Disclaimer: I own nothing. Brendon Small is a god. 'Nuff said.
For the rest of the pre-chapter comments please see Chapter 7….
Once again, could not have done this one without he lovely YvetteDel, editor and butt-kicker extraordinaire!
Someone new enters the story now...


Shutting the door behind him, Charles paused, and then sank against the wall of the hallway. It wasn't the first time he had excused himself from a conversation with one of the band members. But it was first time that he felt like maybe he had just walked out on a friend. It was also the first time, since his injury, that he was tackling the halls of Mordhaus alone.

He brought up a mental picture of the fortresses layout. He was familiar with the locations of the boys' rooms in relation to other places he frequented. He knew he could always summon help through his watch, if he needed it, but he felt a strong urge to try it on his own first, especially after the day's earlier events had left him feeling insufficient by his own standards. Charles straightened his slept-in jacket, tightened his tie, turned in what he hoped was the correct direction, and set off.

The walk was uneventful for some time. He started to count his steps, and realized that many of the hallways were similar lengths. This was about the only consistency in the construction of Mordhaus, and it was one he had never realized, but found himself grateful for now. He knew better than to rely on it, though, lest he find himself in a shorter hallway. He didn't feel like showing up at tomorrow's band meeting with a broken nose from having gotten up close and personal with the wall. But he also had the cane for that.

Part way through his trek he heard footsteps approach. He knew that whoever it was would be accommodating and walk around him, but seeing as he was taking up what he figured was the middle of the hall, he moved over slightly. As the footsteps approached, he heard the deep voice of a Klokateer greet him.

"My Lord." A slight pause and then, "Do you require any assistance?"

Charles had to hold back his annoyance, as he stopped and turned to the other man. Can't you see that I am doing fine? …Aren't I?

"No. Ah, thank you. But, ah, can you confirm our location?" he asked, suddenly feeling his confidence sliding.

The Klokateer described the area where they were, which, it turned out, was precisely where he thought he had been. He made a conscious effort not to smile, though he was surprised at the feeling of accomplishment that washed over him. Who would have ever thought that he, Charles Foster Ofdensen, would revel in the simple task of being able to find his way home? But at this moment it was right up there with negotiating a challenging contract or saving the boys, once again, from themselves.

He thanked the Klokateer, and continued on his way. Now he knew he had just two more turns to go. Before he knew it he had reached the approximate location of his office door. Making his way towards the wall he reached out and felt around for the palm-scanner. Just as he located it, the door swung open. He stumbled back a step and felt a slight hand grasp his forearm. The owner of the hand must have sensed that Charles was about to react defensively because no sooner than he had regained his balance, he was released and a female voice startled him again.

"Oh my god, Charles! I didn't know you'd be coming back so soon. I am so sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my office?" Charles exclaimed with irritation.

"It's Abigail. Abigail Remeltindtdrinc. How are you? It's good to see you."

"Well seeing as I can't actually say likewise, plus my office appears to have been broken into, I am not well, thank you."

"Cornickleson hasn't mentioned this? Dammit. I'm really sorry… I've just been helping out with some managerial stuff in your absence. Simple, day-to-day things, to help keep the operation running smoothly. I thought Roy had talked to you about it… I certainly don't mean to step on your toes, or surprise you like this!"

"No, Roy has not said anything about it. Why don't you join me back inside- I don't think we should be having this conversation in the hall."

"Of course, we'll join you." Abigail said compliantly.

"We? I would appreciate knowing who else is participating in this conversation," Charles said, clearly irritated.

"Both Crystal Mountain and Mordahaus have assigned security guards to ensure that I don't do or see anything I'm not supposed to while I'm gathering what I need to keep up on things here. You run a tight ship, Charles. I applaud that."

"Sire, we can assure you, Miss Remeltindtdrinc has been under watch while in your office. She does not appear to be a security issue" came a voice, presumably from the Mordhaus guard.

"Like I said," Abigail continued, "tight ship. Shall we?"

"Yes, but the guards won't be necessary." Charles wasn't even sure where the second one was, but he turned to the Gear and instructed,

"Please wait here until we figure this out."

"Yes, my Lord," came the obedient reply.

Abigail held the door open allowing Charles to enter first. He turned slightly and headed to his desk, to the left of the door. He felt the edge with his cane, and made his way around it to the plush office chair, where he sat.

"Have a seat," he instructed Abigail, "and then tell me exactly what's going on here."

"Okay. When I heard what had happened to you, I contacted Roy Cornickleson to offer any help that I could while you… adjusted. We all knew you'd end up back in the saddle- there was very little doubt about that. But I know there are daily tasks that needed to be kept up on, and Roy told me that Dethklok nearly managed themselves into the grave when you were previously absent, so he allowed me to temporarily take on some of these responsibilities. No decisions or anything, of course, just keeping things in order.

"And why was I not told of this?" Charles asked abrasively.

"That was a misunderstanding, believe me. Now that I think about it, I can see what probably happened. I had asked Roy to keep knowledge of my presence to a minimum, basically, to um, avoid any awkwardness with the band… If you, um, know what I mean…" she trailed off uneasily. "I didn't mean to keep it from you though!" she added. "It's possible that Cornickleson just wanted to spare you from thoughts of work while you were recovering and adjusting. I know it's a very difficult process…"

"Do you?" Charles inquired, intentionally putting her on the spot.

"Actually, yes, I do," she shot back evenly. "My brother went blind in a car accident. Around 6 years ago. So when I heard what had happened, well, I wanted to see if I could help in any way."

"Oh." Charles wasn't sure what to say. So he changed the subject. "Am I to understand that you worked in management before you became a Producer? The two jobs are very different."

"Yeah, I bounced around in the music industry a bit before I found my calling. And, Charles, I'm not here to take your job, or even do it. I'm just here to lend a hand for the time-being."

"Does the band know that there's another person on payroll?"

"What? No. I'm here on my own time, Charles. I feel I owe it to the band, and to you. At this point, even after what happened to that album, I am in such high demand for even having associated with Dethklok, that people are practically killing each other over who I produce for next. I need to take some time to let the fervor die down. It's crazy out there. And there's something about this band, Charles, I know you know… it just draws you in."

"That's true. That's very true. But I'm on the mend now, so to speak, and, ah, I intend to get back to work as soon as possible so, while you're welcome to stay…"

"Charles," she gently cut him off. He stopped, somewhat defeated. He knew what was coming next, but also knew that she was right. After all, she had experienced the long-term of this kind of recovery. But he still didn't want to hear it. He swiveled around in the office chair to face the window behind him and recalled how he used to gaze out into the wilderness surrounding Mordhaus, when he wanted a brief reprieve from the rigors of his day.

"I'm sorry Charles. I'm so sorry. What happened to you… It's not fair. It never is."

He hadn't expected that. Slowly, she continued.

"I'm no doctor, or therapist. But I know that… Well, it really takes time. Charles, my brother, Anthony, was in college when he was injured. He was so tough and he just wanted to fight his way through it as if nothing had happened. And he ended up isolating himself from the people who loved him and alienating those that tried to help him. It took a failed suicide attempt to wake him up to the fact that he never really took the time to learn how to cope mentally. I know you are not him and I know they now make all this new adaptive technology, which is really great. But, it goes beyond just getting by on a physical level. Please, Charles, from someone who's seen this before, don't try to rush things so much that you get lost inside yourself. And know that there is nothing weak about accepting help…" She trailed off.

Slowly, Charles swiveled back to face her.

"How is Anthony now?"

"He's doing really well. He completed his degree after a few years, is working, and he just got engaged." Charles could hear the smile in her voice.

"That's good." He paused. "Abigail… ah… thank you for sharing your brother's story. I'm glad he's doing well and has learned to , ah, cope. I, ah… I actually just had a somewhat similarly themed conversation with Nathan before I came back here, which, ah, didn't end as well. It seems there is no shortage of people wanting to, ah, help me through this. I will keep what you said in mind. It's actually nice to talk to someone who is aware of how... consuming this really is. Sometimes I feel like I have to play it down for the boys. I don't want them to worry about their future, you know."

"Are you sure you're doing it for them and not for you?" Abigail asked delicately.

Charles just sighed. "Okay. Maybe I just don't want them to know how damn hard this is."

"Why not?"

"So what, you're an acclaimed Producer, with supposed business management skills, and you're also a Shrink?"

Abigail laughed. Charles had to crack a smile too.

"Okay, no more introspection! Hey, you know as well as I do that there's a huge psychological aspect to both our jobs, but I'll drop it now."

Charles appreciated her insights, but was happy to change the subject again.

"So, ah, the boys don't know you're here?"

"Not as far as I know. I do need to reconnect with them eventually."

"Why don't you join me at our band meeting tomorrow? They can find out then."

"I guess that's as good a time as any. I will be there. Oh hey, I had come to drop off some papers that need to be signed. Nothing too urgent. But, umm, how do you want to do this?"

"Well I'm certainly not going to sign anything I haven't read. Let me give Roy a call, confirm your story and then tomorrow, after the meeting, we can deal with getting those signed. And Knubbler gets back from his post-album drug & alcohol binge in a few days."

"Ha! Is that what he referred to as his "vacation?"

"Yes, that would be it. I'd like to meet with the two of you regarding thoughts about the next album. And I'll talk to Roy about getting you back on payroll for as long as you want to stay. And Abigail, welcome back." He reached out a hand in her direction. She got up, approached the desk and then Charles felt her firm grip, as they shook hands.


Continued...