Disclaimer: The Pretender doesn't belong to me. I've stolen these characters for purely selfish reasons. I feel no remorse and therefore will not apologize. I am not making a dime on this endeavor so it does no one any good to sue me for it anyway. (I'll wrap up with a blatant plea to all U.S. readers… Buy The Pretender on DVD today!)

Burden of Truth

By Phenyx

05/03/2005

Before a secret is told, one can often feel the weight of it in the atmosphere - Susan Griffin

Shifting his briefcase from one hand to the other, Nicholas Stamatis freed his left hand in order to check the watch on his wrist. The bus was late, as usual. Experience had taught Nicholas that the bus wouldn't be more than a few minutes behind schedule. This mode of public transportation was extremely late only when the weather was cold and rainy and travelers could least afford the delay.

But this was a beautiful night. The evening air held only the faintest chill, hinting at the arrival of spring. The sky was clear and twinkled with a million stars. The light from the lamppost bathed the corner with illumination. Its brightness reflected off the nearby glass-walled building creating a mirror-like surface. Nicholas studied his image for a moment and ran one hand through his hair to straighten the tussled strands.

Nicholas contemplated his reflection with a frown. Not overly tall, Nicholas knew he was of average height. He had an average build, ordinary brown hair and an almost bookish appearance. Granted, he was good-looking in an angular kind of way but in his opinion, he was no heartthrob. In the past, Nicholas' relationships with women had been built upon his wit and poetic sense of romance.

Then he'd met Connie.

Constance Farren had landed in Nicholas' life like a whirlwind. A non-traditional student in his Anglo-Saxon Literature course, Miss Farren was only four credits away from her Bachelor's degree and only a year younger than her Literature professor. The moment Nicholas laid eyes on her he had been captivated. Yet despite the instinctive desire he'd felt, Nicholas had remained aloof. After all, there were ethical concerns to be dealt with in any teacher-student relationship.

But now, there were only two weeks left in the semester. Two more weeks and Connie would no longer be his student. Then Nicholas' moral quandary would cease to exist. The problem was no longer a matter of keeping the girl at arm's length. Instead Nicholas had to figure out how to get closer.

Tonight was the night. Nicholas would put his cards on the table and tell Connie he was interested in seeing more of her after the semester was over. Much more. She had emailed him earlier in the day, asking for a meeting regarding advice on her final paper. Something in the tone of the message had forced Nicholas to a decision. The brief note had seemed detached, almost terse, as if the girl were trying to distance herself. Connie's normally expressive and infectious charm had been totally absent, causing Nicholas more than a little concern.

As the bus rounded the bend and stopped at the curb, Nicholas realized that he probably should have driven his own car to the coffeehouse for this rendezvous. He did have an automobile and, as a teacher, he now had parking privileges that hadn't existed when he'd been a student on this campus. But Nicholas had been taking the bus down to The Hub for more years than he cared to admit and old habits die hard. With a shrug, Nicholas climbed the steep stairs and slid into one of the ancient leather bench seats.

"How are things this evening, Roy?" Nicholas asked the bus driver. Roy had been driving a campus bus far longer than Nicholas had been riding them.

The paunchy older man grinned amiably. "It's been a little quiet tonight, Nicky. 'Suppose a lot of the kids have gone home for the long weekend."

Nicholas nodded in response. As the vehicle shuddered into motion, Nicholas smiled at the driver. Somewhat balding and carrying a spare tire around his middle, Roy bore a vague resemblance to Nicholas' father. To further amplify the illusion, the bus driver insisted upon using the boyish nickname that Nicholas had been given as a child.

Memories of his father brought a deep pang to Nicholas' soul. More than three years had past since George Stamatis had died and Nicholas had lost the only father he'd ever known. The grief had dulled with time, as had Nicholas's anger and disappointment. Yet none of these emotions had ceased completely.

At times, Nicholas missed his dad so much it took his breath away. But the loss was getting easier to live with. Nicholas was learning to accept it. Just as he was learning to accept that George Stamatis had not been his genetic sire.

Mere hours before his death, George Stamatis had revealed a long kept secret. Nicholas had learned that he was not who he had believed himself to be. Nicholas discovered that he had been born to his mother out-of-wedlock and adopted by this father years later. The shock and betrayal he had felt at this revelation had nearly cost Nicholas the last moments of his father's life.

It had been a stranger who had shown Nicholas the way. An aristocratic man with an oddly familiar face had appeared in Nicholas' life that day. Sydney had offered support without judgment, advice without censure and comfort without expectations. With a gentle logic and sincere concern, Sydney had defined fathers, explaining to Nicholas that no matter who had given him life, the father who raised him had loved him. His real father had always been and would always be George Stamatis.

In the end, Nicholas had been able to put aside his anger long enough to share a last few minutes with the man who had raised him. George Stamatis had died peacefully. Nicholas had wept bitterly at the loss of his father.

For several months afterward, Nicholas had taken his frustration and feelings of betrayal out on Sydney. By all accounts, Sydney had not known of Nicholas' existence until shortly before they'd met. Yet Nicholas had blamed the older man for his misery anyway. It had taken many months and a great deal of patience before a shaky truce had formed between them. Slowly but surely the two were becoming friends.

As Nicholas's destination came into view, he tugged on the cord to signal the driver. Standing before the bus began to slow, Nicholas swayed gently with the movement of the vehicle. Nicholas hurried from the bus as soon as it had stopped, the driver, his father and Sydney all forgotten in his eagerness to meet Connie.

Nicholas crossed the cobblestone courtyard in front of the coffee shop. With the weather as pleasant as it was tonight, it would have been nice to sit outdoors. But it was too early in the season. The dozen or so tables with their bright umbrellas would not be brought out of storage for another week or two.

Looking through the plate glass window, Nicholas could see a handful of patrons inside the shop. He could not immediately locate Connie, but that didn't cause any concern. He was a few minutes early and Constance Farren was notorious for her tardiness. She was consistently five minutes late for every class.

With a wry grin on his face, Nicholas rounded the corner toward the entrance. The door was located on the side of the building rather than at the front. The alley leading to the door was normally very well lit, but tonight Nicholas noted absently, one of the streetlights seemed to be burned out.

Nicholas approached the shop with a careless ease born of repetition. He had been here a thousand times before. He knew this place as well as he knew his own apartment. Perhaps if Nicholas had not been so intent on locating his pupil, he would have noticed the shadows moving in on him. But it was spring and he was a young man almost in love. He saw nothing, heard nothing, as he reached for the brass handle on the shop door.

A moment later the darkness fell over Nicholas. He was jerked away from the safety of the shop and dragged into the gloom. A rough and heavy piece of cloth was pressed against Nicholas' nose and mouth, stifling any cry he may have uttered. His briefcase clattered to the ground as Nicholas flailed against his attacker. Strong arms grabbed him around both legs and he felt himself supported against a strange broad chest.

The two men lifted Nicholas up and began to carry him away even before the drug soaked rag had completed its work. With his struggles weakening rapidly, Nicholas felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. His last coherent thought was of the girl he'd come to meet. Nicholas felt an absurd rush of joy when he realized that Connie had not been cold toward him in her message. The message had not come from her at all.

When Nicholas began to struggle into wakefulness, he became aware of his surroundings in fractured bits. Two pairs of large hands gripped him roughly around his biceps. The men didn't speak as they half dragged, half carried Nicholas across a paved expanse. Nicholas tried to open his eyes but his drug-heavy lids wouldn't cooperate. He caught a fuzzy glance of a deserted parking lot, darkness and shadows. It was still night but Nicholas had no way of knowing how late it was. For all he knew, a full twenty-fours may have passed since he had stepped off the bus in front of the coffee shop. Or perhaps it had only been twenty-four minutes.

Nicholas felt himself being hauled across a threshold and into a building of some kind. It sounded big. His footsteps echoed ominously. The metallic clang of a door closing behind him brought Nicholas closer to consciousness. With a shake of his head he tried to clear the cobwebs and regain his senses.

"He's coming 'round," a raspy voice murmured.

"Too late to do 'im any good," a second voice replied.

The trio approached a large door. Nicholas blinked blearily as one of the men pressed a series of buttons on a keyboard. With a click the door opened. But rather than take Nicholas through the door the men simply shoved him through it. Still off balance and disoriented, Nicholas could only stumble awkwardly as he tried to keep from falling on his face.

Landing on his hands and knees, Nicholas closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. The world seemed to be tilting from the effects of the drug, making Nicholas feel more than a little queasy. Nicholas heard the door close and he knew without looking that he had been locked in. The men were gone.

It took several minutes for Nicholas to fully wake. Once the spinning in his head had stopped, Nicholas' nausea began to diminish, leaving only a thudding headache in his temples. Pushing himself up, Nicholas rose from his knees to gaze around his prison.

The room was a barren square approximately thirty feet across. There was only one light, a single bulb burning from the ceiling about fifteen feet from the ground. The floor was cement, the walls an industrial gray. The door had no handle on this side. It was just a rectangle against the plain wall. Against the opposite wall there was a large square sink similar to those found in janitorial closets. There was no furniture, no window, not even an air vent to break the monotony of the place.

In the center of the room, crumpled directly beneath the dim bulb, there was a body. A tangle of leather and denim, arms and legs, the pile was undoubtedly a person. But it looked as though their captures had dumped the body there like a bag of trash.

"Hey," Nicholas croaked. He cleared his throat and spoke louder. "Are you okay?" Nicholas asked as he approached the man.

It was definitely a man, broad-shouldered and long-legged. The man was lying face down so that Nicholas had to reach around the man's neck to look for a pulse. Nicholas sighed with relief when he found a strong and steady heartbeat.

"Wake up." Nicholas tried again. He grabbed the man's shoulder and rolled him over. There was no resistance as the man rolled over with a boneless flop.

Nicholas gasped as he recognized the man. Shocks of long brown hair fell across the man's brow. His angular jaw was shadowed with stubble. Though the man's eyes were closed, Nicholas knew them to be a hard glittering brown.

Backing away cautiously, Nicholas ran his hands through his hair and tried to think. None of this made any sense. He'd been abducted by strangers and locked in a room with a dangerous man. A man Nicholas had only met once before.

"Revenge is the great equalizer." Nicholas remembered the words this man had spoken as he materialized from the shadows years ago. Like a phantom, this man had seemed to appear from nowhere. He had radiated menace, moving across the room with a catlike grace. The sense of danger that seemed to fill the room had little to do with the gun this man carried.

He had paid little attention to Nicholas. His focus had instead fallen upon Mr. Lyle. Nicholas had felt beholden to Mr. Lyle and wasn't anxious to leave his new friend's side. But Sydney had insisted.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Nicholas had demanded.

"Someone we need to listen to," was the only answer Sydney had given.

At his father's urging, Nicholas had left Mr. Lyle with this man. What happened after that, Nicholas didn't know. He hadn't seen either man again and Sydney refused to discuss the matter.

Now, Nicholas found himself a prisoner, much as he had been before. And once again, his path had crossed with the dark stranger he had met that day. But this time, Nicholas vowed, he would learn more. He would find out who this man was. At the very least, Nicholas was going to get his name.

End part 1