Return To Innocence: Chapter Two
Bethany was busy in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner that she and Kirsten had just shared. The two had flipped a coin to see who would give Grace her evening bath and who would wash the dishes - and Bethany had lost the coin toss. She hummed a tune as she scrubbed the last of the silverware and placed them into the drying rack.
Her thoughts wandered to the person that was laying in her living room. Bartleby had been unconscious for almost a full twenty-four hours now, but she periodically checked on him to make sure that he was, in fact, still alive and, in Bethany's own thoughts, *real*.
Thinking about Bartleby made Bethany want to look in on him. She drained the water in the sink and dried her raison-wrinkled hands on the dish towel and then wandered into the dark living room.
The blackness of the room startled her senses, but as she walked towards the sofa, her eyes began to adjust to the shady world around her. She heard the muffled sounds of splashing and giggling as Kirsten continued to enjoy bathing Grace in the bathroom at the far end of the house. She smiled at the thought of them. By the time she sat on the edge of the coffee table next to the sofa and leaned to brush the bangs from Bartleby's forehead, Bethany's could see all the details of the room as if she were sitting in broad daylight. But she also saw that Bartleby's condition had not changed.
His face was ashen and clammy and a shimmer of perspiration still clung to his hair near his temples. His flesh was very warm to the touch, which indicated to Bethany that his fever had not yet gone down. Although still unconscious, his facial features were no longer calm and expressionless, but contorted in a way as if he were in pain. But he did not move as Bethany trailed a cool washcloth down his neck. She dipped the cloth into the ever-present bowl of water - that no longer had traces of ice - and softly dabbed at the perspiration around his hairline.
//Maybe he *does* need a doctor,// she thought worriedly. //But angels don't need doctors..do they? But, then again, angels can't be hurt by baseball bats either, I don't think.// She continued to ponder the situation when she heard footsteps enter the dark room. She turned to see Kirsten standing behind her, her eyes on Bartleby.
"I put Grace down for the night," Kirsten whispered. "How is he?" she asked as she took a seat beside Bethany.
Bethany sighed. "Not good." She was surprised to hear the tremble in her own voice. Bethany didn't understand why she was feeling so concerned and protective of Bartleby. Yes, he had saved her and Grace, but this was the same angel that was willing to destroy the existence of earth just so he could prove God wrong and get back into heaven. But, to be fair, she hadn't seen or heard from Bartleby or any of the other angels or muses or apostles or even God, in a very long time. Things change; people change; and maybe angels change too. After all, Bartleby was said to be dead and although he didn't look too good right now, he *was* alive and back on earth. If she could just talk to him, maybe he would be able to tell her what was going on.
"Uh, Bethany?" Kirsten whispered shakily.
Bethany was so wrapped up in thought that she jumped at hearing Kirsten's voice. But Bethany didn't turn to Kirsten. She couldn't. Her eyes were transfixed on Bartleby's. They were open and shining brilliantly in the moonlight.
Bethany withdrew her hand and washcloth from his forehead, but continued to stare at the now conscious angel. She felt her heart race with fear for just a split second, but her nerves calmed and her stare softened as she looked down upon Bartleby's frightened expression. *He* was scared. He blinked a few times as his eyes darted from Bethany to Kirsten and then back again. His heavy breathing increased. Bethany figured he was trying to recover his memory of what happened.
"Its okay, Bartleby," Bethany heard herself say in a soothing voice. "Some men jumped us in the alley, remember? You were hurt, so my friend and I brought you back here, to our place." His expression didn't change. "It's me, Bethany, you remember, right? Bartleby?" She spoke softly, trying to convey friendship..or *hoping* to convey it. Kirsten kept quiet, content with letting Bethany take control of the situation.
Bartleby looked at Bethany and slowly opened his mouth to speak, but the word that left his lips was not anything that Bethany had expected to hear.
"Loki," he rasped dazedly.
She shook her head. "No, it's Bethany, Bethany Sloan."
Bartleby shifted and started to push himself up. "I have to get to Loki," he continued. But he only raised himself a few inches before he winced and cried out in pain, slumping back onto the soft pillows of the sofa. His ribs were on fire and his body felt heavier than lead. His head pounded in his ears and a wave of nausea seized his senses as a spell of vertigo overtook him. He clenched his eyes shut and willed the unpleasant sensation to pass.
"You're in no shape to go anywhere, right now." Bethany placed her palm to his damp forehead. "You still have a high fever and you need to rest." She spoke to him sternly, but tenderly. When his eyes met hers, her breath caught in her throat. His eyes looked the same as they did before, in the alleyway; soft and weary. He winced again and then closed his eyes and slowly opened them. Bethany knew she was about to lose him to unconsciousness once again. She desperately wanted to know what was going on and why he was here and why he had saved her, but her maternal instinct and nurturing nature kicked in and she leaned over and pulled the blanket up to his neck.
"But, I have to--"
"Shh, sleep now," she cut him off, mid-sentence and saw that his eyelids grew heavier. "It's alright, Bartleby," she soothed as she watched him fight to stay awake. Bethany picked up the damp cloth again and traced it across his forehead and down is cheek. She repeated the motion until his eyes closed and did not re-open. "It's alright," she whispered again as Bartleby drifted off to sleep once more.
Bethany drew in a deep shaky breath as her hand dropped from Bartleby's face. She closed her eyes and sighed. She wasn't quite sure how she felt at that moment; scared; relieved; inquisitive; tired? Well, she was definitely tired.
"Okay, he's asleep again." Bethany stood up and stretched. "And we've had a long day; I think I'm going to turn in too." She turned to Kirsten and smiled, but Kirsten was not looking at Bethany, probably not even paying attention to her. Her eyes were fixated on the sleeping Bartleby. "Kirsten?" Bethany called.
"What aren't you telling me about him, Bethany?" Kirsten's eyes didn't leave Bartleby as she spoke.
Bethany tried to play dumb. "What are you talking about? I told you, he's just someone from my past. Just-"
"Yeah, someone from your past. That's really descriptive and enlightening." Kirsten interrupted. "I may be naïve at times, but I'm not stupid. I saw how he looked at you Bethany. He was *scared*. Why would he be scared of you?" She finally looked at her friend.
"Kirsten, he woke up, hurt, in a strange house, in strange surroundings in the dark, no less. He wasn't scared of me. He was just startled by the peculiarity of it all. If you were him in this circumstance, wouldn't you be a bit scared?" Bethany lied. She hated lying to her friend, but the less of the truth that Kirsten knew the better. Bethany wanted to know more about what was going on and why strange men cornered her in an alley and knew her name and wanted to take away Grace and why Bartleby was back from the dead and knew where she was and saved her. There were too many questions that Bethany needed answered before she could come clean with the truth to Kirsten. And tonight was not the night for any of it. Bethany found herself gazing at Bartleby again.
"Bethany?"
Bethany knew what Kirsten's next question was going to be, so she wracked her brain for an answer that would suffice for the moment, but no answer was coming to her. "Hmm?" she replied hesitantly.
"Who's Loki?"
^ ^ ^ ^
Bethany was busy in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner that she and Kirsten had just shared. The two had flipped a coin to see who would give Grace her evening bath and who would wash the dishes - and Bethany had lost the coin toss. She hummed a tune as she scrubbed the last of the silverware and placed them into the drying rack.
Her thoughts wandered to the person that was laying in her living room. Bartleby had been unconscious for almost a full twenty-four hours now, but she periodically checked on him to make sure that he was, in fact, still alive and, in Bethany's own thoughts, *real*.
Thinking about Bartleby made Bethany want to look in on him. She drained the water in the sink and dried her raison-wrinkled hands on the dish towel and then wandered into the dark living room.
The blackness of the room startled her senses, but as she walked towards the sofa, her eyes began to adjust to the shady world around her. She heard the muffled sounds of splashing and giggling as Kirsten continued to enjoy bathing Grace in the bathroom at the far end of the house. She smiled at the thought of them. By the time she sat on the edge of the coffee table next to the sofa and leaned to brush the bangs from Bartleby's forehead, Bethany's could see all the details of the room as if she were sitting in broad daylight. But she also saw that Bartleby's condition had not changed.
His face was ashen and clammy and a shimmer of perspiration still clung to his hair near his temples. His flesh was very warm to the touch, which indicated to Bethany that his fever had not yet gone down. Although still unconscious, his facial features were no longer calm and expressionless, but contorted in a way as if he were in pain. But he did not move as Bethany trailed a cool washcloth down his neck. She dipped the cloth into the ever-present bowl of water - that no longer had traces of ice - and softly dabbed at the perspiration around his hairline.
//Maybe he *does* need a doctor,// she thought worriedly. //But angels don't need doctors..do they? But, then again, angels can't be hurt by baseball bats either, I don't think.// She continued to ponder the situation when she heard footsteps enter the dark room. She turned to see Kirsten standing behind her, her eyes on Bartleby.
"I put Grace down for the night," Kirsten whispered. "How is he?" she asked as she took a seat beside Bethany.
Bethany sighed. "Not good." She was surprised to hear the tremble in her own voice. Bethany didn't understand why she was feeling so concerned and protective of Bartleby. Yes, he had saved her and Grace, but this was the same angel that was willing to destroy the existence of earth just so he could prove God wrong and get back into heaven. But, to be fair, she hadn't seen or heard from Bartleby or any of the other angels or muses or apostles or even God, in a very long time. Things change; people change; and maybe angels change too. After all, Bartleby was said to be dead and although he didn't look too good right now, he *was* alive and back on earth. If she could just talk to him, maybe he would be able to tell her what was going on.
"Uh, Bethany?" Kirsten whispered shakily.
Bethany was so wrapped up in thought that she jumped at hearing Kirsten's voice. But Bethany didn't turn to Kirsten. She couldn't. Her eyes were transfixed on Bartleby's. They were open and shining brilliantly in the moonlight.
Bethany withdrew her hand and washcloth from his forehead, but continued to stare at the now conscious angel. She felt her heart race with fear for just a split second, but her nerves calmed and her stare softened as she looked down upon Bartleby's frightened expression. *He* was scared. He blinked a few times as his eyes darted from Bethany to Kirsten and then back again. His heavy breathing increased. Bethany figured he was trying to recover his memory of what happened.
"Its okay, Bartleby," Bethany heard herself say in a soothing voice. "Some men jumped us in the alley, remember? You were hurt, so my friend and I brought you back here, to our place." His expression didn't change. "It's me, Bethany, you remember, right? Bartleby?" She spoke softly, trying to convey friendship..or *hoping* to convey it. Kirsten kept quiet, content with letting Bethany take control of the situation.
Bartleby looked at Bethany and slowly opened his mouth to speak, but the word that left his lips was not anything that Bethany had expected to hear.
"Loki," he rasped dazedly.
She shook her head. "No, it's Bethany, Bethany Sloan."
Bartleby shifted and started to push himself up. "I have to get to Loki," he continued. But he only raised himself a few inches before he winced and cried out in pain, slumping back onto the soft pillows of the sofa. His ribs were on fire and his body felt heavier than lead. His head pounded in his ears and a wave of nausea seized his senses as a spell of vertigo overtook him. He clenched his eyes shut and willed the unpleasant sensation to pass.
"You're in no shape to go anywhere, right now." Bethany placed her palm to his damp forehead. "You still have a high fever and you need to rest." She spoke to him sternly, but tenderly. When his eyes met hers, her breath caught in her throat. His eyes looked the same as they did before, in the alleyway; soft and weary. He winced again and then closed his eyes and slowly opened them. Bethany knew she was about to lose him to unconsciousness once again. She desperately wanted to know what was going on and why he was here and why he had saved her, but her maternal instinct and nurturing nature kicked in and she leaned over and pulled the blanket up to his neck.
"But, I have to--"
"Shh, sleep now," she cut him off, mid-sentence and saw that his eyelids grew heavier. "It's alright, Bartleby," she soothed as she watched him fight to stay awake. Bethany picked up the damp cloth again and traced it across his forehead and down is cheek. She repeated the motion until his eyes closed and did not re-open. "It's alright," she whispered again as Bartleby drifted off to sleep once more.
Bethany drew in a deep shaky breath as her hand dropped from Bartleby's face. She closed her eyes and sighed. She wasn't quite sure how she felt at that moment; scared; relieved; inquisitive; tired? Well, she was definitely tired.
"Okay, he's asleep again." Bethany stood up and stretched. "And we've had a long day; I think I'm going to turn in too." She turned to Kirsten and smiled, but Kirsten was not looking at Bethany, probably not even paying attention to her. Her eyes were fixated on the sleeping Bartleby. "Kirsten?" Bethany called.
"What aren't you telling me about him, Bethany?" Kirsten's eyes didn't leave Bartleby as she spoke.
Bethany tried to play dumb. "What are you talking about? I told you, he's just someone from my past. Just-"
"Yeah, someone from your past. That's really descriptive and enlightening." Kirsten interrupted. "I may be naïve at times, but I'm not stupid. I saw how he looked at you Bethany. He was *scared*. Why would he be scared of you?" She finally looked at her friend.
"Kirsten, he woke up, hurt, in a strange house, in strange surroundings in the dark, no less. He wasn't scared of me. He was just startled by the peculiarity of it all. If you were him in this circumstance, wouldn't you be a bit scared?" Bethany lied. She hated lying to her friend, but the less of the truth that Kirsten knew the better. Bethany wanted to know more about what was going on and why strange men cornered her in an alley and knew her name and wanted to take away Grace and why Bartleby was back from the dead and knew where she was and saved her. There were too many questions that Bethany needed answered before she could come clean with the truth to Kirsten. And tonight was not the night for any of it. Bethany found herself gazing at Bartleby again.
"Bethany?"
Bethany knew what Kirsten's next question was going to be, so she wracked her brain for an answer that would suffice for the moment, but no answer was coming to her. "Hmm?" she replied hesitantly.
"Who's Loki?"
^ ^ ^ ^