SCENE FIFTEEN Baltimore State Asylum,
A soft cry, now coming from Jim's cot pulled all their attention back to that corner. Jim West, who'd been softly 'sawing logs' was thrashing, struggling, flailing, and calling out, in a rasping, rusty voice: "No, Liesl! LIESLY, NO! Mr. President, Sir! Where… where is his hopefully damned and forever G-dforsaken detail? President's detail report, report! Get the devil out here, and get around him, on the double-quick, boys! Mr. President, Sir, please, Sir, step back, she's not … She doesn't know what she's doing, Sir. Liesly, no, no, Liesly… he's not … he's not …your enemy… Sir! Mr. President, Sir! "
Without stopping to think about it, Artie helped Miguel up and over to Jim's cot, himself and Jeremy Pike, who'd arrived only the previous morning, moving as one man. All three of them were wary of startling Jim awake. But clearly the soldier-agent was tangled in a memory, swiftly turning into a nightmare of that day in the Maryland House Hotel.
Artie thought of giving a compassionate impersonation of the soldier-President and discarded the idea just as quickly. Jim West knows the Man twenty times better than I do, I'd only need one missed cue. Now, Artie turned towards his friend, swallowed hard and somehow drew on an utterly calm affect, like a good wool coat. "Jim," he called out putting one strong hand on each of the younger man's shoulders "James, listen to me, everything's … all right, partner. Take it easy, Jim. The Man's fine. He didn't get so much as a scratch on him. C'mon now, wake up, partner. C'mon, Jim."
"Artie?" The younger agent finally answered, grasping the older man's arm, fiercely holding on and gasping like a man pulled from a heavy sea. "Artemus, the President, the President…" He repeated. "He wasn't budging an inch! He wouldn't! …And Liesly. Ah G-d! The girl had an Army Colt revolver! And the Man's detail…"
"They were there in seconds, Jim. They got the Man out of there, as you can well imagine, by main force alone. And you're right, there was some kind of mix up on that score. The detail somehow got orders to deploy at each end of that hallway, not by his door. But listen to me, now, James. Draw yourself a good, deep breath and listen. The President is perfectly all right. He's happier every day, in fact, he says, because he's one more day closer to retirement! You saved his life again, Jim." Artemus insisted, keeping his hold on Jim's shoulders.
Breathing harshly as if he'd just lost a footrace, Jim shook his head. "You, you weren't there! You didn't see the gun in her hand… the gun going up like a cannon shell, bursting! It … it was rigged, Artemus, just … just like the one I had… the one I … G-d help me, I pulled a rigged Army Colt on the Man! And they were both of them, both revolvers were rigged to chain-fire and explode! That was all part of the damnable scheme that sent me there to begin with!"
"James, now you're not even trying to listen." Artie protested. "James…"
"Artemus, you weren't there, not right when it happened!" Jim bitterly exclaimed, deeply entangled in the nightmare made from a pack of lies woven over and over again into what was already a terrifying memory. "So, for the love of G-d, tell me the truth of what happened that day! Tell me if I killed the President for them, after all! For G-d's sake, Artie, don't sit there and tell me exactly, exactly what I most want to hear!"
"I'm not. I wouldn't. And you should damn well know that, Jim." Artie insisted a tad more harshly than he meant to do.
"Damn, Artie, 'm sorry." Jim finally whispered, ducking his head, and dry scrubbing his face, as if to keep from looking at the older man "Really, partner… 'm sorry. I know that. I know you'd come clean with me no matter what … I just … I wake up and it's… real… again, all around me… As if it just … just now happened! You see, I'm not… Maybe I … didn't mention this… I can see… perfectly well … when I'm dreaming … or … having …another nightmare, like that one… I can see… when I'm asleep, that is… clear as day, clear as ever…And it makes … the dreams I have, and, and yeah, these nightmares…"
"Seem all the more real." Artemus finished, nodding although he knew Jim couldn't see the gesture. "It makes them seem real, especially as opposed to waking up here, and waking up … unable to see. I understand that, Jim, anyone would. And I shouldn't have gone off on you, either. So, I'm sorry. Now, we'll try that again. And you are going to listen to me, this time, aren't you, partner?"
"Yeah, yeah I'm listening." Jim nodded, grimacing. "Go…go on, Artie."
"Well, first off, you know, we're really going to have to sit down and talk about the way you only, always get yourself in more and worse trouble, doing that, James m'boy. But the core idea here, what you really need to get, Jim, is the President is fine. And what is more, he saw you looking for him and then looking straight at him, right before the explosion. So you saw him, standing by the door of his suite, with his detail finally surrounding him, James, alive, well and entirely unscathed." Artie chided, thinking a light-hearted tone would 'sell' the truth of what he was saying, a lot better than a harsh one. It was working. Jim was breathing normally again, blinking, and trying to use Artie's arm as a fulcrum to lever himself upright. The former actor immediately realized what his partner meant to do and held his arm steady.
"Yeah… .yeah, I did. I saw him." Jim said, nodding. "I saw him standing over by the … doorway. I know … you're right. You're right, Artie. But there was her voice in the back of my mind, waking up… Liesl's voice, reciting, chanting what the spineleSsbastards who sent both of us there patterned her to say no matter what really happened : "He's dead, he's dead, you did it, you did it. You killed the Butcher, Grant, for me, he's dead, he's dead, Torry…" " Jim paused again, shaking his head sadly, and went on.
"Poor sick, scared, maddened little Liesly, who by rights should have been shopping for her coming-out party, and instead was standing in that hallway with a Colt revolver, she could barely lift, much less know how to fire! She was still standing there when I walked out of the suite… When the President and… And I … walked out…and everything just went south from there! But I saw the President, standing back against the doorway, just before the whole, entire sky fell in. So I know, I know. The President's …fine… He is fine, isn't he, partner?"
"He is, Jim. The Man's in fine fettle. In fact, he heard what the girl was saying." Jeremy added. "And so he wanted us to impress upon you with all due measures of persuasion, the fact that you saved his life, just as soon as you came around. He said, and I quote, 'tell that young firebrand that I am in fact entirely unharmed and quite well, thanks once more to him. And tell him that having kept me alive yet again, I'll only ask that he allows us to return the favor."
"That, that sounds, like the Man." Jim nodded." But… Liesly… With the way she must have been wounded… Jere, Liesl died, didn't she?"
"Later that same day, yes, she died, partner. There wasn't anything to be done for her, Jim, except some easing, maybe." Jeremy sighed and fell silent.
"Hey, Jere, I didn't' say hello… And I'd say I was glad to see you, partner. But I'm… kind of in the dark, here." Jim quipped, turning towards the Vermonter's voice. "No, no, Jere, it's all right. I already know. I know nobody forgot… forgot to pay the gas bill."
"Yeah, sorry about that, Jim. Damned sorry." Jeremy said.
"Yeah, me too. Who's there? … Doctor?" The soldier agent asked, turning his head as Miguel shifted his weight from one of his canes to the other.
"Yes, right here, Major West." Miguel answered, carefully preserving their old civility.
"You… you know… didn't have to … help me. You don't have any obligation to me, anyway, not from where I sit."
"No more than you had; to your government, to your courts. It was your duty to take me in, yes, but not to save Antoinette, from drowning, one afternoon on the Sacramento River, Major." Miguel answered him equitably.
"Just figured both my grandmothers would thrash me soundly, should I ever make it to Glory and see them again, if I just stood by and let a woman drown." Jim answered, with a shrug.
"Then I will extend my gratitude for your tutelage to those fine, well bred, honorable women, whenever the opportunity arises." Miguel chuckled, studying the blindman]s expressions, and listening to his voice, intently.
Jim shook his head, seeming to be only half listening to the doctor, Miguel thought . And in the next instant, the former soldier proved the truth of that, shrugging again and muttering. "Well, I already read Braille, so that's one thing out of the way."
"You do? When did that happen?" Both Artemus and Jeremy demanded.
" Yeah, I do. Calm down, fellows. It was years ago. Old Doctor Hi, our family doctor, Hiram Madsen, who delivered most of the babies in N'folk County, was starting to lose his sight, the summer I was eight…No, it was the next summer, so I was nine. And all the kids around N'folk, we decided to help him out. So, that's one thing taken care of. But what I can't figure is why 'm always so damnably tired out, why the devil is that?" The younger man complained, sounding so much like his normal self, and any normally recuperating patient the trio almost burst into cheers.
"Recovery is demanding, often grueling work, Major." Miguel offered, taking his turn at the question and answer session. "That's why we physicians, knowing it's really a constellation of processes we have little understanding of and no control over, are forced to keep advising our patients to rest. That much about the body's healing process we do know. Rest and sleep, quiet and calm, are the true healers, not 'medicine men' like Jeremy and myself. So if you are tiring, now, I'd strongly… "
" …Suggest I get some rest." Jim finished, nodding. "Yeah. All right. Doctors, I'm thinking I'll be back to losing my handholds, again, going back to swimming upstream, any minute now. And V Company's not next on Watch. So there are …at least two things I want to … ask. First of all, Doctor, you're … different now. You're not nearly as incensed, or as bitter as you used to be, anyway that's what I seem to be hearing. And I'm … curious, I want to know what happened, what changed?"
Miguel grinned widely, chuckled and then answered with utmost seriousness. "I have a son, now, Major. Antoinette and I have a healthy, strong, very bright and entirely physically normal son who's nearly six years old. His name is Micah Raul Santo Iago de Cervantes y Marais. But for convenience sake and his still burgeoning gift for languages, we tend to call the boy "Micah Diego". And he was born almost exactly seven months following that day at the Sacramento River."
"Seven … Antoinette was expecting?" Jim asked.
"Ma Cher femme was indeed enceinte. But, considering the troubles we'd had in the past, she hadn't told me as of that day. She wanted to be sure, first. She'd had so much difficulty before, and almost always in the first trimester. And so, at the instigation of your sainted grandmothers, as you said, you saved two lives that day, Major West, the two lives I cherish more than any in the Universe. So the answer to your question is fatherhood; that's what's changed me and a great deal of my perspective." Miguel replied, grinning.
Once more Jim nodded, trying to ignore for another minute at least how he was tiring out, again. "Well, that's … good to hear." The solider-agent said. Then he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and molded his features to something very like the impassive mask they all knew, and knew was meant to conceal any reactions. "Alright, the other question, Doctors… What I'd like… no, no, 'm not going to like this, that's certain sure. But you tell me anyway. And tell me the G-d's honest truth, now: Am I … will I see again, or won't I?"
"The G-d's honest truth, Jim, is, at this point, it's … not likely you will, no. The way you were injured, being in that explosion, didn't do much to increase the chances. And in the time since then…" Jeremy very reluctantly answered, thinking he'd never seen the soldier-agent show quite this level of courage; not in the War, where he won numerous commendations for valor, or afterwards, while he proved himself over and over in Ulysses Grant's service.
"My eyesight would have gotten better by now, if it was ever going to?" Jim finished, nodding. "Jere, c'mon, man, don't take this on yourself. My uncle David in Texas and both his oldest kids are doctors. I've picked up a thing or two from them here and there, now and then. And then there's the little matter of my growing up with breeding horses. A lot of the Littles down to home would trail our horse doctors all around, just about constantly, myself included. Some…things just don't, just can't… improve with time."
"That being said, partner," Jeremy told him, putting one long hand on Jim's shoulder. "I hate like hell telling you that."
"Yeah, I know, partner. All right, that's Jere's answer. And he's always tended to err on the side of caution. Which is fine by me, Jere. What's your answer, Doctor?" Jim asked, holding his composure, Miguel thought, by main force of will and nothing else.
Miguel de Cervantes sighed and glanced at his colleagues. Five, nearly six months ago, he'd been far more optimistic on this very question. He'd told them so in no uncertain terms. He'd spent hours, days, and weeks scouring medical journals, abstracts, and his own theoretical papers on the subject of restoring vision. He'd gone through every tome his new colleagues brought him, from Galen to the Islamic physicians, and up to the last century's developments in England and the rest of Europe.
But nothing he read or theorized could deny the simple facts of the matter now. The signs the younger man showed of sensitivity to light, of even partial visual acuity months ago, had by this time, literally, faded. James West's bright green eyes rarely responded with blinking, with watering or any sign of pain to even the most intense, the most direct light sources in his surroundings. There remained only the very slimmest chance of any change for the better now. And de Cervantes was more than a little astonished himself, by his own reluctance to raise false hopes in his former adversary's mind, or to deny him any hope at all.
"Doctor, one of the last times I came awake, Thomas Macquillan was here, and Mac said you came here to help me. And I've learned over some …fifteen years and more to believe without question pretty much whatever the Prof says." Jim pressed him, somewhat dourly. "Well, it won't help me or anyone if you start hedging bets at this late date. And I don't even know how late the date is. But we can leave that question for a bit, while you answer this one. I know Jeremy would no more lie to me about this than Mac or Jacques or Artemus. And if they've trusted you to help me, then, so will I. And, I expect you won't lie, either. Many things you've done to me, but lying hasn't been one of them. So, am I … permanently blind, now?"
"I'm … rather reluctant to give you a definite prognosis under present circumstances, Major." The small doctor finally told Jim, speaking very quietly. " It may be that you will … not regain your sight. And on the other hand, it may be that in a healthier environment and generally better conditions, with the proper procedures, you may recover some degree of vision.
I was, at first rather more optimistic, frankly. I believed your vision could definitely be in the most part, restored to you. I was and am still, though to a lesser degree now, of the opinion that the worst damage from that explosion was done to your corneas, not the optical nerves. And I in fact … have a highly experimental procedure already developed by which the damaged organs, your corneas in this case, could be surgically replaced …"
"Replaced?" Jim echoed, blinking and frowning in the direction of Miguel's voice. "My corneas could be replaced with what, exactly, Doctor? What kind of malarkey are you spouting? Hold on! Hold on a damn second! You mean you'd take somebody else's corneas and put them on my eyes? Well, you can just forget that, right now! I won't do it! I won't aid and abet grave robbing for the sake of some fraction of a chance I could get some degree of vision back again! No, doctor! You say you've changed, but…"
"Actually, Major it was you who noted a change in me, to be exact." Miguel interrupted unperturbed by Jim's outburst. The younger man was taking in a great deal at once and such reactions were only to be expected. "I merely concurred. And as to the procedure I was describing, frankly, it would be faulty medicine and faulty logic indeed to take organs from one total stranger, no matter how healthy they might be, and expect them to function in another, unrelated person.
No, the best chance for any such surgical procedures would definitely be from one close blood relative to another. And of course, the donor would have be quite recently deceased. But, as far as I know, none of your surviving family members presently meet both criteria. Therefore I would not attempt the surgery at this time. And that being the case, Major West, I must however regretfully, concur with Doctor Pike's opinion. And aside from my own native reluctance to admit such a thing … I'm indeed sorry to tell you that."
"Surprising as it may sound, Doctor, I believe you. All right, somebody said something about dates. And, so while I'm awake, and in the mood for as much bad news as you've got, I want to … I need to know, how long it's been… No, let's do it this way. I went out after the people who killed a whole haggle of former Confederates, living on the streets in the District; and who we were sure also beat Artemus within an inch on his life. That was in December of "69. And I don't remember much that happened after that, until I saw the President. And that little, not very coherently, afterwards. I was maybe talking to those killers, maybe trying to pull off a costume drill on them…I tend to doubt, now, if that worked so awfully well, though." Jim drew another deep breath and swallowed. "I likely blew it, wouldn't you say, Jeremy, Artie?"
"Frank was the one who saw your disguise, Jim. And he thought you'd done a grand job on it." Jeremy answered. "And from what we know for certain, it's just as likely it worked quite well for a time. Because you didn't … leave their captivating company again, till early fall that same year."
"Captivat… " Artie half laughed, half exclaimed. "Jere, I can't believe you used that word! James, what he got right then is that you popped back up in September of the next year. And that was when you met with the Man, as you were just recalling. And that's when you were injured."
"When I was blinded, and Liesly died. And now, it's when, partner?" Jim asked, still more quietly, setting his jaw the way they'd seen him do a thousand times, to take whatever blow was coming.
Artie took a deep breath of his own, now, knowing the younger man would push for the answer until one or all of them fell over, or one of his friends simply gave in. if takes all…yeah, I get that. I'd be willing to bet you wrote that infamous dispatch for the Man, partner. "It's the middle of December, now, James." He finally answered, feeling as though he was stabbing the younger man, albeit at his own request. "But it's December 14th, of 1872. "
Jim's eyes widened at this, his mouth grew taut as a guy-wire, and he showed every sign of fighting back a genuine panic. Finally though he let out one long breath and set his shoulders once more. "Well, sounds like I should've asked that first off, doesn't it?" He asked.
"But you are getting well, getting stronger now, pal." Jeremy insisted. "And you will only get better now, Jim. As long as you don't plain exhaust yourself with questions."
"Spoken like a true MD!" Jim chuckled tiredly. "All right. I asked the questions. Artie, you'd best start bringing that ridiculously tall, young Texan, that young Ori Hoynes, up to speed."
"Ori's doing fine, Jim. He's doing great. And he already has a partner, Chris McIntire, who I told you about, from Massachusetts. But really, partner, you…"Artie began, hating everything about this conversation; except that Jim was awake, aware and talking coherently with them, hating most of all the younger agent's apparently stoic acquiescence.
"Artemus, stop it. Just stop." Jim abruptly ordered him.
"All right, James." The actor complied, trying not to let his own fears or frustrations color his words.
"Sorry, sorry partner. I'm not your C.O, and even if I were, that wasn't called for, not a bit… 'm sorry. I am, Artie." Jim said, reaching towards the older agent, who immediately strongly grasped Jim's hand. "And I'm sorry you're the one who got the lousy job of telling me what happened to … my eyes, that day. But you… You can't exactly find the bad guys, when you can't find the nose in front of your face, now can you?"
"Not without a seeing-eye partner, I suppose." Artie answered, deciding to joke about an idea he found not the least bit funny. "And I suppose some more rigid Army types we've both known would see you as my C.O. And that's their problem, not mine. And as to that last, I gueSs I'm just lucky that way, always have been."
"Yeah, lucky… Well, all right. I asked the damn question. And I heard the answers. Thanks for being honest with me. And that's that. I'm going to need those old Braille lessons. I'm worn out again, and… my head aches like fire..." Jim complained, rubbing at his forehead.
"And for the latter I have a very effective specific, Major, a compound Antoinette discovered. I've found it to work quite well on my own worst headaches, although it can make me a bit drowsy." Miguel told him, and gestured for Jeremy to pour some water into the cup on the bedside table. When that was done, he emptied one of the packets Antoinette had sent by way of Jacques D'eglisier weeks ago into it. And finally, the small doctor reached for, took hold of, and placed the cup in Jim's right hand. "I'm not going to force you to drink this, Major. But I strongly recommend you do so."
"Time was, Doctor, I'd have run the other way, or tossed that on the ground, whenever you offered me anything like medicine, food or drink." Jim noted, dryly.
" Or cigars? Yes, yes, I'm aware of that. Time was, Major, it's just within the realm of possibility, you might have had reason for that regrettable caution." Miguel chuckled. "Nevertheless, I stand by my recommendation. I daresay the differences in our physiologies will negate any drowsiness on your part."
"And there's nothing untoward in this?" Jim quipped. "There's no hemlock, no nightshade, no hallucinogens, no arsenic, no scorpion's stings, sodium cyanide, snake's venom or even the least drop of strychnine?"
"Nothing even remotely of that nature, Torry." Miguel chuckled.
"All right, Doctor. Here's to the continued, vigorous good health of your little Micah." Jim said and drank down the compound. "Wait! Did you just call me "Torry"?"
"I did, again." Miguel admitted, and went back to watching his patient intently.
"I told you … I told you my "family name" was, is Torry" the patient nodded, already feeling effects from the powder and his own weariness. "And you rememb… and thast … was… im… impor… nope, nope, it didn't …dint… ne… nega … " Jim said and was asleep in the next instant, lying back against Artie's broad shoulder. Artemus settled Jim back onto the cot, and sat beside him, watching as the Torrys crowded around again, followed, in Watch order, by Witnesses, Defenders and Veterans. And once more, despite Jim 'losing his handholds', there was no sign of any brother-self emerging from within the sleeping man.
"As I mentioned once before, we'll not need to share Oldest's "instrument' again, until and unless we sense a threat to him from someone prepared to make trouble over the Company's presence." Athos, looking up from his reading, endeavored to explain.
"The Companies' work, to a great extent, as I understand it so far, has been to shield your Oldest brother from most if not all traumatic memories." Miguel nodded.
" Yes, that has been the greatest part of our mandate." The elegant Veteran agreed with a sad smile. "And yet, on three quite significant occasions we utterly failed to protect him! And so our brothers, the Littlers, the Witnesses, and the self-styled 'defiants' along with Oldest Torry, each paid the heaviest price on each of those occasions."
"Three occasions, " Jeremy repeated. "M'sieur l' Capitaine, let me see if I do understand this. I think you're referring to the day Jim was blinded, the time before that day while he was held at Aynsley's lab, and, I believe, to that last autumn of the War, when as usual, our young firebrand volunteered to get himself into a whole lot of trouble?***"
"That's correct, m'sieur … And it's been a great source of shame to V Company. We… came to be, for the most part, during that crisis. Thus, we are in fact the youngest of the brothers, the junior partners, if you will. And thus you will find in our ranks brothers who took their model directly from those grown men we most admire. However, we are well aware it may be our own inexperience, our own naïveté, that kept us from in every respect protecting Oldest."
"And maybe there was no way to do that, no way to stop him from walking into those situations. Knowing Jim since the War, that'd be my best bet. In any case, you're his brothers. And by that fact alone, my friend, you're human beings, not perfected ones." Jere insisted.
"Remerci, m'sieur." The captain of Musketeers said and walked back to his own post, beside Loyalist.
"Well, I suppose I'll understand all that at some point." Artie told him. "Right now I'm not sure what to make of just the last few minutes. I'd have thought I'd feel a lot more encouraged. Jim was … awake again. He was aware, coherent…"
"And very typically Jim, having absolutely no use for… maybes." Jere added. "Artie, my friend, we're all of us just as worn out as Jim. What say you, partner?"
"I say, I suspect, I strongly suspect you of coddling me, or trying to. And frankly, gentlemen, at the moment, I'm perfectly willing to accept that, to a limited extent. Just don't you, Jeremy, or you… Miguel even consider dosing me. As it happens, with Thomas called away again, and James being presently … out of it, I'm senior agent here. " Artemus insisted, with an emphatic nod.
"Yes, sir, Major… No, wait you did get that promotion just as things were quieting down in '65, so its, yes sir, Lt. Colonel Gordon, sir!" Jeremy laughed.
"Only, as Jim likes to point out, as Jim in fact insists on pointing out, whenever the subject arises: I still don't rank him, since I was in the Volunteer Army. "Artie groaned.
"Yeah I think I heard something about that ... a few hundred times." Jeremy chuckled. "But to get back to the present, Lt. Colonel. You've got to get some rest, Artie. We all ..."
"And I say, again, and for the record, partner, that I won't be dosed!" The actor told him frowning as darkly as he knew how, which was considerable and still didn't faze the Vermonter.
"Fine, Artie, fine." Jeremy retorted, with a taut frown of his own. "Right now I don't think I'd need to give you so much as a glass of warm milk to put you out, partner, you're that exhausted. And as we've said before, that won't and it can't help Jim. And since that's why we're here, to help Jim, will you please, lay down and at least try to rest?"
"Never let it be said I don't know when to take a friend's advice." Artie scowled but knew when he was licked. "You're … encouraged, Jere? You don't … seem to be nearly as gloomy as I feel, right now."
"And you just now stated most of my reasons. Jim just spent a good five, maybe ten minutes in coherent, non-amnesiac, completely self-aware remembers being told about his eyesight. He remembers the day he was blinded. And, right there up near the top of my list, Jim consciously remembers that the girl wasn't telling him what really happened.
I'll add that Jim was in no discernible pain except for that headache, he was at no loSs for words. And he had considerable control over his reactions to what was going on, and what he was hearing. Now, are you going sit there on that cot, which I expect you to be laying on sound asleep at any moment, and tell me that wasn't the Youngster we all know and frantically worry about?"
"No, no, that was absolutely our wandering, disappearing Youngster." Artie nodded. "I'm just being hard to please, I guess. And very tired. I'm going to just sack out here, for a little while. I'm just going to take a little time to examine the …"
"The backs of your eyelids for holes, yeah get that, partner." Jeremy chuckled. 'thanks for listening to me, for once, Artie."
"Only to keep you guessing, partner." Artie nodded, laying back on the cot. "Bring that young Texan up to speed, you said?" Artie muttered at his sleeping partner, not feeling that much cheered by the doctor's observations. "You're going to need those Braille lessons, you said? Well, I say to the devil with that kind of thinking, James! I don't know what could possibly be good about you giving up on that score. And I know you wouldn't let me think of giving up, should, G-d forbid, we changed places! Well, I haven't given up, and I'm not going to. And truth be told, James, I'd change places with you in a heartbeat! And you know damn good and well I can out stubborn, out balk and out persevere you, James m' boy. I like the younger partner I already have, thank you very much! And I mean to get him, to get you, back! And I'm damnably tired out too, James. So just scoot over, just pretend this is one of those hundreds of awful hotel beds we've bunked on." (that was touching)
Mumbling and muttering, the younger agent turned on his side again, while the older one fell asleep beside him, almost before his head touched the mattress. The pair of doctors only smiled. Seeing the pair of agents sound asleep beside one another was the closest thing to normalcy Jere Pike had seen in months. Seeing both the partners sleeping soundly after the ordeal of the past many days and nights was exactly what Miguel de Cervantes had wished for.
You're growing on me, my dear … my former adversaries …. indeed, all of you are and I'm somewhat astonished to say that. Not that I'm ever going to say it… That would absolutely abrogate mine and Mr. Gordon's standing arrangement! The small doctor thought. And if that happened, if that ever does happen, I might have to acknowledge you, in some far more public venue!
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW