THE NIGHT OF THE LITTLE MAN

By Andamogirl

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Much later in the Wanderer, at night

It was late when Jeremy Pike entered Artemus's sleeping compartment. Looking down at Jim sitting on the edge of Artie's bunk, he said, "I just received a telegram from Washington. Colonel Richmond wants us under way to the Capital as soon as possible. He has a new assignment for us in Washington. The train will leave in a few minutes."

Jim nodded. "Good. Artie needs to go to hospital and the Washington Military Hospital is the best. His heart is still weak and he's going to need plenty of rest. His burns have healed nicely but the skin is still tender and fragile. I bet Dr. Henderson will sedate him to keep him in bed – preventing any escape from his room and, to keep him away from the nurses too." He placed his hand on the older man's chest, feeling it move up and down, slowly, regularly. "He wasn't breathing anymore after his last transformation. I knew it would happen. He was dead, again." He sighed. "It's a very bad habit! He deadpanned.

Pike nodded and sat on a chair beside the dresser. "Fortunately you saved his life doing what was necessary to bring him back. CPR is really a formidable technique to resuscitate people."

Brushing the hair off Artie's forehead, James said, "Yes, I know. It's not the first time I've used it, and something tells me that it won't be the last." Then he took his sleeping partner's lax hand in his. It was the hand he knew, the adult one, strong, callused, but with long, artist's fingers. He smiled, remembering holding mini-Artie's petite hand in his. He had loved meeting the 8 year old Artie when he really was 8, in his head, but he was very happy and relieved to have his 'old' companion back, he mused. His Artie was again at his side. "He's going to be alright, Jeremy. He's the strongest man I know."

Artemus opened his eyes slowly, moaning and he winced. His entire body ached, muscles burning, his chest especially and he was disoriented.

Smiling, Jim held his partner's hand in his, pressing it with affection. "Hey, Artie. You're safe buddy and 45 again. You're back on the Wanderer and you're lying in your bed. How do you feel?"

Blinking Artie rasped, "I'm alive. I thought I was dead…" Catching a flicker of pain in Jim's eyes he added, "I was dead."

Smiling soothingly Jim nodded. "The last transformation was too much for your weakened heart. You died for less than a minute. I used CPR to bring you back and I broke one of your ribs, I'm sorry I hurt you. But I saved your life buddy." He smiled. '"You owe me a beer."

Closing his eyes in fatigue Artie frowned, puzzled. "A beer?"

Jim said, "The last time I saved your life – in Denver, when you were impersonating the President – you told me, I quote, "The next time you save my life, I will buy you a beer." He smiled again and then added, "So, you owe me a beer, Artie."

Closing his eyes, Artemus nodded. "Thank you, Jim. You saved my life again… Next time we're in a saloon, I'll buy you a beer, a whole gallon of beer…" Then he fell asleep.

WWW

Two days later, in Virginia City

The Wanderer stopped at Virginia City for an unscheduled halt. Immediately a whole company of cavalry surrounded the train.

President Grant left his coach and framed by two agents of the Secret Service, he headed toward the rear part of the train.

Jim West and Jeremy Pike both greeted him there and then invited him to come inside. The bodyguards stayed on the railroad platform.

Ulysses S. Grant sat on a couch, pulled out a cigar from the inside pocket of his jacket and said, "I was visiting Governor Parks when Colonel Richmond sent me a telegram, telling me that you would be arriving in Virginia City today. I seized the opportunity to travel back to Washington on board the Wanderer instead of my own train. I love to have company."

Jim struck a match and watched the President light his cigar with it. "It's always a pleasure to have you on board, Sir. Your compartment's always ready for you."

The President nodded, enveloped in a cloud of smoke. "Colonel Richmond told me about your last mission too, briefly. Loveless escaped again."

Pike nodded. "Yes, Sir. But his hideout was destroyed and his infernal age-regression machine too. But we'll hear about him soon."

Grant frowned in concern. "Unfortunately. How is Artemus?"

Smiling, Jim gestured toward the swinging door inviting Grant to go through. "You can see that for yourself, Mr. President. He's in his compartment, Sir."

WWW

Ulysses S. Grant entered Artemus's sleeping compartment two minutes later, finding Artemus sleeping in his bunk, lightly snoring, the book Les Misérables resting, open, on his chest.

He sat on the edge of the bed, took the book, closed it and put it on the bedside table. Then he placed a hand on Artemus's shoulder. "Son?"

Feeling the bed dip, Artie slowly opened his eyes. "Mr. President?" he said, very surprised. He began to move into a sitting position but Grant gently pushed him backward.

Grant smiled. "Stay down Artemus, you need to rest. You're going to stay in Dr. Henderson's company for a few days, son. You went through quite an ordeal, ending with your death and resuscitation. Then you will go back home, to your mother's home in Galena for a supplemental leave."

Artie nodded, "Yes Sir. Thank you Sir."

The President patted Artemus's shoulder. "I'm going to stay on board the Wanderer till we reach Washington, we'll talk later."

Bone tired, Artie closed his eyes. "Yes, sir." He breathed.

Grant pulled the blanket up to the other man's shoulders. "I'm glad you're back with us, Artemus. But I liked the boy-you."

Artie smiled. "Thanks for… for the books, dad…." He mumbled before dozing back off.

Grant chuckled.

WWW

Two weeks later,

Green Hill, Illinois

Gordon's family home

Living room

Helena Gordon was crying. "Dear God!... You are just adorable, Artemus!" She said, holding the photograph of her 8 year old son. She glanced at Artemus, sitting on an armchair, stroking the fur on White Socks' back – the cat purring loudly on her now grown-up again son's lap. "You're still adorable, of course." She grinned. "But I didn't forget what you looked like at that age, you were beautiful, my son – and still are, of course."

Artie smiled broadly. "Thanks, mom."

The old woman kissed Jim's cheek with affection. "Thank you, Jim, it's a beautiful gift. I didn't have any photographs of my son when he was a boy, just a few auto portraits he made at that time."

Jim smiled. "I was sure it would please you, Helena." He kissed her cheek back and invited her to take her place at the table. He poured her a cup of mint tea and added, "He was a good boy, polite, well-mannered, always cheerful and ready to help – well, there's an exception! He rebelled against my authority! I wanted him to take a shower and he refused. He told me he was like cats, that he didn't like water."

Helena chuckled. "I'm not surprised. When Artemus was a boy, it was very difficult for me to get him to accept that he needed to take a bath, in the bathtub, even using force , In the end I had to promise to buy him some books, but he would spend hours swimming with his friend in the river and in the Galena Lake. Water to play in was fun, water to clean himself – wasn't." She gave Artemus a long look and Artie blushed up to his ears. "I hope he has changed since that time…"

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Jim nodded. "Oh, yes, he has. He loves to take baths, and he built a shower in our bathroom. He loves showers too." he smirked and added, Oh! I forgot to tell you that, when he was a boy, he loved sticking his tongue out at people…"

Helena chuckled softly. "Yes, I know… His father did that to him when he was a toddler… They had tongue sticking-out contests and he kept sticking his tongue out at people after that, while growing up."

She took a knife and began to cut slices of Babka cytrynowa (Polish lemon cake), placed one on a plate and offered it to Jim, with a little spoon.

Taking the plate and the little spoon, Jim said, "Thank you, Helena. It looks delicious… " And lowered his eyes feeling Marmalade brush against his leg.

Meow.

Helena placed a saucer filled with milk on the floor and the orange and white cat immediately lapped the delicious liquid. "I had it ready for you, Marmalade. Cats are always hungry. It's a good idea to have brought your cat here, Artemus. White Socks and Marmalade are now good friends."

Hearing her name, White Socks jumped to the floor and padded toward Marmie lapping her milk. She sat on her hind legs beside the other cat, and then looked up at Helena. Meow?

Helena set another saucer filled with milk on the floor. "And there's one for you too, White Socks. I thought about you too." White Socks purred in response and immediately lapped her milk.

Looking at the two cats lapping their milk in concert, tails waving in rhythm, Artemus said, "Maybe I should have another cat."

Taking a spoonful of lemon cake Jim said, "That's not a good idea. Marmie won't share you with another cat… on her territory. They will fight. The Wanderer is her territory, and you're hers, exclusively. She doesn't mind that you caress White Socks, because she knows that she'll stay here, and that you're not her owner."

Helena nodded. "Jim is right, Artemus."

Standing, Artie joined his mother and Jim around the table. He poured himself a cup of coffee and, his eyes twinkling, he said, "What Jim didn't tell you, mom, it's that he tortured me! He pinned me on my bed and tickled me almost to death…"

Helena frowned in reproach.

In response, Jim stuck out his tongue at Artie.

Artemus copied him.

The end.