join him.

"Long day," said the stranger, with a friendly wink. "First for you, right? I ain't seen your face before."

"Oh – no. I mean, yes, that's right; I'm new. My name's Adam. Ross, that is." One day, Adam sighed to himself, he was going to get the hang of first contact.

Fortunately, this man was a natural. "Danny Messer," he said, sticking out his hand as the car gave a jolt and began to drop. Adam wobbled and clung to Danny's palm a little longer than he meant to but the other man pretended not to notice.

I like you, Adam thought. "Are you a lab tech too?" he asked, letting go of Danny's hand at last and reaching for the rail to steady himself.

"CSI. That means you get to stay indoors, all nice and cosy, while I'm out trudgin' the streets in the pourin' rain… workin' crime scenes and lookin' for leads…" The twinkle in Danny's blue eyes, behind his glasses, made it perfectly clear that he was happy to do so, in spite of his complaint.

"Is it raining? Really? I hadn't noticed."

Danny gave him a searching look. "Mm-hmm. You do look a little pasty, my friend. Did they warn you about the toll this job takes on your personal life? Vampires and lab geeks – you know what they have in common?"

"We do our best work at night," Adam suggested quietly.

With a chuckle of surprise, Danny clapped him on the shoulder. "Okay, buddy. I'll give you that one. Fancy a drink, to celebrate your loss of freedom? Some of us are meetin' down at Sully's."

The elevator reached the ground floor with another jerk. Adam clenched his toes inside his sneakers. Some of us… "No thanks," he breathed. "I'm good."

Once more, Danny peered at him shrewdly. "If you say so. Rain check, then?" He let out another chuckle at the unintentional pun.

"Okay…" Hanging back to button his jacket against the weather, Adam watched the CSI stroll through the lobby towards the front door. Deep down, he knew he should have accepted the other man's offer – but the thought of being thrust into a group of strangers, all laughing and joking together, filled him with unreasoning alarm. On any other night, he would have pushed himself. Tonight, Adam needed to go home. It had been quite a day – an emotional ride - and now, as he followed Danny out of the building and felt the cold rain sting his cheeks, bringing him back to himself, he realised just how deeply it had affected him.

Mac was right, and Danny too. If he let it, this job could destroy him.

"I won't let that happen," he muttered, turning up his collar and clutching his messenger bag to his chest as he set off through the rain in search of the nearest subway station.

-x0x-

Adam was still getting used to the fact that he lived on his own - in a block full of random strangers, granted, but when he turned the key and walked into his own apartment, he felt a sense of privacy and freedom that was entirely new. "I'm home," he called out to Nobody, dropping his bag on the floor and letting it lie there, simply because he could. Of course, in a few minutes, his ridiculous compulsion would kick in and he would pick it up again, stashing it under the bed where it belonged. But that was his choice too – and so Adam was happy.

Shrugging off his wet jacket, he hung it on the back of a chair to dry and flipped the switch on the kettle. It was late – nine o'clock already – but a mug of coffee would warm him up. The last thing he wanted to do was catch a chill on his very first day just because it was raining in New York. Adam felt an unexpected twinge of homesickness for the dry heat of Arizona, but the steady patter on his window pane was friendly and the feeling soon passed. It was nice to be cosy and warm when the world was dripping outside. Pouring his drink, he wrapped his hands around the mug and sat at the table in perfect peace. His eyes were closed and a smile played on his lips.

Set free by the stillness of his body, his mind began to roam, as it so often did, linking random thoughts with the same kind of logic that ruled in his dreams. Detective Flack skipped by, dressed in a suit of red and yellow and playing on a pipe. Zack followed, arm in arm with Stella Bonasera. "No dancing in the crime lab," Mac's voice said from somewhere behind Adam's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Adam murmured, caught up in the vision.

"No apologising either," Lindsay told him sternly. Her hands were on her hips. Beside her, Danny chuckled.

The floor began to sink – yet Mac was still behind him. Adam could feel him breathing on his neck. "Have you found her yet?" the Boss Man said. "She's counting on you. Come on, Adam – this isn't a game…"

Adam's head jerked up and he realised that he had fallen asleep, right there at the table, both hands still wrapped around his mug of coffee, which was now stone cold.

This isn't a game…

"I didn't finish," he said thickly, scraping back the chair and rising to his feet. The thought was irritating, like an itch that needed to be scratched. He had looked at everything – almost everything– on Ruth's laptop but Mac had interrupted him right before he finished. Adam hated loose threads. If he wanted a dreamless sleep tonight, he needed some kind of closure. Finding Ruth all by himself was out of the question… but he could still play the game.

Turning on his computer, he took some paper out of the printer and set it beside him so that he could jot down any useful information. His little black notebook was safely stowed in his locker at work. The thought of taking it beyond the walls of the crime lab had troubled him, now that it was full of sensitive information. Adam was careful with his belongings but accidents could – and often did – happen. Tempting fate was never wise.

The name of the game was rather intriguing, he thought, typing quickly and letting the search engine do the initial work for him. 'The Gates of Dawn' was a free download – surprising in itself, as very little on the internet was truly free. Once you had the main software installed on your computer, a whole new world was open to you – literally. Adam could tell right away that the realm of Aurora was highly derivative, taking its visual style from popular games like Final Fantasy and Kingdom Hearts. It was filled with all the usual character types – some of them anthropomorphic and some of them human. Adam guessed that the game was pitched at teenagers, or confident children – which meant most children, these days - but it appealed to him too. He already had some experience with advanced MMORPG*, and felt pretty confident that he could navigate his way through this one. His vague and rather optimistic aim was to interact with as many other players as he could, carrying out a little online detective work, like a virtual Private Investigator. Ruth may not have been a fan of emails, but games often had their own communities, safe and anonymous. Maybe here, at last, he would find some people who really knew her.

"Any excuse, right?" he grinned to himself, watching his evening meal spin round in the microwave as 'The Gates of Dawn' downloaded slowly. When the last forkful of lasagna had made its way from the plastic tray to his belly (no washing up required), he was ready to begin. He popped open a tube of Pringles and considered his options. In the AV lab, he had managed to access the current statistics for Ruth's own character; a cat-girl with magical powers. A healer, judging by the equipment she had gathered, and her skill points. Not Adam's usual choice, but this was no ordinary gaming challenge. Time to use his instincts, he decided, as he chose a cat-boy with dark hair, a long tail and a rather wistful expression, customising him to suit his mission. 'Name?' said the prompt, and Adam lingered for a moment.

"Boo," he typed in at last. He was, after all, a creature of habit.

Settling back in his chair, he solved the simple number puzzle that opened the Gate, and set off on the first leg of his virtual quest as the real world disappeared around him…

-x0x-

*MMORPG – Massively Multi-player Online Role Playing Game

A/N: As in the episode 'Down the Rabbit Hole', this fic does make some use of Adam's skills in the area of gaming. However, the two stories will be very different. As my own knowledge on the subject is not exhaustive, please forgive any factual errors, if they occur. I try to base as much as I can on research and personal experience.

Thank you, as always, to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story. I hope you enjoyed the update.