BOSTON

Father and Son

(Part 1)

Mount Fujiyama. Japan. Hm. He'd seen some of the Orient in his travels, but never Japan. Certainly looked like it was worth seeing.

He pulled out the card and reached for another.

The Tower of London. Really, this was an amazing contraption - could almost reach out and touch the Tower. He wondered what was the trick of it. He'd have to ask Adam. No doubt he'd know.

He put the Tower in the small stack beside the box and picked up the next card.

The canals of Bruges. Now, those he'd seen for himself - about the same time he'd passed through Amsterdam and gotten Liz her music box. He smiled at them with fond possessiveness. He'd hoped to take Liz there someday - for an anniversary, maybe. She would have loved it. So much she had never gotten to see.

At that thought he glanced automatically to the figure lying quietly at his side. It looked like he was sleeping more naturally now - had shifted into a more comfortable position. Since Mrs. Longworth had washed and shaved him and combed his hair he looked a little more like himself, too. If he overlooked the terrible thinness and the shadows like bruises around his eyes, he could almost make himself believe that all was normal. He rested a hand cautiously on Adam's hair. Cooler than earlier. Temperature was definitely dropping. He left his hand where it was and returned his eyes to the stereopticon lenses.

Such a lot of world there was to see.

He had taken a big bite out of the world himself when he was young - he wondered if Adam would eventually seek to do the same. Perhaps Boston was just the start - perhaps the Ponderosa would never be big enough to hold him. He let go of Adam for a moment to switch the card again - St. Petersburg this time. Very exotic. How could Adam ever resist? He settled his hand back on Adam's head, lightly stroking the hair over his ear with his thumb.

Still…

"We saw quite a chunk of the world together, too, didn't we, son?" he mused softly. "Some of it almost untouched wilderness. Was quite an adventure too, in its way. Saw a country - a way of life - being born. It's so different now, isn't it? So much of it tamed and civilized. If you'd been able to have a say, maybe it's what you would have chosen anyway over a nice, safe home someplace. Were always one with a taste for the new and untried."

He put away St. Petersburg, slipped a drawing of Istanbul in its place. Even more exotic.

"And if I'm honest with myself, I'm not sorry we had those years together. You've separated from me soon enough - long before I'm ready, to tell the truth. Where would I be now if I didn't have the memories of those years to sustain me? What would I be feeling if I'd allowed someone else to raise you, someplace far away? Just a different kind of guilt, I suppose. Selfish or not, I wouldn't trade those years for anything - wandering as a pair of hoboes. I have to laugh when I remember how young I was. In a way, you raised me just as much as I raised you. I wonder what you remember about it."

He lowered the stereopticon and looked now at the small painting and the daguerreotype rubbing elbows on Adam's bedside table.

Elizabeth as a child. Abel as a young man.

How quickly the time went. How suddenly the people you loved were with you one day, not with you the next. He hoped he never forgot that. He tried not to. He smiled, a little wryly. Of course, his life made that particular bit of wisdom a hard one to forget. He looked around the room: the room where he and Elizabeth had begun their married life together, the room where he had lost her… yet also the room where his son's life had begun. He smiled down at the dark head, quiet under his hand. And he hadn't lost him, so perhaps you didn't always have to lose. Perhaps that was a lesson too - just as important as the other.

He saw Adam's eyelids shiver, sipped in a breath. "Adam?" he whispered.

Adam stirred, his fingers lifting slightly, then dropping again. His eyelids slid back, closed, opened again, blinking uncertainly.

Ben felt moisture gather at the corners of his eyes. "Well. Welcome back."

Adam blinked again then frowned slightly, his eyes roving over the room and its appointments, then back to Ben's face. He closed his eyes tight and then opened them again.

"Yes, you're in Boston," Ben soothed. "And I'm here too. It's not a hallucination."

Adam opened his mouth as if to speak, then coughed instead.

Ben frowned, filling a glass with water from the ewer on the nearby stand. He perched next to Adam on the bed and lifted him carefully into sitting position, wincing a little at the sharpness of the bones through the nightshirt, and holding the glass for him to drink.

Adam made a move to take the glass, but his hand fell limply back to the coverlet. His eyes followed it, his expression faintly alarmed.

Ben positioned the glass against his mouth and made him drink, lowered the glass when he seemed to try to reach up and push it away.

Adam's head sank back against Ben's shoulder, his eyes drifted shut.

"You're going to be feeling very weak for a while," Ben explained gently. "But you're going to be all right. It's just a matter of time now."

Adam's eyes opened again, struggling to get a good glimpse of Ben.

"Do you want me to prop you up?"

Adam nodded.

Ben reached for another pillow and settled it behind him, shifted himself on the bed so that he could sit facing him. "That all right?"

Adam nodded again; he seemed to be gathering the strength to speak. "What's…wrong with me?" he managed breathlessly. He frowned again at the feeble sound of his own voice.

"You've been very ill. Typhoid."

Adam seemed to digest this. He took a deep breath. "How'd…you…get here?"

Ben smiled a little. "Oh, the usual way. Stagecoach and steamboat and train. Much easier than the trip we made, hey?"

Adam smiled weakly. He closed his eyes again, breathing carefully.

Ben dampened a cloth in the ewer and patted it gently against his face and neck. "Think you could eat something? I know Mrs. Longworth has been keeping some beef tea warm for you, and frankly, you could use a little fattening up."

Adam opened his eyes, studying him. "Where's…Grandfather?" he wheezed, his forehead creasing slightly as he listened to himself.

"Asleep, I hope. I think Mrs. Longworth finally worked her powers of persuasion on him. Now, how about letting me fetch that beef tea, before she tries those powers of persuasion on you?"

"She's…nice," Adam protested faintly.

"Very nice," Ben agreed. "But I'm not sure I'd ever try to best her."

Mrs. Longworth had gently and serenely coaxed them to sit down and eat lunch before he had actually been permitted to see his son again. A man of considerable will himself, he couldn't honestly say quite how she had prevailed, but he had to admit that Abel was right about one thing - there was a mysterious vein of steel running beneath that quiet calm. He liked her more every minute.

"I'll get the tea, and I'll be right back." Something in Adam's face made him hesitate. "Adam. I'll be right back. I promise." He squeezed the narrow upper arm lightly, half afraid of breaking it. "You just rest, and I'll be back before you know it."

Adam nodded slightly and closed his eyes.

Ben paused in the act of rising, settled back down on the edge of the bed. He bit his lip. The look on Adam's face reminded him of something…he patted the skeletal hand resignedly and let his own curl around it. "On the other hand, I suppose it could wait for a bit. Though I would like to see you eat something before you drift off again."

Adam opened his eyes and looked at him, then nodded again. He seemed to be thinking hard. "Where's…Hoss and Joe…?"

"Back on the Ponderosa."

Adam's eyes flickered. "You…left them…?"

"With Hop Sing and Shaughnessy. I'll be lucky if I don't come back to find them spoiled within an inch of their lives."

Adam's brows drew together in a troubled frown.

Ben saw the look and squeezed his hand firmly. "They're fine, Adam. You needed me more. In fact, they both sent greetings along - I'll let you read them when you're a little stronger. Maybe for your birthday."

Adam smiled, shutting his eyes again. "My birthday's not…til May."

"Yes, I know - I was there, remember? May 18th. That's two days from now."

Adam's eyes shot open. "…No…"

"I'll show you a calendar, if you like."

"Where's…I missed…April…?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How…? Of course…if you're here, I guess…" He shifted anxiously under the covers, calculations and conclusions chasing each other in his eyes, and Ben moved his hand to the center of his chest both to calm him and to restrain him in case he tried to move too quickly.

"Just take it easy. I don't want you getting excited. I told you - you were very ill. It's been a while."

Adam sank into the pillows, pressing his eyes closed, breathing deeply. After a while he said in a small voice, "I missed exams…didn't I?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

The thin hands tried to knot in the sheets, failed. "I'm…my scholarship…what am I going to do?" The feeble voice broke on a note of despair.

The sound wrung Ben's tired heart dry, and forgetting his son was no longer two but twenty, he instinctively scooped him into his arms. It was like embracing a bundle of dried twigs, but he held on with gentle firmness, one hand kneading soothingly at the back of Adam's neck. "Sh…there's nothing here to worry about…nothing that can't be fixed…I'm sure you can make them up this summer or something. Right now you just can't let yourself get excited…you need to stay calm and save all your energy to get well." He heard a suspicious sniff and gently rumpled the curls at Adam's nape, a twinge in his heart. When was the last time he'd heard Adam cry? He couldn't remember. Proof enough that he was worn away to nothing.

"…sorry…"

The broken whisper made Ben hold on tighter, rocking slightly. "I'm not. I've been wanting to do this since I got here."

The sniff turned into a choked laugh. Ben smiled, cradling the hot skull against his shoulder. That shoulder was damp now, but he discreetly pretended not to notice.

"Don't…know why…"

"Never mind. I do. You're exhausted - I've been trying to tell you. Just relax."

"Didn't…even say…hello…"

"I think I can forgive you, provided you stop talking now and just rest. Come on - deep breaths…" He felt Adam's lungs heave in a sigh underneath his arm and slowed the rocking, sensed a shift in the quality of his breathing.

He stopped, suspicious. "Adam?" he called softly. The body in his arms didn't even stir. He smoothed the hair back from the damp forehead, trying to get a look at the face tucked into his shoulder. "Adam?" he repeated, a little more forcefully.

Nothing. His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. Well. He'd better find a comfortable position for himself, because Adam was obviously down for the count again.

He maneuvered delicately until he could lean back against the headboard, chuckling to himself. A silly gesture - he had a feeling that a cattle stampede wouldn't rouse Adam now.

Adam slumped against him, his breathing deep and steady.

Ben patted him lightly between the shoulder blades. Probably he should lay him down so that he could rest more comfortably…well, he would. In another minute or so. Soon.

It was quiet except for the faint, distant call of a foghorn from somewhere outside the window, the almost indistinct cries of the faraway gulls, and the steady, rhythmic sound of his son's breathing. He felt the bony knobs of spine under his hand through the nightshirt and held him a little closer, letting his own eyes drop shut.

"Hm," he murmured in the ear so close to his cheek. "You may think you've wormed out of it this time. But just as soon as you wake up? I am going to see to it that you eat something!"

TBC