Chapter 33
The morning after the fight.
Saturday
.
.
.
-Part 1-
Kit felt his heart drop into his stomach and his blood run cold. Like an ominous thundercloud in the distance on the fourth of July threatening to ruin the explosive midsummer festivities, all of a sudden Baloo's return had become less of an abstract idea and more of an actual real concrete variable for which to contend with. The drive to the hospital was unsettling to say the least, Kit was glad he couldn't remember most of it what with thinking about more pressing matters. Molly held tight onto her mother's left hand with her right as they both walked in front of him, Molly looking up and all around at the offices, rooms and windows that passed her by, Ms. Cunningham's lack of visitation evident in her keeping focus forward to read and follow the signs as necessary, their footsteps upon the shiny immaculate and well-polished tile floor echoing out of sync with each other. Well did he know the way, so much so he was sure he could draw a map of it while dreaming, but somehow, today, the hallways felt mysterious, as though they stretched on endlessly, one turn and over lit corridor after another.
He swallowed to clear his throat, attempting to push down his feelings but his fears and anxieties about the dark deed he had committed himself to execute refused to rest and kept rising back up to meet his turbulent mind which was running through his plan over and over again, reanalyzing even the most minor of details for even the tiniest of error. "OK, so, once we are all inside, as soon as I can, I'll ask to be alone with Baloo for a moment, and that's when I'll do it. And then I'll glide down from the window. OH! I need to make sure the window is unlocked and then..." Kit felt for his airfoil in the back of his sweater, checking for the twentieth time to insure it was still there. "Once on the ground, I'll make a B-line for the docks." Kit looked at one of the clocks that hung from the ceiling in the hallway. "Ugh, by now Clement is gone, and most of 'The Exchange' planes will be too. Stowing away on a normal plane could be too big a risk, what about hiding in the woods for a day or a safe house; would they even let me in?"
Kit contemplated, plotted, planned, and silently tested options in his head until Ms. Cunningham's words interrupted the solo seminar, jostling Kit who hadn't even realized that they had arrived at the ICU. She stopped just before the entry to Baloo's room, turned, and squatted so as to be at Kit and Molly's level, the nerves clear in her voice too as she spoke to them, more to Molly than to Kit whom she already assumed knew what was going on. "When we go in, Baloo will be awake but he may not be as we remember him; he might be different or he could be the same, the doctor will tell us more when he gets here. Just be nice. Even if he acts mean or different or weird, just be nice." Molly and Kit both nodded without a word, though age and intention differed between them, as far as Ms. Cunningham could tell, the childish innocence upon their faces was indistinguishable from each other. She sighed as she rose to her feet, placed her hand on the doorknob, and uttered a silent prayer to herself as she turned the knob.
-END Part 1-
.
.
.
-Part 2-
Baloo had finally captured an opportunity to catch up with himself, to take in and digest all that had happened since he had awoken from his long sleep; a chance to catch his breath as it were. Doctors and nurses and other ICU techs had finally left him alone, casting him off as "stable but in need of observation" as they had put it. Whether the trenches of The Great War or a bed in this hospital room, he was still stuck with no way out, though he had to admit that at least this situation was much more comfortable than the mud, blood, rats, bullets, and fleas of the front line; quieter too. Still though, there he had had a purpose, an objective to pursue. Here all he could do was wait for, well, he didn't know what. Did anyone he care about reciprocate his feelings? Sure, Rebecca yelled at him a lot, but he had grown quite fond of her company ever since she had taken over, not that he would ever admit that to her. And Molly, surly she missed him, though it was unlikely that she could visit him without her mother given how young and prone to mischief she was. And then there was Wildcat. Baloo had reached into the jaws of death and pulled his friend, his blood-brother from the pit of demise, carrying him from enemy lines back to the safety of allied territory. However, Wildcat's injury made him prone to errant forgetfulness. If Wildcat knew and was able to mentally retain the fact that Baloo was in the hospital, he would have been by his side in a New Fedora minute and not left. The fact that he was not here served as an immediate testament to the fact that Wildcat had no clue what was going on. Which only left….
Baloo's eyes darted to the corner of the room upon hearing the sound of the door handle turning. Every creak and snap of the mechanism turning over did not escape his keen sense of awareness. He did not anticipate anything, but was ready for everything, and then the door opened and he saw the hand and foot of the person behind it and immediately his heart rose with the winds of gladness and joy. In walked Rebecca and Molly, their eyes locking followed by smiles cracking but Baloo could not help but notice who was not in attendance.
-END Part 2-
.
.
.
-Part 3-
Kit stood just before the threshold of the door; his feet frozen to the ground as if mounds of ice had locked his feet to the floor. He observed Molly and his mother walk in, saw the looks on the side of their faces as their psyche's acknowledged the presence of the room's single resident before they disappeared from his view; the sounds of their embracing Baloo filling his ears. But for some reason he could not budge. His feet were as cinderblocks, dense and immovable. His lungs felt as though they had filled with ocean water, no air could pass through them. And his heart pounded, sending the thick rancid blood of a traitor-to-be reluctantly though his veins, each pulse rhythm as an impact hammer sending shockwaves to his toes, ears, nose, and fingertips. He stood at the precipice of damnation gazing into the maw of eternity, listening to the echo of a plan he had made whisper the call of the great temptation in his ears. He swore he felt the Father of Malevolence on his left and the Savior of Souls on his right. "On the road to the top, sacrifices must be made" the dark one silently spoke, reminding him of Clement's instruction. He uttered hints at the power of the destiny and future that lay before him; the rival empires he would burn and the world he would build and cast his dominion over. All Kit need do was find the strength now to set the wheels in motion and then it would all be his for the taking. But then his thoughts turned to the other road.
The Savior on his right did not speak, he did not utter a single word. Instead, he only closed his eyes, spread his hands, and flashed memories of the past into Kit's mind. Memories of a father's love for his son. Memories of comfort and consolation, determination and affection. Memories of vows made and promises so far kept. And then, in that same instant, it was over. The Savior did not offer any glimpse into any future. He did not promise anything. He did not speak at all. Instead, he only placed his hand on Kit's chest, and in flowed a fresh breath of sanitized hospital air, and just like that, the avatars of his conscious mind were both gone and Kit's turbulent heart was left only with what remained: refreshed memories, and the conflicting call of the temptation to set his mind and heart in motion.
"Kit, why are you…?" Ms. Cunningham asked as she was interrupted.
"Can I talk to Baloo?" he bluntly asked continuing to stare forward before looking up at her, "alone?" he added, "Please?"
Ms. Cunningham was standing directly in front of him. She wondered why he had remained here. After all of those weeks of longing, after all of those visits, all of the distressed days and nights without him, why now was he apparently afraid to even look at him much less enter the room? She looked at Baloo who only returned her look with a confused one of his own. Ms. Cunningham sighed, whatever was going on with her boy, or their boy now that Baloo was back, he wouldn't have asked this if he didn't feel the need for it.
"Sure" she answered him as if it were a question. "Where could he go?" She reasoned. "We're eight floors up." She concluded. "Besides, why would he run from him?" She couldn't fathom any reason why to deny his more than reasonable yet odd request. "Molly" she called, "Com'mere."
In a second Molly was by her side and Kit turned to allow them to pass. "Kit, we will be right out here, just…" the doctor's approach drew Ms. Cunningham's attention. Nevertheless, she turned her attention back to Kit to finish her sentence before hearing what the doctor had to say, "…just open the door when you and he are done."
Kit nodded, entered, eyed the window, turned away from where Baloo was, and shut the door.
-END Part 3-
.
.
.
-Part 4-
Ms. Cunningham exited the room pulling the door closed behind her, the white noise typical of a hospital greeting her in the hallway until she spotted a familiar scruffy looking face in a white coat approaching her. Dr. Marckon waved his hand to greet her from down the hall upon making eye contact.
"Hello Ms. Cunningham? Is it?" he asked without pause. "It's been some time. How are you?" Dr. Marckon wasn't attempting to sound condescending however the vast majority of the patients he treated were unconscious while under his care and as a result he had little to offer in the realm of a bedside manner.
"I'd be lying if I said that everything was fine on my end. With two kids, a shipping business to run in the middle of the current market for pilots, and hardly any money coming in, I've been struggling to keep the lights on, the doors open, and food on the table, much less having the time to spend on anything else outside of the daily essential tasks" she sighed, folded her arms, and spoke frankly, "Please tell me the news you've got for me is as good as I assume it is." Ms. Cunningham didn't know why, but for some reason she felt she could unload her feelings and let loose all that her heart had been holding back since she had called that ambulance. Maybe because she felt that the long ordeal was about to come to an end? Or perhaps it was because she was so beyond tired from holding everyone's world together that Baloo's return offered her the chance at some much-needed respite. Regardless, she was just optimistic that she did not have to carry the entire weight alone for much longer.
"Hello" Molly said to the doctor with a wave of her left hand drawing his and her mother's attention for a moment, her mother deciding to pick up and hold Molly for the time being.
"To tell you the truth" Dr. Marckon began, "Mr. Baloo's current condition and prognosis is all together better than we could have possibly hoped; the worst really is behind us."
Ms. Cunningham smiled and hugged her daughter before stopping herself from celebrating too much, sensing a 'but' or 'however' was not too far off.
"X-ray imaging shows a complete and total reabsorption of the blood into his body and no physical evidence that the injury was even there in the first place. However, I do want to caution you that just because we have not found anything that does not mean that his behavior or mannerisms will be as they were. To us he seems to be behaving as he should, as he did before. It will take time to see how he does. Also, he does have some bedsores however they are all in the process of healing; it would seem his body knew it was about time to wake up and started preparing accordingly."
"Is Baloo coming home now?" Molly innocently asked.
"How long…." Ms. Cunningham attempted to say before failing to decide how to finish the sentence. "I mean, how long until he can come home, until he can walk, work, fly, do anything like before? Live?"
"I have already started the discharge paperwork" Dr. Marckon answered with a chuckle in response to the clear jovial body language emanating from both Ms. Cunningham and Molly, "and I have scheduled a follow-up checkup for nine days from now. He is cleared to start walking as soon as he leaves the hospital. As soon as he gets home, I want him to go about his business as normal however I would like him to wait until Tuesday to start anything with exertion such as working or engaging in anything even slightly stressful, and no flying until after our follow-up next Monday."
"I understand" Ms. Cunningham responded wiping a joyful tear from her eye. "Now, I need to ask, what…." Ms. Cunningham's question was halted at the sound of something strange from Baloo's room.
"I heard it too" Dr. Marckon said as he started toward the room to investigate.
-END Part 4-
.
.
.
-Part 5-
"Hay Kit." Baloo said softly, sitting up in a fowler's position in his hospital bed, the calm happiness clear in the sound of his voice.
Baloo's words penetrated Kit's ears like a needle to a vein, the sting was sharp and instantaneous but faded just as quick. Kit turned and made eye contact with his father and for the first time in months his father finally looked back. His eyes and his smile were exactly as he remembered and looking at him Kit detected no malice, instead he became overcome with a sense of belonging. Looking upon his father Kit felt as though all anger, hatred, strife, and sorrow had been utterly swept away; he felt as though he might as well have been looking upon the face of God.
"Hay Papa Bear" Kit shyly responded with a hint of remorse that did not go beyond Baloo's notice. He made his way toward Baloo's bed, the guilt of each step weighing him down as if he were wading through a pool of chilled swill. He reached his right hand across his chest and felt the blade securely there but pretended to scratch to pass it off as nothing more than just that and before he knew it, he was at Baloo's bedside, both his hands resting upon the side railing, his elbows at his side. He knew what was about to happen, what he was about to do. Did he have doubts? Any sudden urges to abort his ambitious cause? Perhaps, but he could not afford to back down now. His future was certain, his opportunities were glaring him in the face. He did not dare relent, he could not relent, and so he stood there waiting for Baloo to speak his last words. For all he had done for him, he owed him that much.
"Why the long face Lil'britches? Ain't'cha happy to see me?!" Baloo stared down at his boy, the way he was looking at him was disturbing; it was as if all hope had left his tired, gaunt, and desperate soul.
Kit remained silent and still. Baloo's jovial attitude did little more than make his current task even more difficult. Kit decided not to answer, he just frowned and looked away. No more words, what worth were words to a dead man? No more tears, he had shed enough of them for Baloo. Kit let his right hand down to dangle at his side and started to count to ten in his mind, when he reached zero, he would do it. As he began his count, he couldn't help but ponder a single question: "If Baloo is the only one standing between me and my future, then why does this feel so wrong?"
"Ok" Baloo bellowed with a laugh, reaching his arm around and yanking up Kit by the back of his shirt to the tween's surprise. "Enough of this boo-hooing, what's going on with you?!...Oh."
As Baloo had lifted his boy off the ground and placed him on top of his belly, in a flash of light and a movement quick as an electrical arc, Baloo found his son holding a small dagger to his throat. "Well then," Baloo calmly stated, the smile falling from his face, his hands falling to either side of him. "I guess I have missed quite a lot."
Kit's eyes were down and focused on the mark where the blade was and what it was about to do, in a single motion his destiny would be set. Nothing existed except this instant. He remained on his knees on his father's belly, his left arm supporting the front of his weight, his right holding the blade in its ready position; all he need do was pull and the laceration would be made. Why was he hesitating!?
Baloo felt the blade quiver and shake with the indecision and conflict of a child believing he was out of options. Baloo, on the other hand, was a battle-hardened soldier fresh from the fight. For the rest of the world the reality of the front line was twenty years past, for him it was yesterday. He had been caught off guard and defenseless in a dug-out bunker when the shade of Kit had shot him then, but this time, somehow, he was not surprised. As a parent, this situation broke his heart but he had been gone a while and knew that Kit wouldn't turn on him without a reason. But as a soldier, he saw a threat, an enemy, and he knew exactly what to do and say. And if his son wanted to play his chances at the killing-game, he would have it.
"Look at me Kit!" Baloo demanded in a tone his son had never heard, the authority in his voice screamed as though he were ordering a peon in the middle of battle, rattling Kit but ultimately doing little to remove the blade from his jugular. "If you're gonna do it, be a man about it, look at me! I ain't raising no damn coward!" Kit pealed his eyes away from the blade and the throat it was kissing to look up at his father. Where before there was love, now only wrath, where there had been comfort, he now found only relentless seething ferment.
"Good" Baloo scoffed, "Now do it!"
Kit's mouth opened slightly while he continued to hold the blade against Baloo's throat, his face morphed from one of conviction to one of awe as fear began to find ways to breach the ironclad determination of his heart.
"NOW KIT!" Baloo yelled at the top of his lungs, his hands still resting by his side, his eyes still glaring down at his son.
Kit's arm was getting tired, it was now or never, but was this really what he wanted? Was there really no other way to achieve his dreams?
"DO IT! WE AIN'T GOT ALL DAY!" He could see it, it was working. His tough little man was turning into a scared boy who didn't know what to do. "SHIT OR GET OFF THE POT!" Commanded Baloo.
"I-" Kit's voice cracked and words were reluctant to come forth. "I can't" he said slowly pulling the copper-colored blade back from Baloo's neck.
As soon as the pressure was off, Baloo, still fresh from the fight and needing only millimeters to work with, in a one-step movement ingrained in him from training and experience, Baloo disarmed and pushed Kit back, punching him square in the chest as he did so, knocking all the air clean out of his lungs. Baloo turned Kit's right arm behind his back, took control of the blade, pealed it out of his hand, hid it under the covers, and with his other hand took hold of his now coughing son who was just starting to gasp for air, and pulled him into a hug just as Dr. Marckon barged into the room to see what all the commotion was.
"Don't mind us" Baloo stated casually with a silly smile as he brought his right arm in to not-so-softly smack Kit in the center of his back causing him to gag and gasp for air and cough even more violently. Had the doctor been on the other side he would have seen Kit's eyes grow wide and his face flush red with the pain of Baloo's blow. "Hiccups" Baloo said with a shrug, "poor kid; he'll be fine in a minute" he followed up dismissively. "I'll be sure to call you back in if he gets worse. Now, if you don't mind, my son and I were in the middle of a conversation."
The doctor nodded and left the father and son to their business and as soon as the door was shut, Kit after gasping, coughing, and recovering, unraveled. "I'm sorry Papa Bear" he said through squinted eyes and a tight grip around Baloo's neck, throwing himself to Baloo's mercy. "I tried to do what he said, but I couldn't, I just, I can't do it, not to you."
Baloo, being the ever understanding and ever-loving soul that he was, lowered his voice and spoke directly into Kit's ear as he hugged him, the love for his child wrestling with his furious rising ire towards him. "Kit, you've got some explaining to do, and it better be good" he said, feeling his temperature rise.
"Papa Bear" Kit began through a strained grunt, his recovering breaths becoming shallow against the shrinking room for his chest to expand. "Too tight…I can't…you're….hurting….me."
Had Kit been able to see his father's face he would have not recognized it for it was redder than the devil himself. "You just held a dagger to my throat" Baloo angrily stated through clenched teeth, continuing to squeeze Kit as he worked though his feelings of betrayal, doing everything in his power to control himself and quell his sudden odium; his inner soldier showing more now than he would've liked. "You are in more trouble than you realize and if you think I'm going to let you off the hook so easily, you got another thing coming."
"No, I…" Kit attempted to say, but Baloo's grip was too tight. He slapped Baloo's back and side where his hands were wrapped around his father, doing his best to signal that he was "tapping out" and just before all went dark Baloo relented, providing just enough room and time for Kit to gasp for air and respond between breaths. "No" he finally said still tightly held by Baloo, "I…am in…more trouble than…YOU realize!"
Baloo's curiosity had been aroused, his wonder providing the needed change-of-pace to eclipse his infuriation. Could this be the reason why Kit had turned on him? He released Kit from his embrace, grabbing the back of his sweater and pulling him back to his belly to look upon him as he spoke. "What do you mean by that?" Baloo asked clearly intrigued, his left hand coming to rest at his side, the hard sensation reminding him of the dagger concealed beneath the sheets. He reached for to pull it out and held it up in front of Kit, examining it as he asked his next question, "And where did you get this, do you even know what this is!?"
Kit sat himself up, his legs and feet resting beneath him, split either way across Baloo's sides and bent at the knee. He felt embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand and smiled, his body language displaying his feelings. "Thaaaat's what I want to talk about."
-END Part 5-
.
.
.
-Part 6-
Seven and a half minutes later
Baloo listened intently as Kit told him nearly everything. How the business was on the verge of financial collapse, How Ms. Cunningham was barely keeping it together let alone taking care of the business, Molly, and him, and herself, Kit and Ms. Cunningham's seemingly endless fights, how Kit had lost all his friends, how and why he was now facing nearly a lifetime in prison, and how his absence had left a hole in the heart of everyone who cared about him.
"Kit, I", Baloo searched for the words, but instead, eventually they found him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me; when you all needed me." Baloo closed his eyes and looked away for a moment before continuing, feeling guilty for letting down the most important people in the world to him. Though it wasn't his fault, that did little to ease the heartache. "There is no way for me to prove it to you but you've gotta believe me when I tell ya, I never stopped fighting for you, to get back to you. I went through hell for you. I love you so damn much. I thought I had a reason for living before I met you but lookin' back upon it now, it's like my life didn't truly start until the day you ran into me at Louie's."
Baloo saw his son look away and just then the remorse that he had detected in his voice when he had first entered the room suddenly made sense. However, he made no effort to console him now. What he had done and planned to do was despicable and irredeemable, he knew that and Kit knew that, and part of that, part of growing up, was dealing with the consequences and if Kit punished himself for it too, so be it. Still though, given everything, Baloo was not one to hold a grudge, not for long at least, and his willingness to forgive was as much a weakness as it was a strength.
Kit remained silent and still sitting upon his father's belly looking away and toward the ground, each of his father's words stinging him like the lash upon his back, the sound of each syllable sinking its shameful self-inflicted poison into his soul. He could not help but feel the guilt upon him, like lead bricks and sandbags, he felt them stack and attach to his being, one on top of the other staking higher and higher. Kit didn't know what was worse, the fact that he had failed his main objective for his destiny, or the fact that all along he had secretly hoped that he would.
"But Kit" Baloo continued, "given everything you've told me, you still haven't told me where you got this dagger. This isn't something you would just happen to find." He and Kit both turned their attention down to where the dagger lay exposed on the bed.
Kit wiped his nose on his right sleeve, sniffing deeply as he did. At this point, what did he have to lose? His trial was on Tuesday, Baloo was still alive, he had no escape, and there was nothing else for him to do. He sighed, inhaled, and began. "Baloo, you were gone. I'm no idiot, I know what insurance is, and when Ms. Cunningham was dragging me and Molly across town to all the government buildings, I read some of the paperwork. Most of it confused me but I understood that the money we had coming in for you and from you wasn't all that great. Over time we had less and less to eat and sometimes Ms. Cunningham didn't eat at all. She'd say she wasn't really hungry. Molly bought it, but I knew better. So, I did what I learned how to do back when I was living on the streets. I went down to the docks looking for work. After a few days of skipping school and hopping from one job to the next down there, a man named Clement found me; offered to pay me more than any of the other pilots. So, I started working for him. And then one day, on my way back to sneak into school after a delivery, I came to visit you. I told the doctor to fix you that I could pay for whatever you needed. But he told me he couldn't help you. So, I said my goodbyes, and decided to work with them fulltime. After that, after I worked a big delivery, Clement said that he and 'The Exchange' had a gift for me, and that was when I got the dagger."
Baloo sat silent for a while, deep in thought, his face betraying no reaction, Kit nervously staring at him in limbo, awaiting a judgment of some sort to be announced. "Okay." Baloo said, taking hold of the dagger by the handle and flipping it around to hand to Kit. "Put this up, tell no one you've got it."
"Umm, okaaaaay" Kit responded taking the dagger, lifting his sweater, and sheathing the blade, clearly confused as he did so, wanting to ask Baloo how or why he was trusting him with the dagger after what he had just attempted moments earlier, but kept such questions to himself.
"We'll talk more about this later." Baloo stated sternly as he lifted Kit back to the ground. "Go open the door and tell Beckers and cupcake to come in."
"Alright" Kit said as he started towards the door, pausing after a step, turning to Baloo and asking another question. "Hay Baloo, how come you sound different?"
-END CHAPTER 33-