Chapter 20

Tim cracked open his eyes and glanced toward the window. There was no one there. He was relieved as he struggled keep his lungs functioning. He didn't know why he was currently imagining his family. He just knew that it was too painful to see them separated from him.

A door opened out of his view. He flinched away and heard the increase in frequency of the beeping sound.

"Timothy, it's all right. I'm Dr. Roland. You're in the Bethesda Naval Hospital."

"Right," Tim said and then began to cough violently. "And you're going to tell me that I'm...getting better...right?"

"Well, slowly, but yes. I wanted to talk with you, explain what's going on."

Tim didn't like the sound of that, but what choice did he have?

"Can...you do...something for me, first?"

"Sure, Timothy."

"Close the...the blinds. All of them."

Dr. Roland gave him a confused look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't...want to see what's there."

"All right."

Tim felt a measure of relief when the bright sunlight was gone and the place where he had seen everyone before was hidden from his view.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So...what's the...the news?"

"We got back your TB tests. You have a form of TB called MDR-TB. Multi-drug resistant tuberculosis."

"Drug resistant?" Tim asked, feeling a horrible stab of terror...which showed up in his increased heart rate.

"Yes. It's not unexpected all things considered, but don't worry. We can treat it. Luckily, your strain is only resistant to the two most common drugs used to treat TB."

"Bad...news?"

"The drugs we use in place of it aren't pleasant. They can have severe side effects and you'll be taking them probably for two years."

"I'm...stuck here for...two years?" Tim asked, wanting to beg this man just to kill him and be done with the torture.

"No. No, Timothy, just until your symptoms end which will be a few weeks yet."

Tim felt no better. He was horrified and he couldn't decide if it was better or worse to believe that he truly was in Bethesda. How could they keep him in here like this? He began to cough again. The fit was extremely painful and he leaned forward in an attempt to rid himself of the congestion in his lungs that just wouldn't go away. Dr. Roland was there, helping him.

He wanted to be left alone. Alone because that's the only way he could be okay. Pain came when people were around. Hurt was the result of other people. He wanted to be alone...but he couldn't leave it there. He had to probe at the wound, cause himself more and more pain.

"What else...is wrong?" he asked when he could speak again.

"We've been monitoring some scar tissue in your brain. It seems to be minor but the fact that it's there means we're going to be watching it and your mental acuity."

Mental acuity. Tim almost could laugh. That was the least of his problems.

"And?"

"And you have cystic echinococcosis."

"What is that?"

"You have a parasite in your liver which has formed cysts. They'll have to be removed before they rupture."

Tim felt like the living dead. There was so much wrong with him that he couldn't see anything right. He wanted to be back in the darkness of solitary confinement where he didn't know what was wrong with him, what he had to face. It was easier to believe that this was all an elaborate hallucination brought on by his head trauma or his illness. He'd never been rescued.

"Again, that's not as bad as it might seem. The cysts don't seem to be on the verge of rupture, meaning that we can treat your TB and get that better in hand before going ahead. One thing at a time, Timothy. As long as we take it slowly, you'll be fine. It's going to be a long road, but you can make it."

Tim nodded, but inside he was screaming...like he had when he had realized that his imprisonment was planned. This feeling of being trapped, confined, forced to deal with all these horrible things. He wouldn't show that to the doctor, but he wanted to jump up and run away. The fact that his body was now his jailer only made everything worse. He waited until Dr. Roland left and then he carefully pulled himself into a ball. He could feel all the wires and monitors and tubes, and his lungs were ready to torture him again, but he needed to feel the pressure, the tension in his muscles as he fought against the urge to scream out his misery.

He wished Esosa were there, but he knew she wouldn't be. He was alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Tim's family arrived at the hospital later that day, they were surprised to see the blinds closed. They asked why and were hurt by Dr. Roland's explanation. He then gave them the same rundown he had given Tim, although with a few more details about the treatment and the adverse effects Tim could be facing. In addition, there was the more negative news, such as the fact that some of the damage both to Tim's body and to his mind could be permanent. It was too soon to tell how much, but they needed to be ready for Tim to be altered both in body and in mind. It was a distinct possibility at this point.

As the others came to see Tim and found that they weren't allowed...at Tim's request...it became more and more of a calamity. It was almost as though Tim were being taken away from them again, snatched away at the moment of triumph. Dr. Roland urged them to be patient. Most people might start out wanting to be alone, but in reality they needed help and comfort and would request it eventually.

That might be true, but the days passed and they were not allowed to see Tim. Every morning, either Dr. Roland or else the on-duty nurse would ask if Tim would let them open the blinds. Every morning, he said no. He made no attempt to look out at the world or at his loved ones. Granted, he was distracted by the fact that, initially, the treatment for TB made him feel even worse than the tuberculosis itself did, but even after two weeks, when breathing wasn't so hard, he still remained adamant that no one see him.

Two weeks became three weeks. It felt more like Tim's appearance had been a dream, a figment of their imagination. They believed Dr. Roland, but it was so hard to look at those blinds and know that the man on the other side didn't want to see them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dr. Mallard, could I speak with you for a moment?"

Ducky nodded with a final glance back at the drawn blinds. No one else was there at the moment, although it wouldn't stay that way for long, he knew.

"Come with me, please. We'd better speak in my office."

Dr. Roland led Ducky through the halls to his office. He gestured for Ducky to sit.

"What is it? Is Timothy worse?"

"Worse?" Dr. Roland sighed. "It's hard to tell honestly. He does talk to us, but as little as possible. I've never had a patient here so vehemently opposed to having visitors, especially when they are as close as you all seem to be to him."

"How is he?"

"I gave you the update yesterday. He's still much the same. We're worried about kidney damage from the amikacin and liver damage from two of the other drugs. He's being given a lot of drugs right now. There is a possibility of toxicity resulting from any of them; so we have to have close observation to make sure we avoid that. Unfortunately, that's not my main worry because we expected all this."

"It's the blinds isn't it," Ducky said.

"Essentially. People in quarantine need the support of others to get through the isolation, but Timothy seems to want the isolation."

"I don't think he really does."

"Then, how would you explain it?"

"I don't know. I can't know without speaking to him."

"That's the real reason I asked you into my office."

Ducky looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I want you to go in and speak with him."

"He has agreed?"

"No, and I don't like circumventing my patient's wishes, but I think it is in his best interests to go against what he has said. Are you willing?"

"Are you certain that I would be the best choice, Dr. Roland? Would not his family or–?"

"You're a doctor. You have credentials. His family seems to be the group he wants most to avoid. You have already spoken with him before. He may have more faith in your presence."

"What brought about this change of opinion?"

"Worry that I'm going to lose a patient, not to illness but to isolation," Dr. Roland said grimly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The door opened. Tim kept his eyes closed. No reason to open them and the room kept spinning when he did so anyway. All in all, a good reason to keep them closed.

"Timothy."

Like a red-hot poker in his chest, Ducky's voice penetrated his isolation.

"Ducky..."

"Yes."

"You...can't be here."

"Obviously, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't...want to hear you. Go away."

"I can't do that, Timothy."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not what you really want. Why don't you take a look at me?"

Tim shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You're not really here. You can't be here." Tim started to cough, but it didn't hurt so much as it had.

"Yes, I can. You're in Bethesda Naval Hospital. You're not on Lugniapo anymore."

Tim shook his head. "Don't say that. Don't tell me that."

"Why, Timothy? Why are you trying to deny it when you know it is true?"

"I don't know that...I don't."

"If so, that is because you refuse to look."

Tim felt dizzy as he shook his head again. "No. I can't, Ducky. I can't. You're not here. I'm not here."

"Then, where are you?"

Tim couldn't answer. He felt someone moving close to him and he shied away.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't touch me."

"Why not?"

"Go away."

"Timothy, may I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"While you were in the prison, did any of the prisoners...assault you?"

Tim laughed a little hysterically.

"They never did, Ducky. I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm positive. I was there." He laughed again at the thought. He began to cough. He felt the movement and pulled away. "I think I'd know. ...I almost wished...they would."

"What?"

Tim smiled. "It might have...been an improvement. You never know."

"Timothy, do you believe I'm here?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because...if you're not..."

"I am."

"If you're not." Tim couldn't even bear to say the words.

"Open your eyes, Timothy."

There might as well have been weights on his eyelids. "It's not enough that I'm hearing you. It's not enough. It can't be enough. I'm still stuck in here. I'm still a prisoner."

"Timothy, when you were imagining us speaking to you, did you ever think we were really there? Did your manifestations of us try to fool you?"

"No. Never. I always knew you weren't really there..that I was alone."

"This time, Timothy...this time, you're not alone. I'm not lying. I am really here."

Tim cracked open one eye and saw Ducky looking at him. He had a mask covering his nose and mouth, but he was there. He reached out to touch his arm, but Tim drew away again. If he tried to touch him and there was no one there...he couldn't bear the thought of that happening to him.

"No, Ducky. No." He coughed a few times. "No. Please."

Ducky's eyes looked moist.

"Timothy, it is time for you to trust us again."

Tim tried to pull away, but Ducky put an arm around him and pulled him into a hug. He didn't disappear. He didn't vanish. He was real. Tim began to sob. He wrapped his own thin arms around Ducky's waist and cried and cried.

"That's it, lad. Let it out."

"I don't...want to be...here...Ducky. I don't want to be...alone in here. I don't...I want to be...free. Let me go. Let me go," Tim begged, sobbing and coughing alternately.

Tim felt Ducky's hand on his head, rubbing the fuzz that had begun to grow back in.

"Oh, Timothy. I'm so sorry."

"I don't want... Don't let them hurt me again. Only...only two choices. Pain or...being alone. I can't...I can't choose pain."

"You don't have to choose pain, Timothy. I won't deny that there may be pain in your future, but that is not because of a choice between isolation and companionship."

"I don't want them to hurt me anymore. Please...don't let them hurt me."

"They won't. You're safe from them now. I promise you, Timothy. You are safe from them."

Tim wanted to believe that. He really did, but he couldn't. Every reprieve was only temporary.

"You're going to leave. I won't be safe. They'll come back."

"No, they won't. ...and I can't stay here forever. You are still contagious, Timothy and although it breaks my heart, you must stay in this room, but you don't have to be alone. If you open the blinds, let us speak with you through the window...we may not be able to touch, but at least you can see and hear us."

"It won't be real," Tim said. "It won't be real."

"It will. It just requires faith."

"I can't believe, Ducky. I can believe that you're here now...but I won't later. It just doesn't feel real. I'm still a prisoner."

"You are a prisoner only in your own mind. If you allowed yourself the freedom you already possess, you would not be a prisoner."

"Don't leave me alone," Tim pled.

He heard tears in Ducky's voice. "I'm so sorry, lad. I must. Will you let me open the blinds? Will you take what we can offer you?"

Tim shook his head. "No. No, I can't. Don't leave."

"I can stay a little longer, Timothy, but then I have to go."

"No. No."

"Yes, I'm sorry."

Tim closed his eyes again as the room began to spin once more. He tried to hold on, but eventually, Ducky pulled away. Tim cried. There was a part of him that knew it wasn't necessary, but he couldn't seem to hang on to that part. He could just cry as the one person he could accept as real disappeared into that nothingness beyond the boundaries of his cell.

All that existed in the world was this room. There was nothing beyond it. Nothing.

...and in the room was only misery.