Timeline - This prequel to Season One takes place about 1 year before Jarod's escape and includes flashbacks to the children's' past.

Summary: Raines approaches Sydney with a "problem" subject from his research team. Angelo is drawn to the newcomer, but not sure why. Unknowingly, the young person has crossed paths with Jarod in the past and is destined to meet him face to face.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Pretender characters in this story (heavy sigh), no infringement is intended, and heaven knows I'm not getting paid for writing it!

Author's Note: This series was first posted at the Pretender Archive, which has not updated since April 2002. The first eight chapters are being reedited and reposted here along with the newer material. I hope you enjoy it. I am currently working on Ch. 16 and the end is in sight!


Alicin Wonderland By Lizz

Part 1 First Impression

1996-Day One Sydney's Office Friday Morning

Sydney replaced the handset on the phone's base and slumped back in his desk chair. With a long sigh, he checked his watch. Only a few minutes past 7:00 AM on a Friday morning and his day was already headed south. His conversation with Raines had been brief. Raines talked, Sydney listened. Raines had a problem and Sydney was his first choice to solve it. Raines and his problem would be arriving at Sydney's office momentarily. Sydney briskly rubbed the heels of his hands together and pressed their warmth against his closed eyelids. Beginning Monday, he promised himself, he would take no phone calls before noon.

One half-hour after the phone call, Sydney heard the soft tone announcing the arrival of an elevator at the end of the concourse and the whoosh of doors as they opened. He winced, as the squeaking of Raines' approach grew louder until it stopped just outside the doctor's office door. Sydney took in a deep calming breath and held it for a moment before exhaling. The office door swung wide and Raines entered the room, his oxygen tank trailing behind him like a five-time canine obedience champion.

While Raines crossed the room to sit in the chair that faced Sydney's desk, two sweepers entered the office. Between them they supported a slender, rather disheveled young person; head shaven and dressed in the typical Centre-issued pajamas and (Sydney could hardly believe it) a straightjacket! The sweepers backed him against the glass door to the left of where Raines was now seated. Sydney noted that as soon as the two men turned away and took a step forward, their charge scooted his slippered feet forward just enough to allow him to push away from the cold glass at his back. He kept his gaze fixed on his feet and never once attempted to take note of the surroundings.

Raines now had Sydney's full attention. "On the phone you said you had a problem. What is it?"

"The problem is standing over there," Raines rasped and he tilted his head to point out the figure at the door.

"You'll have to explain it to me. Perhaps you could begin with the reason for the straightjacket."

"She became violent when they tried to move her into the elevator."

'She!' Sydney thought so suddenly that he feared he had spoken the word out loud. Raines had derailed his train of thought so completely that Sydney could only lean forward and place his clasped hands on the desk blotter until he recovered.

"Hard to believe that one of such slight build could pose a threat two seasoned sweepers," he said at last.

"Looks can be deceiving, doctor. She has been a burr under my saddle for the past three months." He then launched into a litany of complaints and behaviors that were inconveniencing his team. He droned on, speaking as if his young subject were not in the room to hear and finally reached the end of his tale. "In the last six weeks she has become stubborn, obstinate and oppositional. She verbally abuses staff and I suspect she has been sabotaging team projects as well as some of her own assignments. Two weeks ago she stopped eating and refused anything to drink except water. If she doesn't come to her senses soon, we'll be force-feeding her. I want you to find out what's wrong with her and fix it, Sydney. She may be a pain in the ass, but she's a brilliant researcher. I want her back at her computer on Monday!"

Sydney was at a loss for words again.

"You have seventy-two hours, Sydney."

"Not possible! My initial evaluation requires that much time at the very least. Assessment of the results and finished copy of the evaluation report, takes maybe three to four days additional. You're looking at seven to ten day's minimum, and that does not include treatment recommendations and implementation. At the very least, we're looking at-"

"Unacceptable, doctor. I can't afford to spend that much time on this."

"If this young woman is as important as you say, Mr. Raines, you cannot afford not to."

"Sydney, I am not going to debate this with you. I will go to Madam Director if I have to."

"Fine! I'll go with you, if only to explain to her that I will not compromise my professional ethics or this young woman's health merely to satisfy your timeline. We're not talking about a machine, for god's sake! She's a human being, Raines, and that makes her worthy of whatever time it takes." The doctor's voice carried an edge of warning that was not lost on Raines. If the young woman at the door had heard any of this discussion, she was not letting on.

Raines stood and threw a green file folder on Sydney's desk. "Very well, then. She's all yours. You have seven days to do whatever it is that you do. But I want her up and running when I come back for her. Are we agreed?"

Sydney's eyes wandered to the young woman, who now stood facing the door and was resting the right side of her face on the cool glass. Surely there is more to this situation, he thought. Seven days would be a start. "We are agreed," he said at last.

Raines turned to his sweepers. "You're dismissed," he growled. They left the room. Turning to Sydney he said, "You have seven days, Doctor. Use them well. The clock is ticking!" With that, he turned and left Sydney and the young woman alone in the office.

"Well, young lady," he began as he crossed to the door, "My name is Sydney and I'll be taking care of you for a little while. He released the buckles on the back of the jacket, saying in a soothing voice, "Let me help you out of this ridiculous thing." When he gently turned her around, he saw that she was bleeding heavily from her left nostril. Sydney reached into his pocket to retrieve a handkerchief just as the young woman's knees gave way and she slumped against his chest and began a slow descent to the floor.

End Part 1 TBC

Alicin Wonderland

By Lizz

Part 2

The Rescue

1996-Day 1 Sydney's Office Friday Morning

"Dear God!" Sydney exclaimed as he fought to halt her fall. Placing his arms under hers, he managed to support her just long enough to get her into his reading chair. He tipped the recliner back and began to apply pressure to her nose. With the other hand he stretched to press the button on his desk phone that would summon the Centre's paramedics within minutes. He managed to finish removing the straightjacket and threw it aside in disgust.

The nosebleed had slowed a bit but Sydney was concerned that the young woman was now unconscious and felt feverish. That would explain why she kept her face on the glass in the door, he thought. Her breathing was ragged and her lips were chapped. He also noted that her fingernails were bitten almost to the nail bed.

Within three of the longest minutes Sydney had ever endured, the paramedics burst through the office doors. The psychiatrist waved them to their patient and the team went to work in a flurry of emergency treatment. Everyone was talking at once.

"Whoa! Heartbeat's fast. Can I get a pressure cuff over here? Thanks." "Packing the nose with gauze." "Respiration is irregular. We have an airway. Need an O2 mask here!" "Starting a glucose drip. Can somebody take care of the kid's lips before they break open!" "Temp's 104.1" "Let's get her onto the stretcher now! On three." "Be sure she's strapped in good."

Sydney could only stand aside and watch.

The team leader flipped open his phone, pressed a key and ordered someone to page Dr.Patrice's trauma team and received some information in return. "Exam 2 is waiting for us. Let's roll, people!" And as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone.

=====

In the silence after the sudden departure, Sydney's phone rang. He picked up the handset and dropped himself into the chair at his desk. "This is Sydney."

"Patrice here, Syd. I'm on my way to the infirmary, what do you have for me?"

"A young woman, probably mid-twenties, quite ill. There's respiratory involvement and she's bleeding from the nose. There's a high fever and she's unconscious."

"One of yours?" Dr. Patrice asked in a tone of voice that told him he'd better not be responsible for the patient's condition.

"Raines," came the reply.

"Oh, God, not another one."

"Another?"

"One or two a month for the past six, Syd. Yours makes an even dozen. So, what name do I put on the chart?"

Sydney inhaled sharply. He had forgotten about the file on his desk. "Just a moment, Patrice."

"Please don't tell me you didn't bother to ask Raines for her name," she said flatly.

"Patrice," he protested, "this day started with a visit from Raines. I've been hard up against it from the start and it's not even 8:30. In fact, I was busy making certain that she was ta-"

"Alright, Syd, I get it! Now the name, please?"

He looked at the tab on the folder and saw only an eight-digit number. How like the Centre, he thought, reminded of the number on his wrist. He looked inside the folder and spoke into the phone. "Here it is, Patrice. Her name is Alicin. A-l-i-c-i-n."

"She's here, Syd! Gotta run. I'll keep you posted." The call ended before Sydney had a chance to thank her.

=====

Dr. Patrice entered Exam Room 2 and called for a gown and gloves that were quickly provided by Naomi, a tall and slender African woman who was born and raised Sierra Leone. Flanking the patient on the table stood two other members of the team, ready for their assignments. The doctor brushed an errant lock of graying hair from her face with the crook of her arm.

"Bring me up to speed," Dr. Patrice said as she approached her newest patient.

Joanna deBeer, a physician's assistant and head of the treatment team for the past nine years spoke. "Temp's 104, forehead's on fire, but her hands and feet are like ice." she started, handing the chart to the doctor. "Heart rate, pulse and respiration are stabilizing. Sydney says she passed out about 15 minutes ago. The paras packed off the nasal bleeding. There's just a little blood from her left ear. We almost missed it. Looks like it's been dried up for a few days.

Dr. Patrice read the chart and when she had finished she said, "Let's keep the oxygen flowing until she wakes up and then we'll decide if she keeps it or not. In the meantime, let's get the fever down. Joanna, that's your area. We'll go intravenous." Joanna crossed the room to a cabinet that contained several vials of variously colored liquids and selected one, then filled a syringe.

"Elinore, undo the packing so we can take a look inside. Then we'll have a look at the ear." When the nasal passage was clear, Dr. Patrice directed a light inside and let out a sigh. "There's the cause of the hemorrhage. Looks like a botched NG tube insertion. She probably wasn't cooperating. Looks like it's finally resolved. Does she have an eating problem?"

Joanna deBeer spoke up. "Yes, but it seems to be self imposed." Dr. Patrice's head snapped up with a look of disbelief. "She's dehydrated and look at her skin and fingernails. I won't speculate about the buzz cut, but the barber wasn't too careful. Whoever it was left nicks and cuts all over." The PA paused and shook her head as Dr. Patrice turned her attention and light to the injured ear.

"Okay, Elinore, your turn," the doctor said, handing the otoscope to the youngest and newest member of the team. "Take a look and tell me what happened."

The young nurse took the otoscope from her new boss and bent close to Alicin's outer ear. "The eardrum is ruptured. That would explain the bleeding, but the damage isn't consistent with a puncture wound. I'd rule out infection despite the fever. If there were middle ear involvement, we'd see some discharge, but her ear canal is dry."

She straightened up and stared at Alicin's face for several seconds. "I'd say a sudden, severe blow to the outer ear compressed the air in the ear canal, causing the eardrum to burst. Bruising on the outer ear itself suggests a blow to the side of the head, most likely from behind and slightly to her left. Not a fall, though. More likely it was an open- handed slap, and a forceful one at that." She paused. "This wasn't an accident. Someone meant business here."

The doctor was impressed. "Why do you think the blow came from behind?"

"Look right here," Elinore continued with confidence. She placed the fingers of her left hand over four oval bruises spanning Alicin's left cheek. "The pattern of these bruises suggests finger marks, doctor. And the injury is recent, within the last two or three days, judging by the coloration. And it really hurt."

"Nice work," Dr. Patrice smiled. "Talk to me, Jo." She shifted her attention, knowing that her colleague had something else to say.

"I can't help but wonder what could make her decide to self destruct, and in such a slow, painful way. According to her file, she's a crack researcher at the top of her game-until a few months ago. What changed? And why didn't she get help before this? Someone had to have seen it coming! And now this injury that doesn't look like an accident." came the reply.

"All good points, Jo. But we may need some help finding answers." The doctor paused for a moment, thinking, and then said, "Clean her up, lose the pajamas and get her a gown. Find one that's been laundered to death so it's nice and soft. Make her as comfortable as you can. You can take it from here, Jo. I need to make a few calls and then I'll be back and we can begin the detailed examination. Keep an eye on her breathing and the fever. Elinore and Naomi can start the blood work. Page me if you need me." She started for the door, then stopped suddenly and spun around to face her team again. "Oh! Let me know immediately if any of Raines' people show up. Isolate them if they do. And under no circumstance do any of them get near our patient." Dr. Patrice furrowed her brow and gazed at Alicin for a moment.

"We'll take good care of her, doctor," Joanna guaranteed with a sympathetic smile.

"I know you will. I just can't help thinking-"

"She's safe here, doctor," Naomi reaffirmed. "Go do what you have to do. She'll be fine."

"I know she's in good hands." Dr. Patrice turned and left the room, looking up to smile at Earl Phillips, the team's orderly. Unnoticed by the others, he had placed a thermal blanket on the warming table earlier and had added two pairs of thick cotton socks to the pile. He rolled the warmer to the examining table and addressed Joanna. "It's a bit coolish in this room, Jo. I thought these might help." He showed her the contents of the warmer.

Joanna smiled and let out a soft chuckle. "Are you sure you're not a mind reader, Earl?" He had an uncanny ability to anticipate what was needed at any given moment.

Earl smiled in return and quickly covered Alicin up to her waist with a warmed blanket. He placed one pair of socks on her icy feet and re-covered them. The other pair of socks he placed on her hands, which were frighteningly cold to the touch. He then tucked her hands back under the warm cover and stepped away. "This should do until you're ready bathe and dress her. Do you, uh, need me here for any of that?" Earl was clearly uncomfortable with the thought of assisting with Alicin's bath.

"We may need some help to stabilize her body when we turn her over, that's all," Joanna replied. "But for now, you could round up the supplies we need and pick up a couple of gowns from linens." Relieved, Earl set out on his mission.

Joanna knew that Earl was concerned about Alicin's privacy and dignity. He was nothing, if not a gentleman of the old school. Earl still opened doors for women, helped them on and off with their coats, walked them to their cars after dark or with an umbrella when it was raining and if the wind should pick up their skirts, he averted his eyes while others ogled. He was one of three men at the Centre who still wore a hat with his overcoat. And he never, ever, wore a hat inside the building. Yes, he was one of a vanishing breed, Joanna mused. And she wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

=====

While the team took care of Alicin, Dr. Patrice was on the phone to Sydney with an update. "You may want to be sitting down for this, Syd. Alicin's injuries might be the result of a physical attack." Then she told him about the nose and ear injuries and the bruising of the ear and face. She heard a long, troubled sigh at the other end of the line. "They're cleaning her up now and trying to make her comfortable. My people are moving beyond concern, Syd."

"I can imagine, Patrice. Do you feel the need for a security detail?" he replied with growing concern himself.

"That's my thought Syd, but I need someone whose loyalty is beyond question and who has the tenacity and reflexes of a junkyard dog. And I mean that in a nice way, of course." The smile on her face carried over into her voice."

"I understand," Sydney chuckled, grateful for even a brief respite from the gravity of their situation. "I have just the person you're looking for. His name is Sam, and he is my most loyal employee and quite accomplished in this field of expertise. His tenacity is unmatched. And he has the reflexes of that breed you mentioned."

"He sounds like my champion." "I'll brief him and have him report to you personally this afternoon. Is 3:00 suitable?"

"Yes, it is. And thank you, Syd. This is above and beyond. Perhaps you'll accept a cognac in my office later as partial payment?"

"No thanks needed. I'm at your service for the duration of this case. However, I will take you up on that cognac. Patrice, do you have any idea when I'll be able to speak with Alicin?"

"I'm not sure, Syd. I'd like to see the fever break first and get some nutrients into her system. She'll need clear liquids and then it'll be several days before she can start on soft foods. I know that's not what you wanted to hear."

"No, it isn't. But I appreciate that you're doing all you can. I can't shake the feeling that Raines is the real problem in all of this."

"You know what they say about him, Syd. A day without Raines is like a day with sunshine. Anyway, plan to stop by later, maybe early afternoon, and look in on her."

"Thank you, Patrice. I will do that. There's one other thing. In light of the morning's events, I've decided to spend the weekend here at the Centre. I'll drive home before lunch and collect what I need. I should be back early this afternoon to see Alicin, if she's up to it. And I really should call on Jarod to let him know I'll be here."

"That sounds fine, Syd. Take your time. I'll see you this afternoon. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Patrice."

Sydney collected his coat and hat and left his office, heading for Jarod's living quarters. He had decided to visit his Pretender before driving home.

End AW Part 2

TBC

Alicin Wonderland

By Lizz





Part 3

Heard It Through The Grapevine

1996-Day 1

Jarod's Living Quarters

Friday Morning

While Dr. Patrice was on the phone with Sydney, it was mid-morning for everyone who had been up since 5:00 AM. To a casual surveillance viewer, Jarod was merely sitting cross-legged on his bed with his back to the camera reading and eating red grapes. In fact, he was talking to a visitor inside the air-return vent near the floor at the foot of his bed.

"Angelo! It's good to see you," he said in a guarded voice. Watery blue eyes smiled back at him through the grate. "Anything new out there?"

"New girl from Raines. Hurt. With Dr. Patrice now. Sydney helped. Girl very sick. Very sad. No hope."

Jarod was curious, a gust of questions whirling in his mind already. "New girl? When did she arrive? How old is she? Is she a Pretender? Who's her han--"

"No! Wait! Stop!" Angelo whispered harshly as he covered his ears with his hands, a pained look on his face.

"I'm sorry, Angelo," Jarod offered in a near panic. "I didn't mean to overload you like that. I know it hurts. I'm so sorry!"

Angelo recovered and was silent for a moment before he replied, "Jarod. Always wants to know!" Then he smiled at his friend. Jarod's blunder was forgiven. "Grown up. Like us. Very sick. No hair." Angelo shook is head with a confused look on his face at this last revelation. "No hair. Like the babies."

"This is all very interesting," Jarod cut in. "When did this happen?"

"Now! With doctor. Nurses. Earl, too!" Angelo smiled broadly as he said Earl's name.

"And who is Earl?"

"Friend. Nice man. Helps Dr. Patrice. Good for girl. Likes her. Helps her."

"He helps her how?"

"Makes her warm. Blankets. Socks, too. Feet and hands!" The last bit of information made both young men smile. Angelo made hand puppet gestures in the air.

"Want some grapes? They're very good." Jarod abruptly changed the subject. Angelo nodded and smiled as his friend pushed a handful of the tiny fruits through openings in the grate one by one.

"You read?" Angelo wondered as he looked at the sheaf of papers Jarod held in his lap.

"Research," Jarod announced. Angelo stuck out his tongue, tilted his head to one side and held his fist above his head, indicating a hanging. Jarod threw his head back, laughed out loud and then straightened suddenly, remembering the camera. He grinned at his friend. "My feelings exactly." He popped another grape into his mouth, smiling as he chewed.

Angelo was suddenly agitated, as if what he had sensed didn't add up. "Sydney's coming. Soon!"

"Yes, Angelo, he'll be back after the weekend like always."

"No!" He insisted. "Coming now. Angelo go now!" And with that he vanished, the sound of his footsteps fading in the air ducts.

Almost immediately, Jarod heard the door to his compartment open and there stood Sydney. Jarod motioned for his mentor to come in.

"May I sit down for a few minutes?"

"Of course. Welcome," Jarod replied uneasily as he directed Sydney to a sofa in the middle of the room. Sydney laid his coat and hat over the back of the sofa and sat on the end opposite the Pretender.

"What are you doing here?" Jarod asked rather abruptly.

Sydney knew his student meant no disrespect. "I wanted you to know that I will be staying the weekend here at the Centre."

"Why is that?" Jarod was alarmed but tried to appear sincerely interested. He was looking forward to a forty-eight hour respite from his weekly duties in the simulation labs. If Sydney was staying, that could mean that Jarod would be busy with simulations when he had the opportunity to visit the Centre's fitness arena. Sam had been assigned as Jarod's weight trainer starting out with hand weights and then the bench. Jarod found that the exertion not only relaxed him, but it improved his concentration and elevated his mood as well. What little sleep he did get was becoming more restful. He also enjoyed Sam's attention. He didn't want to give up any of it. Not this week or any other for that matter.

"I have an emergency patient," Sydney began to explain. "Mr. Raines brought her to me this morning and her condition is more, well, complicated than I had first thought. At present, she is in the infirmary. I have been asked to assess her mental and emotional health as soon as she is able to participate. And so I've decided to stay.

"And what does this have to do with me?" Jarod asked flatly.

Sydney continued to be amused by his student's lack of basic social skills and took no offence. "Nothing really," he smiled. "I just want you to know that will be around. Perhaps we could have a game of chess at some point. I have been hoping for a rematch and a chance to restore my reputation." Sydney raised an eyebrow for emphasis.

Jarod smiled, remembering his domination of their last game. The offer seemed to energize the Pretender. A rematch would provide a platform from which he might find out more about the infirmary's latest visitor. He would get to lift weights with Sam, after all. He liked the idea. "I would like that very much, Sydney," he smiled, sounding sincere while hiding his true intentions.

"Very well, Jarod," Sydney said as he stood up. "I'll be in touch." The psychiatrist retrieved his coat and hat and left the room, heading for home.

Jarod stood looking at the door for a minute, considering the new turn of events in his otherwise predictable life. A noise from behind brought him back to reality. Then he heard a familiar whisper, "Psst! Jarod!" He walked across the room, sat cross-legged on the bed with his back to the camera and tossed another grape into his mouth. "So, Angelo! Tell me more about the girl in the infirmary."

End Part 3

TBC

Eagerly awaiting your feedback

Alicin Wonderland Part 4
More Than Meets The Eye



1996—Day 1

Sydney’s House

Friday Morning



He tossed his keys on the hall table, not noting the noise they made or the pits they left in the wood. His hat and coat landed in a rumpled pile on the next piece of furniture he passed on the way to his bedroom. He thought of his long history of dealing with Raines incessant subterfuge and deceit. “God, I’m tired of this,” he said aloud, listening to the muffled popping of major joints as he stretched. The red light on the answering machine was not blinking. A small blessing, he thought.



He was able to fit four changes of casual clothes, including his favorite hand-knit sweater, in one side of a large suitcase. The other side held an assortment of underwear, socks and shoes, his Yale sweatshirt and a pair of gray sweatpants to lounge in and his well-worn Flemish-language anthology of poems and essays by nineteenth century women from around the world. His shaving kit was the last item in, so he closed the case and snapped the latches.



The suitcase stood by the front door while Sydney prepared a cup of chai and a luncheon plate of smoked salmon, fruit and cheese. He sat in front of a window that overlooked his beloved gardens as he ate.



His thoughts meandered until they reached Alicin. What color were her eyes? He couldn’t remember. Had he even noticed in the first place? And why did it matter? What he did remember were the dark circles around those eyes. He considered how light her body was as she had fainted against him and how fragile she felt in his arms as he had carried her across the room. He saw her blood, so much of it! And he recalled the scratchy feel of stubble as he smoothed his hand across her scalp. An ache of emotion overtook him. How could this young one, kept innocent by her seclusion at the Centre, have landed in such a briar patch? And why did it trouble him?



The sound of the clock as it struck noon brought him into the present. Sydney rinsed his cup, knife and plate under running water and placed them in the draining basket to dry. Collecting his keys and suitcase from the front hall, he stepped outside, locking the door behind him. He slid behind the wheel of his Towncar and resigned himself to the thirty-minute drive back to the Centre.



=====



1996—Day 1

Exam Room 2
Friday Morning



“Will someone please explain to me why there’s a blanket on this patient!” demanded Dr. Patrice when she returned from her phone calls. Naomi and Elinore looked up from where they were labeling the vials of blood just collected. Joanna hurried to the doctor’s side. She spoke as Dr. Patrice donned gown and gloves for herself, clearly not pleased with what she was seeing.



“You’ll find this as unbelievable as we did, Doct-“



“You’d better hope I do, Joanna!” The doctor’s snapped.



Joanna heaved a sigh and commenced her account of what had happened, while Naomi and Elinore gave moral support by trying to become a part of the furniture they were sitting on.



Joanna had deferred to Earl’s kindhearted response to Alicin’s condition, given the coolness of the air conditioned room. When she had placed the lens of a digital thermometer inside the young woman’s ear canal, the base unit chirped and registered a reading of 101.2. Joanna glanced at her watch, noting both time and temperature on Alicin’s chart. She paused as a thought formed in her mind. She searched the previous entries. There it was, in her own handwriting. But this just wasn’t possible. No antipyretic we use works that fast, she had thought. In truth, she couldn’t think of any that did. The veteran PA was all at sea as far as an explanation for her boss.



Joanna immediately repeated the temperature check with two additional digital units and a standard glass alcohol thermometer. There was no significant variance among the results. They all read within .1 degree of 100 degrees this time. The fever had peaked at 104.1 and, before the medication Joanna herself had administered had begun to work, Alicin’s body temperature had plummeted with no apparent ill effect. Joanna could scarcely believe the results. She tucked the light cotton blanket around the young woman to protect her from the draft falling from the air conditioning vent in the ceiling. Therein ended the tale. Joanna fell silent and studied the pattern in the linoleum. Naomi and Elinore looked less like furniture and more like two deer caught in headlights.



Dr. Patrice was studying the chart as Joanna gave her report, looking at the PA over her reading glasses from time to time. When the recitation was finished, she closed the chart and handed it back to Joanna without a word. Across the room, Alicin stirred and began to awaken. The irate doctor was the first to move to her patient’s side. No one else dared move for the next minute or two.



“Hi, sweetie,” she cooed, taking Alicin’s hand in her own. “Alicin? Sweetie? Can you hear me? Can you try to wake up for us now?” The doctor’s entire demeanor had changed. She lightly brushed Alicin’s cheek with the backs of her fingers and continued speaking to her in the soft, sweet tones of a mother comforting her child.



Alicin made faint kitten noises in response as she struggled to regain awareness. When she was able to open her eyes at last, she was greeted by tender smiles from the people who took their responsibility for her well being so seriously. As she tried to smile back, her stomach went into spasm, nearly folding her in half with dry heaves. She cried out in pain. The team rocketed into action without another thought to what had just transpired between Dr. Patrice and Joanna. Everything was returning to what passed for normal in the Centre Infirmary.



End of Part 4

Alicin Wonderland
Part 5 - More Than Meets The Eye
by Lizz

1996—Day 1
Centre Infirmary
Exam Room 2

Once again, Alicin lay motionless on the table in the middle of the room, moderately sedated this time. Dr. Patrice dismissed the rest of the team for a half-hour break while she stayed at Alicin’s side. Earl quietly entered the room carrying two plastic basins, a small bottle of neutral pH skin cleanser, several washcloths and towels, and two long hospital gowns draped over his arm.

“Can I bring you something from the cafeteria, Dr. Patrice? Something to drink, maybe?”

“No, thanks, Earl. I’m fine for now.” She turned her head to look at him. “You know what you could do, though, is help me turn her so I can cut these pajamas off and get her ready for a bath.”

“At your service, Dr. Ma’am,” he said with a slight salute that drew a smile from the doctor. Twenty years on staff together permitted the occasional familiarity.

“Alicin? I’m Dr. Patrice and this is Earl.” Clearly, the young woman was not going to respond, but the doctor continued to speak slowly as if she could. “We’re going to help you turn over onto your stomach so we can get you out of these pajamas and into something more comfortable, but we need any help you can give us, okay? We’re starting now.”

Together Earl and the doctor slid Alicin to one edge of the table and folded the loose edge of the sheet back over her body to help stabilize the roll. “I’ll take care of her head and shoulders, Earl; you make sure her hips follow. Grip the sheet right about there, yes. I’ll push while you pull. On “three”…

When Alicin was finally in position, Dr. Patrice produced a pair of blunted scissors and cut the pajama shirt in half from neckline to hem and removed the two halves of the garment. Neither she nor her orderly were prepared for what they found. Alicin’s back was a canvas of deep scratches, bruises, scrapes and what appeared to be at least two bite marks on the top of one shoulder. The color of most of the bruises matched that of the four oval marks on Alicin’s left cheek. Some of the scrapes and scratches were red, indicating infection. Earl took in a sudden breath that made a hissing sound as it passed through his clenched teeth. Dr. Patrice’s stomach tightened. This was not what she had expected at all. She hooked two fingers under the elastic of the pants and lifted the waistband--more of the same. She heaved a sigh. “Oh, dear Jesus!” was all she could say. It was a prayer.

“Earl?”

“Yes, Doctor?” He was almost sure he knew what the doctor was going to say.

“I have to ask you to step back from this case for awhile, Earl. I know what it may sound like, but this…this just …“

“It’s okay. I know what you’re getting at. I saw enough in five years in the ER at Chicago Mercy to guess what this is. She’s not going to want to see my face when she wakes up.”

“Probably not. I’m sorry, Earl. You know how vital you are to this unit. I just don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Then tell me what I can do. I really don’t want to be reassigned, Doctor. If there is anything I can do behind the scenes, just name it. And I mean…anything. Something I can do, something I can find for you,” and here he leaned closer to Dr. Patrice and lowered his voice to just above a whisper, “someone you want me to find for you, just name it. You’ll have it.” He held the doctor’s gaze with his own for longer than was customary, just to make his point. Dr. Patrice was taken aback by Earl’s candor. She didn’t speak for a moment.

“Very well, you’re still active. And I think I know where you can begin.”

“Name it.”

“You have to admit there’s a lot about this situation that doesn’t add up yet and if Raines is in it there’s reason for caution.”

“Agreed.”

“I want Alicin quartered in the room that adjoins my office. For starters, you can turn it into a hospital room: bed, monitors, medical supplies, communications, video feed to the duty desk and anything else you can think of that I missed. Oh…that reminds me, Sydney is sending us Mr. Broots and a sweeper named Sam to set up security. Do you know them?”

“I have lunch with Broots a couple of times a week when we can get away. Our girls are about the same age. Sam I only know by reputation. I hear the Centre recruited him right out of the Citadel. On the wrestling team, I think. Also a martial arts trainer his junior and senior years. Tough cookie from what I hear.” Dr. Patrice was bemused by the revelations.

“They’re going to draw up a security plan for us. Look for them close to 3:00. I’d like you to show them around the unit. Then let them see Alicin’s room. They get full cooperation on this, Earl. Let me know as soon as the room is ready.” The doctor paused a moment to shift her train of thought. “While you work on that, we’ll take care of …this.” She was studying the damage to Alicin’s back. “Would you round up the others for me?” Earl nodded and left the room to page the team. Dr. Patrice finished removing the pajamas and covered Alicin with a soft cotton sheet.

=====

Dr. Patrice instructed her three associates to scrub for Alicin’s examination. She handed Joanna a clipboard that held an outline drawing of a human body, front and back views, and a pen with red ink at one end and blue at the other to record cuts and bruises.

“Just so you know, Alicin’s injuries are more extensive than we thought earlier. Joanna, you and I will be cataloging the surface injuries. Elinore and Naomi, I want you to bag her hands until you’re ready to take evidence from her fingernails.” The others exchanged glances at the word ‘evidence’.

Dr. Patrice tried to keep her voice steady as she continued. “Beginning now, we treat this as an assault.” Naomi had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she realized where this examination could be headed. The doctor’s next order confirmed the nurse’s suspicion. “Elinore, call forensics and have them send us a rape kit-tell them we need it yesterday! Also tell them to send us a photographer. Then order up the portable x-ray unit.” Dr. Patrice exposed Alicin’s back to the waist as Elinore took a step toward the phone. One second later, Naomi tore off her mask and raced to the trash canister, where she presently gave up her lunch.

Joanna shouted, “Naomi!”

The nurse coughed and panted as she replied, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. “

“Deep breaths, Naomi! Deep breaths!” Dr. Patrice called out. “Elinore! Help her.” Naomi’s stomach contracted once more eliciting a string of strangled coughs and more panting. Elinore was at her friend’s side in an instant, wrapping one arm around Naomi’s waist and supporting her head with the other. Naomi was crying now.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Gracie. I’m so sorry,” she sobbed and rocked herself.

“Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay.”

“No! No! She needs me!” Naomi wailed on her way to losing control of her emotions completely.

“Naomi!” Elinore shouted.

“What?” came the choked reply.

“Just. Shut up. And breathe,” she said quietly, as she rubbed her friend’s back and placed a comforting kiss at the nape of her neck. This day, Elinore thought dryly, has turned into a train wreck.

=====

“Are you sure you don’t want help with that?” Dr. Patrice had offered to call for someone to assist Elinore, now that Naomi was in an unassigned room recovering from her near meltdown. The young nurse declined and set about collecting scrapings, swabs and other evidence to send off to forensics while the doctor completed the internal examination. Each sample was labeled, signed and logged to provide an unbroken chain of possession between E2 and the forensics lab on SL-3. Dr. Patrice would ask Earl to deliver the evidence.

It seemed that eternity had come and gone before the examination was finished. Joanna blinked back tears as she plotted Alicin’s injuries on the clipboard chart. The x-ray technician spent nearly thirty minutes exposing films. The photographer snapped three rolls of film showing injuries, placing a ruler next to each mark for perspective. Dr. Patrice kept her voice even while she described her findings into an overhead microphone. A medical secretary would transcribe the recording and issue a printed transcript within two hours of receiving it. When they had finished, no one moved to leave the room.

Dr. Patrice was first to speak. “You two may as well go home now. I can finish up here.”

“My shift’s not over yet,” Joanna observed. “Besides, Garrett’s going to a ball game tonight and the twins are spending the night out at the Rogers’ hunting camp. S’mores and all that, you know. I’ve got the evening to myself.”

“And you want me to believe that you want to spend it here?”

“What can I say?” She deadpanned. “Medicine is my life.”

“Nice try, Jo. I can’t ask you to do that. Go home.”

“You didn’t. And I’m staying.” The PA discarded her scrubs, put on fresh ones, and readied what she needed to bathe Alicin and dress her wounds. Dr. Patrice stared at her, trying to think of something to say.

“She’s not going to let you win this one, Doctor, and neither am I.” Elinore joined in. “We’re here for the duration.” And with that she bundled her scrubs tightly and lobbed them into the biohazard bin.

“Three points,” Dr. Patrice declared. “And don’t ever do that again!” she chided. “Since you insist, I’ll let you finish up here. I’m too tired to wrestle you two out the door. I need to find Sydney and bring him up to speed on this.” She turned and left without waiting for a reply.

“That’s Dr. Sydney to you, ma’am,” Joanna drawled in her best John Wayne voice. Elinore chuckled at the implication as they both turned their attention to Alicin.

=====

“Naomi?” Elinore whispered from the doorway. As her eyes were adjusting to the darkness of the room, Elinore could hear a low, pulsating moan from the direction of the bed. Her friend lay on top of the covers, curled into a tight tuck with her knees drawn up to her chin. “Naomi?” No response. After a few minutes, Elinore drew a chair to the bed and sat down. “Naomi, about what happened in E2?” Silence. “That wasn’t about Alicin, was it?” No answer. “Naomi, what is it?” No reaction. “ Is this about Sierra Leone?” Elinore knew a little of the civil war there.

Naomi drew in a ragged breath as she sat up and swung her long legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve not told anyone since it happened. I thought I had moved on.” She began to sob and lifted her hands to cover her face.

“From what?” Elinore gently urged her on.

With a sigh, she continued in her soft, accented voice. “When the rebels came to our village, no one was safe. They came at night and dragged the men and young boys to the front of the church. One by one they were asked to join the resistance and one by one those who refused were taken inside and killed. The soldiers used machetes to preserve their bullets. My sister Grace and I watched mother try to pull our father and brother away from them. When mamam fell, Grace ran to her and was dragged off by more soldiers. They were beating her when someone grabbed my arm and forced me under one of the houses to hide.

“I can still hear the people crying. No one dared come out in the daytime, so we hid under the houses and in the tall grass and gardens until the sun went down. There were so many dead! So many!” Elinore took her friend’s hands in her own and held them firmly.

“I found Grace. She was lying in a neighbor’s flower garden. She was…so…so...hurt. They beat her. They dragged her to…to…. They committed acts of unspeakable evil in that beautiful garden, and then they just left her to die. When Dr. Patrice drew back the sheet, I saw Grace. I was looking at her ebony skin bleeding from her abuse. I smelled the village and heard the crying. I felt the fear and the revulsion when I saw what they had done to her. Oh, God! I didn’t help her! She was right there in front of me and there was nothing I could do for her!”

Naomi slumped forward and Elinore stood to gather her friend into an embrace. “Sh…sh…sh,” She whispered in an attempt to calm the other woman’s sobs. “I’m sorry that your sister died the way she did, but what happened to her was not your fault. You were in grave danger as well. What happened was not your fault! It was Alicin in front of you in that room and you did help her. And you will help her again. It’s what you do. And you’re very good at it. Your work as a nurse is Grace’s legacy, Naomi.” The other woman was inconsolable. “Go ahead and cry it out.” She hugged Naomi tighter, smoothing her hair with one hand, as a sympathetic tear spilled onto her own cheek and raced to her chin. “I had no idea you were carrying all this around inside.”

=====

End Part 5

TBC

Feedback sought after

Timeline – This prequel to Season One takes place about one year before Jarod’s escape and includes flashbacks to the children’s’ past.



Summary: Sydney and Dr. Patrice sip cognac, commiserate, and reminisce. Meanwhile, Alicin has a visitor.





Alicin Wonderland by Lizz Part 6 Cognac


Dr. Patrice was reaching for her phone to make a call when she heard a soft knocking at the door. “Come,” she called out. The door swung inward to reveal Sydney standing in the doorway. He stepped into the light oak-paneled office and quietly closed the door behind him.



“I understand this establishment serves a fine cognac,” he smiled.



“Indeed it does. I’ll even seat you at the owner’s table.” Dr. Patrice directed Sydney to the sitting area between her desk and the door. He lowered himself into one of the two maroon faux-suede loveseats that flanked a tiny gas-log fireplace along one wall. Between the two sat an elaborately embroidered ottoman. Beside one stood an antique reading lamp with a frosted glass shade. “Put your feet up, Syd, you look tired. I’ll fetch the drinks.”



Sydney took in the room as he waited. It was long and narrow with deep-pile carpeting a few shades lighter than the furniture. Dr. Patrice’s glass-topped desk stretched across the end wall and was enclosed on three sides by well-stocked bookshelves. Several large, framed lithographs graced the walls, all by the same artist, who was named A. Patrice. Each had its own accent light mounted directly above the frame. Indirect lighting circled the room and cast shadows of the furnishings on the walls and floor. His surroundings put him at ease immediately.



“Your drink, sir.”



“Thank you, Patrice.” Sydney accepted the snifter and swirled the cognac it held. “You’ve managed to create a comfortable retreat in these rooms of yours, but I’m curious. How did you manage to acquire a fireplace?”



She sank into the seat opposite him and propped her feet next to his on the ottoman. “Would you believe it happened by accident?” Sydney’s expression told her that he did not. “These rooms used to be a chem lab complete with running water, exhaust hoods and Bunsen burners. When maintenance was converting all this to office space they had to cap the lines. One of the men asked if I could think of a use for the fuel before they closed the wall. That’s when I thought of the fireplace. I don’t think you’ll find a work order for it, though.” She winked at him with a small smile. She apologized as she stifled a yawn and asked, “Is this day ever going to end? I’m down to my last two red corpuscles!”



Sydney chuckled and sipped the rich amber liquid in his snifter. “Feel like talking about it?”



“I’m not sure I’ve processed it all yet.” She let out a deep sigh and didn’t speak for a moment. “When she no longer needs my care, Alicin is going to need yours, Syd. Probably for a long time. Certainly more than the seven days Raines gave you or at least what’s left of them when she’s finally well enough to talk about what happened. The question is, will you get the chance? Syd, in all my years of trauma practice here I’ve never seen anything like this.” She stood and walked to her desk, and returned with a medical chart. Without a word, she handed it to Sydney, who opened it.



He was looking at the chart illustrating Alicin’s injuries and the accompanying written description. His eyes narrowed as he studied the red and blue marks on the body outlines. Expressions of shock, pity and then anger flashed across his face. He was at a loss for comment.



She continued. “Four other members of Raines’ team have been here in the last three months, all with the same strain of what’s probably some version of the flu, all exhibiting signs of physical and mental exhaustion. I thought Alicin was number five for our unit, then this,” she gestured toward the file Sydney was holding; “this was deliberate and brutal and meant to intimidate. “Syd,” Patrice leaned toward him,” I want whoever did this. There is no power high enough, no bank account big enough, no hole deep enough to protect him from me.” There was something in her voice that frightened him, but the look in her eyes was utterly chilling.



“We,” he corrected.



“I beg your pardon? Oui?”



“I meant ‘we’ as in ‘us’, you and I, Patrice. It is so like you to champion the defenseless, but you must not go after Raines alone. He’s far too dangerous! Be warned, if you’re looking for justice, you’ll bide your time and formulate a plan before you act.”



“Well, aren’t you the voice of reason, as always.”



“What is that supposed to mean?”



“I’m sorry, Syd, it’s the fatigue talking. It was meant to be a joke.” Patrice sighed and rubbed her eyes. “But you have to admit it; you were the serious one in med school.”



“I suppose I was. Jacob had enough of a social life for the both of us! And you are trying to change the subject. I’m serious about the danger here. You’ve made this personal and that’s an added risk. ”



“The assault was personal, Syd!” She hesitated to speak the next piece of information, namely that this was her patient’s first sexual experience. When she finally found the words, Sydney’s jaw tightened visibly. He dropped the folder on the ottoman and slumped back in his seat. “It has all the earmarks of an ongoing pattern of abuse by the same person,” she continued. “The x-rays will bear me out on that, as will the photographic record. DNA recovery will give me the swine that did this. When I hand him over to the law, his fate will be sealed and he’ll be grateful I’m not the one trying him.”



“Patrice, you need to proceed with caution. I don’t want to see you ruined because you let your feelings get in the way of reason. I am willing to help you—and Alicin—but not at the cost of your safety! Please promise to include me in this. I implore you as a friend and colleague, but for the most part as a friend. ”



“How about this: I won’t make a move without discussing it with you first?”



“It’s a start. “ He sighed as if he had something to add but fell silent instead. For several moments, they sat in the light of the softly hissing fireplace and said nothing.



Patrice spoke at last. “Suppose we visit our patient before quitting time?”



“Fine,” came the reply and the old friends left the office in an uneasy silence.



=====



The overhead lights were bright. They were always bright, giving the impression of perpetual noon on the equator. The constant illumination kept the Centre’s subjects alert and on task with no anticipation of rest or eating governed by changing light levels.



Elinore slowed the wheelchair with its passenger to a stop in front of the duty desk. ”Any room at the inn?”



Naomi pointed to Broots and Earl at the end of the hall, waiting for the elevator. “You’re in luck. The decorators just finished.” That said, she crossed the hall and held open the door to Dr. Patrice’s sitting room.



A bed and the accoutrements of a hospital room were positioned just inside the door. In the middle of the room, opposite the door to her office was the entrance to Dr. Patrice’s private washroom, which included a shower. Not many feet further, the far end of the room was covered with pale gold drapes. In front of them sat a chaise lounge and an overstuffed armchair on either side of a low chest of drawers. Alicin’s gaze was held briefly by the stained glass shade that topped the lamp on the chest. Jewel-colored hummingbirds hovered above flowers of brilliant red and deep pink, all on a background of green leaves and scraps of blue sky. The entire room would have been under the watchful eye of the video camera mounted by the door, but was not quite ready because of a missing cable.



“Let’s get you into bed.” Elinore set the brakes on the wheelchair and the two nurses helped their sedated patient onto edge of the bed. Once tucked in, she settled into the covers and rolled onto her side to face the lamp. Its beauty and depth of color touched her soul and made her eyes fill with tears.



“We’ll check back in a little while. We’re just across the hall.” Naomi nodded at Elinore and the two nurses left the room, leaving the wheelchair behind.



=====



At the sound of the name ‘Alicin’, the figure in the air vent drew in a short breath. He reached out with his mind, trying to sense an emotional signature from the person in the bed. His senses were heightened as he stared at the object of his curiosity.



He thought the nurses would never leave. They were nice, but they were in the way. When he was certain the young woman in the bed was asleep, he dared a closer look. Knowing the video feed was not yet online, he dropped into the room quietly and approached the bed.



No hair, he thought, just like the babies. The stubble was spiky against his hand as he took a risk and touched her scalp. A great wave of anguish washed over him, nearly causing him to cry out. Withdrawing the hand, he pulled the wheelchair to the side of the bed to sit and study the pale face that lay on the pillow. The answers he sought after stood just at the edge of his memory. Taking a deep breath, Angelo placed his hand over hers and prepared for the onslaught of emotion that was sure to come.



The images fought for attention in his mind’s eye. In rapid succession he saw men in black suits, a boy’s smiling face, a kind woman in blue, a black and white floor covered with long locks of hair. Accompanying the images were Alicin’s strong feelings. He sensed fear, respect, torment, regret, physical pain and the sorrow of loss. There was something else, though. He discerned friendship, deep and intimate. It was a friendship that held laughter, companionship, admiration…and wonder.



The encounter left him weak. He wept. Angelo discerned a connection with this ‘Alicin’. Not a new connection, either. She was from his past. But what part? A good part? It seemed so the more he pondered it. And this face? He could not place her in any scene from his past. Reluctantly, he stood to leave, already planning his next visit. Not really knowing why, he leant over the pillow and placed a gentle kiss on Alicin’s forehead. The fragrance of her skin stirred something familiar on the outer edge of his memory, just out of reach. He disappeared into the air vent as footsteps approached from the hall.



Alicin slipped a hand from under the covers and placed her fingers over the tingling place on her forehead. With a deep, contented sigh she burrowed further into the warmth of her bed and smiled. “Timmy…” she murmured as she sank into to the arms of sleep once more.



End Part 6

TBC

Feedback?

Timeline – This prequel to Season One takes place about one year before Jarod’s escape and includes flashbacks to the children’s’ past.



Summary: Dr. Patrice introduces herself to Alicin. Alicin doesn’t trust Sydney. Angelo witnesses a startling display of emotion and receives a shocking revelation.





Alicin Wonderland



By Lizz



Part 7: Visiting Hours



1996—Day 1



Alicin’s Room



Evening



Alicin sat up with a start when Dr. Patrice entered the room. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to alarm you. My name is Dr. Patrice. I’ve been taking care of you. How are you feeling?”



“Like I’ve been drugged and thrown down an elevator shaft, not necessarily in that order,” came the flat reply.



“You’ve had a rough couple of days, judging from your injuries. I’ve ordered something for the pain. Let the nurses know when you need it. Would you like something now?” The doctor walked to the meds cabinet and started to unlock it.



“No.” Alicin feigned interest in the blanket binding and did not look at the doctor when she replied. Her eyes grew wide and her heart started to pound when Dr. Patrice produced a syringe and a vial of clear liquid from the cabinet. She scrabbled to the headboard of the bed and crouched as if ready to break for the door. “What is that for?” she croaked. Fear was apparent in her voice.



“It’s an antibiotic. Some of your injuries were infected.” The young woman was not persuaded. “Here, see for yourself,” she said and held out the small bottle for Alicin’s inspection.



“Strong medicine, considering I don’t feel any stinging anywhere. So why?”



“Most of your injuries were cuts and scrapes, some of them showing early signs of infection. But you have two wounds on your left shoulder that are definitely bite marks and definitely of human origin. By comparison, an animal bite is much less dangerous in terms of infection. So you get broad spectrum until I’m satisfied that nothing took root, so to speak. How about you give me your hand and I’ll inject directly into the IV?” The patient proffered her hand. As the doctor slowly administered the medication, she thought of the other reason for it, namely the prevention of any STD the attacker may have passed on.



Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dr. Patrice continued to talk to her patient. “Alicin, do you remember what happened to you? Any part of it? Who did this to you?”



Alicin shook her head and said nothing.



“There’s no one here to be afraid of, Alicin. We want to help you get well and part of getting well is talking about what happened.” The doctor paused, waiting for a reply. “Alicin?”



No response.



“Perhaps later, then,” the doctor concluded.



‘Not likely,’ she thought.



Just then the door swung open and Alicin jumped again as Sydney stepped into the room. She leaned close to her doctor and hissed, “Why is he here? Mr. Raines took me to him. He works for him. I don’t want him here. Make him leave!”



Dr. Patrice answered in a soft voice, “Sydney doesn’t work for Mr. Raines. He’s works in the Simulation Labs. Your group provides research for them, doesn’t it?”



The young woman nodded. So he works with Pretenders, Alicin thought. She grew up with pretenders, a fact she shared with no one. She worked with a pretender, in point of fact. His ability deemed not strong enough to warrant full-time assignment as a pretender, Eddie was found to be a first-rate researcher and was assigned to Alicin’s panel. They had become friends even before that, although she couldn’t remember when. The doctor’s voice recalled her attention. “Then you also know that project protocols require separation of the two entities to avoid bias.”



Sydney stepped to the foot of the bed to address Alicin. “I hope you will not find me guilty by reason of association with Mr. Raines. In my job, it is difficult to avoid crossing paths with him. We rarely see eye to eye on matters we discuss. That is most often due to our very different philosophies of science.”



Alicin studied him for a moment. “You don’t like him either, do you, Doctor?” She said at last with a wry smile.



“My opinion of Mr. Raines is not relevant to my work.”



“Well, it’s relevant to mine!” she shot back and then quickly reined in her emotions. He may not have raised his hand to her personally, but Raines surely had permitted everything that had happened to her in the last six months. And now the very man Raines had handed her over to was asking for her trust! What caliber of idiot did this man take her for? Hot tears rose to her eyes, but were held in check by the sheer force of her will. She summoned enough sarcasm to spit out, “Why don’t you just find what’s wrong with me and fix it, Doctor, and send me back!” Sydney was taking it all in with a practiced eye.



Dr. Patrice spoke to Alicin. “I should leave the two of you alone to work this out…”



“NO! I want him out of here. NOW!”



The two doctors exchanged looks of surprise and frustration, and then Sydney crossed to the door. He turned and said, “I understand your hesitation, Alicin. But I give you my word, I want to help you in any way you will permit. Should you change your mind, please let Dr. Patrice know.” And with that, he was gone.



“You were pretty hard on the old guy, don’t you think?” The doctor started with amusement in her voice.



“Oh, shut up!”



“Alicin!”



“Go To Hell! And take the old guy with you!”



“Alicin, please, just-”



“Get Out!” The doctor stood motionless in shock. “I Said Get Out! GET OUT!” An enraged Alicin was standing on the mattress, stabbing a finger at the door as she screamed. As Dr. Patrice moved toward the door, she was hit in the back by a pillow, and then another, and another. She turned to chide her patient just in time to dodge a plastic water pitcher that splashed its contents on the wall behind her. The doctor beat a hasty retreat to the hall.



In the hallway, Patrice leaned against the wall next to Sydney and exhaled sharply. “That went well, I thought,” Sydney said quite seriously, casting a sidelong glance at his friend. She punched him in the arm—hard—and walked into her office without a word.



Shouts and the sound of wood and plastic bouncing off walls could be heard in the hall. Sydney rubbed his arm and looked at Joanna and her staff standing around the duty desk, trying their best to look as if nothing out of the ordinary were happening. They stood frozen like four rabbits on predator alert. He smiled, walking over to them. “I’m not certain which room is the more dangerous now,” he stated with an air of mild amusement. “Give her some time,” he said nodding in the direction of Alicin’s door, “to get the anger out. When the tantrum slows down, make sure she hasn’t hurt herself. In the meantime, you could look in on your boss…?”



Four sets of hands rose to decline the offer, accompanied by four heads vigorously agreeing with the hands. Then four sets of eyes watched Sydney walk into the den of the lioness.



=====



Patrice was standing at the door that joined her office to Alicin’s room, listening to the angry screams turn into frustrated shouts and then into weary sobbing. The doctor’s eyes were moist. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. “This is the hardest part of the job, Syd, just waiting.”



“It requires more discipline than anything else we do. Come, have a seat and let the ‘old guy’ fix you a drink. I happen to know where the mistress hides her liquor.” His voice was smooth and inviting. Patrice followed him to the fireplace and sat while her old friend lit the small fire and crossed to the antique walnut cabinet to pour them each a brandy. Returning, he handed her the drink and seated himself across from her. They drained the snifters slowly, looking at each other now and then but never uttering a word.



=====



Angelo pressed his hands to his ears and was near panic as he felt Alicin’s anger erupt into a destructive fit of temper. He hugged himself and rocked as her anguish unfolded in front of his teary eyes. It caused him physical pain to see and feel such turmoil, yet he could not will himself to leave her. He would stay hidden and wait. And then he would decide what to do next.



=====



Joanna ventured into her patient’s room once the racket had stopped and all she could hear were the last of the young woman’s frustrated shouts as she gave herself over to long, heart-rending sobs. Alicin was curled into a corner of the chaise lounge, rocking herself gently with her body turned to the colorful glass lampshade. The IV port was still taped to the back of her hand although the bag of glucose solution and the line that connected her to it lay on the floor across the room. Joanna assessed her patient to be uninjured and covered her with a blanket from the bed. Without a word, the PA sat at the very foot of the chaise and studied the figure before her. Woman, child, vulnerable, aggressive, fearful, volatile, hostile, needy, unapproachable, likeable, smart. What a bale of contradictions! ‘We can’t help you until you let us, she thought.



“I wish I knew what to say that would prove to you how much I—all of us—want to help you,” she softly pled aloud, “to get you away from Raines. The man’s overdue for payback. What he let happen to you is criminal. Word on the grapevine is he’s not going to walk away from this one. And neither is the man that attacked you.”



“Men.”



“What?”



“Men…suits …two of them,” she said faintly. Alicin fixed her gaze on the stained glass lampshade. Her voice was hollow.



The PA was distressed by the words and sat quietly for at least ten more minutes, waiting—hoping—that she would get more information, only to find that Alicin had finally fallen asleep. She turned the knob on the lamp that switched power to the faint nightlight in its base and quietly exited the room.



=====



He dropped into her room on cat feet and turned the knob on the lamp until it ‘snicked’ off and the room was pitched into darkness. The only light now was a slice of ‘noon on the equator’ that spilled under the door from the hall. He made sure that the door to the doctor’s office was locked before he approached the sleeping figure on the chaise.



Angelo needed to see her memories again and he knew the chance he was taking should she awaken. There was no sedative to keep her asleep this time, but he felt compelled to be here, to do this despite her earlier display. Cautiously, he grasped the edge of her blanket, concentrating on the friend emotions he had felt. He searched, attempting to encounter the smiling face she remembered. He dared to lay a hand on her back and was rewarded with a few scraps of the remembered warmth. Focusing on that warmth, Angelo sank deeper into awareness and felt himself being swept along on a wave of emotion that was quite pleasant. He recognized the woman in blue swinging a much younger version of Alicin in her arms. Her fatigue is allowing this, he thought. This is a good thing. More warm. Friend feelings. Laughing now. Children laughing. Where are they? Air tunnels. Eddie. Jarod. Miss Parker. Alicin. Alicin. Alicin. Someone else. The smiling boy! Alicin. The smiling boy. Alicin and the smiling bo-” As if by force, Angelo was thrown onto his back on the carpet!



He sat up, eyes wide, trying to understand what Alicin had just revealed to him. He crawled to the edge of the chaise, shock in his eyes. The ambient light in the room revealed her profile, her upturned nose and long eyelashes and pouty albeit chapped lips. “Alicin?” he whispered, not aware that he was speaking out loud. “Alicin long time ago. Knew Eddie. Knew Miss Parker. Knew Jarod, too. Smiling boy is…is…Timmy!” He held his head, trying to draw out his own memory of those days. Those days before Raines had decided to tamper with the natural order. The days before the little chair. The days before Angelo. The days of Timmy. Of Timmy and Alicin and the others. The memories were there, ready to dawn on his awareness. He needed help to get them out. Later. Right now he wanted to share in the friend feeling, in a time when he was Timmy instead of Raines’ freak.



He settled himself at the foot of the chaise, his head, shoulders and arms resting on the cushion, memories drifting back like a mist while he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept. He hadn’t meant to, but in the warm glow of what he had just experienced, Angelo drifted into deep, peaceful sleep. Hours later he wasn’t even aware that the door had opened and someone had quietly stepped inside.



End Part 7
TBC

Feedback is always welcome.

You know where to find me!

Alicin Wonderland Part 8

By Lizz

Dream A Little Dream Of Me



Joanna was certain that she had left the nightlight on before leaving the room earlier. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she could hear rhythmic breathing across the room. She approached the chaise and stopped in her tracks halfway to her goal. She gasped. And then she strained forward to find she was looking at--. She let out a single quiet laugh, ‘This can’t be!’ she thought with a bent smile. She chuckled as she stood over Angelo’s sleeping form. For the next few minutes Joanna simply watched him. Legs bent to one side, his head resting on the cushion and surrounded by his arms, Angelo looked as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of a ballet lesson. Joanna giggled in spite of herself. She did not touch him, but bent close to his ear and softly whispered his name. He took in a deep breath and let it out with a smile, yet did not waken.



Joanna had first met Angelo a few years ago while she was head nurse in Maternity. He seemed drawn to the infants and had a weird and wonderful ability to calm the fussy ones. “Bawlies” he had called them. The department director found no harm in his presence, quite the contrary. After consulting with the chairman, the director had ordered Mr. Raines to allow Angelo’s visits. The nursing staff truly enjoyed having him around. His innocence was refreshing and by his very nature he was unintentionally funny at times.



“Well,” she calmly reflected, looking at Alicin cradled in the arms of the chaise with her visitor mere inches away, “Nice work, Security.”



Joanna didn’t want to wake him, yet knew she shouldn’t let him stay. As lightly as possible she laid her hand on his forearm and shook it gently.



Angelo stirred slightly, then jerked awake. He drew away from the hand on his arm, wide-eyed and panic-stricken.



“It’s Joanna, Angelo, Joanna!” she assured him in a hoarse whisper, “Remember the bawlies? I was the bawlies’ nurse, remember?”



He stilled himself and stared at her for a moment without blinking. A crooked smile spread across his face followed by the light of recognition. “Joanna helped the bawlies,” he whispered back, glancing across the upholstery at the figure asleep at the other end of the chaise.



“You do remember me!” she whispered, smiling and clasping her hands over her heart. “I’ve missed you since I came to Dr. Patrice. Do you still visit the babies?”



Angelo answered with a smile and a nod of his head.



“I know someone who would be very happy to see you again.” Joanna was aware that she had to tell her boss about him.



Angelo tipped his head to one side, “Who?”



“Dr. Patrice. She misses you. It’s no fun only seeing you when you’re sick. She’s right next-door. Would you like to see her?”



Another smile. Another nod.



Joanna crossed to the door, rapped on it quietly, and entered the doctor’s office when invited to do so. When Patrice had excused herself from her conversation with Sydney, she joined Joanna at the door. “Dr. Patrice, I think you want to see this,” she said softly and then opened the door fully to afford her superior a view of Angelo seated at the foot of the chaise, staring intently at Alicin.



Without another word to Sydney, Patrice motioned her assistant into the next room and followed close behind, shutting the door behind them. To Joanna she said, “This stays between us.” Then she crossed the room to where Angelo was kneeling. “Angelo!” The doctor smiled affectionately and spoke in a soft voice to match. “It’s so good to see you! I thought maybe you’d forgotten all about me. What are you doing here? Do you know her?”



“Maybe. Think so. Not sure.” He spoke slowly and deliberately and kept his gaze on Alicin while he answered. “She smells nice. Like the melted soap.”



The melted soap? Dr. Patrice and Joanna exchanged puzzled looks, trying without success to make a connection. “Where was the melted soap?” Joanna finally asked.



Angelo shrugged glumly. “Not sure.”



Just then Alicin stirred. The threesome at the foot of the chaise became very still and quiet as their conversation stirred the young woman’s dreams…

=====



“You guys are gonna love this,” the tour guide announced as three other youngsters crowded around to peer through the air vent at a large tiled room.



“Timmy, what is this place?” the pigtailed five-year-old asked. Pale blue squares covered the ceiling, walls and floor and she could hear water dripping somewhere inside.



“Smells like chlorine,” Jarod commented, wrinkling his nose.



“How’d ya find it, Timmy?” Eddie whispered.



“C’mon in. I’ll tell ya all about it.”



“I don’t think we should be here, Timmy,” Pigtails put in.



“We shouldn’t,” the older boy beamed and quickly assured her that no one would miss them during the extended sleep period he had chosen for their sortie.



One at a time the children dropped onto the floor, their slippered feet causing a delightful echo off the tiled surfaces. Pigtails held on to Timmy and repeatedly tapped the hard rubber sole of one slipper against the floor tiles, smiling at the echoing resonance each time. The guide pointed over their shoulders and the children turned around to face a huge rectangular body of water that filled most of the room!



Pigtails let out a little cry of alarm that bounced around the room before finally fading to silence. She bumped into Timmy as she turned to run for the vent. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her middle while she continued to struggle. “Whoa, Alicin! It’s okay, honest! You can stay here with me if you’re afraid.” She squirmed frantically for a few moments more and then started to relax in the older boy’s grasp.



Jarod and Eddie were cautiously reconnoitering the swimming pool. Jarod, tallest and oldest of the group, was flat on his stomach at the edge, his arm immersed to the shoulder as he tested the depth. “What’s it do?” Eddie queried.



“It doesn’t do anything.” Timmy stated. “People stand in it and slosh around in it and jump into it from that thing.” Timmy paused as his friends’ eyes followed in the direction he was pointing and saw the diving board. “I’ve seen some of ‘em go in head first!”



Cries of “Nuh-uh!” filled the room.



“Yuh-huh!” Timmy defended.



“Anybody we know?” came the challenge from Jarod.



“How about Sydney?” Timmy shot back. Jarod narrowed his eyes in doubt as the tour guide continued his recitation. “Sydney bounced on that board and while he was up in the air he touched his toes and then--PLOOSH!” He mimed the resulting splash with his arms. “Headfirst into the water.”



Jarod was about to interrogate Timmy further, but never got the chance.



“Why would he do that?” Alicin argued. “You’d get your clothes all wet if ya did that!”



“He wasn’t wearing his clothes,” Timmy explained.



Silence reigned while the mental portrait of Sydney, au naturale, knifing headfirst into the water formed in their young minds. Snickers and giggles quickly escalated into guffaws and fall-on-the-floor belly laughs. Timmy shook his head in mock disapproval and declared, “This is the last time I take you guys on a field trip!” Then he sat down next to his friends on the cold tile floor and laughed as hard as they did.



When everyone had recovered as much as they were going to, Timmy explained about swimsuits, triggering another round of laughter after a comment about Dr. Raines. And then he gathered them for one more surprise.



The three tourists entered a larger white-tiled room in awe. Alicin immediately made a little tap on the floor with her foot. Pleased with the extended echo that the new room afforded, she began to run in place, stamping her little feet as fast as she could make them go. Pigtails flew, arms pumped, her little fists were clenched.



“ALICIN!” the boys protested in unison.



“Wha-at?” she sing-songed, the picture of innocence once she stopped moving.



“Don’t do that!”



“Why-y?” she whined.



“Because it’s annoying, that’s why!” Eddie yelled out. “Geeze, I think I’m gettin‘ deaf,” he added, wiggling a finger in his ear for effect.



“I’m sorry, Eddie! I didn’t mean to get ya deaf!” Her worried eyes were swimming in tears.



“He’s okay.” Timmy hurried to explain. “He’s just tryin’ to scare ya.”



“Eddie’s okay?” She sniffled. Timmy didn’t think he could look at those eyes and keep a straight face much longer, even though he thought it was a mean trick to play on a little kid.



“Eddie?” She walked over to the taller boy shyly. “Are ya really okay?”



Eddie nodded, sorry now that he’d made her feel bad. That’s when she cocked her knee and kicked him in the shin so hard that he grabbed his lower leg and hopped around on the leg that didn’t hurt.



Jarod and Timmy were doubled over with laughter while Alicin stood with arms folded over her chest, a triumphant smile on her face.

=====



The three visitors stopped their conversation once again as Alicin stirred in her sleep, moving her legs and making a throaty noise that almost sounded like a chuckle. Angelo reached out and covered her feet with the blanket once she had settled and the dream continued…



=====



Eddie recovered and picked up a plastic bottle that had a pointed lid with a hole in the end to dispense the contents, liquid skin cleanser in this case. It was one of several sitting on the floor at various intervals around the white room. He squeezed it slightly, watching the contents rise into the nozzle. Then he looked across the room at that little pipsqueak Alicin and the two rats that were laughing at him.



He calmly approached the three and waited until he was within an arm’s reach to let fly with a stream of cold milky-white cream. Alicin squealed, the rats shouted, and all three scrambled across the floor in search of their own bottles to return fire. The next fifteen minutes were spent chasing each other and emptying most of the bottles in the room.



“Okay, okay, okay,” Jarod panted as he leaned against a wall. “Enough, enough, enough.” He bent over and continued to gasp for air. Just then Timmy approached and turned the white porcelain knob that had been beside Jarod’s head. Jarod let out a yelp of surprise as ice-cold water soaked his back. Within minutes, water was flowing freely from every showerhead and swirling into the drain at the center of the room. The children danced around in it, screeching and laughing until they could barely stand. Suddenly, the lights dimmed.



“Time to go!” Timmy shouted. “The lights do that every day at the same time, about two hours before they wake us up.”



‘How does he track time?’ Jarod wondered to himself.



“You really had this thing figured out!” Eddie was impressed.



“Everything but the soap fight,” Timmy snickered, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder.



When they had turned the water off and wrung out their pajamas as best they could, Timmy showed them the wall-mounted hot-air driers. They were positioned at just the right height for Alicin to take an “air shower.” Older and taller, the boys did the best they could. When they were all reasonably dry, tourists and guide helped each other back into the air vent and headed for their cells.



Timmy always guided Alicin back to her cell. She was too young to be in the ducts by herself; nevertheless she enjoyed the excitement and didn’t seem to fear what would happen if they ever got caught. “Thanks, Timmy,” she chirped. After she gave him a quick hug, Alicin popped out of the air vent and landed with a soft thump in the middle of her bed. Within minutes of burrowing under the covers, she was asleep…

=====



Angelo seemed to embrace Alicin with his gaze, Joanna noticed. Neither did the tenderness with which he tucked the covers around the young woman go unobserved. She wondered what memories he held, and if he experienced them the way other people did when he called them into awareness. She also wondered how Alicin fit into his unusual life so significantly that he would risk discovery to be with her.



“Angelo?” Dr. Patrice intoned, leaning forward to make eye contact with him. “I can see that Alicin is special to you. You’re welcome to stay with her for a while. We’ll need to check on her a few times but, other than that, you won’t be disturbed. Would you like to stay?”



Angelo could scarcely believe what he was hearing. “Yes! Angelo stays …with Alicin! Yes!” To Dr. Patrice’s surprise, the young man stood and placed his arms around her. As she returned the embrace, he pressed his face against her shoulder and uttered a muffled, “Thank you,” before pulling away.



Joanna held an index finger to her smiling lips, signaling Angelo to keep his voice quiet. “I’ll let you know when it’s my last visit before I go off duty. That’s in about four hours.”



Before withdrawing to the adjoining office, doctor and assistant turned to see Angelo kneeling at the foot of the chaise, arms folded on the cushion, chin on hands, watching Alicin, reminiscent of a guardian angel.

=====



“You’ve met Joanna, Sydney?” Patrice asked by way of introduction as the two women approached the sitting area.



“Yes,” the Belgian doctor replied, rising. “Good to see you again, Ms. deBeer,” he addressed her with a smile. “Will you be joining us?” His gaze shifted to Patrice, as did Joanna’s”



“If you would,” Patrice responded and directed her assistant to take a seat opposite Sydney. The doctor seated herself next to her friend and for the next half hour the two physicians listened intently to Joanna’s description and impressions of what had just transpired in the room next door.



“I don’t know what the connection is here, but I believe Angelo knows Alicin. True, he doesn’t seem sure of himself, but there’s something in the way he’s studying her that makes me think that he’s trying to retrieve memories that are just out of reach. I mean… he sniffed her.”



“I beg your pardon?” Sydney interjected with a slight chuckle and a tilt of his head.



“It’s as if he’s using all of his senses to take in as much information about her as he can. He touched her feet when he covered them. Then he straightened the blanket around her shoulders. That’s when he sniffed her hair. He closed his eyes and he just…well…inhaled…slowly. Then he ran his hand over her scalp very gently and finally drew his fingers across her face. It was like…” Joanna was searching for the right word and was hesitant to use it when it finally came to mind. “A caress,” she finished. “He barely looked at us while we were talking to him just now; his eyes were on her. I believe he has memories of her. “



“Interesting theory,” the psychiatrist observed, though he thought her assumption of higher cognitive and sensory skills was a bit of a stretch. “Any other impressions?”



“I first encountered Angelo when I was assigned to Maternity. He had quite a way with the restless and colicky infants. He calmed children no one else could comfort. I have a very strong sense that he and Alicin know each other. Perhaps they met as children. But whatever the connection—or even if there were no connection—I believe Angelo’s presence will be good for Alicin. He’s drawn to her and is attentive to her in the same manner I saw with the infants. But it’s more than that. I’m sorry I can’t put a finer point on it for you, Doctor. I just believe that he is good for her. And God knows she could use someone like that right now. ”



“Your assumption of Angelo’s capacity for—“



“I’m sorry to interrupt, Sydney,” Patrice cut in, remembering Angelo’s parting embrace. “But I agree with Joanna’s assessment of this situation. “There’s a relationship here and much we have yet to discover about those two. I’m inclined to permit the contact. Mr. Broots will have video surveillance in place tomorrow. Earl is overseeing that part of it. Security can monitor them from the desk. Sam informs me that he has three others with him now on 24/7 shifts at her door. A visible reminder that she’s being guarded, so to speak. Which reminds me, I think it’s odd that Raines hasn’t contacted us yet. You’d think someone put the fear of God in him or something,” she concluded with an ironic smile.



“Or something,” Sydney replied plainly.



“If I’m no longer needed here, Doctors, I really should return to do rounds.” Joanna stated.



“Go,” Patrice assented. “And thank you for your insights. You’ve been quite helpful.” Then, with a little smile, she added, “Tell Angelo I said ‘Hi’.” Joanna returned the smile and exited to the hall.



“What is it, Syd? I’ve seen that look on your face before and it cost our study group a good night’s sleep on more than one occasion!”



“What look?”



“Oh, don’t shovel it, Syd. You’re not buying Joanna’s assessment of the Alicin-Angelo connection.”



“Knowing Angelo’s history, you’ll forgive me if I have some doubts about the abilities your assistant attributes to him. He’s as much a mystery to medical science as to psychiatric studies. I seriously doubt his capacity to retain a long-term relationship of any kind. His empathic abilities may make him appear to have contiguous memories surrounding a person or event, but to say that it constitutes true memory is quite a leap of faith, not science.”



“You used to be a man of faith, Syd. What’s so hard about this?” Patrice was smiling, fighting the urge to offer him a shovel to clean up his own theory.



“Not hard, from where I stand. I’m just not so eager to accept what you both seem to believe is the reality of the situation. I simply do not agree with your assumptions or conclusions.” Sydney was not smiling.



“Do you think Angelo is a threat to Alicin?”



“We don’t know that.”



“Would he hurt her?” She pressed.



“We can’t say that with certainty, no.”



“Has he ever shown aggression or harmed anyone in the past?” Her frustration was growing.



“Not to my knowledge.”



“Just what do you know about his behavior, or his inner life for that matter?” She was trying to keep her voice calm.



Sydney was beginning to feel as if he were under attack. “We know—“



“You, Syd! What do you know about his inner life that makes you so sure he doesn’t have a meaningful one?” She wasn’t trying to hide her impatience with him any longer. She left his side and took a seat across from him once more. “It’s obvious that Angelo doesn’t use his brain the way the rest of us do, but I suspect he’s more sentient than he gets credit for.”



“Based on what? Intuition?”



“Try anecdotal data, Syd. Objective analysis is necessary, foundational if you will. But you can’t discount a subjective approach to the interactions he has in a natural setting. Or as natural as it can get and still be the Centre. Despite his treatment by Raines, Angelo still seeks out human contact. Why do you suppose he spends time with screaming infants? With his sensitivities, that young man should be running in the opposite direction. But instead he scoops them up and moments later they’re cooing in his arms. He’s no stranger to this place, either. This winter I admitted him for bronchitis. After he left, patients were asking for him, wanting to see him, especially the younger ones. Why is that, Syd? If he has nothing to offer, other than what his empathic abilities can gain for the Centre, then why are my patients drawn to him and he to them?” She paused and, hearing no comeback from Sydney, continued.



“And then there’s his interest in Alicin. Syd, look what he risked just by being in that room with her. You of all people can imagine Raines’ reaction to his little expedition. And then he falls asleep next to her! Syd, when I told him he could stay with Alicin, he thanked me. Yes! Before you ask, yes, he said the words. He embraced me and then he said the words. Unlike you, my dear friend, I believe that Angelo has a rich inner life full of thought and emotion, just like the rest of us. Until someone proves otherwise, I’m going to assume that there is a competent mind at work in there.



He knew better than to pick a fight that she had no intention of letting him win. Besides, she had raised a few good points to ponder. Sydney rose to leave, taking steps toward the door. “It would be an amazing revelation, if you were right.”



“I am right, Sydney. Good night.”

=====

End Part 8

Alicin Wonderland

TBC

Alicin Wonderland

By Lizz

Part 9

Reality Check



Her heart was racing and her joints had turned to water. She was pressed into the upright cushion, feet tucked under her, hands white-knuckling the armrests and eyes locked on the sleeping figure at the end of the chaise. Only a moment before, Alicin had awakened suddenly, aware of his presence and fearful of whom he could be and what might happen if she woke him. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room, familiar features began to emerge. Ever so slowly and with great caution, she moved forward onto all fours for a closer look.



Light from the hallway backlit the sleeper’s short, wavy hair, transforming it into a fiery crown of spun copper. It was thick yet soft against her fingers. Her nervous system was bathed in adrenaline and, as a result, the series of synthetic chemical barriers in Alicin’s brain began to dissolve. She moved closer and brushed her cheek against the sleeper’s hair. As she did, the memory of a hug surfaced in her consciousness. It wasn’t just a dream after all.



Sure, it was in her dream, but it really had happened! She remembered now. She remembered how his hair had tickled her face. She remembered how he had hugged her back, his thin arms holding her close. No one else had ever hugged back. Not in this place. They punished you or, worse, ignored you. But not him. Not her Timmy. Alicin’s hand flew to cover her mouth as the meaning of the breakthrough fell in on her.

=====



Raines’ shock treatments and brain-wave manipulation had failed to produce another Pretender of Jarod’s stature, but then Timmy began to show promise as a hyper-empath. The trade off was that he became marginally verbal, having lost all but the most basic of sentence structure and verb construction. Sometimes it was not clear whether he was speaking of the past, the present, or the future. That didn’t seem to matter to the Centre, given that the boy now had a saleable skill that they could market. Raines was in his glory. Timmy’s training with the other children, including Eddie and Alicin, had to end now that the empath had a more profitable use. Raines even gave the boy a new name: Angelo.



From the start, Alicin had refused to call her friend ‘Angelo’. Despite Raines’ insistence to the contrary, she believed that Timmy still existed, driven deep inside himself to seek safety and self-preservation. All that Timmy was, and knew, and felt, still lived on, safely hidden behind a mask that everyone else called ‘Angelo’. She was sure of it because of their exceptional friendship. Three years after that first field trip, she still called him Timmy and would always think of him that way.



They began to spend stolen moments together in their secret place, sometimes causing a diversion to afford them precious time. Alicin discovered that Timmy could understand everything that people said to him. The breakdown came when he tried to respond. Only with great concentration and focus could he utter a simple sentence. But one day, in a fit of frustration, he grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and began to draw what he could not say! From that moment forward, Timmy expressed himself on page after page of purloined paper, some of it hijacked on its way to the shredder or the burn room. Their lives continued that way into their teenage years, though they had no way of knowing how long it had been, only that their friendship and affection for one another had grown stronger with time.



One day, Timmy didn’t come to the secret place at the appointed hour. Nor did he come the next day, or the next. Their contact had been strictly forbidden so that Alicin couldn’t even ask her trainer about him. For days she traveled the air ducts looking for him, waiting in the gathering spaces and his favorite private spots. He was gone, disappeared. She feared that the Centre had sent him away, yet held onto the hope that they had not.



A week later someone came for her. She was moved to The Front, the smaller building between the water and the larger, main structure that housed the Centre, the Tower and the Triumvirate’s US offices. After a series of medical, psychological and written tests, Alicin began her training there in advanced research protocols with a newly hired systems analyst. She neither saw nor heard from Timmy again.



Until now. In the pale light, her eyes sparkled with happy tears. Her heart was dancing. He smelled of caramel and vanilla and she feasted her senses on him. She wanted to scoop him into her arms and cover him with kisses. She wanted to twirl around the room with him and hug him and never let go. Instead, she slipped over the edge of the chaise and sat on the floor just a few feet away, looking at him, memorizing his features, smiling so hard that her face hurt. Alicin hugged herself as tightly as she wanted to hug him. She choked back the cries that rose in her throat as impatient tears dribbled down her cheeks. When the tears were spent, she laid her head next to his on the cushion; trying to will him awake.



Angelo sighed, stirred and awoke to the sight of Alicin’s sleepy green eyes watching him. He blinked a few times and reached over to touch her face. In return, she ran a hand through his hair and brought it to rest on his cheek. Angelo stood and pulled Alicin up with him. They continued to pass their eyes and hands over each other's features as if to make sure the other was real. He could feel her joy, and her intense desire to embrace him was a feeling he welcomed. He took her face in both hands and pressed his forehead against hers. He struggled to summon the words, but finally was able to say them: "I missed you, Alicin."



"Oh, Timmy, I've missed you, too! I've missed you so much!" She began to cry again and gathered him into a tight embrace, trembling with the thrill of discovering him alive and well and so close. Then she kissed him. Oh, how she kissed him! She kissed his face, his ears, his hair, his neck, his shoulders, his hands, the tips of his fingers...



Angelo interrupted Alicin's joyous display of affection by drawing her hands to his lips and placing a soft kiss in each palm. Then he kissed her loudly on the very tip of her nose and they both laughed. Without warning, he embraced her once more, this time lifting her slight body off the floor and waltzing her around the room in time to the music of their laughter. He kept her close as he ended their pas de deux, looking into her eyes for a very long time, searching for any sign of fear or hesitation about what he wanted to do next.



At the same moment, Alicin put a hand on his cheek and drew her thumb lightly across his lips, tilting her head a just little, an invitation to what she hoped he would do soon. Their lips brushed lightly, then touched tentatively and finally met with determination. It was an awkward, sweet kiss from the past; a tender first kiss shared long ago in a place only they had known. It was a kiss that had united their souls and had guarded that new treasure against a day when they might not be together--always possible in this place. But now it was a kiss of celebration, of life, of joy, of hope. Angelo suddenly pulled Alicin’s hand and she tumbled into the chair with him, landing with her legs thrown across his lap. When he drew her close once more, she necklaced him with her arms and met his lips with hers, each whispering the other's name between breathless kisses.

=====



Angelo stood and gathered a sleeping Alicin into his arms. He stepped to the side of the chaise and gently placed her on the soft cushions, lowering the backrest to make her more comfortable. When he slipped in behind her and pulled her close, she immediately turned in his arms to snuggle against his chest. He rested his chin on top of her head, hoping that his pounding heart would not wake her. He felt tired, but not ready for sleep. His eyes slowly started to fill with tears. He was overcome by her feelings for him. He was awed by the depth and power of them. Yet, as he lay in the dark, breathing in the scent of her, he realized that not all of the emotions inside of him came from Alicin. As he finally began to drift into sleep, he understood that some of those feelings had their origins in his own heart.

=====



End Part 9

Alicin Wonderland

TBC

Feedback shamelessly solicited!

Alicin Wonderland

By Lizz

Part 10

Something Wicked This Way Comes





1996

Day One—late evening

Jarod’s Quarters



Jarod heard his door whisper open and looked up from the three-ring binder he was reading in time to see Sydney step into the room. The psychiatrist sat on the edge of the flat futon where Jarod was seated with his legs folded in the lotus position, still absorbed in the notebook in his lap.



“That must be very interesting reading, Jarod,” he mused.



“It is, Sydney! Look at this.” The Pretender put the notebook aside, slid himself close to his trainer and handed the older man a white legal pad filled with writing and mathematic notations. “I’ve reviewed the outcome of one of the three archived simulations you gave me. I used each of the four research documents you provided, and one of them produced a more accurate prediction of outcome than my original work! His work is detailed and he obviously has access to more sources than either of us. I’d really like to meet this person. I believe that his background work could help me improve my outcomes and give the Centre better results for its clients. I’ve already asked Mr. Broots for hard copies of both sets of research, his and mine, to compare. This is the only one, so far.” Jarod lifted the white binder for Sydney to see.



“I know, Jarod. Broots informed me of your request and I authorized the printing. You should have the rest by the end of your next sleep period.”



“Thank you, Sydney. I’ll start reviewing the second simulation. Would it be possible to schedule study periods between or around my work in the lab?” Jarod’s voice held an eagerness that his elder could not refuse.



“I’m certain that can be arranged. Your early findings are intriguing. I’ll be interested in what you find on the others.”



“Have you come to play chess, too?” Jarod asked with a smile.



“I could be persuaded.” Sydney smiled at the sudden shift in topic and stood to arrange two chairs on either side of the small table they always used for their challenges. Jarod was already on his way to retrieve the wooden set from his desk.



Once they had settled in, Sydney made his first move, sat back in his seat and asked, “Of course, you won’t just let me win because I’m your elder, will you, Jarod?”



“Of course not,” came the cheerful reply.



Three games later, Sydney stretched his weary frame and assured Jarod that the young man would have an opportunity to even the score.



After exchanging farewells, Sydney left for his office and, perchance, some sleep. His mind kept returning to his friend and colleague Patrice and her adamant view of Angelo’s abilities. He hadn’t liked disagreeing with her. Their positions regarding the quiet man’s ability to understand and respond to the world around him stood on separate islands in a very wide sea. He hoped she wasn’t setting herself up for disappointment, or worse, professional embarrassment.

=====



Sydney’s Office



Once inside, Sydney showered and pulled on his sweats. He was too tired to read and too wired to sleep. He quickly quaffed a nightcap, and settled into his recliner with a down blanket and a pillow from the bottom of his closet. In fewer than five minutes he was asleep and approaching the first dream of the night…



Jacob was with him, standing outside the barracks while the soldiers counted the prisoners every day. Sometimes they were there for hours in the cold and the rain. There was a commotion to their right as two soldiers appeared dragging a young girl between them. The soldiers presented her to the assemblage as an example of what would happen to those who did not work up to their potential for the Reich. She was dropped onto the mud at their feet. She was covered with bruises, her lip was bleeding and her hair been cut off close to the scalp. The boys clung to one another but could not take their eyes away from her…



Sydney let out a string of whimpers and thrashed about, sat up at one point, and finally lay back on his pillow. Sleep did not return as he stared into the darkness overhead. With a heavy sigh, he sat up, slipped into his socks and running shoes and headed for the cafeteria, hoping for the comforting presence of other human beings.

=====



Later

The Cafeteria



He wasn’t hungry, nor was he thirsty. Taking a plastic tray from the stack, Sydney started slowly through the line, past food and drink that did not interest him the least bit. Finally, he selected a cup of hot water and a packet of what his American colleagues accepted as tea and swiped his photo ID card through the debit machine at the end of the counter. Hesitating a moment, he retrieved a lemon slice before passing through the turnstile. Once seated where he could watch the others in the room, the weary doctor unwrapped the teabag and looked at it for a moment. Then he set it aside and squeezed juice from the lemon slice into the cup instead, inhaling the aroma deeply.



Not very much later, movement at the door caught his eye. Patrice entered, unaware of his presence. Gone were her lab coat and the athletic shoes. In their place she wore dark gray slacks with a matching turtleneck sweater and cordovan loafers. A camelhair coat was draped around her shoulders. Her long hair was equal parts black and silver-gray, pulled into a ponytail, of all things, Sydney noted. The hair was caught up in a curved silver cuff that was high on the back of her head, allowing the hair to swing freely when she moved. The good looks of her college days had matured into classic beauty, Sydney thought absently. He watched as she passed the fare with an interest that rivaled his own and selected an apple. When she finally looked his way, he waved at her to join him. She returned the wave and approached his table.



“Is that the official beverage of Centre insomniacs?” she smiled.



“I beg your pardon?”



“The hot water and lemon.”



“Ahh, yes,” he said with sudden understanding. “I’m sorry; my mind was drifting just now.”



“That’s okay. I feel the same, to tell the truth. I couldn’t sleep, how about you?” she said, sliding into the chair across from him.



He simply shook his head.



“Understandable, considering the last,” she looked at her watch, “eighteen hours.”



“Has it only been that long?” he responded with a wry smile.



“Only?” she said, giving him an exaggerated look of disbelief that melted into another smile.



“I must be on the downside of the theory of relativity,” he smiled weakly.



“Which is?”



“Surely you remember the explanation that was posted outside the Physics lab? “If a man holds his hand on a hot stove, a minute seems like and hour, but if a man sits and talks with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. That’s relativity!”



“And you feel like you’ve been sitting on the stove?”



“Precisely.”



“Then it’s time to hop off, Doctor. Drink up. We’ll go for a walk.” When he hesitated she chided, “Well, come on then! The fresh air will do you good. Doctor’s orders!” Rising from her seat, she grabbed the apple from her tray and took a huge bite, grinning as she chewed.



Sydney wasn’t quite sure what to do. He really didn’t want to go out for a walk, yet he didn’t want to sit under the artificial light of the cafeteria either, despite the presence of other employees. He certainly wasn’t ready to return to his office. Patrice was insistent, though, and soon they were on their way.



“You might want to grab a jacket on the way out,” she suggested.



“You’re serious about going outside?”



“Don’t worry. I told the house mother I’d have you back by curfew.” Her smile was playful and her eyes lit up when she said it. Sydney gave in and collected his jacket and hat from his office. They signed out at the main entrance and stepped into a clear, moonlit night.

=====



Later

The Centre-Outside



“I overheard Broots telling my staff a joke. Would you like to hear it?” Patrice asked as the two friends started down the gravel path to the narrow beach.



“If it’s a good one,” came a reply that bordered on the skeptical.



“Alright, how many sweepers does it take to change a light bulb?”



“How many?”



“None,” she said, turning around to face the building and lowering her voice to a dramatic stage whisper. “The Centre looks better in the dark!”



Sydney chuckled appreciatively as they continued their stroll.

=====



At the same time

The Infirmary



“How about a coffee, Sam?” Naomi offered the chief sweeper her own cup of dark aromatic brew.



“No thanks, Omi. I’m actually an orange pekoe kind of guy.”



“We got that too, mister,” she teased in a noticeably deeper accent. “You wan’ the crème and sugar wi’ that?”



“Just the sugar will be fine, thanks.” He was laughing softly.



Naomi returned with a mug, spoon, and two sugar packets on a small tray. “Your tea, mister sweeper,” she whispered.



“Tanks,” was the man’s accented reply as he took the tray from the nurse. Naomi flashed a smile that made him blush and then returned to her duties. Sam took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. He had talked with Naomi on other occasions, usually involving the delivery of a patient or treatment of an injury, but never while working together as they were now. On one of those occasions she had given him permission to call her Omi, the shortened form of her given name. She wasn’t exactly fussing over him, but he liked her show of interest. Thoughts of what, if anything, he would do about it, however, would have to wait until this assignment was over.



Just then, Earl strode up to the duty station and asked to speak with Sam privately. The two men disappeared into the nearest unoccupied patient room. Several moments later, the men emerged. Sam returned to his post and made a brief call on his cell phone. Earl headed for the freight elevator.



“What’s that all about?” Elinore asked of no one in particular.



“He probably wanted to show Sam his latest Victoria’s Secret catalog,” Joanna answered with a wicked smile.



“This is Earl we’re talking about, Jo.” Elinore raised an eyebrow.



“My mistake. “I meant to say, ‘He probably wanted to show Sam his latest Sears Lawn & Garden catalog.’ ”



“Now that’s our man!” Elinore giggled.



Joanna handed Elinore the duty roster for the coming week. The team members would take their usual morning or afternoon shifts. A different person would be assigned to each overnight shift during the week to monitor Alicin’s recovery. Joanna then started the paperwork that marked the end of her shift for the day. After that, she would wake Angelo and send him on his way.



The muted ping alerted her to the elevator’s arrival, but it was the steady rhythmic squeak of metal on metal that commanded the Joanna’s attention. “Oh, my God! Code in Dr. Patrice now!” she ordered Elinore, who immediately reached for the phone. And to Sam, “Keep him away from that room!” He pulled out his cell phone to alert back up.

=====



At the same time

The Centre—Outside



A muffled chirp interrupted the doctors’ conversation and both reached for their pagers.



“It’s yours,” Sydney stated and returned the device to his jacket pocket.



Patrice read her message and exploded. “Damn! I should have guessed this would happen!”



“What is it?”



“Raines! He’s paying a late-night visit!” Without another word she was running toward the main entrance, her footsteps crunching sharply along the path. Sydney followed, trying in vain to keep up with her.

=====



At the same time

The Infirmary



Joanna approached the visitor, who was flanked by two sweepers she knew as Willie and Jerry. “Good eveni—I guess we should make that ‘good morning’—Mr. Raines, gentlemen.” She hoped her smile was convincing. “Is there something I can help you with?” As she spoke, she automatically checked and adjusted the flow of oxygen from the green tank and straightened a kink in the vinyl tubing that held the cannula in place under Mr. Raines’ nose. He did not object or try to stop her.



“Where is Dr. Patrice? I need to talk to her.” Raines demanded.



“I’m not sure. She said something about stopping at the cafeteria and then going out to her car for something, but she should be returning sometime soon.” Joanna wasn’t exactly lying. “Would you like me to have her call you when she checks in?” Her smile was beginning slip.



“I’ll wait.” Raines declared.



Not what I wanted to hear, thought Joanna. She tried, “How about some coffee in the meantime? Elinore? Please show these gentlemen to the sitting area and be sure the coffee bar is stocked.” Turning to Raines, she said, “The area is newly remodeled. You’ll be quite comfortable.”



“I prefer to wait in Dr. Patrice’s office.”



Joanna suppressed a knowing smile and approached the office door. “Of course, Mr. Raines. Right in he—” she stopped in mid sentence as she turned the knob on a door she knew was locked. She rattled the knob noisily and said, “Oh, it’s locked. Naomi,” she called, “find out who has a key to this office besides Dr. Patrice.”



“Yes Ms. DeBeer.” Naomi’s formal manner of reply told Joanna that her message was clearly understood. There were, in fact, two keys in the corridor at that moment and neither woman was going to own up to the fact.



“Never mind,” growled the annoyed Mr. Raines. “We’ll be in the lounge until she gets here.” And so he disappeared around the corner trailing his oxygen tank and the two sweepers.



Only after she was satisfied that the three intruders were settled in the lounge did Joanna turn her back on them. She flew to Alicin’s door, which Sam flung open as soon as he noticed her approach. She hurried to the back of the room to where the friends lay asleep in each other’s arms.



“Alicin, Angelo, wake up! Joanna pulled Alicin into a standing position and shook her hard. “C’mon, Alicin. Wake up, girl!”



“Hmmm? Wha-at?” came the foggy reply.



“Alicin, this is important. I want you to go into the bathroom and lock the door. And do not—I mean it—do not open the door for anyone but Dr. Patrice or me. Got it?” Her patient looked at her with a blank stare and nodded. Joanna aimed Alicin at the bathroom door and gave her a shove.



She then turned to Angelo. She shook him awake with an urgency that sizzled like electricity against his skin. He awoke, acutely aware of the danger. He was afraid for himself. He was more afraid for Alicin. Joanna’s touch conveyed the feel of the vinyl tubing and the hiss of oxygen. That meant that he was here. And that couldn’t be good for either one of them. Angelo knew he could take care of himself, but he also knew that Alicin was not yet ready to hold her own against William Raines. And now the former doctor was after her. Of that, Angelo was certain.



The young man was on his feet and headed for the door when Joanna stopped him with a hoarsely whispered, “NO! You can’t go that way!” She pushed him into Dr. Patrice’s office and dragged a chair into position below the air vent. “Get up there, Angelo!” she snapped. “Now! There’s no time! Just go before he finds you here!” With a furrowed brow, Angelo stepped onto the chair and vaulted into the crawl space. Joanna returned to the door and locked it. Then she sent another urgent pager message to Dr. Patrice.

=====



At the same time

The Duty Desk



It happened quickly. Willie and Jerry Wurth approached Sam wearing smiles. They informed him that his backup had been intercepted and that Mr. Raines wanted to see his researcher. Sam refused. They insisted and took a step toward Alicin’s room. Sam went for his gun and the two slammed him into the wall behind the desk and disarmed him. Willie threw him to the floor. Sam heard the squeak of Raines’ approach just as Jerry delivered a vicious kick to the sweeper’s head that sent him spinning into darkness.

=====



Alicin’s Room



Alicin was standing in the middle of her room, a few steps from where Joanna had pushed her, trying to remember what she was supposed to do. The hallway door opened and her eyes went wide with fear. Tremors radiated through her body from an epicenter near her heart. She could feel her teeth clattering against each other and her muscles twitched to help her body maintain its balance. The room suddenly felt cold and there was an annoying itch at the base of her left thumb that wouldn’t stop. “What do you want?” she said to the figure silhouetted against the hallway lights, trying not to sound as terrified as she felt.



William Raines stepped into the room. “Just to see that you’re on the road to recovery.”



She countered with two backward steps of her own. “Just as long as that road leads back to your front door, I suppose?”



“You do work for me,” he reminded, still advancing on her.



“And if I refuse? What then?” She had retreated until her back was touching the door to the Doctor’s office.



“A little vacation in the Renewal Wing will help to correct your errant thinking,” he said with a chilling smile.



She’d heard rumors about that place. Some of her colleagues weren’t convinced that it actually existed, since no one purported to have been sent there had ever been returned. After all, if the purpose of the place was to reeducate a person, it would follow that said person would have to be returned to the panel to resume work. That hadn’t happened. The place was probably a myth. Probably.



Alicin’s countenance had slipped a notch, but she quickly managed a face that poker players would pay to own. “Would you risk losing my talent? You did call me ‘brilliant’.”



“I also called you a pain in the ass. What’s your point?”



Alicin swallowed hard. Her heart was punching its way out of her chest and her lungs didn’t seem able to take in enough air to support consciousness. She felt weak-kneed and breathless. What is my point, I have no leverage here, she thought. Had she not been leaning against the door, she would have collapsed under the weight of the cloud of despair that had just settled on her.



“Bill!” came a sudden, loud pronouncement from the doorway. Dr. Patrice strode to the middle of the room, hand extended and a practiced smile on her face. “My staff told me you were here. What can I do for you?” He stepped to the middle of the room and shook her hand and the two began to engage in polite ritual social talk, sizing each other up as they did.



As doctor and former doctor were speaking, the door behind Alicin began to move forward. “Alicin, move away from the door!” It was Joanna speaking in a forced whisper. “Move away from the door, Alicin. Move!”



I c-can’t,” she peeped.



Joanna continued to push until she could fit her head and shoulder through the opening. “Alicin, look at me.” Wild eyes met her own. She proceeded carefully, quietly. “Alicin, come with me.” The older woman reached around the door and took Alicin firmly by the hand. When Joanna met Alicin’s gaze again, she saw raw, paralyzing fear at war with a driving urge to flee. She squeezed Alicin’s hand, more firmly this time. “Alicin, come. Now.”



Alicin swallowed a few times, glancing frantically from Raines and Dr. Patrice in the middle of the room to the bathroom door behind them.



“What’s wrong?” Joanna asked softly.



“I…I think I’m gonna be sick!” Alicin slapped both hands over her mouth and started to gag.



Joanna swung Alicin away from her place in front of the door. Then, shoving the door open, she yanked the young researcher inside the office and bent her over a wastebasket. After several minutes, from the adjoining room, Dr. Patrice was saying in a slightly louder than necessary voice, “Why don’t we continue our conversation next door, Bill, where we can be comfortable?” On that cue, Joanna seized Alicin and the wastebasket and rushed out of the office and into the hallway.

=====



The Hall



Joanna stopped so abruptly that she nearly lost hold of Alicin. Sam lay motionless on the floor where Willie had dropped him; his head was lying in a small puddle of blood. It appeared that both sweepers were gone, for now. She quickly seated Alicin behind the duty desk and called out for Elinore and Naomi. The response came in muffled cries from the supply closet. Once freed, Elinore tended to Alicin. Naomi and Joanna struggled to haul Sam onto a gurney and took him into Exam 1, where they began to treat his head wound. It would require several stitches. No fractures were apparent, but x-rays would be taken later.



Back at the duty desk, Alicin was fighting to regain her composure. “My situation hasn’t improved, has it?” she lamented.



“Actually, no,” Elinore answered plainly. “Let’s get you to another room before someone remembers why he came up here in the first place.” The two women stood and Elinore led the way to a little used office around the corner near the elevators. Alicin was beginning to notice the pain of her injuries. That fact was beginning to show on her face and in her movements. Soon, when they reached their destination, Elinore would offer her something to ease the pain. Alicin would accept without protest.



When Sydney finally arrived, he found the corridor in front of the duty desk empty, except for an alarming smear of blood on the floor. He was grateful that he had stopped in his office to retrieve his sidearm before coming here. It was pressing into his ribs beneath his tweed jacket as he approached the door to Patrice’s office, knowing whom he would find inside.

=====



End Alicin Wonderland Part 10

TBC

Feedback: lizzkirsch@hotmail.com

Timeline – This prequel to Season One takes place about one year before Jarod’s escape and includes flashbacks to the children’s’ past.

Keywords –Sydney, Raines, Alicin, Patrice

Summary: Everything that can hit the fan does!



Author’s Note: The town of Moena that is mentioned in this chapter exists and is located in the Dolomite mountains of the Italian Alps. The real DellAntonio family owned an inn there and one-by-one, 5 brothers came to America to work as stonemasons in Washington DC , each brother accumulating the cost of passage and sending it home to the next. They apparently all died before they could bring a 6th brother to join them. This last brother stayed in Moena and ran the family inn. In honor of their Italian heritage, the DellAntonio family of Clearfield, PA named their restaurant ‘Moena’ which serves Italian fare that will make you forget you ever heard of spaghetti and pizza! You can check out the menu at www.moenas.com. The town’s official website is www.comune.moena.it. And finally, for a quick tour of the Dolomites, go to www.dolomiti.it . But read the story first!





Alicin Wonderland

By Lizz Part 11
Bad Boys, Bad Boys…



He could hear the muffled voices on the other side of the door and listened for several minutes to determine the tenor of the conversation since he could not make out the words. It was taking every bit of Sydney’s self-control to keep from bursting through the door and pummeling William Raines. He steadied himself slightly with a few deep breaths. Then he knocked sharply on the door and thrust it open without waiting for an invitation to enter.



Inside, Patrice was seated at her desk with Raines in a visitor’s chair opposite. She was out of her seat and halfway across the room in an instant to greet the newcomer. Raines saw only Patrice’s back as she graciously invited Sydney to join them, but the infirmary doctor’s eyes were imploring her friend to stay and follow her lead in the conversation. Sydney gave a slight frown, and then pushed past the doctor to get to Raines.



“You are deliberately violating our agreement concerning my patient, Raines! Alicin is to have no contact with you or your staff before next Friday!” The intensity of his voice was increasing and he was shaking his fist at the man. “How dare you? I could call security right now and have you thrown out on your ear!” Sydney’s face was darkened with anger and indignation and something else that Patrice could not identify.



Raines stood to face his adversary, equally incensed. “I’m here for an update on my researcher’s physical condition. I’ve been alerted that there may have been an assault. If it’s true, there will be an inquiry.” His tone grew ominous. “And I insist that any investigation be conducted in-house. I have a right to see that evidence. After that, I’ll leave of my own accord.”



“You have no right to deman-“



“Stop it! Both of you!” Patrice shouted over the din. “Sit down and be quiet!” They turned to look at her, but neither moved. “Now!” The two men sat down immediately, regarding her with shock and amazement, and did not say another word.



Patrice stepped between her two visitors, now seated. The testosterone level in the small office had finally reached critical mass, she had concluded, and it was time to act before the two adversaries did something that she would later regret. Leaning against the front of her desk, the doctor started to speak in a voice that was firm and commanding. “You sound like two strays fighting over a bone! One more display like that and I’ll personally put both of you out of my infirmary on your respective asses and see that you lose laboratory time and hospital privileges.” She let out a sharp sudden huff before continuing. “I agree with Bill that we need to discuss Alicin’s status. But that’s not going to happen until you so-called gentlemen start acting the part! Are we clear on that?” No response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She took in a slow, noisy breath and let out a measured sigh. “It’s late,” she continued. “I suggest we go splash some water on our faces, get a cup of coffee and reconvene here in ten minutes to discuss the matter at hand. After you, gentlemen.” Raines squeaked across the room first, followed by Patrice and finally Sydney. They turned right and right again toward the lounge and proceeded down the hall in silence. If I’d wanted to be a dog trainer, Patrice groused to herself, I would have joined the circus.

=====



The scene in the men’s washroom was comical, despite the fact that the players were steeped in anger and suspicion. Raines stopped in front of the first urinal, while Sydney strode to the last fixture in the row. Despite their best efforts to avoid it, the two ended up at the sink within seconds of one another. Sydney took a leisurely amount of time washing his hands before turning on the solitary blow dryer on the wall. When Raines had finished washing, he pressed the button to activate the same dryer and nothing happened. Sydney let out a soft snuffle. He turned toward Raines, just on the border of the other man’s personal space. With one fluid motion, the psychiatrist snatched a paper towel from the wall dispenser and offered it to his adversary, who stubbornly ignored the gesture. Sydney rested his smirking gaze on Raines’ face and let the paper leaflet sail lazily to the floor. Before the doctor could turn for the door, William Raines snapped a towel from the dispenser and was making as much noise with it as possible before depositing the damp litter in the receptacle beside the sink. After exiting the washroom, he followed his former colleague down the hall.



Next door, in the women’s washroom, Dr. Patrice had buried her face in a double fistful of cold, wet paper towels. Her eyes and sinuses were dry from too much indoor climate control. She had hoped to be settled at home by now, but was resigned to the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. When she did arrive home, Mister Emily, her elderly cat, would be indignant because of her absence and would ignore her for at least a whole day before remembering that he didn’t have an opposable thumb for working the can opener. Even then, she laughed quietly, he would gobble his dinner and then promptly cough it up on the living room carpet. After that, they would be even.



The trauma team doctor examined her face in the mirror as she dabbed at it with the icy towels. It was hard to intimidate anyone with her features. For one thing, her mouth seemed sensuous even when she didn’t want it to be, and now was one of those times. Decidedly, she had her mother’s Mediterranean looks with her dark skin and hair, and eyes the color of ripe olives. Her parents had met in Italy, before the war, at the International School For Advanced Studies in Trieste. Her father, an American from Chicago, was chairman of the Cognitive Neuroscience Sector. His list of research projects, publications and teaching credentials was impressive. Her mother was a resident researcher in the same Sector with an interest in somatosensory cortical information processing and plasticity. In short, they were suited for each other’s company.



Her mother’s family owned an inn in the northern mountain town of Moena, and it was there that Edgar Patrice asked Sergio DellAntonio for permission to marry his only daughter, Isabella Angelina. The courtship was a long one; complete with chaperones to accompany the couple everywhere and Edgar’s many gifts for members of the bride’s family. Over a year passed before the town gathered at the small Catholic Church in Moena to celebrate Edgar and Isabella’s nuptial mass. The reception lasted for nearly a week with relatives and friends from both sides of the Atlantic arriving and departing, leaving in their wake a swell of gifts and their best wishes. The newlyweds were banished to the nuptial rooms early, with merry instructions to not come out until they had produced an heir. From their balcony, Edgar assured everyone that they would do their very best; much to the delight of those who had gathered to serenade them that night. And it was, indeed, in one of those rooms that the couple’s first child was conceived on a candlelit night of incredibly passionate lovemaking.



It was in the same church where they were married, that Isabella and Edgar Patrice presented their newborn for baptism nine months later. After the mass, family and friends gathered under the grape arbor at the inn to have their first look at the youngest member of the DellAntonio family, Patrice Isabella Angelina Antonia Patrice. These were the same people who would celebrate her milestones and mourn her losses and pray God’s blessings upon her young life. She was a raven-haired princess who had captured their hearts.



But here she stood, in the present, tired and wanting so desperately to be curled up at home with her cat. Instead she was babysitting two old bulldogs. So she wasn’t surprised when Elinore burst through the door, looking like she’d just dodged a speeding locomotive.



“You need to come now, Doctor,” the nurse begged breathlessly. “They’re in your office at the top of their lungs! I think somebody threw a punch!”



“Oh, for...” Patrice started to say in disgust as she pitched the wet towels into the receptacle, but never finished the thought. She snatched a dry towel on her way past the dispenser and followed Elinore into the hall, hurrying toward the office. “If they break anything in there,” the nurse heard her boss threaten under her breath, “I will feed them to the fishes!”

=====



Dr. Patrice’s office could not contain the angry storm of words that raged inside. The weary doctor leaned against the wall and took a few minutes to think about her options. She could walk in there and try to break it up. Or she could let them hurt each other for awhile and then try to break it up. Or she could call security, walk away, and let them break it up. But then, she had never walked away from a fight in her life and, because Alicin was officially on her turf, this was her fight. Oh, hell, she thought, why not?



“Elinore, go stay with Alicin, just in case these two do something really stupid. She’s had enough excitement today,” Patrice sighed. The nurse nodded and started down the hall in the direction of the elevators. “Naomi and Jo, you’re going in there with me. Are you both okay with that?” They looked at each other, then at their boss and nodded. “Jo, do you think you can handle Sydney? Keep him away from Raines?”



“Yes.”



“Naomi, you and I will take care of Mr. Raines. Our goal is to get them away from each other. Use talk or passive restraint when you can; we’ll sit on them if we have to. I suspect that the worst these two have for each other is a fat lip or a bloody nose.”



Just then they heard a loud crack followed by the sound of breaking glass and heavy objects landing on the carpet inside the office. Patrice ran for the door, followed by Naomi and Joanna.



Inside, Raines had thrown a heavy bookend from Patrice’s desk at Sydney, who had leaned out of harm’s way at the last moment. Instead of hitting its intended target, the alabaster elephant had crashed into one of the framed lithographs, shattering the glass and sending the prized artwork to the floor. Raines then wrapped his hands around Sydney’s neck and squeezed surprisingly hard for a man in his condition, unbalancing his opponent backward onto the glass surface of their host’s desk. With a burst of strength, Sydney threw off his attacker, toppling him onto the carpet beside his oxygen tank. The psychiatrist shifted a cold gaze from the tank to its owner and then, very deliberately, he stood on the man’s lifeline.



Raines’ eyes were wide with fright. “What are you doing, Sydney? For god sake, man!” Gasping, he clutched at the doctor’s pant leg in an effort to free his oxygen line.



Sydney’s smile was almost feral. “We’re going to review the terms of our agreement, Mr. Raines.”



Now panting, Raines reached for the small portable tank attached to the back of the cart, only to have his arm slapped away. “You won’t get away with this!” the man on the floor growled, trying to convince himself of that point. It was at that moment that the door opened and the three women from the hall spilled into the room, just in time to see William Raines reach inside his jacket and draw his sidearm.



Several things happened at once. The three intruders shouted a chorus of, “Nooooo!” Raines took aim at Sydney and started to squeeze the trigger. Joanna launched at Sydney to knock him out of the line of fire. Patrice and Naomi lunged at Raines in an attempt to divert the bullet. A single shot rang out. The gun vaulted into the air, coming to rest in front of the door to the adjoining room. Naomi spun away from the pack and dropped facedown on the floor. Finally, everyone settled, motionless, on the carpet.



In an instant, Sydney was back on his feet, his nine-millimeter Beretta pointed at Raines’ heart. A groan drew attention to Naomi. She was sitting up behind Raines, pressing her hand over the left sleeve of her nurse’s uniform, as dark blood began to seep through her fingers.



“Sydney?” Patrice began, eyes pleading.



“Take care of her!” he snapped in reply, eyes never leaving the man on the floor before him.



“Jo,” Patrice started cautiously, watching the two men for any hint of further hostility, “get Naomi to a treatment room and take care of that, okay?” Then she added in a whisper, “Get the gun while you’re at it and lock it up.”



“Yes, Doctor,” came the soft reply as Joanna moved quickly to pocket the firearm before kneeling at Naomi’s side and helping the tall woman to her feet. They were out of the office in next to no time.



“Patrice!” Raines croaked, gasping to regain his breath as he pleaded with her to intercede on his behalf with the man who now held a gun on him.



“Quiet!” roared Sydney.



“What is going on here?” Patrice demanded, truly puzzled and alarmed by the scene unfolding before her. “Look at yourselves! Sydney? Please! Put the gun away”. She studied her friend’s face as she prayed that he was listening to her words, but he was looking straight at Raines, who couldn’t even blink. “Sydney?” she said softly, but his mind was somewhere else.



Mama, I wish you were here now, the doctor thought soberly, seeing in a flash the house in Trieste where, as a child, she had spent many nights on the top stair step to hear her parents solve problems and share their wisdom about life and living. You’d know what to do about this. You’d know three things to do, so I’d have a choice! She smiled slightly at the notion, and then continued to assess her situation: Jo is taking care of Naomi and Sam; Elinore is with Alicin, so there’s no one next door; Earl is off duty (Poor baby will be sorry he missed this!); the others on duty know better than to come in without knocking; and everybody else is home in bed like normal people. So the bottom line is this: I have these boys all to myself, there’s only one gun and I have a little pull with the guy holding it. Raines is unarmed, a coward, and too weakened put up any further resistance. She pondered for a minute and then, suddenly, a plan presented itself.

=====



Unused Office

Near The Elevators



“Gunshot!” Alicin shrieked and dove for cover under the wooden desk, leaving Elinore in a half-crouch, trying to figure out what had just happened.



“Move over, Alicin, I’m coming in!” the forensic nurse whispered hoarsely as she dropped on all fours and crawled under the desk to sit beside the frightened young woman. “That sounded like a nine-millimeter, Centre issue.”



“How would you know that?” Alicin challenged.



“I did my forensics internship with the Pennsylvania State Police Crime Lab. Really interesting work, once they got past all the crap about my being a rookie and female. My first week, a trooper brought me some tissue samples to analyze. He told me they were from a shooting. Turned out the tissue samples were from a boneless chuck roast. Like I wasn’t going to notice the difference! Can you imagine? This grown man walks into a grocery store, buys a ten-dollar roast, takes it out in the woods and shoots it, just so he can make me look like an idiot!”



“And that’s how you know it’s a nine-millimeter?” Alicin asked dryly.



“Well, no,” Elinore put in quickly. “I spent a lot of time in the ballistics lab, firing rifles and handguns into tanks of water and retrieving the slugs for comparison with crime scene evidence. There was this game we played in the break room, just down the hall from the tanks. Between shifts, we’d try to guess the make and caliber of the weapons fired just by listening. You got a point for each one and an extra point if you got both. We checked our guesses against the logbook. Sometimes we’d bet on it. I usually won.”



Alicin couldn’t guess where this conversation was going or when it would arrive, but her mind was no longer down the hall with Mr. Raines. And that was a good thing, to Elinore’s way of thinking.



“That’s how I got really good at identifying make and caliber,” Elinore wound down. “And that’s how I know it’s a nine-millimeter, Centre issue!”



“Good for you,” was all Alicin could think to say. The two fell into silence again, hugging their knees as they sat under the wooden desk in the dark.

=====



Dr. Patrice’s Office



Slowly and deliberately, Patrice sank to one knee in front of Raines and checked his oxygen line and the gauge on his tank, the Beretta now pointed at her back. Very quietly, she asked questions intended to assess his condition. Then without looking at Sydney, she helped Raines to his feet and insisted quietly that he resume his seat in the visitor’s chair in front of her desk. She turned to face her friend and said nothing for a moment.



Sydney spoke first. “Get out of the way, Patrice.”



But the doctor kept her feet firmly planted on the carpet. “If you want to kill him, Sydney, that bullet will have to go through me first,” she said as calmly as she could manage.



“Trust me, Patrice, he’s not worth your life.”



“Or yours, Syd. That’s what you’re throwing away if you pull that trigger. Think about consequences, for god sakes! This will never see the inside of a Delaware courtroom! You’re looking at a very long stay in the Renewal Wing! Think of your work here. Think of Alicin. Think of Jarod! What happens to Jarod when you’re gone? What then?”



Patrice turned her back to Sydney and whispered to Raines as she fussed over tubing that required no fussing. “Your best chance for surviving this, Bill, is to sit there and do not say or do anything to draw attention to yourself.” Then she narrowed her eyes, dropped the pitch of her voice and continued, “Oh. And for the record, Bill, I hold you responsible for this mess. You just couldn’t let well enough alone,” she accused. The man opened his mouth to defend himself and was immediately silenced by a frosty look from the good doctor. “Now, stay!” Her hand was extended in the animal training hand gesture for that command before she even realized it. Maybe years from now she would remember the moment and laugh. For the present, however, she was scared spitless.



“I’ll ask you one time, Patrice,” Sydney spoke. “Please, move out of the way.”



“Or what, Syd? You’ll shoot me, too?” Patrice gently countered. “You just said that he’s not worth my life. Now you’re actually considering…” she waved a hand in the air in frustration, “I can’t finish that thought. It’s too obscene.” Silence covered the room for longer than was comfortable before Patrice spoke again. “Do what you think you have to, old friend, but I won’t help you kill him.”



The room fell quiet once more, save for Raines’ shallow wheezing. Patrice was about to make another plea, when she saw Sydney remove a supporting hand from the Beretta and then lower the piece to his side. He was still poised in a shooter’s stance, a line of perspiration on his upper lip, despite the coolness of the room.



“Sydney, are you okay?” Patrice approached him slowly, moving to his side to retrieve the gun.



“Yes, Patrice,” he replied, anger seething beneath his surface calm, perspiration now forming on his forehead. Swiftly and without warning, Sydney raised the Beretta again and drew a bead on his adversary, Raines, who cried out in alarm and shifted so suddenly in his chair that it toppled to the floor with him in it. With a smirk on his face, Sydney advanced on his target, placed the muzzle over Raines’ heart and squeezed the trigger. There was a wail of agony followed by Patrice’s shriek of horror in response to the gun’s single staccato click.



Raines recovered quickly from his fear and raged, “You threatened me with an empty gun! You son of a…” His tirade was cut short by a deafening explosion and the sight of a cloud of carpet fibers floating around him. Raines, and now Dr. Patrice, cowered; staring dumbfounded at the man they thought they knew.



Leaning close to Raines’ paler-than-usual face, Sydney whispered, “First rule of gun safety, Mr. Raines. Never chamber the first round.” He ejected the clip into Raines’ wet lap and handed the gun to Patrice before turning to leave. Six steps from the door, he hesitated, swayed slightly and promptly crumpled onto the floor like a discarded jacket.



Patrice pulled the cell phone from her belt and pushed the speed dial button that would summon the EMT to her office. She was at Sydney’s side in an instant and pulled on gloves from her pocket before rolling him onto his back. Placing two fingers over his carotid artery, she found a weak, racing pulse. She laid her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat and was not pleased with the rhythm. The front of his sweatshirt was wet with perspiration and when she finally got his jacket off, the lining of that was wet as well. She could feel the heat rising from his face. Placing a hand on his forehead, she exclaimed, “You’re burning up!



“Bill, my medical bag is by the door to Alicin’s room,” she called over her shoulder. “Could you bring it here? I need to listen to his heart and get a BP, and then you can help me loosen his clothes. But get his shoes off now, please.” When there was no answer, Patrice turned toward her desk only to see the door to Alicin’s room standing open and no trace of William Raines.

=====



Unused Office

Near The Elevators



At the second gun blast, the wooden desk in the little office levitated slightly and came to rest a few inches to the right of its original position. From underneath came yelps of unwelcome pain and surprise as two dazed young women dragged themselves out to the middle of the dark room.



Alicin held the top of her throbbing head with both hands as she shuffled forward on her knees and collapsed, rolling onto her back. Elinore toppled over beside her, alternately holding her ears and then the top of her head.



After a long, high-pitched whine, Alicin spoke. “That really hurt!”



“Tell me about it,” Elinore exclaimed.



“I just did.” Alicin whined back in pain.



“Never mind,” groaned Elinore.



“Oooooo! Look at all the pretty lights.” Alicin sing-songed, stretching each word. She reached out her arms and tried to catch them.



“They’re stars, Alicin,” Elinore sighed, trying to be helpful. “You get hit on the head, you see stars. It’s in all the cartoons.”



“Ya see ‘em too, Elinore?”



“Naw. But I’m pretty sure I hear Elvis singin’ Blue Suede Shoes.”



“Who?”



“Elvis Pretzel,” Elinore replied with a giggle, now beginning to see a few stars herself.



“An’ he sings to shoes?” Alicin giggled, too, at the image it drew in her slightly confused mind. Then she tried to be serious again, asking with urgency, “Does he have an untreated mental illness? I did some research for NIMH on similar behavior. He certainly fits the profile for—“



“Alicin?”



“Yeah, Elinore?”



“You’re makin’ my head hurt again.”



“Sorry.”



“S’okay”



“So what was it, Elinore?”



“What was what?”


“You know! Make and caliber, Ms. Forensics-Person-Champion-Guesser- Betting… Person.”



“Oh, that. Nine-millimeter Beretta. Definitely not Centre issue.”

=====



End Part 11

TBC

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Alicin Wonderland

By Lizz



Part 12 River of Dreams


Centre Infirmary

En Route to ICU



Sydney thought that the summer heat in the railway coach was oppressive despite the fact that most of the windows were open. First the Belgian and then the French countryside swept past in an impressionist’s blur of colors. He was aware of the gentle motion of the train as it pulled him and Jacob closer to the Italian border and a summer vacation in the Alps. His parents were taken up in conversation, exchanging words, knowing glances and soft laughter. So he turned his attention to the sights outside. Before long, the easy motion of the coach claimed him in sleep. It was so very, very hot…

=====



Dr. Patrice watched helplessly as the EMT shuttled Sydney toward Trauma 2’s intensive care unit, then crossed the room to her desk and dropped into a chair. She was afraid for him. She remembered the horror of that instant when she thought he had killed Raines. There had been no mercy in his eyes when he pulled the trigger. His actions had been unencumbered by the thought process. Her first thought as she watched her esteemed colleague’s collapse had been of heart attack or stroke. But then she had noticed the fever. Oh, God, she thought, does this have anything to do with Alicin’s illness? What if it’s contagious? What if Alicin was a carrier? Or both? They could all be infected. Oh, God! And, given Sydney’s age, would his body have the resources to fight this off or would he have to suffer the full force of…of whatever this is? “Oh, dear God,” she prayed, “Protect us all and show us what we’re fighting against.” Then she lowered her head to the glass desktop…

=====



“Patrice? Patrice? Lunch is ready, sleepy head, wake up!” Patrice lifted her head as the words dawned on her. Looking around, she could not make sense of what she was seeing. She was seated at table in the kitchen of the family inn where her grandmother and her aunts had taught her to cook. The floor stones lay just as she remembered them, as did the brick and plaster walls and the wood-fired cook stove. Braids of garlic, onions and hot peppers hung from hooks on the wall, their fragrances blending into a heady mix that brought back memories of large family gatherings around the big table, feasting on home cooking, laughter and love. In front of her, just beyond where she had been… napping? … was a plate of fresh salad greens crowned with Greek olives, raisins, slices of apple and pear, and large crumbs of homemade mozzarella. At the far end of the table sat Isabella DellAntonio Patrice.



“Mama?” Patrice squeaked with a quizzical look on her face. “Mama, what are you doing here? You’re--”



“Never mind that now, darling. You need to finish that salad and freshen up before Sydney arrives this afternoon.”



“Sydney is coming here? To Moena?” Patrice was utterly confused, staring at the fork she hadn’t known she was holding.



Isabella laughed lightly, shaking her head and smiling as she did. “You look so surprised, my dear! We’ve all been looking forward to meeting him since your father agreed to the visit. But you should know that your grandmother and aunts are just a little put off that you didn’t tell them about your young man before this!” At the mention of their names, the women appeared in the chairs along each side of the table, laughing and waggling their index fingers at Patrice in mock rebuke.



“Sydney is not my young man.” Patrice protested weakly, wondering why she was having this conversation at all. Besides, she thought, my mother is --



Just at that moment, two men appeared at the kitchen door, and the women around the table took notice and smiled broadly. Amid a flurry of animated greetings from the ladies, Edgar Patrice stepped into the room, turned, and introduced the visitor behind him in his bold Chicago accent. “My lovely ladies, this is Sydney, who has come all the way from the other side of our mountain to call upon our dear Patrice.” Turning to the handsome young visitor, he said, “At the head of the table are Patrice’s grandparents. May I introduce Signore Sergio DellAntonio and his lovely wife Maria?” Sydney strode to the table to greet the couple. Signore DellAntonio grasped the hand offered and pumped it with gusto as the two men exchanged greetings. He leaned close and whispered something to Sydney that made the young visitor smile broadly and steal a glance at Patrice, who was visibly not amused. Sydney then bowed and spoke to Signora DellAntonio, who blushed at his compliment. Edgar continued, “To the right is her mother, my beloved Isabella. And of course you know our lovely Patrice.” He was beaming with love and pride when he spoke his daughter’s name. “And these fine ladies,” he gestured with a sweep of his hand,” are her aunts. You will get to know them quite well during your stay with us.” At this last comment, the family members burst into giggles and laughter. Everyone, that is, except Patrice.



“It is an honor to meet you all,” Sydney said with a slight bow. “And I am most grateful for your hospitality.” Polite conversation broke out around the table as Sydney began to distribute gifts, first to Signora DellAntonio and Sergio, then to Isabella and the aunts, speaking pleasantries to each in lightly accented but otherwise flawless Italian as he navigated the kitchen table. The women tittered at the handsome young man’s good manners and easy smile while opening the gaily-wrapped mementos and arguing over which of them would be first to chaperone the young couple during Sydney’s visit.



At last, Sydney turned his attention to Patrice, who was now totally mystified and uncomfortably conscious of the jumble of salad in front of her which seemed to have tripled in volume since she had awakened and was now threatening to bury the plate. From the air above his left shoulder, Sydney produced a beautifully wrapped box, larger than those he had given the aunts, but not quite as large as the one he had presented to the DellAntonios. It was wrapped in ivory moiré silk and tied with a satin ribbon that matched the color of Patrice’s blushing cheeks. The aunts began to titter anew. Shifting uneasily in her chair, Patrice accepted the box, feeling just a twinge of hesitation. Something was not quite right here and, for the life of her, she could not put her finger on it, let alone figure out what she was doing in Italy at this time of year. Her annual vacation was still months away and besides, her mother was…

=====



“Dr. Patrice? Wake up! Please?” a soft male voice requested.



Very slowly, the doctor lifted her head and met the gaze of the young man who had awakened her. “Angelo?” She blinked at him and looked at her watch; she had been asleep for all of two minutes. “How long have you been standing there? Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk.



“Just now,” Angelo answered. He sat and then nearly flew out of the chair recently occupied by Mr. Raines. “Afraid! Mr. Raines afraid to die! Afraid of Sydney!” The usually quiet man was hugging himself and gasping for breath, not unlike the previous occupant of the chair. He paced and dropped to his knees on the floor in the same spot were Raines had landed when he fell from his seat. Then, painfully, the empath pulled himself back to reality. Jumping up from the floor he leaned forward with his hands on the two dark spots on the knees of his blue jeans. He walked around a bit and listened to the squishing noise his feet made with each step. “The floor is wet,” he said with a furrowed brow. “All over.”



“What?” Patrice asked with surprise. She walked to where Angelo stood. The carpet was soggy. Whatever was in the carpet was welling up around their shoes. Patrice tentatively pressed her fingers into the pile and took a cautious sniff. When her eyes fell on the bullet hole left by Sydney, she heaved sigh of defeat. “Damn! He shot a hole in the hot water line that heats this room!” She leaned across her desk to pick up the phone for the call to maintenance.



“Sydney shot the rug.” Angelo was amused. He dropped into Sydney’s chair and immediately gripped the armrests with great force as a cry of pain escaped his lips. “Very sick! All my bones hurt. Everything hurts!” he wailed. He pulled at his collar, unable to slow the momentum of the unpleasant incident. “So hot here, so hot. Why so hot?” Suddenly his voice became low and menacing, with just the hint of some European accent. “Why is he here? What do you really want from her?” Then he balled his hand into a fist and shook it in front of himself. “You should not be here! Stay away from her. You hurt her. Your soldiers hurt her. I should kill you just for that. I will kill you! I’ll kill you!” Then Angelo was pacing again, wringing his hands, and ending up back at the spot where Raines had fallen, with a pointed finger aligned with the hole in the waterlogged carpet. His chest was heaving with each breath he took as Dr. Patrice looked on with equal parts of upset and awe, her phone call forgotten.



“Angelo,” she said, rushing to his side. She turned him to face her and placed a hand firmly on each of his shoulders. Shaking him gently, she called his name softly until his eyes met hers. “Angelo, dear,” she said at last, “It’s alright. You’re okay. Really. Let’s go sit by the fireplace. It’s quieter there. Come on, now.” She led him to the sitting area and pulled him down beside her on one of the small sofas.



The young man slumped against the cushions as if the weight of the world were pressing in on him. The doctor was right, he noticed. This furniture was much quieter than the chairs by the desk. In a move that surprised Dr. Patrice, Angelo relaxed against her shoulder and sighed, “Sydney’s sick. Like Alicin.”



Without moving, Dr. Patrice softly asked, “What did you just say?”



Angelo repeated his words and added, “Like Alicin, and Eddie, and the others. Now Sydney, too.”



“Angelo, tell me what you know about this.”



He sighed again. When the doctor looked at him, his eyes were shining with tears. “Alicin is so scared. Afraid because she knows about the fevers. Alicin’s afraid for people.”



“What people?”



“Out there,” he said quietly, looking toward the outer wall of the office and struggling to find the right words. “In the world. Mr. Raines hurts lots of people. Alicin won’t help anymore. Won’t help! Makes up data. Doesn’t eat. In trouble all the time! One day they hurt her.”



“Who hurt her, Angelo?” the doctor asked with a hushed voice.



“Sweeper. No, sweepers. Doesn’t like it when anybody touches her now.” Angelo’s eyes grew wide with the dawning of a new horror. “They hurt her. He hit her.”



“Who hit her, Angelo? And who are they? What are their names?”



“Bad men hurt Alicin,” was all he could say.



“How do you know these things, dear?” Patrice asked as she smoothed the hair away from his brow.



“Alicin has dreams,” came the soft reply. The young man’s teary, blue eyes focused on the doctor’s. “Alicin cries. Angelo holds her when she cries.” He chewed lightly on his bottom lip and Patrice gently slipped her arm around his shoulders and drew him close as his silent tears began to fall. She took one of Angelo’s hands in hers and studied it as she turned over in her mind the possible implications of what he had just said. Could he be the key to finding Alicin’s attackers?



The answer to that question would have to wait. Angelo had fallen asleep in her arms. Rather than wake him, she settled his head onto her lap. In return, he drew his legs onto the cushions. Patrice propped her feet on the ottoman and within seconds of leaning her head back on the small sofa, she was asleep again. This time, however, she did not dream.

=====

End Part 12

TBC

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Alicin Wonderland
Part 13

Day 2 - 1996 Recovery, Discovery
=====



When Patrice opened her eyes, it was very early Saturday morning. Rolling her head slowly from side to side, she checked for stiffness and, to her dismay, found some in her neck. With eyes closed, she lifted her head from its resting place on the back of the small sofa and lowered it to her chest for another stretch. Not too much pain there, she noted. Next she began to rotate her slender ankles one at a time, enjoying the release of tension as the pebble-like bones that defined the joint popped and snapped as they slid past one another. It wasn’t until she attempted to bend her knees and flex her hips that she became aware of the weight in her lap. Her eyes snapped open and her gaze fell upon Angelo’s smiling mug. ”And just how long have you been awake?” she smiled back at him.



The empath sat up and turned to sit cross-legged, facing her. His smile broadened and he chuckled, but said nothing.



“Uh-oh,” was the doctor’s sheepish response. She pulled the silver clip from her ponytail and raked her fingers through her hair.



“You snore,” he informed her suddenly.



“So do you, my good man!” she grinned back.



“Angelo won’t tell,” he assured her with a toothy grin.



“Neither will Dr. Patrice,” she mimicked. She whacked him on the shoulder with the small pillow she pulled from behind her back and crossed the wet floor to her desk.



Patrice was in the middle of the room when she felt a soft thump between her shoulder blades. She turned sharply to face a still-smiling Angelo who shrugged and explained casually, “Throw pillow.” They both laughed out loud.



Angelo followed the doctor to her desk, but did not sit down in either guest chair. He listened as Dr. Patrice spoke into the phone, asking someone in Maintenance to please come make repairs to the damaged heating system in her office. When she finished with the call, he spoke.



“Where’s Alicin?” he asked with worry in his voice.



“Somewhere safe with Elinore, where Mr. Raines can’t upset her any further.” There was a pause. “You care for her very much, don’t you?”



“Yes,” he said, hanging his head, “very much.” His last words were almost inaudible.



“Can you remember how you know her?”



He nodded and laid out an explanation filled with failed starts and long pauses when he struggled to find the right words. “Long time ago. There was crying in the tunnels. Alicin cried. Afraid of noises. Afraid of dark. Afraid of him.”



“Mr. Raines?”



“Not sure.” His eyes looked so sad.



“That’s okay, Angelo. Please. Go on.”



“Angelo followed the crying. Found her. So tiny. Afraid of Angelo. Angelo stayed in tunnel a long time. Just talking. One day Alicin says, ‘Okay!’ Then friends.”



“Until…?”



“Not sure.” He shook his head in frustration. Their older years together were on the edge of his memory, just out of reach. He sighed heavily.



“It’s okay if you don’t remember just yet. You will.”



“Don’t think so.” The doubt in his voice was strong.



“Oh, I’m sure of it.” Her tone was suddenly gentle and caring. “Events coupled with powerful emotions make for very strong memories, Angelo. Positive or negative, it doesn’t matter. If you had any emotionally charged experiences with Alicin, those events are more strongly imprinted on your brain than ordinary occurrences. Try to picture each memory as a tiny groove on the surface of your brain. Your ‘Alicin grooves’ go deeper than any of the others because you have strong feelings about her. They’d be harder to erase, if you will, than lesser ones. My prediction is that the memories will return when you least expect them, probably when you’re not even thinking about her.” She slipped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a small hug. He did not pull away from her.



“Angelo can remember?” Hope had crept into his voice and taken a seat in the corner.



Dr. Patrice smiled at him. “Yes, you can, dear. And you will, given time. If I were a betting woman, I’d put money on it!”



“A doctor is taking care of Sydney,” he said abruptly, apparently finished with the last conversation.



“You’ve seen him?” Patrice asked with worried interest.



“Not long. Sydney has fever…very hot! Room is cold. Helps Sydney sleep. No feelings…just…sleep. A doctor said so.”



“Was he awake at all?”



Angelo simply shook his head. “Not awake. Too sick, still.”



The doctor released a long sigh as she rose from her chair. “I need to go check on him soon.”



“I know,” Angelo acknowledged, as if he understood the full burden of her comment.



“But first,” she said, “let’s find Alicin and Elinore, shall we?”

=====



As they exited the doctor’s office, Angelo and Patrice nearly collided with the two women they were looking for, causing cries of surprise that gave way to the laughter of relief. Naomi and Joanna came out from behind the duty desk, while Sam (whose two bruised eyes made him look like a raccoon, thanks to Jerry Wurth) acknowledged the narrowly averted pile-up with a grin and returned his attention to the security monitor before him.



Naomi spoke first. “Where were you?”



“The little office around the corner, out of harm’s way, or so we thought!” Elinore shot Alicin a knowing look and the slightest of smiles, but she could not hide the twinkle in her eyes.



Alicin acknowledged the brief glance by unfocusing her eyes for a second, just enough to look slightly deranged. The momentary look was enough to elicit a snorty laugh from Elinore. That was so easy, Alicin thought. She smiled innocently while the others were trying to figure out what was wrong with the young nurse.



“I’m sorry,” Elinore laughed, trying to regain self-control. “It’s just that…” Here she pointed a finger at Alicin, who never broke her ingenuous façade, looking for all the world like just another interested bystander. “We crawled under the desk when the first shot was fired.” She waggled her hand back and forth between herself and Alicin, taking a deep breath to put off another laughing jag. “Well, Alicin panicked, so she was the first one in…I mean under…and then I squeezed…under…and tried to calm her down. Then there was a second shot and we both sort of jumped and smashed our heads on the bottom of the desk. Oooh, man, that still hurts! I don’t know about you, Alicin but my neck is killing me.” She purposely avoided turning to look at the young researcher. “I don’t think there’s any concussion here, and I really could use a couple of aspirins right about now! If you don’t mind, Dr. Patrice, I’d like to get some from my purse in the file room.”



The doctor dismissed Elinore with a nod of her head and turned her attention to Alicin, only to find her patient missing from the group. Her look of alarm was answered with another grin from Sam (and now Earl) at the security monitor and a nod toward the door to Alicin’s room. In next instant, Dr. Patrice noticed that Angelo was also missing. She beamed a brief smile at the men, shaking her head slowly as she approached the door. She lifted her hand to knock on the smooth wood with the backs of her fingers.



Inside, the two friends sat, trying to piece together what had happened a few short hours ago. Angelo held Alicin’s hands as she detailed her encounter with Mr. Raines, including the doctor’s interruption, Joanna’s rescue, Naomi and Joanna being locked in a closet and Elinore spiriting her away to the little office. She added her own take on what had happened around the corner. While Angelo was amused by Alicin’s account of trying to catch the ‘stars’, he was relieved to know that she had not hurt herself seriously and told her so. He also made it clear that he did not believe the part about Elinore hearing Elvis Pretzel singing into his blue suede shoes. Then Angelo informed his friend that she had a headache and pain in her cervical vertebrae and advised her to ask her doctor for a pain reliever.



“Would you stop that, Timmy?” she asked with a bit of attitude as she withdrew her hands from his grasp.



“What?” he asked, feigning innocence and clearly amused at Alicin’s expense.



“Oooh! Like you don’t know, Timothy David,” she accused with narrowed eyes, unaware of her manner of addressing him.



Angelo looked at her blankly, trying to keep a straight face, like when they were children.



“THIS!” she spat. She held up both hands and wiggled all the fingers at once.



Angelo mimicked her motion, added a crooked smile and gave her a questioning look, but said nothing. This little exchange was all about them and he was enjoying it hugely.



“Oh…Just…Stop it!” she wailed and batted his hands out of the air. “Just once, I’D like to be the first person to announce how I feel and to decide what to do about it! Do you know how spooky this is?” Her fingers were moving again. “I’m telling you Timmy, don’t…do it…again!” She punctuated her little tirade with a pouty bottom lip.



The sight of her raised the distant memory of a similar exchange in a room he hadn’t seen since he was three years old. That time it had been his own pouting face that inspired the words he was about to say. Angelo placed his index finger ever so gently on Alicin’s lip and warned her tenderly, “Don’t trip on that.”



She was on him in a heartbeat, toppling her unsuspecting friend to the floor and pinning him hard to the sculptured pile. “Take it back, Timmy!” she smiled at him.



“No!” he crowed, fending off the ensuing flurry of slaps. “Let go!”



“Not ‘til you take it back!” she threatened through the clenched teeth of a long-ago six-year-old.



“NO!” Weak from laughing, he arched his body and managed to push her off, but somehow ended up on the bottom again. He’d been here a few times before, he now remembered. The memories made him laugh even harder, causing Alicin to redouble her efforts to wipe the silly smile off his face.



Then something changed. Alicin’s domination of him became more urgent, more serious…more dangerous. Without warning, she pulled handfuls of his hair so viciously that he cried out in pain. She wrapped her hands around his neck and squeezed hard, fingers digging into his skin. He pulled at her wrists, gasping for air. In return she butted his face just below the eye with her forehead, causing him to lose hold. All the while she shouted at him, “Stop it! Stop It! STOP IT!” Alicin was astride Angelo’s hips, swinging her fists wildly at him, when she felt powerful arms wrap around her upper body, pulling her down into bear hug. She tried to use her legs for leverage to topple onto her side, but stronger ones captured them and held them tightly. She was trapped.



Suddenly, Angelo was experiencing, as if through her eyes, the violence visited upon his friend in the past several days. The sight terrified him and he cried out, fearing for his life. The attacker’s eyes were cold and heartless and he felt naked and vulnerable under their scrutiny. Angelo felt the cold steel of this animal’s service revolver pressing against her neck and could smell breath that reeked of cigarettes and break-room coffee. There was a stinging pain now on his shoulder and the muscles in his lower body burned from Alicin’s struggles against her foe. As he felt the assailant’s hands yanking at her meager clothes, Angelo’s insides were one massive bruise that ached with each breath he took and every muscle he tried to move. The attack had degraded steadily to this one evil act, and it had set a match to the young man’s rage. With great determination, Angelo forced himself to look at the face of Alicin’s attacker.

=====



Sam bolted into Alicin’s room, followed by Earl and Dr. Patrice. Naomi, Elinore and Joanna were close on their heels. It took both men to pull Alicin off of Angelo, who then lay on the floor in a heap. Naomi and Joanna lifted his battered body onto the bed and began to look for injuries while Dr. Patrice quickly uncapped a hypo and jabbed it into Alicin’s hip, whereupon the young woman collapsed into the men’s arms.



Elinore watched Sam and Earl place Alicin’s slight form on the chaise. The nurse was visibly shaken by what she had seen on the security monitor across the hall moments earlier. What had begun as a playful exchange between friends had turned ugly. Whatever darkness was in her heart, Alicin had taken it out on her best friend. Only moments before the fight, the researcher had been “goin’ fool”, as the nurse’s Georgia relatives would have put it, teasing her and trying – successfully – to make her laugh at the worst possible moment. Now she wondered what had triggered the change. She also wondered if anyone, Alicin included, really knew.



Angelo was recovering from what had been more of an emotional beating than a physical one, although Alicin had landed a few good punches. He sat up, despite Naomi and Joanna’s chiding, and dangled his feet over the edge of the bed.



Dr. Patrice approached him and took his hands in hers. “What just happened here?”



He looked into her eyes. “Not sure,” he lied.



“Why did she turn on you?”



“Don’t know,” he protested a bit too strongly.



“This is about the attack,” Patrice guessed, nearly certain that she was right.



Angelo broke eye contact and withdrew his hands from the doctor’s grip.



Dr. Patrice took a long, hard look at the man before her. She blinked twice, slowly, and inhaled deeply. Without removing her gaze from Angelo, she announced, “I’ll be in my office if anyone’s looking for me.” Silently, she stepped to the door and entered her sanctum, drawing the door shut behind her.



Once inside, Dr. Patrice poured a shot of scotch and tossed it down, savoring the slow burn as she poured the next one and dispatched it easily as well. Her insides were still quaking and her hands unsteady. Just now, in that other room, she had gazed into the eyes of one of the most complex, enigmatic human beings she knew. Her heart had seized in her chest when his eyes had finally revealed their horrible truth: Angelo knew the identity of Alicin’s attacker.

=====



End Part 13

Alicin Wonderland

Send feedback to lizzkirsch@hotmail.com

Alicin Wonderland by Lizz Part 14


UNEXPECTED COMPANY



=====



Trauma 2

Patient Room



The door of Sydney’s room opened with a soft whoosh and the visitor stepped inside. With confident steps, the newcomer crossed quietly to his bedside, taking note of the IV’s in the psychiatrist’s arms. Various monitors were connected to a well-muscled chest that was bared to the waist, exposing the skin to the coolness of the room. Lips gently placed on his brow sensed the fires burning within. The door whooshed again, this time admitting a nurse, a woman in her mid fifties. She stopped abruptly, not expecting to see anyone other than medical staff in this particular room. “This patient is not receiving visitors. I’ll have to ask you to leave immedi-” She stopped in mid-sentence when the visitor twirled around to face her with an imperious smile. “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t recognize you! Welcome home, Miss Parker!”



“Lillian!” Parker exclaimed, albeit quietly, “Is that really you?” The nurse smiled and nodded as she approached the young woman she had last known as an all-too-serious teenager. “I came as soon as I heard,” Parker offered. “How is he?”



“Resting, for now. He has a very high fever that isn’t responding to any of the antipyretics we’ve tried. That’s why it’s so cold in here. We’re keeping him hydrated and making him as comfortable as we know how, although he may disagree about the ‘comfortable’ part when he wakes up, though.” Parker gave her a puzzled look. “He’s on a refrigerated mat—something new from Research and Development. We’re trying it for the first time. I can’t say that it’s had an effect on his core temperature yet, but he’s been resting easier since we installed it. Too bad we didn’t have some for the others,” she concluded.



“What others?”



“About a dozen, altogether, give or take. I’d have to check to be sure. Anyway, over the past six months they’ve been trickling in, just one or two at a time. The symptoms and course of the illness are always the same: rapid onset, high fever that peaks quickly, and then drops just as fast, all in about twenty-four to thirty hours.”



“How were they-“



“Infected? That’s still a mystery,” she said with a theatrical wave of her hand. “The boys and girls in the lab are working on it. They’re going over the patient charts looking for any connections: organic markers, lifestyle, allergies, anything that can help us find a treatment.” As she spoke, the nurse began to check the monitors and make notes on Sydney’s chart. She adjusted the drip on an IV and turned once more to Parker. “For now, he’s pretty much on his own. Not what you want to hear, I know, but he’s strong, dear. He’s always taken good care of himself. His record shows that he practices yoga regularly. Has for many years. He told us at his last checkup that he now prefers the vegetarian fare at the cafeteria and hardly ever eats meat anymore.” Parker wrinkled her nose slightly at the revelation, being a carnivore at heart, at least in the epicurean arena. “It may be comforting to know that he’s doing just as well as the others and most of those were half his age or slightly younger. We have absolutely no reason to believe he won’t recover like the others, so for now, it’s really just a waiting game.” She smiled at Parker. “And now that you’re up to speed on your friend, it really is my duty to kick you out! The man needs his rest.”



Parker smiled and nodded in agreement. The two women exited to the hall, leaving the soft beeps and whirrs of the electronic attendants behind.



Lillian filed Sydney’s chart and motioned Parker to the seats opposite the elevator that had delivered the young woman to the infirmary minutes earlier. She was truly pleased to see Catherine’s daughter and was awed by how closely the daughter resembled the mother. “Pardon a crone’s curiosity, dear, but is this just a visit or are you home for good? In other words, is Corporate’s loss soon to become the Centre’s gain?” She leaned closer to Parker and cooed, “This place hasn’t been the same without you!”



Parker returned the smile and replied, “I’m flattered that I was missed.” She paused to light a cigarette and noticed that the nurse was staring at her. “But, no, I’m not returning to the Centre. Corporate suits me and I’ve managed to make a place for myself.” Lillian was still staring. “What?”



Suddenly aware that her eyes had been locked on Parker, Lillian apologized for her rudeness. “I’m sorry, dear. It’s just that you remind me so much of …oh dear…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, embarrassed that she had stepped into painfully remembered territory for the younger woman.



“My mother,” Parker finished for her, exhaling a cloud of blue smoke at the ceiling. “You’re not the first to point it out, you know. And besides, it’s true, I do look very much like her.” And that’s where the similarity ends, she thought to herself. My mother was weak. Otherwise, she never would have-



“Miss Parker?” A doctor approached and the women stood as he extended a hand to Parker. “I had a message that said you’d be arriving today. It didn’t say you’d be bringing daybreak with you!” He was smiling.



Oh, gawd, she thought to herself, a perky morning person. Parker smiled weakly as she crushed out her cigarette. “I borrowed a pair of Corporate wings as soon as I got your message.”



“My message?” the doctor puzzled. “I didn’t send you a message. Are you sure it was from this Unit?”



“Well, no,” she began awkwardly. “It’s just that the usual sources claim they didn’t send it either. I guess the important thing is that someone thought to notify me. If Sydney’s here, he’s in good hands. I appreciate everything you’re doing for him.” She stopped speaking before her voice could betray the unexpected emotions that were building quickly and threatening to show themselves.



The doctor put a supportive hand on her shoulder for a moment but removed it almost immediately as Parker cast him a glance that demanded he do so. “No thanks are necessary, it’s what we do, Miss Parker. Sydney’s a valuable part of the Centre. His work has benefited more patients and staff than we’ll probably ever know. I don’t know if you’re aware that this Trauma Unit was his idea, no doubt inspired by his brother’s accident. And the other one, an intern of his, I think. The young woman who died. He made their deaths count for something by trying to give others a fighting chance. I’m not sure I could have seen that far ahead, given the same circumstances. We owe Sydney a lot. We’ll keep you informed of his progress. How can we reach you?”



“It’s my cellular phone,” she said, proffering a business card that bore only a phone number. “I’ll be here at least through Wednesday, but you can reach me at Corporate after that.”



“Very good,” he said, slipping the card into the pocket of his jacket, “I’ll be in touch.



Parker turned toward the elevators. Her next stop would be the Chairman’s office to establish a credible explanation for her presence at the Centre. Angel was homesick for Daddy; she mused, and rolled her eyes. The doors opened and she stepped inside. She pushed the button for her destination and spent the ascent studying her new Ferragamos.

=====



The whistle sounded long and shrill, as the train pulled into the station. They were just inside the Italian border. Young Sydney looked out his window, jostling for position with his brother Jacob. People on the platform were bustling about, collecting bags, greeting loved ones, searching for berths. Sydney’s mother was busy overhead, retrieving their small bundles and handing them to the boys to carry off the train. His father set about straightening their collars and ties, and tucking in their shirts. Then he combed their hair. Sydney tugged at his collar in a futile attempt to loosen it. Why did Father insist on shirts and ties? They were on holiday, after all…



At last the family stepped off the train, and an unexpected draught of alpine air nearly took Sydney’s breath away. The boy closed his eyes and turned his face into the wind. The current of air cooled his body. He took in a deep breath and held it in his lungs for as long as he could before blowing it out through rounded lips.

=====



Trauma 2

Duty Desk



The doctor was looking over Lillian’s shoulder at Sydney’s monitors when the shrill alarm sounded. “Which one?” he asked as they hurried down the hall.



“Apnea,” the nurse replied, “and his pulse is elevated.”



“Is the room set for pulmonary procedures?”



“Yes, Doctor, we have an O2 feed beside the bed, full resuscitation supplies, surgical trays and a crash cart. I can call T-1 for another nurse to assist, just in case.”



“Let’s see what we’ve got, first.”



Together, they burst into the patient’s room and Lillian shut off the alarm that had summoned them. Once the monitor was reset, she joined the doctor at bedside. Stethoscope in his ears, he listened carefully to the sounds coming from Sydney’s chest. “Did any of the others have pulmonary complications?”



“Not a one.”



He removed the device and draped it around his neck. “His chest is clear.” The monitor was purring quietly once again. The doctor held his hand on the center of Sydney’s chest for a few minutes and then studied his patient’s eyelids. Then he smiled faintly. “Rapid eye movements…there! Did you see it? He’s dreaming.”



Lillian nodded and smiled, too. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s entertaining!”



A few more observations and they were finished for the time being. The doctor left instructions with Lillian to page him in case of another emergency.

=====



SL 26

Raines’ Office



William Raines did not like surprises, not even the good ones, so it was with great irritation and perhaps a little suspicion that he looked up from his desk when he heard the knock at his door. Outside, Patrice smoothed her hair back with both hands and tightened the tortoise shell barrette that held it in place at the back of her neck. She took a deep breath and stepped into the office. “Good morning, Bill. Can you spare me a few minutes?”



“In the neighborhood and thought you’d drop by?” he replied with just enough sarcasm to be noticed.



“Well,” she began carefully, “you have the ‘drop’ part right. My stomach is still somewhere between sub-levels.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the ceiling.



“Well then, Doctor,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “what brings you to my door?” Not actually wanting her in his office, still he waved her to a chair, as he was determined to find out about the girl. He already knew what was wrong with Sydney.



“First, I want to know how you’re feeling. That was a nasty fall you took last night. I wish you’d stayed long enough for me to check you over.” She was sincere in her comments.



Raines was not entirely convinced of his visitor’s good will and concern. “I’m quite well, thank you, Doctor. But you didn’t come all the way down here just to inquire about my health. Why are you really here?” He was speaking more slowly than usual and seemed to be having difficulty breathing, even with the oxygen feed.



“Don’t dismiss my concern so lightly, William. You look like hell and you sound terrible!” She watched his face register shock and then mild amusement at her bluntness. “When was your last check up?” she demanded.



“Two months ago, not that it’s any of your business,” he sneered. “My personal physician is quite capable of looking after my health.”



“I bet he hasn’t seen you recently,” she said sarcastically with the arch of an eyebrow.



He raised an eyebrow of his own. “What do you want?”



Patrice moistened her lips before beginning. “Alicin. Where does she come from and how long has she been working for you?”



“Nearly a year,” he replied dispassionately, ignoring the first question. “She was raised in the Centre from childhood until her early teen years. She trained here for basic research and then was sent to the Front for advance systems research training. Mr. Broots in systems security was her instructor. Her reputation made her acquisition essential to my project panel and I had her transferred back here.” He might as well have been reading from a brochure.



“Where does she live?”



“I beg your pardon?”



“You heard me,” she parried. “Where’s her room? Does she have a roommate?”



“The dormitory is one level down. No roommates are permitted.”



“I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind.”



“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Non-panel personnel aren’t permitted in the dormitories.”



Patrice paused for a moment, her annoyance tensing the corners of her mouth. “Then that brings me to the other reason I’m here. Your researcher was attacked, Bill.” The statement did not produce the reaction that she had expected. Instead of anger she saw a flash of distress and then his face returned to its usual bland look. “I don’t know where it happened, but early forensics puts the time at three to five days before your visit to Sydney. I’m not just talking about a beating, Bill. She was sexually assaulted as well. The attacker was very careful. He used a condom and there was no skin under what little fingernails she has, so he had time to clean them when he was finished with her. No hair, no fibers. Nothing.” The words were bitter tasting in her mouth, but she continued. “He had an accomplice, a lookout most likely. Of course it could also explain the absence of skin under her nails if someone else restrained her. I already know that there were two of them, Bill, and they were sweepers. I want them. Both of them. This happened on your watch and I want your help to bring them in.” Her countenance was dark and intense as she spoke.



News of the nature of Alicin’s attack disturbed Raines. His face, however, remained unreadable. “I knew something was wrong. She’s been acting strangely over the last six weeks, not eating, pacing her cell at night, belligerent toward her handlers. I thought the pace of the project was getting to her. That’s why I took her to Sydney.”



“So you thought she was just stressed out and getting bitchy with your staff,” Patrice tossed out. Raines’ gaze fell everywhere else in the room except upon Patrice. “Is that why you had someone shave her head?” She didn’t try to hide her disgust.



“I never ordered that!” he rasped. “In fact I’m looking for the employee who thought it was a good idea!” His anger was genuine. “I have every reason to keep that girl healthy and content at her computer terminal. That damn haircut cost me an early delivery bonus!”



While Patrice was relieved to hear that Raines had nothing to do with Alicin’s brutal coif, she bristled at his callous disregard for her well being apart from her usefulness to the Centre. She wanted to tell him where he could put the bonus! Instead, she came back to the focus of her visit.



“Bill? I really need your help on this one. If Alicin hadn’t gotten sick, we never would have known about this man. I mean, who knows how many other times he’s done this! There’s a vicious predator out there and he has help. How many other women are on that research panel? How many of them are you willing to surrender to this animal before you do something? How many bonuses are you ready to lose?” She was making herself sick now.



“Look, Bill, it’s once in a blue moon that a person gets a chance to be a force for good in the world. This is our chance to stop a monster.” She paused for a moment before asking, “What say you?”



Before Raines could reply, the door opened and Willie, his chief sweeper, entered carrying a large manila envelope that looked as if he had kicked it all the way from the mailroom to the office. It bore several inscriptions. Confidential. Urgent. Medical Records. X-Ray Film Do Not Bend. Project TT/K. “This just came for you, sir.” He took note of Dr. Patrice’s presence before he was dismissed by a nod of his boss’s head.



“What is it, Bill?”



“Probably a file for me to review before it goes to the burn room.”



“From the medical archives? Whose is it, Alicin’s?” Patrice was frowning as she crossed her arms and waited for his reply.



Raines looked across the desk at her and then at the package on the desk. She was annoyingly tenacious about her young patient, but he respected her for not trying to charm him out of the information with flattery or patronizing declarations of admiration.



“Do you have x-ray vision, Bill, or would you like to borrow my Swiss army knife to open it?” she pressed, mixing curiosity and impatience.



Since Patrice was making no move to leave, Raines sighed sharply and reached into the center drawer of his desk and retrieved a tarnished but strikingly jeweled thirteenth century Moroccan dagger. With one fluid swipe of the blade, the package was open. Patrice sat with her hand over her mouth as he withdrew the contents slowly, not wishing to reveal the contents fully to his guest.



There were eight composite x-ray films and five grossly overstuffed file folders, clearly from the Centre’s medical archive. Setting the films aside, Raines opened the first folder and began to read. His face grew steadily stonier, if that was possible for his usually granite countenance.



Patrice persevered and still made no move for the door. “Care to share?” she inquired solemnly after fifteen minutes of polite silence.



In a gesture that surprised the doctor, Raines turned the folder he was reading to face her and slid it across his desk. Then he sank back in his chair, looking very tired. Or perhaps shaken? She received the folder and read the label that announced: Project TT/K-Subject 001002001A. Her next breath caught in her chest. A single page told the straightforward story of Alicin’s birth. The medical history noted an uneventful pregnancy and delivery with a perfect Apgar score and stated that the baby--make that ‘subject’--had a strong cry. There was no mention--absolutely none--of her parents in the narrative. It had the ring of a cover story.



The next report sickened her. It began at age two, when Alicin supposedly first came to the Centre. The toddler was the result of a breeding project intended to produce a designer genius whose brainpower could be fine-tuned to a specific task. A characteristic known as brain plasticity allowed increasing numbers of neurons to be dedicated to a selected task. For example, by stimulating the skin on the pads of the fingers, one could conceivably recruit neighboring neurons to the motor task of typing on a keyboard, thus improving accuracy and speed. In Alicin’s case, the characteristic was enhanced to an astonishing level and used to shape her affinity for linguists and integrated thinking skills, and Alicin was very good at both.



As a preschooler, her training targeted cognitive development and linguistics. By age five, she could read in four western European languages and knew three regional variations in one of them. Nothing was written about her speaking ability in any of them.



Near the middle of the file was a horrifying medical research report authored by TT/K, the initials on the project listing. It detailed the genetic studies that determined Alicin’s DNA code and the attempts at in vitro fertilization with three ‘donors’ from the Pretender Project. The fertilizations were successful, however the embryos detached from the uterine walls of the two unnamed surrogates and Alicin herself within a week of implantation. Closer study discovered that the genetic switch that had turned on the enhanced plasticity had also played a part in causing the detachments. Alicin’s trait could not be passed on through normal sexual reproduction. Doctors had then removed her uterus and a portion of each ovary for further study. On the recommendation of TT/K, the harvested tissues were forwarded to a place called the Donoterase Facility. After a brief recovery period on SL-26, the fourteen year old was deemed fit to resume her training.



Patrice was breathing in shallow, shuddering gasps by the time she had finished reading and her chest was tight. Whoever TT/K was, he—or she—was evil made flesh. The tightness in her chest turned to anger. She looked up at Raines. He was reading the contents of a second folder and still looked ill at ease. Patrice returned her attention to the documents in her lap.



On the other side of the desk, William Raines was thinking long and hard about Patrice’s proposal. Knowing of Alicin’s recent ordeal, so like his Annie’s abduction in some aspects, had suddenly brought back the painful pangs of grief from what seemed like yesterday to him. He was confused. Annie had been his daughter. Alicin was Centre property, bred, born and raised to serve. Aside from her obvious benefit to Centre, there was no reason to care about Alicin. So why did he feel obliged to help find her assailant?



Raines rose from his desk and walked slowly to where Patrice was sitting. Looking down at her he said, “I can’t be involved.” Quickly raising a hand to halt her protest he added, “Officially. I’ll do what I can and keep you informed indirectly.”



Patrice fought to gain command of her voice and her emotions. “Thank you, Bill,” she said, barely above a whisper. She studied his troubled face for a moment. “Is there something I can do for you?” He shook his head, so Patrice stood and walked to the door. “You should take a few days off, you know. No one would question it. Then maybe arrange to leave early or plan to come in late some days? No job is worth this wear and tear on your body.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes this time as she raised the folder in her hand slightly. “I’ll bring this back just as soon as I finish reading. You take care now.”



She was gone before he could form an objection to her taking the folder out of his office. “It’s not the wear and tear on the body,” he said quietly as he leaned on the cool glass of the door. “It’s the wear and tear on the soul that’ll kill you.” He returned to his desk and slumped in the chair.



Once in a blue moon, he thought. How ironic that she should use those words. His thumbs brushed over the bottom edge of his desk blotter, under which he kept a picture of his only child Annie, now deceased. Her kidnapper, the Blue Moon Killer, was tucked away in a maximum-security cell enjoying a sentence more merciful than the one he had meted out for the apple of one father’s eye.



After a few moments, he lifted the edge of the desk blotter and retrieved the black and white photograph hidden there. She had her mother’s smile, he thought, looking at his daughter. What he’d give for just one more day with her, just one memento from the days when her smile was enough to light up his heart. He pressed a button on the phone and lifted the handset. “Please hold all calls until I tell you otherwise.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Holding Annie’s picture in both hands, he turned his chair to face the wall.



=====

TBC

End Alicin Wonderland Part 14

Please send feedback to lizzkirsch@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: See Part 1

Alicin Wonderland by Lizz Part 15 The Evil Men Do

=====

Day 2

SL-23 ===== In the hall outside Raines' office, Patrice had to steady herself several times with a hand on the wall as she hurried to the elevators. She stepped into an empty car and pressed the number that would take her back to the Infirmary level. She was fighting for breath. Her insides were quaking and she prayed to God that her legs would be able to carry her as far as her office when she arrived. A wave of nausea passed through her and it wasn't from the motion of the elevator. She was reeling from the pages she had read from the file she was holding. How could they? How dare they? For God's sake, who were they? How the Centre could be involved in such under-. The car lofted and the soft ping heralding her return sounded outside. She quickly straightened her posture and wiped the perspiration from her face with one hand.

When the doors slid open, the doctor strode past her staff at the duty desk with a perfunctory greeting and rounded the corner, heading for the restrooms. Once inside, she pushed open the door to the nearest stall and gave up her breakfast along with tears of anguish. When the spasms subsided, she emerged to rinse her mouth and splash cool water on her face at the sink. Her personal and professional foundations had just been shaken when she suddenly realized that she was a part of an organization that on the one hand pursued medical research for the public good and on the other was perverting the results of that research in order to play God. "What now?" she asked the woman who stared back at her from the mirror above the sink, "What do I do now?"

Rounding the corner near her office, she greeted Naomi, Earl and Sam at the duty desk and learned that Joanna and Elinore were on morning rounds. Opening the door, she found the floor of her office awash in warm, infrared light from the heat lamps that were evaporating the last moisture from the carpeting around her desk. That meant that Maintenance had repaired the underlying waterline.

After locking the door, she slipped off her shoes and kicked them into the sitting area. Then she threw Alicin's medical file on the ottoman and herself onto a sofa where, in the dimness of the room, Patrice pulled a fringed throw pillow over her face and wept into it. Her body shook with sobs and moans torn loose from the very bottom of her soul. She was part of something monstrous, had been for some time. Why hadn't she seen it before? Had she been so absorbed in her own work that she had failed to see what was going on around her? Or was Alicin's case simply an aberration, an exception to the rule? In her heart, she knew the answer to that one, and her heart was the one voice she could trust to be right. But the original question remained: What now? The question echoed in her mind until, out of tears and exhausted from shedding them, she fell into fitful sleep. =====

Next door, Alicin was back in her bed, sleeping off the sedative from her terrible outburst with Angelo several hours before. As she began to wake up, she also began to realize that she had been drugged and grew increasingly alarmed. The last time she'd been injected, she had awakened in a new cell and been visited by Mr. Raines, to whom she instantly had taken a disliking. But for right now, she was fighting for consciousness and hoping that her situation had not taken a turn for the worse.

Cross-legged at the foot of the bed sat Angelo. He was sore all over and a dark red bruise had formed high on his right cheekbone where Alicin had butted him with her head. He was sore on the inside, too; aching for what his friend had endured at the hands of a man named Jerry Wurth. While Alicin was sleeping, Angelo had slipped into the shower and scrubbed his skin nearly raw with a fingernail brush in an attempt to rid himself of the man's presence. He was only partially successful. If only he had known that she was back in the Centre. If only he could have been watching over her like before. If only he had been there. If only-.

"Oooh. Hmmm. Nooo." Alicin was rising to the surface of consciousness, but Angelo did not move. "Nnno. Nnno." Her keening cries were soft yet tinged with protest. "Sorry, Timmy.mmm.sorry.Timmy.don't go.don't.go." The rest was lost in quiet mutterings.

Angelo moved to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed where he could hold her hand, and tucked the covers around her the way he used to when she was a frightened little girl in the Children's Wing. Even then he'd known that she was special. Not just for her genius but-well-'her'. She was amusing without even trying but could be comical on purpose. She had been fearless on their field trips to the nether parts of the Centre, her curiosity fueling her courage. There had been that brief moment at the swimming pool when she had tried to bolt, but he had been able to talk her down and she ended up making the trip a night to remember for all of them. She had also been insightful beyond her tender years and was the only one who had treated him like a real person after Mr. Raines had altered his life forever in the name of science. Images of his life with Alicin streaked across his consciousness like a shower of meteors on a crisp autumn night, each one recalling a memory that touched his soul. 'Go?' he thought, 'Why? How could I?' For the last hour he had been trying to imagine life without her again and couldn't.

Suddenly his hand was empty and Alicin was trying to disappear under the covers. "Hey!" he protested softly.

"How can you stand to be in the same room with me after what I did to you?" she whispered, peering over the edge of the sheet that was pulled up to her eyes.

"Alicin hurt so much here." He pointed to his heart. "And here." He was pointing to his head. "Angelo sees. Feels too. Someone hurt Alicin. Bad man hurt Alicin. No more hurt. No more bad man hurts."

"Oh, no!" she groaned weakly. "You could feel it, too." Regret registered in her tired face. "I am so sorry, Timmy." She cuddled his cheek in her hand, "I am so very sorry. You're my best friend in my whole life and look what I've done to you."

"Alicin?" he said, placing his hand over hers.

"What?"

"Angelo is Alicin's friend, only and always."

Alicin smiled upon hearing the familiar words. "Only and always?"

"Yes. For Alicin." When she reached for him, happy tears in her eyes, he smiled and held her close and made gentle shushing noises in her ear. He was pleased, knowing that they shared the memory of 'only and always'. =====

It had happened on one of the group's field trips. They had been visiting the various employee lounges and raiding the refrigerators. On the doors of those refrigerators were pictures, jokes, messages, all held in place with cute little magnets shaped like flowers, insects and the like. Unbeknownst to the other raiders, little Alicin was collecting one magnet from each room, two when she couldn't make up her mind, which was often. When it was time to return to their cells, the little girl's pocket was stuffed with magnetic flora and fauna. She kept falling behind the other explorers and when Timmy had stopped the group for the third time to wait for her, Jarod and Eddie were already frustrated. When she finally came around the corner of the service conduit, one hand was stuffed inside her pocket to secure the contents, forcing her to crawl on two knees and only one arm.

"No wonder she can't keep up," Eddie griped. "Look at her!"

Alicin stuck her tongue out at him and kept crawling toward the boys.

"What's in your pocket?" Jarod smiled, knowing the little girl had been up to something.

"Nuffin," was her wide-eyed reply.

"Aw, c'mon, pipsqueak, let's see it!" Eddie ordered as he advanced on the little girl and reached for her arm.

"Nooo!" she cried. "They're not for you! Let go! Let go!" She ducked and scrabbled past him until she reached Timmy. "You can't have 'em! They're not for you. They're for Timmy! They're only an' always for Timmy!" With that she pulled the treasure from her pocket and offered them in a double handful to the best friend in her whole life. "See? These are for you, Timmy. Ya like 'em?"

She was blinking those big green eyes at him again. His heart was full of wonderful feelings when she looked at him like that. "Yeah, I like 'em a lot, Alicin. Thanks." Then he did something that he would probably never live down. He placed a little kiss on her forehead.

Jarod thought it was a rather nice gesture, recalling his own encounter with Miss Parker.

"Eww!" Eddie groaned. "Ya kissed the pipsqueak!"

Alicin stuck her tongue out at him again. =====

"Why are you putting up with me?" She was smiling again.

"Because Alicin is.Alicin," he said matter of factly and smiled the smile she liked best. "Good for Angelo always. Good in here," and he touched a finger to the middle of her chest, over her heart.

"I keep you in here, too," she replied and curled her hand around his.

"Angelo has them!" he said in a conspiratorial whisper, losing Alicin in the sudden change of topic. "Magnets! Only and always? At Alicin's old room. No one knows."

"Sounds like a field trip to me," she commented, her face brightening a little. "Can we go?"

Angelo smiled. "Soon. Not now. Alicin rest. "

"Aw, Tim-"

"No!" he chided.

She narrowed her eyes, feigning anger, "Meany!"

"Yep," he grinned proudly. "Alicin rest in dark now." Then he placed a little kiss on her forehead and turned out the light.

Alicin sat there blinking at him in the slice of noon on the equator that shone under the door. "Stay with me?" she asked suddenly.

"Sure!" He pulled the bedside chair closer.

"No, up here." She patted the covers beside her on the bed.

Angelo let go of the chair. "Sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, silly!" she smiled warmly. Then her face grew serious. "I need you here, Timmy. You make me feel safe and, well, I just sleep better when you're near. Please?" Her eyes were full of desperate hope, as she waited for his answer.

"Sure." He always had been a goner when she looked at him like that.

When Naomi made rounds later, she found the two of them sleeping spoon fashioned, Alicin under the covers and Angelo on top of them. Quietly closing the door, she smiled sadly and wondered just what the future would hold for the pair, because she realized all too well that their lives were not their own.

============ Early Evening ============ Patrice was jarred awake and alarmed by the sudden sound of a male voice in her office. She froze on the sofa cushions, searching for him in the dim light of the heat lamps. "Who's there!" she challenged, once she had gathered the courage to speak.

"You have mail!" came the cheery digital reply from her desk.

"Oh, for god sakes, Patrice!" she grumbled to herself as she rose and crossed the room. "Get a grip."

With a single keystroke the monitor came to life with an image of her hometown in Italy. She marveled at the depth of color and the clarity of detail that came from a device that was no thicker than her grandmother's bread board. Mr. Broots had called it a 'plasma' screen. Not on the public market yet, it was being tested at the Centre for performance and ergonomics. So far, Patrice was pleased with the screen's presentation of her daily work and the familiar scene now before her looked as if she could step into it and arrive at her grandfather's inn in time for supper.

A few more taps on the keyboard and she was into her e-mail, checking messages: convention, lab report, lab report, joke of the day, picture of the day, search results. Search results, what search results? She hadn't ordered a search so, naturally, she opened that one first.

There were none of the usual inscriptions at the top of the message detailing who had sent it or how it had been routed to her, so there was no way she could trace it. The body of the message was brief: "The parties you seek are in the gym at 4 pm daily." There was an attachment. A tap on the track pad and she was looking at two Centre security badges identifying the men pictured as sweepers Jerry Wurth and Donald Gleason. Patrice sat back, propped an elbow on the armrest of her chair and rested her chin on her hand. Her gaze shifted from one face to the other. This is Saturday, she noted. She looked at her watch. It was just after five. Too late? Were they even working today? One way to find out. She pushed another key and waited for the printer to finish. The single sheet of paper she carried out of her office was still warm. "I'll be back in a half-hour, Joanna," she said without further explanation to the woman at the duty desk. "Page me if you need me." Patrice didn't wait for her assistant's reply. Her heart pounded in her chest as she approached the elevators. Pushing the button that would take her to the level that housed the Centre's employee health and fitness facility, she wasn't sure what she would do if they were there.

On the pretense of wanting to develop a training program for herself, Patrice allowed one of the trainers to give her a tour of the facility during which she dropped the sweepers' names and learned that neither was present. She thanked the nicely tanned young woman for her time and headed back to her office. Opening her cell phone on the way, Patrice pressed in a number and waited.

========== Main Level ==========

"Keep your voice down, will ya! This can't get out or we're all screwed!" Sam had Earl by the arm and was hustling him around the corner to a secondary, and so less noticed and guarded, exit from the building.

"Okay, okay!" Earl said softly. "What've you got?"

"Our guy's name is Jerry Wurth," Sam began in a voice just above a whisper. "I checked his file. He's been here about sixteen months, working for Raines the whole time. Police academy standout three years before that. On his first hire he's up on charges for sexually harassing a female officer. Nothing's been filed since he came to the Centre, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's clean. Comes to work on time. Alone. Never leaves early. I'll know more after I talk to Ma-"

"No names!" Earl jumped in.

"Okay. Anyhow, he hits the Blue Lady 'gentleman's club' after work most days for a few beers and a lap dance before heading home to his live-in girlfriend. The police have been called to his place twice, but no complaints were filed. Works out on the fitness level after his shift and sometimes comes in on Saturdays. I see him there when I'm lifting with Sydney's pretender."

"Anything else?"

"As a matter of fact, the police thing made me look for priors."

"And?"

"Jerry's been a very busy-very bad-boy. "And he's gotten away with it eleven times, starting in high school."

"How?" Earl was incredulous.

"Intimidation and rich parents, from what I've heard so far. Of the eleven complaints filed, two made it as far as discovery before they were withdrawn. Four never made it past choosing up attorneys, and the other five either left school, quit their jobs or moved out of state.

Earl was silent and his face was set like flint when he spoke again. "We'll just have to make sure his parents don't get a chance to interfere this time. Any ideas?"

"A few," Sam said with a deadly smile. "And none of them involves the Delaware courts. But I'd like to poll the others first. After all, we're in this together. In the meantime, let's keep digging. We need as much background on this slug as we can get so no one will miss him until it's too late."

"The stories I'm hearing make me wanna dust him now and be done with it," Earl complained.

"Not a chance! He has to give up his accomplice and then we let them know that they haven't gotten away with anything." At that moment an electronic chirp sounded and both men reached for their pagers. "It's yours," Sam laughed, satisfied that he wasn't being summoned.

"It's the boss, Sam. Gotta go. Keep me posted." The two parted company, Sam waiting a full five minutes before exiting the corridor to the main lobby.

=========== Trauma One ===========

Earl entered the doctor's office after knocking four times as per the message on his pager. "Doctor Patrice?"

"Come in, Earl, and have a seat," she said. "Can I interest you in a ginger ale?" The ice cubes chimed inside the tall crystal drinking glass, followed by the crisp hiss of the amber soda.

"No, thanks," he replied as his boss took a seat across from him and downed a large mouthful of the icy beverage before speaking to him.

"First off, I want to thank you for getting Alicin set up next door so quickly. It's important for her to feel comfortable while she's recovering and you've made that happen. And secondly, I need to know if you were serious yesterday about your offer to work behind the scenes on Alicin's behalf."

Earl looked at her, wondering why she was asking. "Yes, I was," he replied slowly, trying to guess what he was about to get himself into.

Patrice sighed and handed him the printed likenesses of Alicin's attackers. She missed the brief flash of recognition and surprise that passed over his face as a new piece of the puzzle fell into place for him. "These are the men who attacked Alicin. I want them found and arrested so I can watch the wheels of justice turn." Her voice was low and ominous, unlike the woman Earl had worked for all these years. It made him uneasy. "Will you help me find them?" She held his attention with a piercing look.

The orderly took a deep breath and leaned back, suddenly aware that he had literally been sitting on the edge of his seat with his shoulders hunched up around his ears. As he shifted his shoulders to relax, he was also considering whether or not to tell the good doctor that he already knew about Jerry Wurth. Or that what he, personally, had in mind was to throw the bastard and his accomplice under the wheels of justice. He waited to answer and when he did, it was brief. "Yes."

Patrice pointed to the page he was holding. "I want a daily report on those two, routines, schedules, habits. If one of them goes outside to kick the fuzz off a dandelion, I want to know about it. Look for any and every possible opportunity to grab them. I know I don't have to tell you to be discreet, but I will anyway. If they cut and run, we'll never see them again. So keep a low profile and let me know when we have something to take to the state police. Okay?"

Earl nodded as he stood and folded the photo page, placing it in a pants pocket. "I'll do my best. I want them in custody as much as you do. Until tomorrow then." He headed for the door.

"Thank you, Earl. Good evening." was all she said. ===== TBC End Part 15 Desperately seeking feedback: lizzkirsch@hotmail.com

Alicin Wonderland Part 16

Change Is Gonna Come

Day 2—Early Evening



= = = = = = = = = =
wonderful

Homeward Bound

= = = = = = = = = =



Patrice exited her office, the camel hair coat thrown around her shoulders. “I’m going home for awhile, Jo. I need to unwind. Angelo was wonderful company, but we kept each other awake with our snoring. I knew there was a reason why we’re still single!” she joked with a wry smile and a shrug. “Besides, Em is no doubt royally pissed at me by now for missing his dinner, poor baby. I wonder who spoiled him so badly.” Jo smiled and rolled her eyes while her boss continued. “Half the fun of living with him is knowing for certain that there will be major payback for my waywardness! So I guess it’s time to face the music. I’ll check Sydney on my way out.”



She took a few steps toward the corridor and then stopped suddenly. “Ohmigosh!” she said, punctuating the exclamation with a palm-slap to her forehead. “I just remembered, he was supposed to visit Jarod today and I’m not sure that he did that. AND Jarod usually lifts weights with Sam on Saturdays, and that didn’t happen.” She paused for a moment to think. “After I’ve seen Sydney, I’ll try to visit Jarod. If that doesn’t work, I’ll get a message to him. Somehow.” She knew that, with Sydney unable to perform his duties, William Raines would be swift to step in and assume—or perhaps usurp was the better word—his colleague’s responsibilities.



Joanna raised a finger as if she were placing a bid at an auction. “If you need to get a message to Jarod, I know someone who can guarantee delivery.”



“Angelo?” the doctor smiled.



Joanna nodded. “If you have something, just leave it on my desk and I’ll see that it’s delivered.” The nurse raised her eyebrows and smiled broadly. “The boy’s been spending a lot of time in our neighborhood lately, so he isn’t hard to find.”



“Good enough,” Patrice smiled back as she turned once again toward Sydney’s room.

= = = = =



It was the soft voice of a woman that had roused him to partial consciousness. He didn’t catch the name, but she was telling him that everyone was taking good care of him. Talking to him as if he were fully conscious, she gave him an update about his condition and his afternoon visitor, and encouraged him to squeeze her hand or open his eyes. Sydney tried to move his arms and legs, but to no avail. His voice and mouth weren’t working either and attempting to open his eyes was like trying to raise two heavy garage doors. No amount of concentration could summon the muscles to action. Eventually, the woman with the soft voice left the room and Sydney was once again alone and feeling vulnerable, trapped in his body, much like Jacob, but hoping that he was not now sharing his brother’s fate.



Just as he was losing track of the world around him, the door whooshed open and the squeak of sneakers on the tiled floor heralded the arrival of another visitor. The hand that landed gently on his forehead was soft and cool. The fingers trailed down to caress his cheek, then proceeded along his carotid artery, crossed his collar bone and finally came to rest over his heart. For a time, he was content to focus his attention totally on his heartbeat and the quiet hand that now measured its rhythm. Then he heard a faint yet familiar voice.



“Syd? I’m on my way home for a little sleep, but I wanted to see you first. Lillian tells me your fever has peaked and wavered a few tenths of a degree over the last two hours. That’s good news. Alicin wavered just before she came back to normal. When your fever breaks, you’ll lose degrees in a hurry, but don’t worry. There don’t seem to be any ill effects from the rapid drop. All the others were fine and you’ll be just fine, too. I’ll stop to see Jarod on my way out to let him know what’s happened so he won’t be worried by your absence.”



Suddenly the gentle hand was gone from his chest and Sydney felt soft lips placing a kiss on his brow, followed by the receding squeak of the sneakers and another whoosh of the door. With a sigh, he sank back into welcome oblivion.

= = = = =



Surprised that she was allowed access to Sydney’s Pretender, Patrice made the most of her time with the young man, explaining Sam’s absence and quickly dispensing the news about Sydney.



Jarod was concerned, and didn’t hide it well. “How long has he been unconscious? What measures have been taken to reduce the fever? Have you tried…?”



“Jarod, we’re doing everything we can,” she assured him.



“But you said it yourself. None of the others lost consciousness. Are you sure it’s the same virus and not some mutation? It could be another pathogen altogether!” The tension in his voice was building.



Patrice moved to Jarod’s side on the sofa and took his hand and held on to it despite his attempt to pull away. As the doctor had expected, the hand relaxed in her grip after only a few more seconds. “I know you care about Sydney, we both do. That’s why I came down here to tell you what I know about him. His condition is good, believe me. The fluctuation in his temperature is a good sign that he’ll be returning to normal and waking up soon. If I didn’t believe that, Jarod, I wouldn’t be telling you.” She paused and lowered her voice. Rubbing Jarod’s back and fussing with his hair to make a show of comforting him for the camera, she leaned in close and whispered, “If you want to talk some more, tell Angelo.”



They stood and said their goodbyes as the Pretender escorted his unexpected guest to the door. “I’ll let you know when there’s a change, Jarod. Keep in mind what I said.”



“Thank you, Doctor. I will.” His smile was beautiful, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.



With that, Patrice stepped into the hall and was on her way to the elevators when she heard the apartment door slide shut, once more locking its tenant inside. Outside, with the first deep breath of fresh air, she was acutely aware of the lives Alicin, Jarod, and the other Centre “residents” were leading. As she slipped under the steering wheel of her black Jaguar, deep inside she knew that a change was in the wind. She also knew that such a change would most likely come at a high price to everyone involved.



= = = = = =

Mr. Emily

= = = = = =



Patrice rode home in silence, unable to settle on what music she wanted to hear, and every mile traveled only made her desire to be home grow stronger. Her property sat three miles from the highway along an upward-winding lane, and her stone and log house seemed to rise out of the earth to blend in flawlessly with its surroundings. That far into the woods, the only sounds were nature’s own. It was her haven, her refuge, her home. A glass of wine and a lap full of cat was what she needed most and it was now just minutes away.



As she turned off the state highway and began the climb to the house, she thought about Mr. Emily and of that day nearly sixteen years ago when she’d brought him home from the shelter, a tiny purring ball of fluff that she could hold in one hand. The kitten’s fur was tri-color, mostly white with patches of gray and black tabby stripe, a pattern almost exclusively found on females. Its tail was all tabby, a large patch on each side of the spine resembled saddlebags, and the swatch on top of its head gave the impression of a hat that had been put on slightly cockeyed. It was love at first sight and Patrice named it Emily after her favorite American poet and took it home. It wasn’t until after the operation, six weeks later, that Patrice discovered that Emily was—make that ‘had been’—a male. So when he began to exhibit a rather prickly temperament a few months later, she made up her mind that in similar circumstances she might have developed a similar attitude. She laughed out loud at the thought as the Jag crunched up the final few yards of single-lane gravel road that broadened into a large pool of crushed stone in front of the house.

= = = = =



He jumped up from his nap and raced to the kitchen like a much younger cat than he was. In his younger days, he could have leapt to the table in one graceful move, but age and its attending body changes dictated that he make the trip in two stages. So up to the chair cushion and thence to the smooth, cool maple boards he traveled to wait for his wayward housemate. He arranged himself in a classic cat pose and glared at the kitchen door as he waited for the sound of her key in the lock. Everything was in place. At last, he heard her footsteps on the porch.



Patrice tossed her keys on the counter as she entered, and set a tall paper bag next to them. “Emily! I missed you, baby boy,” she crooned. “It’s good to be home!” She hung her coat on a peg behind the door and started across the room to pick him up, but stepped on something in the middle of the floor that nearly turned her ankle. With a cry of alarm, she caught her balance. She bent down and retrieved the obstacle, a can of tuna which had been rolled to the precise center of the room. Patrice rose slowly from the floor until her eyes were locked with the culprit’s golden gaze. “Your idea of a land mine, I suppose? Clever boy, but I’m still the only one here with opposable thumbs. Remember that next time.” Her smile gave the lie to her threat.



The next few steps produced a hard crunching noise against the floorboards. “What on earth is going on here?” she exclaimed as she backtracked to the door to flick on the brightest light in the room. There was a wide scattering of dry cat food pieces that lead from the open doors under the sink (When did he learn to do that?) to Mr. Emily’s water dish on the opposite side of the room. “Okay, okay!” she conceded, “I should have been home earlier.” Then she added, with a wry smile, “But it is reassuring to know you won’t starve if I get buried in a snow storm this winter. In the meantime, I suppose it’s the least I can do to keep your snack bowl filled.” Mr. Emily sat casually by, grooming a paw as Patrice grabbed the bag of dry food and turned toward the feeding station, laying down a swath of nuggets onto the floor from the hole he had chewed in the bottom of it.



Patrice glowered at him as he hopped down from the table and disappeared into the relative darkness of the hallway. “I’ve always thought you’d make a handsome opera muff. Did I ever tell you that?” she yelled after him, shaking her head and chuckling to herself.



“Wonderful! I’ve always dreamed of shedding on your black cashmere opera cape! Did I ever tell you that?” He continued walking until he reached the sunroom, where he curled up in his orthopedic bed, resting on top of a t-shirt that smelled like the woman in the kitchen who was now sweeping up five pounds of crunchy cat chow. He groomed his ears for a few minutes and then drifted off to sleep as the sun was setting. He never heard her open the can of tuna.



Meanwhile, out in the kitchen, Patrice stashed her broom and pulled a bottle of merlot from the tall bag on the counter. After a moment of uncertainty, she opened the freezer door and snuggled the bottle into the ice cube bin for a few minutes while she indulged in a quick shower and pulled on her favorite dark satin pajamas. Barefooted, she padded back to the kitchen and selected a beautifully etched wine glass from the lighted display cupboard and a matching plate from the drawer beneath. Retrieving a few wedges of hearty cheese from the refrigerator door, she shaved several slices from each and arranged them on the plate with a few of the crackers that had arrived from Moena earlier in the week. She exchanged the cheese wedges for the merlot, uncorked the bottle and placed everything on a wooden butler’s tray which she carefully carried to the sunroom.



= = = = = =

Elsewhere

= = = = = =



He had no idea how long he had been drifting in space before he felt the cold floor of the Simulation Lab beneath his bare feet, but what truly unsettled him was the awareness that he was standing unclothed in front of Jarod’s isolation tank…and the hatch was laid open for him. Testing the water inside with a toe and finding the temperature agreeable, he stepped into the box, turned, and lowered himself onto his back until only his face remained above the water’s surface. Unconcerned, he watched as the hatch drifted shut and the warm darkness embraced his tired body as he closed his eyes and surrendered to it. The gentle movement of the water made him open his eyes and turn his head toward the perceived source of the waves that gently rocked his body. His gaze fell upon his own reflection, or so he thought, until the reflection spoke.



“Well, Sydney, you certainly were easier to find this time. You really need to simplify your life, you know. Shove over, will you? You’re taking your half out of the middle, as usual.”



Dumbfounded by what he was seeing and hearing, the fevered psychiatrist reasoned that it was a hallucination induced by the setting. Nonetheless, he ‘shoved over’ as he was asked to, but continued to stare. “Jacob?” he ventured.



“Ve-ry good, brother!” was the reply.



Sydney was nearly certain that he was dreaming now, but decided that he had nothing to lose by playing along. At least it would be a welcome diversion from his frustrations in the conscious world. “And to what do I owe the honor of your visit?” he asked with mild amusement. “And don’t tell me you were just in the neighborhood!” He paused to look at his twin for a moment and then added, “You do remember that you’re in a coma, right?” As soon as he’d said the words, Sydney thought he knew what might be happening, although he had never been one to admit that such a thing was possible and the scientific evidence just wasn’t there to support it. Yet still he played along.



“You have a problem, Syd.”



“I’m painfully aware of that, Jacob,” he said dryly.



“No! You don’t understand. This isn’t about you; it’s about a friend we both care about.”



Confused, Sydney thought that his fever must be climbing again and said so.



“It’s Patrice,” Jacob explained. When he saw his brother frown, he explained further. “Patrice’s curiosity overtakes that of her cat and it’s about to get her into trouble with some very dangerous people.”



“Is Raines is one of them?” Sydney guessed.



“He is chief among them in the sense that he can set in motion the events that could lead her to harm. Perhaps even her death.”



Sydney was shocked by the revelation. “And the others, Jacob, who are they?”



“That’s harder to see, but the Triumvirate is troubled by what Patrice has learned about the young researcher, particularly her background and the personnel involved with her early development.”



“This is too fantastic to believe,” Sydney declared. “It’s hard enough knowing that you’re not here, but I also know that I’m not here, either! Wherever here is!”



Sensing his brother’s strengthening grip on consciousness, Jacob spoke in comforting tones. “Sydney, you know we’ve shared a connection. After the accident, when you thought I had died, that connection told you otherwise. You cannot deny it! Well, we’re connected now and I’m telling you that the danger is real and there’s not much time before you will have to act on Patrice’s behalf. She needs a plan of escape, but it has to be in place before the powers that be make their move. Please, Sydney, trust me. Time is short.”



“How short?”



“Two, maybe three weeks. Then there will be a great upheaval in the Centre and Patrice will be regarded as one who assisted in bringing it to pass.”



“And will she?”



“You already know the answer to that, brother. But the truth won’t matter by then, only the Tower’s perception the truth.”



“Raines is certain to spin this to his advantage.” Sydney’s expression was grave as he turned away to consider Jacob’s words. He turned back to say, “I will do what you have asked,” but Jacob was gone and Sydney was alone, floating in water that was becoming uncomfortably cool.



= = = = = = = = = = = =

Even in the Stone House

= = = = = = = = = = = =



Patrice finished the last of the cheese and crackers, except for the two that Mr. Emily had licked and then batted onto the floor, and settled back in her leather recliner with the merlot and a magazine about country living. He hadn’t tried to get onto her lap and when she tried to give him a pat on the head, he scrunched his neck and squeezed his eyes shut in distaste as he ducked away from her touch. From the corner of her eye, she could see him hop to the broad windowsill and make his way around the perimeter of the sunroom, snaking between potted plants and pieces of Roman and Etruscan antiquities, until he was standing directly behind her chair. Patrice knew what was coming next. She felt paws weigh in on the back of the recliner and heard sniffing noises as Mr. Emily examined her hair. Then he was on the chair, walking across her shoulder and chest, and coming to a stop on top of the open magazine. Making a graceful turn, which afforded Patrice a generous view of his hind parts, he lay down across the pages that she was reading.



“You’re the only male on this earth who treats me this badly and gets away with it, you know,” she said, managing to rub the top of his head and getting snapped at for her trouble.



“Make that ‘former’ male, M’lady.” The feline was righteously indignant. “You let them cut off my family jewels and pluck out my front claws. If you wanted a smaller cat, you should have bought a smaller cat! I can’t wait for my shot at that damn cape!”



“That’s it, Em! We’re even. Off!” she said quietly with a snap of her fingers to get his attention. He was scowling at her now. She snapped her fingers again and repeated, “Off! Yes, you. Get down now.” Pulling the chair upright, Patrice reached to remove the recalcitrant pet just as he leapt to the floor and headed for the kitchen and his supper plate. “Brat!” she muttered.



“Philistine!”



Five minutes later, Patrice heard the unmistakable sound of retching in the living room. She shot out of her chair and rounded the corner just in time to see Mr. Emily coughing up his canned supper on the only piece of floor covering in the room, Patrice’s hand-woven Mayan hearth rug. As soon as he had recovered, the furry companion bolted past his lady, into the hall, and then sauntered to the kitchen for a drink.



“NOW we’re even.”



= = = = = = = = = =

End Chapter 16 Alicin Wonderland

TBC

Feedback is the air I breathe lizzkirsch@hotmail.com

A Pretender Prequel: Alicin Wonderland

Part 17

The Psy Who Came In From The Cold

He opened his eyes again, not to the darkness of watery isolation, but to find himself completely submerged in icy blue water with his feet in loose sand on the bottom of an unbounded ocean. Looking straight overhead, Sydney was able to make out the submerged portions of icebergs, inverted mountain peaks hundreds of feet tall—or was it ‘deep’? All about him, the water was uncommonly clear and bright for its depth, and he could hear the soulful moans of great blue leviathans as they called to one another across the vast distances of the sea floor. The creeping loneliness he felt was sapping his strength.

Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he sensed movement. He saw a hat. It was a tan panama hat with a purple hat band that matched the shirt he was wearing, and it was floating lazily just off his left shoulder. Instinctively, he reached for it and placed it on his head as though it had always belonged to him which, of course, it had not. Sydney tried to anchor the hat in place with a motion that looked like he was screwing the lid onto a jar of pickles and, as he did, a scrap of fabric floated into his face. It was a necktie. Under other circumstances, he would have secured it to his shirt with a tie pin, but in his present situation he made do by tucking the wide end into his belt. While Sydney was anchoring the tie, the hat floated into view once more and he snatched it before it was out of reach and stuck it under his arm so that he could return to the task of tightening the belt so as to contain the tie. “Why is there a hat?” he wondered. It was then that the good doctor noticed that he was fully clothed in a snappy white linen suit, despite the fact that he was standing—and breathing quite easily—at the bottom of the ocean! A very cold ocean. His determination to regain consciousness was renewed.

He was wondering why he was barefoot when there came a great stirring in the water behind him. Before he could fully turn around for a look, he was engulfed in a mass of wiggling shards of color that swirled around him in a dizzying vortex of shimmering fins and tails. What seemed like hundreds of tiny excited voices were chattering, but Sydney could not understand what they were saying. As quickly as they had arrived, the fish darted away as one body and took up a stance some ten yards in front of him, still swirling in a pillar of color. Intrigued with the display, he focused his attention on the spectacle of living confetti before him.

From the midst of the school came a tiny pink fish, approaching Sydney at as high a speed as the doctor imagined a creature that small could move. It was no larger than a DSA disk and every bit as shiny, only about half an inch thick. Its body and fins were designed for function rather than adornment and it seemed to be smiling at him as it came to a rather abrupt halt and now drifted in front of his face. He smiled back and slowly extended a finger toward the delicate creature that permitted his approach until the gap between them had closed to a few inches, at which point the fish began to drift backwards to maintain the space. Looking beyond his present company, Sydney spied another tiny fish zigzagging toward them with great haste, a burnished orange one. He was sure he could hear it talking as it approached and decided that he would play along with this dream as he had his last one.

“Pinky, what are you doing?” shouted the copper-colored fish, clearly out of breath. “You can’t just swim away from the school like this! It’s dangerous!” It was just after this last statement that Pinky’s friend noticed Sydney and froze in shock, suspended in front of the doctor’s face.

“It doesn’t look dangerous to me, L’Orange!” Pinky piped merrily. “It’s too big and too slow. Just look at its eyes out there on the front of its head, honestly! I could sneak up on it from three sides if I wanted to. Heeeey, how come it’s got no fins, huh? Have you ever seen one like this, L’Orange? L’Orange?” Pinky had been so busy circling the oddity from head to foot that she hadn’t noticed her friend’s condition. She glided gracefully to the mottled orange fish and poked him a few times. When he didn’t respond, she turned her attention back to the oddity.

Sydney was grinning. “I’m not a fish, little friend. I’m a human being, a doctor.”

“Uh-huh,” said Pinky, neither surprised nor impressed that the oddity was addressing her and not the least bit curious about what either a human being or a doctor might be. She left her friend’s side and began to swim figure eights around Sydney’s feet. “What are these things?” she shouted up to him.

“They’re called feet. It’s how I move around.”

“Oh,” she replied, already examining the five digits on the front end of one foot. “And whadda ya call these?”

“Toes,” and he wiggled them.

Pinky let out a little scream and retreated to her place beside L’Orange, who was beginning to thaw slightly, in the emotional sense of the word. But before long, she was right back at the doctor’s feet, giggling wildly and swimming away each time he wiggled his toes again. Sydney, too, was finding the game to be quite enjoyable.

L’Orange eventually regained his senses and threw Sydney the bravest glare he could summon. Puffing himself up to full capacity, he asked “Are you gonna eat me? Or her?” His voice was low, as if he didn’t want Pinky to hear. “Because if you hurt one shiny scale on her body,” he threatened, “I’ll--”

“I can assure you I have no desire do you or your friend any sort of harm,” Sydney answered quietly.

“Lucky for you,” growled L’Orange. “One at a time we may be small, but in a group we’re pret-ty big and single minded, and we can take care of ourselves.”

Just then Sydney’s empty stomach rumbled.

“SWI-I-I-IM!” Pinky screamed in wide-eyed terror as she turned tail and streaked toward the school shrieking, “IT’S GONNA EAT US!”

Meanwhile, a sheepish Sydney shrugged and cast an apologetic look at L’Orange, who just rolled his eyes and hurried back to the school in hopes of preventing an inter-species incident. The little orange fish caught up with Pinky in time to hear her say, “…and its dorsal fin kept falling off, so it grabbed it and stuffed it under its other tentacle!” He sighed heavily.

Sydney recognized trouble when he saw it and he knew he was looking at it now. The swirling mass had suddenly solidified into a silent wall of eyes, all of them trained on him. And although their ventral fins were lowered and locked in a ‘don’t mess with us’ pose, he feared no physical harm from them and suppressed a laugh at the thought of being pestered to death by a swarm of shiny little fish. Nonetheless, the little creatures were in distress because of him and he felt professionally obliged to ease their pain. “I at least owe them that, don’t I?” he reasoned. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he took a deep breath and shouted, “I PROMISE YOU, I HAVE NO INTENTION OF EATING ANYONE!” But what came out of his mouth sounded more like a walrus choking on a mouthful of mussels, and the wall detonated like a burst of fireworks and drifted to the sea floor in a heap of laughter. Pinky was embarrassed, however, and refused to admit the humor in the show, turning her back on the whole lot of them. L’Orange made a gallant effort not to laugh, for his friend’s sake, but finally exploded with hilarity, finding the whole affair to be riotously funny. From thirty feet away, Sydney was nearly paralyzed with laughter himself, partaking of the oldest and best medicine of all.

The merriment eventually subsided, leaving its victims breathless and weak from the exertion. The occasional ripple of mirth swept across the school as it began to regroup. L’Orange had Pinky off to one side, trying to soothe her bruised ego and convince her that she could return to the school without losing face.

“It could’ve happened to any of us,” he began; constantly darting about to stay in front of his friend’s face. “Nobody knew what it was. It could’ve been dangerous.”

“But it wasn’t,” Pinky lamented. “And now they’re laughing at me.”

“But you’re the one who proved that it wasn’t dangerous. It could’ve eaten you, did you think about that? No. You swam right up to it and showed everybody that it was just a funny old fish. You were very brave.”

“I guess I was,” she said without conviction.

“Well you sure did better that I did,” L’Orange muttered in a conspiratorial voice and then struck the google-eyed pose he had been stuck in right after he had seen Sydney.

Pinky smiled. “Maybe,” she conceded. L’Orange continued to drift silently, listing at about ten degrees. Pinky poked him in the side. “Come on, L’Orange. You’ve made your point.” Her friend made no response so she poked him again, sending him into a gentle tailspin. The sight made her giggle. “L’Ora-ange!” she whined. “Stop that right now!”

“Okay!” he said at last, righting himself.

“Race you back!” Pinky challenged and was away before her friend could turn himself around.

L’Orange made a good show of trying to keep up, all the while satisfied that his friend was going to be all right.

The school had pulled itself together and once more fixed its attention on the odd fish with the comical voice. It moved cautiously toward the stranger and spoke as one.

“What are you and what are you doing in our ocean?” they asked.

“My name is Sydney. I’m a human being,” he began. “We tend to be land dwellers, so I really cannot explain why I’m here under the water with you.”

“Land?” they asked and then began to speculate among themselves.

“Yes! Up there.” He directed their attention to the water’s surface several hundred feet above. “Out of the water. Out in the sunshine.

The school gasped, “Out of the water! That’s horrible! How do you hide from the sun so it doesn’t dry you out?”

“Humans are designed to live up there, as I said. We’re mammals. We were meant to breathe the fresh air and bask in the sun-“

“Like the walruses and sea lions!” half of the school interrupted.

Then the other half added, “And the other predators. What do you eat, Sydney?”

Sydney knew he would have to weigh his words carefully before answering. “I’m primarily a vegetarian.” he explained.

“A plant eater,” they pondered. “That’s good, but you said ‘primarily’. Does that mean you would make an exception and eat us?”

Sydney smiled reassuringly. “Never! But to get the nutrients I need, sometimes I eat cheese or eggs. Those come from other animals.”

There was another collective gasp at the word ‘eggs’ and the females pushed to the head of the class, as it were. “Whose eggs?” they demanded.

Sydney sighed. The mothers of past, present and future generations of DSA disk fish were waiting for an answer. “Chicken eggs. It’s a bird that lives on land and eats grain.” The ladies couldn’t quite understand what either chicken was, but were pleased to learn that it wasn’t a fish and seemed to be satisfied with Sydney’s answer.

“What I need now is to find somewhere warm to rest.” Sydney said with a shiver in his voice. “Can you direct me to such a place?”

“Direct you!” the school exclaimed. “We can take you there. It’s where we were going when we ran into you!” There was some individual tittering over the part about running into Sydney, who acknowledged their pun with a smile. “It’s nicely warm over there,” the school informed him, parting to afford Sydney a view of a place in the distance where a broad sunbeam had penetrated to the ocean floor, lighting a magnificently hued coral reef. “Just follow us.”

Sydney watched as the school shaped itself into a curtain of color that billowed through the water as it moved toward the reef. He struggled to swim after it but was frustrated by the drag caused by his clothing. He was shedding his coat and shirt when he saw a tiny pink dot approaching from the direction of the school. Pinky was yelling with great passion about something, but Sydney could not make out a word until she was practically right in front of his face.

“I came back to keep you company ‘cause it looks like you don’t move so good in the water and it’s gonna take you a lot longer to get there than the rest of us. Besides, we can talk and I can make sure you don’t step on the sharp stuff. And I’ll show you where to find the good grazing,” she announced.

“That’s ver-ry kind of you, Miss Pinky,” he replied with a slight bow. “I shall enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

If a fish could blush, then Pinky was that fish. “Me, too!” she demurred, taking up a position beside Sydney where she could easily talk with him. “We can leave just as soon as you finish molting,” she told him as she watched his suit, tie and hat adrift in the current. “Let me know if I’m going too fast for you.”

“I shall do my best to keep pace. Lead on, young lady,” he answered as he pushed off from the sandy floor beneath his feet and began to crawl through the water, ignoring his traveling companion’s snickering.

=====

The two companions swam easily, steadily approaching the more temperate waters of the reef, as they compared life on land to that in the ocean with Pinky educating Sydney on the finer points of deep sea dining and the fine line between plants and animals when the visual clues were less than definitive. The conversation was lively with both participants alternately in awe or disbelief about what they were hearing. Eventually they had exhausted their supply of topics and fell into an amicable silence in which they enjoyed each other’s company and the increasingly beautiful scenery as they drew closer to their destination.

After a long silence, Pinky blurted out, “He’s still a genius, you know.”

“Who’s still a genius?” Sydney asked, clearly baffled by her statement.

“L’Ora-ange!” she replied, as if the answer were obvious.

“I’ve only just met him but he seems like a very nice, uhm, fish. And he seems quite fond of you, Pinky.”

“He does? I mean, he said that?” Her interest was piqued. Then she remembered her friend’s initial encounter with the human called Sydney and she asked suspiciously, “When did he say it?”

“Right after he regained consciousness. He expressed great concern for your safety and well-being. I seem to remember that he mentioned your ‘shiny scales.’”

“He said that? Shiny? About me? ” She was clearly flattered and pleased.

Sydney nodded. He suspected that the fondness was mutual and wanted to know more.

Pinky was only happy to oblige. “He was always the smartest fish in the school. When he was on predator watch on the periphery, we never lost anybody! He has this special sense that can take us around danger.” She swam in a wide arc to the right to demonstrate and continued to talk as she returned to Sydney’s side. “He figured out what order we should visit the feeding grounds to avoid fights with the other schools. He was looking for a more secure breeding ground when the eels showed up and took over.” She suddenly became serious and quite sad. “That’s when he got hurt.” She sounded as if she could cry.

“Did the eels hurt L’Orange, Pinky?” Sydney asked softly and with great sympathy.

“Uh-huh,” she replied and fell silent for a long time as Sydney waited for her to compose herself and continue. “He warned the school in time for nearly everyone to escape, but the eels caught him and…and…and-” She couldn’t go on.

“It’s alright, Pinky,” Sydney said in a whisper. “You’re safe now. The school is safe. And perhaps most importantly, L’Orange is safe. All of that is in the past. It can’t hurt you anymore.” His words were comforting and gave her the strength to finish the tale.

“The lightening eels came. They swam into the school and shocked as many of us as they could. Then, while the rest of the school escaped, the eels took their time eating the ones they’d caught.”

“And did they shock L’Orange?”

“Yes,” Pinky answered in a hoarse whisper. “He was warning the others to swim off when one of the eels wrapped around him and…well, the burns were deep enough that his skin turned dark, like the hermit crabs on the reef. Then he fell into a bed of anemones and was so well hidden that the eels overlooked him. When he revived, he found the school, but he wasn’t the same. Something changed. He changed. And the school started treating him differently.”

“How was it different?”

“At first it was little things, like not giving him predator watch. They said he needed time to rest and heal. But not much later, he wasn’t given anything important to do. Not like before. No one listened to his thoughts on the concerns of the school. They treated him like he wasn’t quite a fish anymore. They still do and I know better. He’s not like they say, like they think. He’s still a genius. He’s still the smartest fish in the school! Why can’t they see that? ”

Sydney took his time and formed his thoughts carefully before replying. “Some people—and some fish, I suspect—look no further than the outward appearance when they measure someone else’s abilities or gifts. In the case of your friend, I’m afraid that may be what has happened. L’Orange doesn’t look exactly like his former self; perhaps the school behaves toward him as they do because he doesn’t exactly act like his former self either. They may see him as ‘different’ before they see him as a fish. Some people—and fish—view ‘different’ as somehow being ‘less than.’ And that is unfortunate for everyone involved. So, if L’Orange is still the smartest fish in the school—‘”

“He is!” asserted Pinky.

“Then the school is poorer for not recognizing his unique abilities and embracing him as a full and vital member of the community.”

“That’s right!” agreed Pinky. “I mean, just because a fish doesn’t always swim in a straight line,” she exclaimed and then added quietly, “—or right side up—is no reason to declare him ‘not fish’. Deep inside, he’s still L’Orange…the way he used to be. The eels didn’t change that. They didn’t! L’Orange is still as smart as he always was. If the school would only take time to learn that, they’d know they’ve been mistaken about him all this time.” She punctuated the sentence with a heavy sigh.

“Perhaps you could tell them,” Sydney suggested.

“Me!” Pinky was astonished at the notion. “Why would they listen to me?”

“Because you are one of them! One fish, one vote, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I’m too young for them to pay any attention to yet.”

Sydney smiled sympathetically. “A very long time ago, near another ocean, a young human named Timothy said the same thing to his friend Paul. Do you know what Paul told his young friend?”

The little pink fish wagged, “No.”

“He said ‘Do not be afraid to speak out just because you have no standing yet in the community because of your youth. The power of the truth you speak will cause people to listen and believe what you say.’ Do you understand what he was saying?”

“If what I say is true—that is what will make the others believe.”

“Yes!” Sydney grinned enthusiastically. “Your age does not matter here. The truth of your message will cause them to believe your words. You know L’Orange better than any of them, do you not?”

Pinky nodded herself, “Yes.”

“Then let them see him the way you see him--“

“Smart and wise and valuable…no…essential to the future of the school!” she interrupted.

“That’s it! Now you’re on the right track!” Sydney cheered.

“Track?” Pinky questioned.

“A land expression,” Sydney explained, realizing that it had no meaning for L’Orange’s friend. “I mean to say that your thoughts are starting to…swim…in the right direction.”

“Oh!” Pinky brightened. “Okay, I can do that. Talk to them about L’Orange, I mean!” she chirped with the excitement of sudden understanding and swam in a little circle. “Yes, I can do that,” she sighed and then, seeming to take a deep breath, she held very still and whispered, “Sydney, can you feel it?”

“Feel what, Pinky?” he said, stilling himself.

“The current. It’s getting warmer. L’Orange says that it has its own song and the song gets sweeter the closer you get. Can you hear it, Sydney? Can you hear it yet?”

He could not and his face spoke the fact, to his diminutive companion’s sadness. Pinky felt truly sorry for him, for his inability to hear the beauty of her world. The world she loved and shared with L’Orange.

“Listen, Sydney,” she pleaded. “Reach out with your feelings. Listen with your heart.”

He did. For a very long time he listened. And then…

“It’s so incredibly beautiful!” he exclaimed in hushed tones as he looked at the little fish in wonder. “You are absolutely right, Pinky, I didn’t hear it until I listened—really listened—with my heart and…” His voice drifted off as the sweetness of the song drew him deeper into the warmth of the current, closer to the reef. Pinky was smiling at him now. Sydney was hearing and seeing her world clearly for the first time since his arrival. She knew he was leaving now and hoped that he would carry the truths of their time together until the day when he needed to remember them. And Sydney would, indeed, one day need to remember the truth about L’Orange.

=====

Evening and Morning

The air in room was noticeably warmer than it had been when Miss Parker had first visited Sydney upon her arrival at the Center and she noticed that he was no longer resting on the refrigerated mat, rightly assuming that it had helped bring his temperature down to normal. He seemed to be resting peacefully, his chest rising and falling with the smooth breathing of deep sleep. While keeping vigil in a chair beside him, where she could hold his hand and occasionally stroke his hair, she was sure he was smiling just a little.

=====

TBC

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