Chapter 6
In the aftermath of the attack, the village of Poditea was ruined beyond any hope of being reclaimed. Barely one hundred people had managed to survive, and of that small number, over seventy were widows. The strong walls and stone structures within had been reduced to rubble that still smoldered days after the attack.
Barely a house in the village was unaffected by the conflict. Nearly every family lost at least one member in the battle.
The fallen invaders were piled and burned, while the funerals for the slain villagers lasted for the better part of a week, lighting the ruined fields at night like beacons of grief. Those few buildings that could be repaired were made habitable as quickly as possible and served as the housing for those who had no where to go. Many of the wounded from the battle did not live more than a few days before they, too, succumbed to their wounds and died.
Gabrielle took charge of overseeing the medical needs of the wounded, while Alexander took over the management of the reconstruction, along with Timitus and Salius. The three of them were the most experienced in these jobs, having learned their carpentry skills from David. In a couple of days they had reinforced the main warehouse and the village hall enough to serve as temporary housing for the refugees.
The first outsiders to arrive, was a large contingent of the Athenian Guard. They brought with them necessary medical and food supplies, and quickly began assisting in the cleanup of the dead and treatment of the wounded. They also took custody of a battered and beaten Hope.
Merchants arrived a few days later, bearing goods for the fall market. They were aghast at the misery they beheld. Many of them donated their goods to the recovery of Poditea, though few ever believed that the village could truly be saved. In quiet circles, and in neighboring kingdoms, Poditea became known as the "Village of Widows".
The council was gone, either killed or fled and the village watch had been decimated by the attackers. Most remaining families didn't even bother to try and start over. They simply packed what belongings they could salvage and left.
All during the exodus, Xena could be seen, seated outside the battered city gate, her eyes staring out at the distant horizon, as if she were awaiting the arrival of someone, or something. It was as if she were reliving old memories that sapped her very essence.
Her eyes were cold and unmoving as she looked at the road leading away from the village. She didn't even hear the footsteps as Alexander came to kneel beside her.
"Hey, sis," he said gently. "How are you doing?"
"The Athenians took Hope to Athens, for trial," Xena said in a mute voice.
"Yup," Alexander replied.
"They said that she'll likely be executed," Xena finished. "I told them not to be too gentle with her."
The very effort of speaking sent a ripple of pain through her soul, but she couldn't cry. It was as if she had exhausted all her tears. All she could see was his face, calm and peaceful, with eyes so dark, deep and filled with love, staring back at her and then closing that one last time.
Now her father lay in state in their home, waiting until the evening when they would make the journey up the hill and to the family tomb to lay him in his final resting place.
Alexander opened his mouth to say something else, but nothing came out. He placed his hand on Xena's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then he rose and turned away.
"You were right," Xena said suddenly.
Alexander paused and looked back at her, still unmoving.
"I was?"
"When you stopped me from killing her," Xena continued. "You were right. Thanks."
Alexander smiled, but said nothing. He gave a little nod, though she didn't see it, and turned and left her alone.
It wasn't that he had cared any less for their father than she. But he knew about Xena's past, and her past life. In essence, this was the second father that had been taken from her. Even though she had been able to grow to adulthood with her father around, they all had known that the bond between David and Xena was special. It was as if Xena had been trying to make up for the years lost that first time around.
That bond had been both a blessing, and now, it was a curse. One small comfort from her previous life was that she had not known her father for more than a few years before he had been killed. That sense of anonymity had somehow made the loss easier to bear. Now, the man she had grown up and known was gone, leaving a gaping cavity where her heart used to be.
Their hearts were like leaden weights in their chests as they bore the bier that carried David towards the old family tomb on the hill. David lay beneath a soft white shroud, his hands folded comfortably on his breast. Timitus, Salius and the other two pall bearers, soldier from Athens, did their best to keep their emotions in check as they carried David to his resting place, but tears still managed to fall from their eyes. They stood proudly, their heads up, eyes forward as they made the gentle climb. Behind them, Gabrielle walked, a dark veil over her head, her eyes streaming with tears. In spite of it, she had a peaceful expression on her face. She felt Xena's hand on her arm, and Alexander stood opposite, his own eyes seemed frozen on the open tomb ahead. Aside from a gentle quiver in his lip, there was no hint of his emotions on his face.
Xena's heart was thudding in her chest, her own emotions held in check only by a desire to appear strong before her mother. She knew, as soon as this was done, she would go off alone for a while and let it all out. She needed to weep.
The wind blew softly and a gentle drizzle fell, like tiny tears from above. The sky was gray, like it wished to fold a gentle veil over the entire world on this particular day.
Xena's eyes wouldn't leave the body of her father, lying beneath the shroud. Only yesterday, he had been so alive, so filled with joy and wit. And now, he was an empty shell.
She felt the tear roll, unbidden, down her cheek, and she caught her breath.
As they neared the tomb, a soft crack was heard from the foliage, just above the entrance. Instantly, the procession halted as eyes looked up towards the destination in mild confusion. The breeze shifted, picking up a little strength. The whole world seemed to pause.
A figure moved behind the bushes. Xena and Alexander both stepped before their mother, their hands grasping the hilts of their swords as they watched the figure above. It froze for a moment and then, slowly, rose and stepped out from concealment.
There had been rumors that several priests from Hope's army still lurking in the area surrounding the devastation that had once been Poditea.
Xena and Alexander grasped their sword hilts, ready to attack if this was one of those errant priests.
Xena heard a soft intake of breath from her mother, and felt Gabrielle's hand on her arm as she stepped forward, raising the veil and looking up at the figure, now standing in plain view.
He was dressed in a pair of faded blue pants, and a long black coat that flapped in the breeze. On his hands were fingerless gloves. In one hand, he held a bow. His hair was long and dark, and his eyes were deep, brown and filled with wonder. Immediately, they all recognized the scar covering his left eye
Xena's hand loosened on her sword hilt and her eyes filled with tears as she saw her mother smile suddenly, her own hands rising over her heart.
Gabrielle's eyes locked on his, and that moment seemed to stretch out for an eternity as David gazed down at her, young and strong again.
He smiled a soft, gentle smile and slowly raised the bow towards them in greeting.
Xena couldn't believe it. It suddenly felt as if her heart might burst from her chest. She glanced over at her brother and saw the same, wondrous expression on his face.
"David?" Her mother breathed.
A soft, luminous green glow surrounded the man on the hill, and the figure slowly faded from sight. When the glow subsided, Xena suddenly remembered to breathe, though her first breath came out in something of a gasp.
"Who – what was that?" she whispered.
Gabrielle reached back and took hold of Xena's hand, a wistful, heartbreaking smile on her face, in spite of the fresh tears. "Xena, dear," she said in a soft, tremulous voice. She looked back at her children and smiled. "He told you he wasn't really going anywhere."
In one, they all looked back up to that vacant place, and Gabrielle finally let her emotions go, feeling the tears flow freely at last.
"I'll see you again soon, my love. I'll see you again soon."
He saw his daughter smile through her tears, knew that he had accomplished one more act of levity in that sad moment, and then the world faded to a blinding white shimmer. Everything went still and Xena's desperate pleas echoed in the distance before they faded to an ominous silence.
"So," he thought. "This is dying. It isn't so bad, once you think about it. No, not so bad at all."
He felt himself floating, as if on a gentle current of wind, his mind free of any constraint. Somewhere in the brilliant void, he could make out anew sound. Distant, but distinct.
It was soft, low, steady, and somehow, strangely familiar. His curiosity aroused, he drifted towards it, listening to its gentle keening note.
Beep……beep…….beep…..beep…
"Where are you?" he thought. "What are you?"
Beep….beep….beep….beep…
"Gabrielle?" His mind drifted. "Xena? Alexander?"
Beep….beep….beep….beep…
The sensation of floating slowly gave way to a feeling of descent.
"Not good," he thought with a rising fear. "Down is bad."
He tried to fight the feeling. Tried to withdraw from it, but it was like a strong river current, pulling him inexorably towards some unknown fate. The soft beeping grew in volume and began to pick up speed.
"Gabrielle!" he cried out with his very being. Then the whole of existence faded to black, and all was silent except for that strange siren call.
Beep….beep….beep….beep…
A light began to appear again, this time deep and red, rising until it became a painful, blinding crimson torrent. The soft beeping was a bell, tolling in his ears, and he felt it reverberate in his skull with painful authority.
A groan escaped his lips as he tried to move.
"I think he's coming around," a voice said from one side. "Get the doc!"
That voice was vaguely familiar, though it had been years – decades really - since he last heard it.
His body felt heavy, sluggish, like he was trapped in molasses. There was a scratchy sensation in the back of his throat. He tried to lift a hand to his head, and found that difficult.
"Easy there, buddy," that voice said again, gently in his ear. "Just take it easy."
The red light behind his eyelids fluttered back to the brilliant pale white of fluorescent bulbs, as his eyes flickered open.
Another voice, calm, but different, said gently. "Mr. Forester? Can you hear me?"
David nodded.
"Good," the voice continued. "My name is Doctor Grant. You've been unconscious for a while. Don't rush."
David felt a rising sense of panic as he began to recognize the sounds and words. But this was all wrong? Where was he? Where was Gabrielle? Where was his family?
He had to see what was happening! Had to see where he was! He forced his eyes open, ignoring the white hot pain that flooded his mind.
"What?" he croaked.
The room was sparsely decorated, in pale pastels, with stark white blinds on the large sealed window. Florescent bulbs glowed in recesses along the wall. Hovering over him was a woman, in her late thirties or early forties, with long brown hair and dark, critical brown eyes, wearing the standard white coat of a physician.
"Who?" David croaked again as the panic rose like a wave. "Where? No, no, no, this isn't!" he struggled to rise, ignoring the renewed pain rifling through his body.
"Just relax," The doctor said firmly. "You had an accident, but you're going to be okay!"
"No!" David felt his strength return in a sudden surge of adrenalin. Two hands fell firmly upon is shoulders and he saw Tommy and Dusty, looking down at him in confusion and concern.
"Easy Shakes!" Dusty pleaded. "Everything's cool!"
"No!" David kept repeating. His voice and strength built in power and ferocity. He didn't belong here. He needed to get back to his family.
The Doctor reached over and hit a small button on the IV bag attached to his left hand.
A few moments later, soothing warmth began to flow through his body, sapping his strength.
He struggled against this new unseen foe that caused his own body to ignore his demands. The pain faded with his strength and the world began to get fuzzy.
"Just take it easy, now," she was saying firmly. "You're going to be okay."
The world began to fuzz over and his strength ebbed into a warm floating glow of narcotics.
"Gabrielle," he muttered in dismay as the blessed warmth engulfed him in darkness.
Tommy, Dusty and the Doctor all exchanged looks of confusion.
"What did he say?" Tommy asked.
Dusty shrugged and shook his head. "Gabrielle?"
"So, who in the hell is Gabrielle?" Tommy asked.
"Is that a member of his family?" Doctor Grant asked. "Someone we should contact, perhaps?"
Dusty shook his head again, and Tommy shrugged.
"The only family he had was his late wife, Elizabeth," He said helplessly. "I don't know any Gabrielle."
Debbie's small Ford Ranger crunched through the soft blanket of unshovelled snow, stopping before the side entrance of the modest little brown split level ranch that David called home.
A single, worn trail in the snow, moved between the home and the detached garage at the back. Debbie spied the small plume of steam rising from the garage and trudged to the side door.
Warm air enfolded her as she stepped into the tidy workshop. Parts lay in neatly ordered rows on the tool bench and a large engine block rested on a stand nearby.
Across from the entrance, in the opposite bay, sat the frame of a large vehicle, propped up by four worn wheels.
She heard the sound of a creeper scooting across the cement, and smiled.
"Shakes?" she called.
"Yeah," David's voice drifted up from beneath the fame.
Debbie detected a frostiness to his voice that she had never heard before.
Suppressing a shudder, she moved to the small chair at the front of the bay and seated herself, watching his feet.
"How you feeling, hon?" she asked lightly.
"Fine," David replied.
Debbie sighed. Now she knew something was seriously wrong. There was no such thing as one word answers where her friend was concerned.
"We all missed you at Thanksgiving Dinner?" she offered. "Marty ended up having to cook."
"Yeah, sorry," David replied again with the same icy detachment. "Been busy."
"I can see that," Debbie nodded, looking at the parts placed about the room. "Have you even been inside the house in the last month?"
The movement beneath the car ceased, and Debbie heard a resigned sigh.
"Was there something you wanted?" he asked.
There was just enough vehemence in his tone that her temper flared a bit in response.
"Yes there is!" she barked suddenly. "I want you out from underneath that old clunker and looking me in the eye, right now!"
The creeper slid quickly out from beneath the car and David stood, his eyes glaring back at her with unusual intensity.
"What?" he demanded.
She matched his gaze and bored through the wall of anger to what lay behind, and her breath caught in her throat.
There was such a feeling of despair that it felt like it the temperature in the room dropped below the temperature outside.
"Oh, David," she said gently.
The facade began to crack as she watched. The depression ripping its way through the mask of rage and his eyes glistened. Then, in a sudden burst of anger, he flipped the workbench over and collapsed against the wall.
Tools and components rained down in a cacophony of noise, only partially obscuring his desperate cry.
Debbie stepped up next to him and knelt at his side. Her hand came down on is shaggy head, and she felt the trembling in his body, the waves of anguish and total despair.
"Oh, baby," Debbie soothed him like she would a small child. She wrapped her thin arm about his shoulders. He fell into her embrace, like a child awaking from a nightmare, and all the emotion came flooding out of him as he repeated over and over. "They were real!"
Once the emotion had burned itself out, Debbie led him back into the house and down into the basement. She poured a glass of whiskey for him and a glass of wine for herself, and waited.
David absently turned the glass in his hand, watching the light sparkle against the ice.
Finally, a weary sigh came from him. "It was real, Deb. I had a life, a family, a home. I was there for almost thirty years! Now everyone and their grandmother are telling me that it wasn't real!"
"You were comatose for four days, hon," Debbie offered. "Who knows how the mind reacts in a situation like that?"
His eyes snapped up at her with a touch of the old ferocity. As if he were defying her to call him a liar.
"It was real!" he said again emphatically. "She was real! She was here, twice!"
"Okay," Debbie said with quiet strength. "Okay. So?"
David frowned. "So what?"
Debbie smiled and took a sip of her wine. "So, tell me about her?"
Debbie listened patiently as David recounted his life story with Gabrielle, Xena, and Alexander. When David finally finished, she sat still for a moment, as if trying to absorb all that she had heard.
"Well?" David asked. "Does that sound like a crazy person talking? Some wild hallucination?"
Debbie shook her head and smiled. "No, hon, it doesn't. But you have to realize that everything you're saying changed the moment you met her on that road. She wasn't there. You wiped out. You totaled Rosie and wound up in a coma for four days! That's what we all saw. What are we supposed to think? You're talking about things that happened a month ago – or will happen a year, or more from now? Panama wasn't rebuilt in two days. You were working on her when I got here?"
David looked up at her once more with that hint of defiant fire. Then he looked back down at the glass again
"What do you want me to say, Deb?" he asked mutely. "You want me to admit that it was all a dream? A freak of the mind when in a coma? Then why is it that I can remember every detail of our lives together, but I can't be sure about how to get out to Jerry's place any more? Why all of this is so new to me again, and I miss the old farm? I can't remember Lizzy's face anymore, but I could describe every detail of Xena and Alexander's faces? Why I can ride a horse like a pro, but I'm totally whacked where driving is concerned? Why I feel seventy years old on the inside, but my body keeps trying to convince me that I'm thirty-three?"
Debbie shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, hon."
"Then that means one of us is wrong and I know it isn't me!" David said with terse finality. The emotion began to build again. This time he quickly regained control. "They were real, period! And I won't pretend they were some crazy mind fuck brought on by a thunk on the head!"
"Okay," Debbie said calmly. "Okay. No one is saying you should, hon. But you're gonna have to be patient with the rest of us, alright? It's a lot to believe."
"I haven't felt overly social since I got back anyway," David replied.
"We noticed." Debbie said evenly. She studied his face for a moment and sighed inwardly.
In her mind, a large part of her wanted to believe the fantastic tale he had just imparted. As she watched her friend seated before her, stewing, she realized that he believed it completely.
She also had to admit, he was different. It was as if his modern skills had atrophied greatly in those few days. His demeanor had changed as well, long beyond his apparent loss. There was an absoluteness about him that hadn't existed before, a wisdom that went well beyond his years.
"I just need some time, Deb," he finally sighed. "Just a little more time."
A little more time ended up being the rest of the winter and well into the following spring. While David never turned a visitor away when they showed up at his home, it was apparent that he wouldn't go out of his way to entertain them either. The visits dwindled and finally ceased. It was agreed on by everyone that David should be watched carefully, if not interfered with.
David's tinkering moved to his slot at the clubhouse, and the rather large task of repairing his motorcycle.
David gently slid Rosie's front fender over the tire and threaded the first of the bolts that would hold it in place.
When he looked up to grasp the required wrench, he saw her standing their, her brilliant red hair shimmering in the hot light of the work lamp.
Rosie's crystalline yellow eyes looked back at him critically.
"What are you doing, baby?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest.
David shrugged. "Putting you back together."
"Besides that," Rosie replied. "Baby, you haven't felt wind in your face for half your life, according to you, and you're sitting here wasting time patching me up."
David smiled. "Well, we finally got all your parts, so, why not?"
"You're killing yourself, baby," Rosie replied. "You know that? Every day for the last six months, you've been in your garage, working on Ma, or in the shop, tinkering with me, and every night, you're at home, drinking yourself into a stupor. We need to snap you out of this funk you're in."
"It's not a funk," David protested.
At that, one crimson eyebrow rose.
"Dammit, Rosie," David faced the spirit. "How can I let this go?"
"You can't," Rosie replied evenly. "Not like this anyway."
Her yellow eyes focused on another machine sitting patiently across the shop, covered in a fine layer of dust.
"Why did you buy her?" she asked.
David followed the spirit's gaze and saw the massive blue and white Valkyrie sitting patiently in the corner, looking forlorn and lost.
The memories of that night, so long ago in his mind, flashed before his eyes and he blinked the memory away.
"I thought we agreed that she'd be my over the road bike, since you were beginning to get a little tired?" David replied.
"And since then, she's been sitting in that corner, gathering dust and feeling like an abandoned stepchild," Rosie continued. There was a touch of annoyance in her voice.
David looked back over at the machine, feeling more than a little trepidation. After all, in his mind, this was the machine that had betrayed him on the highway that previous October night. This was the motorcycle that was totaled, not Rosie. And here they both were, their roles reversed in some twist of fate that he could not even recall.
Rosie's pink hand came to rest on his shoulder and her face knelt down next to his ear.
"Look at her," she said in a soft motherly tone. "Sitting in the corner, all alone."
In a flash, David saw the figure of another woman, sitting alone, like the one girl at a dance, waiting for someone to come along and offer to take her across the floor.
His eyes went wide. She was small, with creamy skin and pale blue hair, the same hue as the machine she represented. Her clear eyes searched the room absently, and she brushed some of the dust off her pale arm. Then she looked at David, as if realizing for the first time, that someone was actually seeing her. She shifted uncomfortably when she realized that it was her owner that was looking at her.
"She doesn't even have a name yet," Rosie said gently. "She has no sense of self, no identity." There was a touch of pity in her voice. "No sense of purpose. And she doesn't understand any of this."
Rosie patted his shoulder gently. "You've spent enough time fiddling with me. Why don't you introduce yourself? At the least, she deserves a naming, doesn't she?"
David swallowed a sudden lump that formed in his throat. When he looked back at the lift, Rosie sat their, in her state of disassembly, the golden headlights staring at him, as if pressing him to act.
Slowly, he lowered the lift and wheeled the partially assembled machine off to one side, and then he turned and went over to the new machine.
In his mind, he had an image of this new, young soul, looking from side to side, as if seeking some form of escape.
"Hi there," David said quietly as his hands fell on the handlebars.
He stood the bike up and pushed. The wheels didn't move. Mechanically, the rotors were probably a little stuck to the pads on the brakes, but David interpreted it a little differently.
He gave the machine a gentle shove. "It's all right," he said. "We're just gonna take a look."
The machine finally rolled forward under his guidance and he walked it over to the lift, locking the front wheel into the braces.
"There we go," he said. He reached for a shammy and a can of polish and gently began cleaning the dust and grime from the machine.
"Well," he said as he worked. "I have left you for a while, haven't I?"
He glanced up and saw the figure of the girl standing near the workbench, eyeing him curiously. It was as if she were trying to determine whether or not he was worthy of her confidence.
"Not talking much, huh," David nodded. "Well, I guess I don't blame you. I have been kind of a jerk to you since you got here."
Again, the spirit said nothing, watching him as he gently massaged the dust and dirt from her body.
"Well," David continued. "I guess I've had a lot on my mind, you know?"
His hand brushed against a rough spot on the lower frame and he paused. "You've fallen over before, haven't you?"
As if from a great distance, a small, timid voice replied. "Yes."
David smiled. "That's okay. Happens to everyone at least once." He went to the bench and grabbed the grinder. He quickly smoothed out the rough patch on the frame and then resumed his inspection.
Next, he drained the oil and removed the filter, noting the dark, burnt quality of the fluid, he clicked his tongue in disapproval.
"This hasn't been changed for a while, either, huh," he continued.
The spirit shook her head slowly. It was as if she feared the he might discover some defect, some flaw that would make her unworthy of this new found attention.
At the same time David saw a subtle glow beginning to appear from within this soul as he worked. It was as if the machine were coming back from a long, dreamless sleep.
David tightened the fill plug and nodded. "You're e beautiful machine, you know that? Why'd your previous owner trade you in?"
She looked down, ashamed. "I kept getting hot."
David smiled in recognition. "Well, why don't we see of we can figure out why, okay?"
The clear eyes looked up at him with hope for the first time. "Do you think we can?"
"We already fixed part of it, just with the oil change." David replied, smiling. "Let's figure out the rest, okay?"
He slid another drain pan underneath the front of the bike and popped the clamp on the lower radiator hose.
The luminous green fluid drained out quickly, and David watched intently as it flowed.
"That doesn't look so bad," he commented. "Looks pretty clean, actually."
The spirit shook her head. "There's something inside." She said, one hand hovering over her belly.
"Inside, huh," David nodded. "Didn't you tell your other owner that?"
"She never talked to me," the spirit replied. "Not like you do."
"One of those, huh?" David said. Then he caught himself. "She? Your last owner was a woman? You mean I bought a girls bike?"
She looked at him in sudden panic, and saw, for the first time, the genuine humor in his expression. Something wonderful happened in that moment.
The spirit of the Valkyrie actually laughed. It was a wonderful, musical sound that took David instantly back to his other life and the sound of another laugh, warm and familiar.
David quickly disconnected the radiator and set it aside. Then he removed the thermostat, and found it to be functioning correctly. Frowning, he went to the sink and attached a garden hose, bringing the other end to the intake on the bike.
"You said it was something inside you, right?"
She nodded.
"Okay, Gabby," David said. He froze suddenly as the name rolled from his lips. He set the end of the hose down and felt the heaviness fall upon him like a sudden weight across his shoulders. Unbidden tears suddenly blurred his vision.
"What?" the spirit asked in surprise. Then she saw the emotion playing across his face and her mirth faltered. "What did you call me?" she asked sincerely. "Are you alright?"
David fought his emotions back under control and sighed heavily. He nodded.
"Gabrielle," he said finally. He looked at the spirit before him and nodded. "That's your name. Gabrielle."
She considered that for a moment, measuring the expression on his face. A smile began to creep across her features.
"I have a name," she whispered to herself. That subtle glow continued to grow in brilliance as her smile broadened. "I have a name."
David smiled and blinked away the tears in his eyes. He fitted the hose to the intake on the engine and turned on the water.
After a few seconds, the water began pouring out of the lower hose, still hanging from the engine.
David frowned as he watched the flow. He went over to the sink and increased the pressure, seeing only a slight increase on the flow coming out. His emotion settled back as the logical part of his mind took hold.
Quickly, he shut off the water and disconnected the hose. A few moments of rummaging through his tool box produced a small metallic fitting with two connections. To one, he reattached the hose, and to the second, an air line. He then screwed the object into the coolant intake and restarted the water.
David checked the pressure on his small compressor and then placed his hand on a button on the fitting.
"Okay, kiddo," he said. "This might feel a little strange."
He depressed the button quickly. There was a gurgling hiss, and some of the water coming from the engine blasted out with greater force. David repeated the action several times before a small brownish mass spat from the hose and the water flow increased.
"Ugh," Gabby groaned. Her pale hand clutched at her belly as if something had just stung her.
David shut off the water and stepped over to examine the small object. He smiled wryly as he realized that it was a large piece of the aluminum safety foil that covered the opening of most bottles of antifreeze.
"Well," he said, holding it up. "There's your overheating problem."
He tossed the offending mass into the nearby trash container and began reaffixing the components he had removed.
A short time later, David inserted the key into the ignition and pressed the starter switch. The big engine came at once to life, idling quietly. To him it seemed that David heard the machine sigh.
He waited, watching the temperature light on the console, occasionally bringing his hand closer to the running engine in order to gauge the heat.
After thirty minutes had passed without any tell tale signs of the machine overheating, David switched off the engine and lowered the lift to the ground.
He rolled the big machine back towards its designated spot, and paused. It was something inside pulling at him, though it felt like a small excited child tugging at his sleeve.
"I want to run! I want to run!" Gabby was begging.
David slowly climbed astride the big blue machine, his eyes looking over the controls, so familiar to him and yet, so strange. He found it difficult to breathe suddenly, and the tears welled up in his eyes again as the emotion rose quickly.
The last time he had ridden, she had been sitting behind him, her arms wrapped about his neck. He could still feel her breath, hear her voice in his ear. Something akin to fear squeezed at his heart. His mind flashed back to a summer day, in a world that everyone said did not exist.
He stood at the door of his home, looking down at a frustrated young girl, stewing as she glared angrily at Prospero who nickered playfully, as if laughing at her.
"Xena?" David asked. "What happened?"
"I fell off," Xena said angrily.
David smiled and knelt down beside his fourteen year old daughter. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and patted it.
"Well," he said. "There are two kinds of people who ride, honey. Those who have fallen and those who will."
She looked up at him and he could see the fear mixed in with the frustration.
"The important thing," he continued, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "Is to get back on that horse and keep trying."
David looked down at the 'horse' he now sat on. He swallowed his own fear and turned the ignition key. The instruments eagerly came to life.
David's thumb hovered over the starter button. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Get back on that horse," he said to himself. "Get back on that horse."
The engine rumbled back to life. His right hand twisted the throttle a little, feeling the machine respond.
"Get back on that horse," David thought again. From his point of view, he hadn't done this for nearly thirty years. He squeezed the clutch lever, pressed the shifter down, felt and heard the soft click as the transmission engaged, and slowly twisted the throttle.
Gabby lurched forward a few feet and died.
"Okay, okay," David said as he fought the sudden fear back down. "You're out of practice and it's a new ride." He restarted the engine and tried again, getting the feel for the machine. This time he coasted to the doors and stopped a little more smoothly.
He pressed the button for the doors and watched as the world opened before him. The simple dirt path from the shop to the road seemed to beckon to him, and again, he saw the worn path that led from his front porch to the main road in a different house. It was as if the two worlds he had experienced were blending into one, and the two were incompatible. He felt his own mind rebelling against what he knew to be true and he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the rationale back into place. They HAD been real, she HAD been his wife, they HAD been together for nearly thirty years, they HAD raised a family, and so on, until reality relented and let him hold onto the memories.
His eyes focused again on the present and the road before him.
He eased Gabby down the dirt path and to the edge of the road. There was no traffic and he let the clutch engage fully as he accelerated down the road, feeling the machine hum beneath him.
With every rotation of the wheels beneath him, he felt the old skills returning. The old vigor seemed to also begin to return to his limbs. He felt the years of his life slowly moving backwards within his body. The geriatric weariness seemed to flow from him like mist, and the years rolled backwards in his mind, even as the memories of those years remained.
David coasted up onto the interstate and felt Gabby purring beneath him as he twisted the throttle. He could almost feel the spirit leaning against his back, just like Gabrielle had done.
Two hands snaked around his waist to clasp at his middle, and the sensation of a chin fell on his right shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her crystalline gaze, fixed on the road ahead and the broad grin on her face. It was in that moment that he realized that her countenance had changed somewhat. Her features had conformed themselves to something more familiar, more in line with the name she had been given.
In spite of the wind in his face, the weight settled upon him again and he fixed his eyes forward. He felt her mouth next to his ear.
"You loved her very much, didn't you?" she said in a voice that wrenched at his heart. It was her voice.
David's eyes closed for a moment and he nodded.
When they opened again, he could see a rising shadow in the distance. There was a subtle green flash. It was still springtime after all, and the thunderstorms still manifested themselves with little warning. He sighed and began looking for an exit ramp to turn around and head back. Her hand came down on his.
"This was the person you named me after?" she said with a soft smile. She leaned forward and looked at him. "I'm honored."
He looked at this new ghost and it was as much his late wife as anything ever could be. The hair was the same length, though a deep blue instead of blonde, and the eyes, clear as crystal instead of green, but it was her.
The choked feeling formed in his throat at the sight of her, and his eyes began to water again. He felt the dull ache in his chest become a palpable agony.
She smiled gently, understanding in a way no human being ever could, and then she looked ahead at the gathering clouds. She kissed his cheek and nodded.
"Go!" she urged him. "Just go!"
Something like bitter anger rose in him, accompanied by the tears. He felt his right hand roll the throttle back, feeling Gabby respond. The wind picked up and the dark clouds rushed up to meet him.
"Go baby!" Gabby urged him.
There were no more gears to go through. The throttle wouldn't roll back any further.
David saw the wall of pouring water rushing toward him, felt the thunder in the air as it rumbled. His eyes filled with something that might have matched the oncoming storm in fury, as if he were charging into one last glorious battle.
Lightning flashed and thunder bellowed. He bellowed in return and then he crashed through the falling water and instantly felt it soaking his body. The droplets pelted his body, as if it would dig deeply into his soul. He felt it flowing over him, cleansing him, washing away all the pain and regret and sorrow, leaving only the memory of her.
Another cry burst from his lips. A wail so long and full of anguish that he felt as if his soul was trying to rip itself free of his body.
He released the handlebars, his arms stretching out allowing the rain to fully wash him, mind, body and soul. Then he coasted to a stop, put down the kickstand and collapsed with his head against the handlebars, wracked by the sobs that for too long had been restrained.
The rains subsided after a while, and he felt two arms encircle him, holding him.
He saw the cream colored skin of her hands, the deep blue of her shirt. Soft comforting noises whispered in his ear and he simply let the remainder of the pain flow off his soul in the subsiding storm.
He looked back up into her eyes, and for a moment, just a moment, he saw Gabrielle's green eyes staring back at him, patient and understanding.
"I didn't want to leave them," David said suddenly. "I never wanted to abandon them like that!"
"I know, baby," Gabby replied with a soft smile. "And you didn't abandon them. In the end, you saved them."
One pale, cream colored hand reached up and touched his cheek. "You had a long and prosperous life together. You had more than most people get in one lifetime. It was your time to come home. So you did. It's that simple. You came back home."
He looked at her, a mixture of shock and pain on his face.
"Now its time to step all the way back through that door, baby," Gabby said. "It's time to come the rest of the way."
David looked up at the dissipating storm clouds, his chest heaving. His mind reeled, but a single thought echoed in the maelstrom.
Gabby fixed him with a critical look.
"If I begin to understand everything you've just shown me," she said, so much like her namesake in tone and attitude. "Then you're betraying her by not living well. You and I both know that is what Gabrielle would have wanted."
David looked at this sprit, so new and yet so like his Gabrielle.
"You can always remember the good times you had with her in that life, through me, if you need to," Gabby said with a gentle smile. "The same way you remember Lizzy, through Rosalinda, right?"
David simply stared at this newest Spirit of the Open Road and then, after a long pause, he lowered his eyes and nodded.
"Well," Gabby continued. "Then it's time for you to start living again, okay?"
The asphalt shimmered under the light of the streetlamps with deep black puddles reflecting the lights of the stars as Aaron leaned back against the door frame of Jerry's Place. It had been a quiet night for a Friday, with the exception of the two underage girls that had tried to push a couple of poorly made false I.D.'s past him. He smiled a she drew the false drivers licenses out and looked at them again. He smiled wryly as he slipped the two false credentials back into his vest pocket and looked out into the rising mist of the spring night.
The air was cool and damp, but not uncomfortable. His eyes looked down the long row of motorcycles parked in front of the place. He knew each one, and their owners at various social levels, from vaguely to all too well.
The motorcycles from the members of the Zombie Squad fell into the well, or sometimes, as in the case with Dusty, all too well categories. His ears listened to the sounds of merriment and the thump of the sound system within and he sighed.
He was a tall man, lean and muscular, with short dark hair and handsome features.
The dampness in the air made his blue jeans a touch darker, and caused them to stick, somewhat uncomfortably against his skin, but he ignored that and breathed the damp air again with a feeling of contentment.
A sound caught his ear and he perked up a bit. Another motorcycle was approaching, though he didn't recognize the sound. He saw the headlight approach and cross the intersection, turning into the parking lot and pulling to a stop at the end of the row. The man set the big machine on the kickstand and dismounted.
Aaron's gaze went dark when he saw the man.
David felt his heart thundering in his chest as he turned and looked at the doorway to Jerry's Place. Then he saw Aaron standing outside the door, fixing him with a dark stare. He strode forward, his hand balling into fists.
"Hey Aaron," David said neutrally as he met the approaching bouncer half way across the lot.
Aaron stopped right in front of David, looked him up and down once and then suddenly wrapped an arm about David's neck, embracing him.
David breathed a little sigh of relief that came out as a grunt when Aaron grabbed him.
"Shakespeare!" Aaron burst out with a laugh. Then his fingers grasped the back of David's neck and he waggled the first finger of his other hand before David's nose.
"Don't you ever pull anything like that again, you got it?" he scolded. "You scared the holy fuck out of me and everyone else!" The whiskers of his goatee moved as he smiled and laughed with relief.
David smiled and shook Aaron's hand when he offered it.
"Deal," he said.
Aaron's gaze shifted to the motorcycle ticking quietly in its place.
"New ride?" he asked, stepping over to it and looking it up and down the same way he had studied David a moment before. "I thought you were gonna put Rosie back together?"
"It's in the works," David replied. "But it's gonna take a few weeks."
"You kissed pavement that hard?" Aaron whistled.
"Apparently," David nodded. "Though I don't remember much of it."
"What do you remember?" Aaron asked in a tone that was equal measure of concern and curiosity.
David smiled grimly. "If he only knew," he thought, but he shook his head and said. "Not much."
David looked at the parked vehicles in the lot and then at the door.
"Busy tonight?"
Aaron shook his head. "Nah, it's a small crowd. Been quiet like this for the last couple of weeks, but that's typical once riding season starts. Everyone's out scratching their itch."
They began walking toward the door, Aaron asking technical questions about the rebuild of David's other bike and offering small bits of advice on parts of the project. When they reached the entrance, Aaron pulled the rickety door open for his friend and gestured within.
"Promise me you won't scare any of us like that again, and the first drink is on me," he offered with a grin.
"Done," David smiled, relaxing a bit.
Aaron gave a signal to Jerry, the tall thin bartender, and he smiled broadly and shouted.
"About fucking time Shakes! Get your ass in here!"
Several members of the Zombie Squad all turned towards the door when Jerry shouted and they also cheered in surprise when they saw David standing in the doorway.
David flushed a little with embarrassment and stepped inside.
"Oh," Aaron added quickly. "Go easy on the noobs. One of them is a cop."
"Noobs?" David turned back to Aaron, his face a question.
Aaron looked about the large room and pointed to a booth in the corner. "Yeah, couple of ladies popped in, said they were checking out the local night life." He grinned. "I already had to tell T-Bone to back the hell off twice."
David smiled and shook his head. The chorus of voices beckoning to him, drew him to the bar, and someone pressed a short glass of whiskey into his hand.
He was bombarded with questions about how he was feeling, where had he been, and the usual. He did his best to satisfy everyone's concern, or curiosity, but in his heart of hearts, he still felt decidedly out of place in this modern equivalent of Salius's old tavern.
Still, the whiskey flowed through his veins, warming away some of the tension, and he found himself loosening up as the evening progressed.
He found himself in a game of nine ball with his friend Shawn, not that David had much chance of winning. The diversion did take his mind away from the conflict in his hear, for a while at least.
After one particularly inept shot, he laughed and tossed the cue stick on the table in defeat, ready to return to the waiting stool at the bar. That was when he spied them.
The noobs, as Aaron had dubbed them, sitting in the corner booth, idly chatting and sipping at drinks.
His smile faded to a thoughtful frown as he looked at them. There was something that was almost hauntingly familiar about this whole scene he was standing in.
He felt a sudden pull, as if caught in a gentle tide, and his heart thudded suddenly in his chest as the noise and peripheral images faded into shadow. It was something like vague dread mixed with hope, though he couldn't understand why he felt it.
The figure in the far corner was quite attractive, with long flowing dark hair, pulled back in a simple ponytail, her pale blue eyes seeming to watch everything. She smiled at something her companion said and the expression seemed to brighten the entire room for a moment. Her blue eyes flicked in his direction and then back, noting him and dismissing him in the same moment. Then the blue eyes fixed on him again and narrowed in consideration, as if she were trying to recall whether or not she knew him. It was a sensation with which he could readily identify.
She leaned forward and said something to her companion and the blonde haired woman turned her gaze towards him.
His heart thudded once and then seemed to stop as he met those deep green eyes. He had to force himself not to gape at her. Someone pressed a drink in his hand and he blinked. He looked to his right and saw Shawn standing there with a smile.
"Come on back over to the bar, Shakes," he offered
Next to him, stood the rail thin form of Dusty, his eyes on the two women that David had been looking at, and the beginnings of that smile appearing on his face.
"Yeah," David nodded. He raised his glass in greeting to the two ladies and gave them a friendly nod before he turned to follow his friends. He paused suddenly and frowned.
There was something about this whole series of events that tugged at his mind. Like a subtle twinge in his gut. His two friends stopped after a few paces and looked back at him questioningly.
He looked at Dusty and Shawn and saw Shawn raise an eyebrow.
David tried to force his mind to work through the mild haze that his drinking had produced. There was something about this whole situation that tickled the edge of his consciousness. Like an image that wouldn't resolve into recognizable clarity. Was there something he was supposed to do?
In the end, he followed his two friends to the bar and took a place near the end, sipping thoughtfully at his drink.
Aaron saw the expression on his face and smiled knowingly. He left his post at the door for a moment and sauntered on over.
"You got that look again, Shakespeare," he offered. "And I can smell the smoke. What's on your mind?"
When David didn't reply at once, Dusty, who had taken a place opposite Aaron, smacked David on the shoulder. "Hey! Earth to Shakespeare! Come in!"
David blinked and looked to either side.
"Huh? What?" He smiled. "Sorry. Just thinking."
"We know," Aaron replied with a grin. "Care to share your thoughts?"
"He was gawking at the two girls sitting in that booth," Dusty grinned, nodding his head towards the corner. "And his brain shut down from lack of blood."
David smacked Dusty on the arm this time and smiled.
"Which two?" Aaron asked, looking back behind him.
"Ah, those two," Dusty pointed and then froze. "The ones that were sitting in that booth."
David looked back and saw the booth, empty now. Two half drained glasses rested on the beaten table.
A sense of absolute inexplicable desperation suddenly blasted the fog from David's mind and he vaulted from the bar.
The stool he had been seated upon, fell with a clatter and David's two friends hopped back a couple of steps in surprise.
"Whoa!" Aaron leaned back.
David burst through the door into the damp evening air, his heart hammering in his chest. His eyes were wide as he looked back and forth across the myriad of parked vehicles.
"Stupid!" he cursed himself. "Stupid drunken ignorant son of a –" he muttered in despair.
Aaron and Dusty were right behind him.
"Shakes!" Dusty complained. "What are you doing?"
David didn't answer, his eyes were busy surveying the surroundings, his pulse racing. Then he heard the sound of an engine start and he bolted after it.
Aaron and Dusty exchanged confused looks and followed.
"Excuse me!" David was calling to a small white sedan that had just begun to nose out of a slot.
Aaron and Dusty halted in their pursuit and watched as David bent closer to the passenger window for a conversation.
"Son of a bitch!" Dusty heaved. He began moving towards his friend. "I'll kill him."
"Wait a sec," Aaron put a hand out to stay the shorter man. "Just hang on."
They watched as David shifted and they both caught a soft shimmer of blonde hair.
Aaron began chuckling, both at the situation and at the frustrated expression on Dusty's face.
"You gotta be kidding me!" Dusty exclaimed. "I thought someone was messing with his new ride and he's out chasing tail?"
Aaron fixed him with a dark stare. "You know all those nasty things that Michelle says about you?"
"Yeah?" Dusty looked back up at him.
"They're all true." Aaron grinned and began leading Dusty back towards the door. "Come on. Let's just leave him be."
"Maybe I can get the other one's phone number?" Dusty protested. "He just wants the driver."
Aaron flashed him a dark stare and then smiled. "Just forget it." He looked back at the car and David now kneeling next to the door and doing something that none of them had seen for many months…smiling.
"He needs this," Aaron finished.
"Well, I need some too," Dusty protested as Aaron yanked him back towards the door.
When David re entered the bar, the members of his club all clapped loudly and started teasing him. He gave a weary smile, picked up his drink and resumed his place of a moment before.
"So?" Dusty asked as he sidled up next to him. "After all that, tell me you got something."
David simply shrugged.
"A hotel key?" Dusty pressed. "Beeper? Cell phone? A fucking mailing address?"
David sipped his whiskey and smiled. "You're a real dick, you know that?"
"Did you get anything?" Dusty persisted, undaunted by David's rebuke.
"She said she had to drop her friend off," David said patiently. "And that she'd be back in about an hour."
"And you believed her?" Dusty rolled his eyes. "Man, you really did crack that thick skull of yours!"
"She'll be back," David smiled.
"Yeah, right," Dusty retorted. "Twenty bucks says you're sitting here at closing time, and she doesn't show."
David raised an eyebrow. "Do you even have twenty on you?"
In answer to the challenge, Dusty reached into his wallet and removed the bill, slapping it down on the bar in front of David.
David smiled and laid a second twenty on top of the first and then returned to his musings.
Gina Foster had been the taller one, slender and beautiful, with long luxurious dark hair and piercing blue eyes. In retrospect, the surprise he had shown when the lovely Gina had informed him that she was a police officer in a neighboring county, seemed unwarranted.
Her ability to size him up instantly, as well as the observational skills that he had noted fit the bill for a young law enforcement specialist.
As lovely as she was, David didn't spend a lot of time contemplating her. It simply felt inappropriate. Besides, it wasn't the cop that had piqued his interest. It had been her friend.
"Hey," Jerry leaned over, smiling. "Want another one?"
David looked down at the empty glass and nodded. He pulled out a cigar and lit it, losing himself in the soft wall of smoke. The cacophony of noise that the bar held within its walls seemed to fade away as he sank deeper into his introspection.
He received the fresh drink absently and turned the glass in his fingers.
Angelica Dawson was her name. She was shorter than her friend, Gina, and her hair was a soft, golden blonde, cut shoulder length. She had a more athletic build, and a beautiful face that glowed when she smiled. But it had been the deep, sea green of her eyes that he had gotten lost in. The first thing he had done, when he caught them pulling out of the parking lot, was look into those eyes, and then he had to force himself to speak.
HE couldn't even remember what he had said to them. All he remembered was seeing her smile. When she laughed, it had whisked him back through time to a place and life that he had been told had never existed.
Whatever had been said, he had obviously made an impression.
"She'll be back," David smiled and sipped his drink.