Disclaimer: I own nothing. Brendon Small is a god. 'Nuff said.
For the rest of the pre-chapter comments please see Chapter 7….
Much love to all who have commented! 3 You keep me going!

Hope you continue to enjoy!

They arrived to a pile of business contracts regarding Dethklok appearances and merchandise. The steady trail of paperwork did not put itself on hold, even for life-changing emergencies. So the CFO had a significant amount of catching up to do. In Charles's absence, Abigail had made sure that anything urgent had been taken care of, with Cornickleson at the helm, but there remained contracts for future deals, to which Charles wanted attend to personally. He had business relationships to maintain. Though the thought made him more nervous than he would ever admit, he knew he needed to reconnect with certain key-players in the field, with whom he used to have the occasional drink or play a round of golf. It may not be so difficult… The golf was out of the question but he was still perfectly capable of social-drinking (to an even greater degree than he ever imagined, as he had discovered at Nathan's booze-chamber party, though that was not an experience he'd ever repeat when it came to business!).

Abigail finished dictating the current document, and waited for the manager's approval.

"Sounds good."

As had quickly become routine, Abigail put the paper on the desk and placed a small plastic card down on top of where the signature was to go. There was a rectangular slot cut out of it, exposing the paper. Charles quickly located the card by feel, assuming it was somewhere along the bottom of the page, and placed his pen inside the slot, which Abigail had aligned with the signature line. The "signature guide" was something that Abigail had brought for him to keep. Though he'd generally require the help of a sighted person to place it in the correct area, he appreciated knowing that he could take over once the card was in place, and know that he was signing in the right place.

"So is this what you do all day?" Nathan asked, and Charles was amused at the singer's attempt to sound as if he wasn't bored out of his mind.

"It's a part of it. Paperwork, meetings, budgeting, negotiating, things like that." Oh, and saving your asses on a regular basis, he thought, with a small amount of affection.

"I bet negotiating is cool."

This surprised Charles. He had never known Nathan to take an interest in anything business-related.

"It is, actually. It can be kind of like a game with gains and losses, allies and opponents…."

Just then Nathan's Dethphone emitted the metallic sounding guitar riff that the band all used as a ringone.

"Hold on a sec," Nathan said to Charles, placing a hand briefly on the CFO's arm, as he answered the phone.

"Yeah. Uh huh. How long? Okay. Yeah. Huh. Okay, I'll come and calm him down."

When the call ended Nathan explained. "Thunderhorse is freaking out because of some construction. He won't let anyone near him. I have to go and calm him down. But I think Abigail's got this… I was looking over her shoulder and she read it all good, I'm pretty sure."

"Not a problem, Nathan, go take care of your horse. I do appreciate your help though, and we'll talk later, okay?"

"Okay." He paused. "Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"Yes, of course, please, go. Give Thunderhorse a carrot from me, alright? I'll see you later."

"Okay… Good… Okay, see you later."

Charles heard him leave and turned to Abigail.

"I'm always surprised by his amazing connection with animals. I guess you just wouldn't think it by looking at him."

"Well, a lot of things get distorted by the eyes."

"Wow, Abigail, stitch that onto a pillow. In Braille or something." His dry tone was softened by a grin.

"Ha! In the time it would take you to learn Braille, which would probably be about half the time it would take most people, they'll have come up with a computer that can read anything out loud… thus putting me out of a job!"

"Careful what you wish for, I have the engineers designing me something like that right now. But as far as I know it won't be able to give Psychological advice, so your services may still be needed."

"Oh good to know, because I just finished unpacking. Hey, I have a question for you. Are you into rock climbing, or is that climbing-chalk bag over there actually a just a clever way to disguise a cocaine habit?" And I'm not judging… I mean, this is the music business…"

Charles laughed. "If I kept a bag of cocaine sitting around my office how long do you think it would last? Have you seen the people I work with? Yes, I climb… Used to climb… I, ah, have a wall setup in my gym. I guess I brought the bag out with me after the last time… I had forgotten it was there."

"Have you thought about getting back into it?"

"Thought about it, yes. It's a little more complicated than just getting back on the wall at this point though. I'm guessing, from the fact that you didn't just assume it was cocaine, that you're at least somewhat familiar with climbing?

"As a hobby, yes. What kind of a wall do you have?"

"Ah, it's fairly advanced actually. Would you, ah… do you think you might be able to, ah, spot me at some point? And you could climb too of course. I just haven't been able to find anyone that knows enough about the sport to be able to… act as my eyes, I guess, not that I've really been looking. It feels like so long since I've had a good work-out... I'm really craving it, actually."

"Okay, yeah, sure. That'd be fine."

"You don't sound so sure, what's the matter?"

Abigail sighed. "Okay, this is going to sound so arrogant, and I don't mean to over-analyze this, but just in the interest of not, uh, breaking certain personal rules again this would just be strictly a business "work out", right?"

Charles nearly laughed. "Are you making sure I'm not hitting on you? No, Abigail, you're a smart, talented and beautiful woman, but honestly… you're not my type. And I mean that in the broadest sense possible."

"Is that a cryptic way of saying…"

"That women are not my thing? Yes, it is."

"Ohhh. Okay. Great, then you have found yourself a work-out partner! You know you never struck me as gay…"

"And Nathan never struck me as a horse-whisperer. Life's full of surprises. Better stitch that onto a pillow too," he grinned slightly.

"Hmm, so how did I strike you as someone who can stitch?" she asked, and he could hear her smile.

They continued to chat as they tackled the rest of the documents, the tone feeling more serious and focused while the documents were being read and signed, but lapsing back into friendly banter in between. They finished the stack with relative ease.

"Abigail, can you tell me… ah, what kind of media coverage has there been about… what happened?"

Safe inside Mordhaus no reporter or news agency could bother him directly but he imagined that speculation abounded in the outside world. Of course he still had access to TV and radio but, having been overwhelmed by every other ordinary task in his life, he had neglected to pursue any research on the media topic.

"You know, you shouldn't concern yourself with that. It's been… well, you know the media…"

"That doesn't sound good."

"It's never going to be good. Honestly it ranges from stories indicating you've died, for real this time, to theories that you're completely fine and the whole thing is a big publicity stunt. That's just what I've been gathering from the headlines during the last few weeks. Please don't think about it Charles. The media will say whatever they want. It doesn't need to affect you."

"Why hadn't I been told about this earlier? This is going to require some kind of damage control."

"Well, Nathan seems to be taking that upon himself by publically threatening to quote-unquote "fucking crush" anyone who quote-unquote "fucks with you"."

Charles put a hand to his head but couldn't help a small smile.

"God help them all," he said. Though he knew he would still have to deal with this, he felt like just the thought that Nathan had his back meant he could put off stressing over it for at least a few more days. He wasn't normally one to procrastinate, but right now rebuilding his image in the media as Dethklok's still strong and capable manager, who was very much alive, seemed an overwhelming task compared to regaining the ability to sign contracts and reconnecting with professional associates, to assure them that he was actually alive, if not well.

There was a knock on the door, and then Charles heard it open. He stood up, about to enquire as to who was just waltzing into his office when he heard Nathan's voice.

"Thunderhorse is better now," the singer announced. "I think he just needed me to pal around with him a bit. He gets like that sometimes, you know?"

Though Charles didn't know, he nodded agreeably.

"Hey," Abigail started, "Nathan, I'm so glad your horse is okay. Charles, I think I'm going to head out now, and I will see you both tomorrow, okay?"

"Very good. Thank you Abigail," Charles replied.

"Bye," Nathan added.

When she had left, Nathan sat down across from Charles's desk asked, "So you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Yes. Ah… You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. I will understand. But, ah, well…. When you, ah, when you get messages from the whale, in your dreams, ah, what is that like?"

There was a pause and Charles was afraid that Nathan had shut down. He knew the other man was self-conscious about his experiences communicating with the whale. Finally Nathan answered,

"It's like… words in my head, and pictures also… like a dream but clearer and more…"

He paused, searching for a word. Charles waited patiently.

"Distinct." Nathan blurted out.

"Do you see what she sees?"

"Maybe… it's strange, it's not like seeing… it's…. it's different, kind of."

"How often does this happen?" Charles asked gently.

"Most nights, for a while, and then she stops for a few weeks… it depends. I miss it when it stops, actually…"

Nathan paused, perhaps realizing that he was revealing more than he was comfortable with.

"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about- the whale?" Nathan asked, a little skeptically.

"Yes, well, sort of. I, ah, I think what you're experiencing may be similar to what I'm trying to learn with…" he indicated the solar device on one side of his head. "I don't know, I mean, all I know is that whales "see" with sonar, and you, ah, can communicate with whales, so I didn't know if…"

"Oh my god, I bet that's what I'm seeing when she talks to me!" Nathan exclaimed. But his excitement soon turned back to skepticism.

"You don't think I'm crazy do you?" he asked, and it sounded like the questions was directed towards the floor.

"What? Nathan, no, I don't. Believe me, I really don't think you're crazy. I think you have a gift."

"Really? Thanks," Nathan said quietly. "Don't tell the guys that though, okay, I don't think they get it."

"Of course. This is a private conversation. I would never repeat any of it."

"That's cool of you, Charles. Hey, turn on your sonar thing… just on low, or whatever…"

Nathan must have seen Charles's expression drop.

"That bad? What is it like- what do you see?"

"It's just sort of like the static when an old tv is tuned wrong, but even less defined."

"Hmm. Wait, I said that wrong. What do you feel?"

"Ah, besides a headache?"

"I mean, really think about the feeling, outside your body, not inside, do you know what I mean? Turn it on for me, okay?"

Appeased by the gentleness of Nathan's powerful voice, Charles slowly unlocked the device as Miriam had shown him and switched it to a low setting. He recoiled slightly as the image, if you could even call it that, was thrust into his mind's eye.

"Shhhh." Nathan whispered. Charles felt him get up and come behind him until the larger man had a hand on each of his shoulders- holding him steady. Charles didn't brush him off.

"Try not to look at it right now, if you can. It's not meant to be seen, not yet. Stay here for a second." Charles did as he was told and Nathan let his shoulders go. Charles could soon hear the sound of furniture being dragged across the floor.

"Nathan, oh my god. You have to put it all back exactly how it was when we're done!"

"Relax, I know that! Okay, hold on…"

Charles felt Nathan approach again and gently re-take him by the shoulders.

"Trust me," Nathan said quietly, as he steered Charles around his desk and then stopped.

"I want you to walk to the door. There's stuff in the way. Hold your hands behind your back though. Ready?"

"No. You know I can't tell what's in front of me right? I don't know how to interpret the images yet."

"Forget the images! For now. That will come later. Just feel it… in your mind… God, I know it sounds fucked up but just trust me. Oh, and turn the beam up, you don't know what's around you so you want to be aware of a wider area."

"You're a sink or swim kind of teacher, huh?"

"Fuck yeah, and whether you're a whale, or a human, sinking is brutal!"

Charles took a deep breath and a cautious step forward.

After a few steps he stopped.

"Why did you stop?" the singer asked, and Charles could tell from the proximity of his voice that Nathan was following a few feet behind him.

"I'm sure I'm just being paranoid, but I feel like I'm about to run into something…"

"Because you are! Good! There's a chair about a foot in front of you. The sonar feedback meant something to you, even if you don't really understand it yet. Very good, now keep going."

Slightly encouraged by his success, but still skeptical, Charles slowly walked around where he perceived the chair to be and continued in the direction of the door. A few steps later he stopped again, this time feeling like the obstacle was larger. He instinctively reached out to feel its edge but Nathan gently grasped his wrist.

"No hands. Just feel it, you know… in your head…"

"Is it longer, like a table?"

"Yes!" Nathan's excitement was contagious.

"This is crazy. How can I know that?!" Charles grinned.

"Sonar waves interpreted by those devices as… something… that you are sensing, feeling, whatever… how the fuck should I know but it's fucking awesome, Charles!"

Charles' smile broadened. He made his way alongside what he perceived to be the long edge of the table until he reached the end, and then strode forward, feeling rather confident that he was past the table and wasn't going to run into anything. And he didn't.

He carefully navigated around several more obstacles in a similar fashion and eventually stopped, feeling somehow like he had reached a wall. When Nathan confirmed this Charles reached out and feel the door, then turned to Nathan.

"Oh my god, Nathan," he said, a little breathlessly. "Thank you!" He realized he must have been grinning like a fool but didn't make any effort to tone down his emotions.

"It's nothing, really..." Nathan replied, with a hint of bashfulness.

"It's not nothing. It's amazing. Come here," he reached out to the larger man, and wondered briefly if he sensed a change in the sonar image as Nathan approached. Charles seized the singers by the arm pulled him into a grateful embrace.

Nathan seemed startled at first but hugged back as Charles continued, with audible emotion,

"I never thought I would be able to do that again. And it may seem like nothing, but to me it feels like everything right now. So thank you, Nathan, thank you so much!"

They hugged for a moment longer and then Charles drew back, but he seemed to be off-balance. He took hold of Nathan's arm to steady himself but the dizzying sensation only increased. Suddenly he felt an electric pain envelope his head. He gasped and buckled as he heard Nathan's panicked voice yell his name. The last thing he felt, before he slipped off into nothingness, was the singer's strong arms catching him on his way to the floor.

Continued...