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Darkness And Light |
Act 1 |
Author's Note: Quite a while ago, someone on alt.tv.er.creative suggested writing an ER story based on a musical (sorry, I don't know who it was). I'm a big fan of musical theatre so I knew this was one challenge I wanted to try. For those of you who don't like that sort of thing, don't worry, there is no singing or dancing in this story :-) I have changed some situations in both the ER world and the musical's storyline to suit myself.
WARNING: To date, this is the darkest and most disturbing fic I have written so please, if you don't think this will appeal to you, don't read it! I don't want to receive comments like: "Carter would never do that" or "This is too depressing". That's why I'm giving the warning.
So, if I haven't scared you away yet, the curtain is rising now...
Slow and shuffling, my steps echo throughout the length of the corridor. The steady and hollow sound beats in time to the throbbing at my temples. With each step, I can feel my conviction and resolve growing stronger. I must succeed in my quest. For him. And for myself; to prove to the world that my theory is not the fancy of a mad fool but one of undeniable merit.
As I pass by the front desk, the clerk nods at me. "See you again, Doctor Carter."
"Yes, good evening," I reply politely, with a slight tip of my hat.
That is usually the extent of our conversations; a mere hello and goodbye. Tonight, however, I sense the clerk has more to say and I am not disappointed. "Are you off to the party, then?"
I stop in my tracks and face him properly. This particular courtesy, among many others, is something my father has instilled in me. Always turn to directly face the person to whom you are speaking. "What party would that be?" I ask, with an upturned brow.
"Why, your engagement party, of course!"
"And how would you know about it?"
The clerk guffaws slightly, sees that my expression is less than amused, and clears his throat in discomfort. "Well, uh, sir...everyone knows about it."
"Is that a fact." Although I am by no means upset by his inquiry, my gaze remains cool as the young clerk fumbles for a remark that will please me.
"It's the talk of the town. Er, that is, in a good way, of course. Everyone thinks very highly of you and your lovely fiancé."
I decide to let the man off the hook, for he certainly means no harm. "That's kind of you to say. I must be going now or I'll be late. And it just wouldn't do to be late for my own party, now, would it?"
The clerk smiles in relief at the apparent return of my good nature. "No, Doctor Carter, it certainly wouldn't. I wish you all the best."
"Thank you."
At a brisker pace, I exit out the doors into the night air. A glance at my pocket watch tells me I truly shall be late unless I hurry. I spent more time visiting than I should have. Crossing the road, I aim for my destination with purposeful steps.
***************
My eyes roam over the finely dressed ladies in colourful silks and lace; the men in smart black suits with nary a wrinkle. With a nervous tug on the bottom of my own jacket, I enter the crowded hall. Several men - some that I know well and others that I am sure I have never laid eyes on before - clap me on the back with winks and congratulations. Although I don't doubt that most of them are sincere, I feel that some of them are distinctly mocking me. It seems I am to become another bachelor lost to the sanctity of marriage.
The women seem to be keeping their distance but that suits me just fine. There is only one particular lady I wish to find and though I scan the sea of faces, I cannot seem to find her in the crowd.
Above the sound of laughter and overlapping threads of conversation, I suddenly hear her voice behind me.
"You couldn't be more wrong. You don't know him as I do."
Slowly, I turn around and see her standing by one of the columns. Neither she nor her companion have spotted me yet and although she is speaking quietly, her words reach my ears as clear as a bell.
"I know him well enough. I know he doesn't appreciate you as much as I do."
Damn him. David Malucci, that scoundrel. He certainly wastes no time in slandering me.
"Stop this at once! I will hear no more of your ridiculous notions. John loves me. I am sorry that you can't be happy for us."
I cannot help but smile, though perhaps the curl of my lip more resembles a smirk. An admirable try, Malucci, but my fiancé is as loyal as she is beautiful. What would I do without her? I decide it is time to make my presence known.
As I stride towards them, she finally notices me. Her blue eyes lock with mine and I instantly feel the warmth emanating from them. "Miss Knight, you look lovely tonight."
"Thank you, John."
My gaze slides to David and we curtly nod to each other in greeting. "Very kind of you to keep Lucy company until I arrived," I say, with no obvious malice in my tone.
David has the good grace to look mildly uncomfortable. "Yes, well, it's always a pleasure. I was just congratulating her on your engagement. It's...it's a fine match," he finishes lamely.
"I'm glad you approve."
"Darling, it's rather stifling in here. Would you accompany me onto the terrace for a bit of air?"
As Lucy hooks her arm around mine, I look down at her. "Of course. Excuse us."
Without a backward glance, we head towards the doors. Once outside, I remove my jacket and place it around her shoulders to ward off the chill. "Was that really necessary?" she asks, as we sit side by side on a stone bench.
"What?"
"You know what. I know some women enjoy having two grown men fight over them like spoiled children, but I do not. He's a good man, really. You just don't know that side of him."
"I know him..." I start to snap a retort and stop, realizing I'm about to repeat Malucci's very words - 'I know him well enough.' I change tactics abruptly. "I overheard part of your conversation with him. He seems to feel I don't appreciate you as well as I should."
She doesn't look pleased at my admitted eavesdropping. "If you listened that carefully, you should know I put a stop to his declaration. I know how important your work is to you, but I resent anyone saying it is more important than me."
I mentally curse the man again. "Is that what he was saying? You don't believe it, I presume."
"No." This is said loudly and vehemently. After a pause, her eyes search my face. "That is, I don't want to believe it," she continues softly.
Unhappy that the thought could cross her mind, I grab her hand. "Nothing is more important to me than you. Please believe that. I would be lost without you."
Because I tend to become so engrossed in my work and research, I suppose I cannot blame others for thinking Lucy comes second in my life. But it simply isn't true. In fact, I probably could not have come as far as I have without her assistance.
Her upbringing is unique, as far as ladies of this age. Her mother abandoned her family when Lucy was a young child. She was raised by her father; a kindly man who treated her more as a son. He believed her keen mind shouldn't go to waste and so he taught her, among other subjects, mathematics and chemistry. She grew up longing to work in a laboratory but didn't have much hope of gaining employment. What sensible employer out there would hire a woman?
When she knocked on my door three years ago, I admit to some hesitance. But never having felt the need to be constricted by society's conventions, I took a chance on her. It turned out to be the best decision I have ever made. Not only was she an asset to my work, I fell in love with her. I have yet to meet anyone with her combination of beauty, strength, and intelligence. It is a heady mix indeed.
And now I find I must convince her of my love and devotion. I wonder if Malucci is responsible for planting the seed of doubt, or if it has been there all along, simply waiting for the right moment to rear its ugly head.
She has been silent for what seems an eternity. "Lucy? Do you not believe me?"
"I...I do believe you. I have to. Because I also would be lost without you." Her last words are caught on a whisper, her eyes beseeching.
Leaning towards each other, we kiss, our lips melding into one. Although we keep the kiss chaste, my heart still thrills at the feel of her mouth against mine. In a few months time, we will experience more than the mere meeting of lips. Before my imagination can exceed decent boundaries, I pull back.
I notice a slight shudder run through her. "Are you cold? We should go back."
She smiles, her brow arched seductively. "No, not cold. Not cold at all. In fact, I feel very warm. All over."
I shake my head slightly. "Good Lord, Lucy, you'll make me blush."
Laughing, she nestles her head against my shoulder and I hold her close with one arm. She emits the tiniest of sighs before speaking. "Where were you tonight? Not still at the laboratory, I hope."
"No. I went to visit my father."
"And how is he?"
"The same. Always the same."
"I'm sorry." Reaching for my hand, she entwines her slim fingers with mine. "I wish things could be different."
"As do I."
"How do you feel about tomorrow? Are you nervous?"
"A little," I admit. Tomorrow I face the Board of Governors at the hospital to present my proposal. I need their approval in order to continue with my research; to reach the next vital step.
"I don't believe I have ever seen you nervous." She angles her head to the side so I may glimpse her wry smile. "Even when you proposed to me, you seemed so confident."
"That was merely a facade. Inside, I was shaking."
"I don't believe you for a second."
"It's true. My knees were so weak, I almost toppled over when I got to my feet. Now that would have been quite the sight, hmm?" My slight exaggeration earns a soft giggle from her throat. I love that sound.
Our conversation dwindles and we become quiet, simply enjoying the nearness of each other. The terrace door soon opens and we reluctantly pull apart, shifting so we are seated at a respectable distance from one another. I get to my feet as soon as I recognize the gentleman headed our way.
"There you are!" Charles Knight exclaims, coming to stand before us. "Forgive the intrusion, but you seem to be neglecting our guests."
Lucy also rises from the bench. "I'm sorry, Father. I asked John to bring me out here."
"Why? Are you not feeling well?" The mild scolding in his tone gives way to concern, as he regards his daughter.
"No, it's not that. I just needed some air."
"Ahh, I see. Well, once you feel up to rejoining us, we should make the rounds and greet everyone properly." He looks at me pointedly. "Now that Doctor Carter is here."
"I apologize for being tardy," I say, with true sincerity. I admire the man greatly and would never want to disappoint him.
He pats my shoulder with no remaining hint of gruffness. "It's quite all right. You're here, that's the main thing. Come inside when you're ready."
After we are left alone once more, I glance down at her. "Well? Ready to face the crowd?"
"Yes. As long as you're by my side."
I tuck her arm under mine and squeeze her hand gently. "Always, my love."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Intently, I stare at the door, wondering what fate awaits me once I have crossed the threshold. Will it matter how carefully I choose my words or has my future already been written in the stars, unfolding before me like a novel drawing to its certain conclusion?
With a creak, the heavy door opens and a man I don't recognize beckons to me. "Come this way, Doctor Carter."
I follow obediently and come to stand before the waiting Board of Governors of Cook County Hospital. Some eyes fall upon me with hostility, others with boredom. I ignore them all and despite my earlier resolve to hold nervousness at bay, I can't help but feel a slight flutter in my belly. However, I am certain that it is not outwardly noticeable and I face the group with a stance of confidence.
The proceedings begin with an introduction of all who are present, including David Malucci and Lucy's father. Malucci's gaze is among those who reflect doubt and scorn at my research. I believe I can count on Charles Knight to support my efforts as he has in the past, but I know I must convince the rest of the Board as well. This will not be an easy task.
It doesn't take long for the catcalls to begin.
"If this is going to be another waste of time, Carter, you may as well go home right now."
"Why all the mystery? All this fuss over something ridiculous, I'm sure."
"You've made promises before with no results. I doubt this will be any different."
"Enough! Come to order!" David barks, banging his gavel.
I wait until the mutterings die down before I speak. "Gentlemen, I know I have let you down in the past but I urge you to listen to my proposal with an open mind. This is what I have been working towards for the past seven years. If I succeed, our collective future will be forever changed for the better."
Here I pause dramatically and from the quiet stillness of the room, it appears I at least have their undivided attention. "I believe we can all agree that in every man, there are elements of good and evil. Kindness and hatred. Most of us go about our daily lives without giving a second thought to these dualities in our inner selves. We focus on the good and control any negative side of ourselves. We don't cross that line which leads to truly evil acts, like murder. But there are others in society that don't control this baser instinct, whether intentionally or through true insanity. What if I told you, gentlemen, that I am working on a chemical formula that can separate one's personality into good and evil."
I swing up my hand, with thumb and forefinger a hair's width apart. "I am *this* close to finding the key. Just think of it. A world with no more anger or hatred. No more murder and violence. The extraction of evil from all of us, so we may live in peace and contentment."
Rumblings of voices from the Board begin to grow and I raise my own voice to be heard. "If I am right and the good and evil forces within us can be separated, we can ultimately eliminate all evil from this world. My work with animals has shown promise but I need to try my formula on a human being..."
My speech is interrupted by skeptical outrage. "This is ludicrous! You cannot possibly think we would support such a proposal!"
"You're a mad scientist, Carter. I've never heard such a preposterous idea in all my life!"
"Blasphemy! You will surely burn in Hell for these experiments you're conducting."
"Who are you to play God?"
"Think of the legalities involved. This is dangerous ground."
I look from one twisted face to the other, my hope slipping away from me. How am I to convince them? "You must give me the chance to prove my theory," I say.
The rantings around me continue, drowning out my plea. I look over at Charles and he slowly shakes his head. My heart sinks with defeat.
"John, you know I have always supported you but in this, I must agree with the others. What you are proposing sounds too dangerous. These are people's lives you intend to manipulate."
"I am asking for one man to test my formula on. One man to save the lives of many!"
More shouting and grumbling descend on my head until David calls for order once more. The sorely disgruntled Board members slowly quiet down and he waits until there is complete silence. "May I have your verdict, please, gentlemen. All those in favour say 'aye'." Complete and utter silence. "All those opposed say 'nay'."
My ears ring from the chorus of nays that resound in the room. Everyone has spoken, save one.
David looks to him with questioning eyes. "Sir?"
Charles looks straight at me as he ponders his decision. I can guess what his answer will be, but he mildly surprises me with his response. "Abstain," he says, his voice subdued.
David speaks briskly and not without a glitter of victory in his dark eyes. "By five votes to zero and one abstention, Doctor Carter's proposition is rejected. That is all, gentlemen. Thank you."
I stand quite still for a moment, stunned and dismayed. These men before me have no vision; not an ounce of imagination for the kind of world that is within our grasp.
I turn to leave and find my path blocked. David is regarding me, his expression perplexed. "What has gotten into you, John? I used to respect your work so highly. Do you truly not see that what you proposed here today is madness?"
"You don't understand. None of you do. If you only knew how close I am..."
"For your sake and for Lucy's, I pray that you come to your senses and put an end to this. You're a doctor. You should be healing people, not subjecting them to your chemical potions."
The heat rises in my cheeks as I glare at him. "Leave Lucy out of this. She has always been supportive of my work and always will be." Stepping past him, I don't hear the voice behind me until a hand clasps my shoulder."
"John, wait." Stopping, I turn around to face him. Charles is frowning at me. "I'm sorry."
"I know."
"Do you? You must realize this isn't personal. It is not you that I am rejecting, but your proposal. I still look forward to the day that I may call you 'son'."
Only a hint of a smile crosses my lips. "As do I. Please excuse me but I...I need to leave."
"Of course."
Escaping into the hallway, I breathe a sigh and look towards a friend that has been waiting for me. Peter Benton only has to look at my face to guess the outcome of this meeting. "I'm sorry, John."
"Yes, so am I." My words are clipped and brusque. "Let's get out of here."
I walk at a hurried pace, anxious to leave the building. Once outside, I come to a halt, unsure of which way to turn. Peter begins to move and I naturally fall into place at his side. "They didn't even give me a chance!" I burst out angrily. "They have no right to judge me, the fools. I am so close. I know it can work but I need the opportunity to prove it. I have worked so damn long and hard on this, only to have them brush me aside. It isn't fair, damnit!" Aware that my voice has been rising and strangers on the street are staring at us with disapproval, I lower my tone. "Sorry, Doctor Benton. I don't mean to take out my frustration on you."
"Save your apologies. You need to forget your troubles for a while." We make the remainder of the trip in silence and finally stop in front of the darkened entrance of 'Magoos', a local drinking hole. Peter senses my hesitation. "There's nothing to be afraid of. We'll just have a drink or two and maybe a little fun."
"*That's* what I'm afraid of," I say dryly.
"Come on, you know I'm only joking. We won't do anything inappropriate, I promise."
He opens the door and gestures for me to lead the way. Throwing caution to the wind, I go inside. Just one drink. Then I'll go home to bed, most likely suffering from a headache and will lie awake for hours, contemplating my dubious future. It sounds like a grand plan.
Weaving our way around the tables, we make ourselves comfortable in a back corner. I am thankful to have his friendship tonight. We weren't always so close. In fact, there were times when I thought I hated him. He is my mentor. The man I looked up to the most when I was studying medicine. He was also my tormentor. The man who pushed me to my limits, always driving me to excel higher and further than I believed I was capable of achieving.
One of the many lovely ladies serving drinks swings by our table. She bats her eyelashes at me but immediately frowns when she notices my companion. "I don't think we serve your kind in here, mister."
This is not an unfamiliar scenario, but it still gets my back up every time. "You should address him as Doctor Benton," I say icily.
"Hey, stop tryin' to cut in on my tables!" exclaims another young woman, practically elbowing the offensive waitress in the ribs.
"Ouch! Nice try, Abby. This isn't your table but you know what? You can have it."
As she whirls around on her heel and stalks away, Abby sticks her tongue out. I swallow a chuckle behind my hand.
Abby flashes a brilliant smile that encompasses both of us. "What can I get for you gentlemen?"
"You don't mind serving a coloured man?" Peter asks.
She narrows her eyes and appears to study him. "Well, if you were purple or blue, I might have a problem. But a good lookin' man like yourself? I'll serve you anytime. Now, what'll it be?"
She takes our orders and disappears from sight. We barely begin a conversation before another intrusion sets in. A tall, well-dressed man with a friendly grin approaches Peter's side.
"Doctor Benton! Imagine meeting you here, after all these years. How have you been?"
Peter introduces the man as a former colleague and I stand to shake hands with him. The man insists that Peter meet several of his friends sitting at another table and with some reluctance, my companion allows himself to be led away.
Settling back down on my seat, it isn't long before Abby returns with drinks in hand. "Where's your friend?"
"Talking to some people at another table."
"The cad! It didn't take long for his eye to start roamin', did it!"
This makes me laugh, which, by the mischievous glint in her eyes, is the effect she hoped for. "You look much more handsome when you laugh. You were positively glowering before."
"With good reason."
She shrugs. "Yeah, well, what can you do about other people. Some of 'em are just stupid."
A very astute observation. "Indeed." I grow concerned when I see her suddenly wince, as if in pain. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, just this twinge in my foot. I've been on my feet all day."
I nod towards the empty seat across from me. "Why don't you sit down for a while and rest?"
"I'd love to but The Spider would kill me."
"Er, who's that?"
"My boss. And he is just like a spider too. Creepy, crawly, nasty little thing with beady eyes." She winces again and clutches the back of the chair for support. "Well, maybe I'll sit for just a minute." Easing into the seat, she stretches her legs out with a sigh. "Ahh, that feels good. A minute or two and I'll be good as new."
A minute passes and then several more. She does not make a move to vacate the seat and I do not press her to leave. There is certainly no harm in her taking what is no doubt, a well-deserved rest. "Uh oh," she mumbles under her breath, quickly scrambling to her feet.
"What's this, Abigail, a holiday?" sneers a short and balding man, who places himself squarely in her face.
Although I am certain this is The Spider that she referred to, I feign ignorance. "Excuse me, but we were having a conversation."
"So? She's here to work, not talk." He pauses to leer at me with a suggestion that disturbs me greatly. "Unless you want to buy her for the night, Mister...?"
"Certainly not! It's Doctor John Carter. And you are?"
"Robert Romano. Ever so pleased to meet your acquaintance," he says sarcastically. With a dismissive air, he turns back to his employee and swats her on the behind. "Break is over. Let's see you serving those drinks."
"My feet are really hurtin' me tonight, Robert. Could I have just a couple of minutes more?"
"You've already had two minutes too many. I won't tell you again. Let's get to it!"
Something seems to snap in Abby as she faces him defiantly. "You inhuman toad! All I'm askin' for is a few minutes of rest and you're actin' like I want a week off. What's the big deal?"
Robert remains so calm and quiet, even I am unprepared for the violence that explodes from him. A vicious, back-handed slap sends Abby reeling into the chair, knocking it to the ground. Her head snaps back with such force, I almost expect it to separate from her neck. With a muffled thud, she crumples to the floor.
Appalled, I shoot to my feet. Robert begins to bend over her, arms outstretched. Anyone witnessing the scene from this moment might think he intends to help her up, but I envision him dragging her up by the hair or delivering another blow.
Coming behind him, I grab his shoulders with both hands, pulling him back. "Stay the hell away from her. What do you think you're doing!" I demand, my voice hoarse from outrage.
"Let go of me!" he yells, twisting to and fro to escape my grip. Although he is much smaller than I am, barely taller than Abby's height, his strength surprises me. I finally release him, physically placing myself between him and the still form on the ground. It worries me that she has not yet stirred.
The commotion has caught the attention of others nearby and some of the men start calling out their opinions.
"Leave her alone. She's a nice girl."
"Yeah, Spider, you've done enough."
"I think she's dead."
"No she's not, she just hit her head."
"Yeah, you mean it connected with The Spider's fist."
"Shut up, all of you!" Robert eyes them with menace and the majority of the men shrug and return to their drinking. Turning to glare at me next, he straightens his collar. "You're a doctor, right? See if she's alive. If she is, she better get to work or she's fired. If she's dead, take her outside and let the rats deal with her."
He stomps away and I fume in silent anger. What an absolutely repulsive man. What previous abuse has Abby endured under his violent hand?
Kneeling on the hard floor, I brush the dark brown hair away from her face, revealing an ugly welt high on her cheek. I note with much relief that she is breathing and at my slight touch, her eye twitches. Grimacing in pain, her eyelids flutter and finally open just a crack.
"Abby? Can you hear me?"
"Mmmmm..."
"Don't try to move yet. Take your time."
As I wait for her to gain some strength, Peter rushes to my side. "I heard what happened. How is she?"
"She's conscious, at least," I say through clenched teeth. "That bastard. He could have killed her and he wouldn't even have blinked an eye."
A little while later, with Peter's help, Abby is sitting on a chair and I am tending her wound as best I can. One of the other ladies brought a bowl of water and a clean cloth. With each dab at any tender spot, she flinches and inwardly, I flinch with her, hating to cause her additional pain.
She manages the tiniest of smiles for my benefit when I am done. "Thank you, John. I'm sorry, may I call you John?"
"Of course you may. And I am the one who should apologize. If I hadn't insisted you sit down, this wouldn't have happened."
"Nah, it would've happened anyway. It's what usually happens when I shoot my mouth off at him but sometimes, I can't help myself."
"It isn't right. You shouldn't have to live like this, Abby."
Her sad, dark eyes look older than they should as she retorts, "A lot of things shouldn't happen in this world but that doesn't stop them from happenin'. It's just the world we live in. And unfortunately, this is part of my world. I have to try to make the best of it, that's all. And to stay out of Spider's way for a little while."
"John, it's getting late," Peter quietly reminds me.
"Yes, you're right."
Abby rises from her seat, a bit unsteady, but she waves away my offer of help. "I'm fine. See? Good as new, like I told you. Thank you again, both of you, for your help."
"Here, take this." Impulsively, I reach into the inner pocket of my jacket and hand her a card.
"What is it?"
"Where you can reach me if you...ever need a friend."
Glancing up from the card, she says nothing and simply nods.
Peter and I make our way outside and once again, silence is our companion. I mull over what has transpired tonight. It seems I have been pulled into Abby's world, however briefly, and it has made a lasting impression on me. Part of me is reluctant to leave her and with a wave of shame, I remember Lucy. Abby is a stranger to me; someone that needed my help and I happened to be there. That is all.
"What will you do now?" Peter asks, voicing the question that I have been avoiding all night. Perhaps this partly explains why I felt so drawn to Abby. She was a distraction from the troubles of my own world. I know there is a decision to be made. I just don't know yet what it will be.
"I don't know."
"You have worked so hard all these years. You mustn't give up."
We will soon arrive at my doorstep and my pace slows, as though my feet know that I need more time to talk this through. "What if they are right, Doctor Benton? Maybe I have been the fool, believing in something that is impossible to achieve."
"And what if you are right? You have to find out, one way or another."
We slowly continue on and I stop at the gate. The day has been long and though I am physically weary, it is my soul that cries out for rest; for a resolution to this seemingly endless journey. He is right. I must see this through to the end somehow. One way or another. "Well, thank you for a most interesting evening."
He displays a brief, but genuine smile. "You are a gifted doctor, John. I can't say I fully believe in your work because I don't know enough details about it. But I do believe in you. You must know that you will always have my support."
I am touched by his words, for he is not one to hand out meaningless praise. Moments like these are rare and I confess, though he is no longer my teacher, it feels good to know he supports me. "And you have my appreciation. Thank you."
We bid each other goodnight and before entering the gate, I pause to look up at the array of stars in the night sky, pondering that same question; has my fate already been written, or do I hold the power to control the course of my life? I suppose, like everyone else in this world, I will never know.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The hour is late, but Steven is there to greet me at the door. He has been the trusted butler in my family for as long as I can remember. If I recall correctly, he has surpassed the age of sixty. Though he is not as fast on his feet as in his youth, the clarity of his mind has not diminished.
I hand him my coat and hat. He asks if I will be retiring for the evening. No, not quite. My mind is too overwhelmed with thoughts to rest easily.
"Have a cup of tea with me, Steven," I say. Often, on nights like this when I know sleep will escape me, we sit in the kitchen over a hot drink and talk. Tonight is no exception.
The familiar warmth and aroma of the tea soothes me. I begin to talk about the visit I made today. A visit to the mental asylum. To see my father.
Roland Carter was once a good man; a fine, upstanding citizen and a loving father. But when I reached adolescence, he began to change. For no apparent reason, he became abusive towards me and my mother, both physically and verbally. His behaviour was unpredictable. At one moment he could be perfectly normal and at the next, he would fly into a rage. I began to try avoiding him at all costs, sometimes managing to dodge the beatings and sometimes not. By the time I began to study medicine, the situation at home was unbearable.
Then one beautiful spring morning, I awoke to find my mother dead on the cobblestone path at the rear of the house. She had fallen from the balcony of the third floor. Breakfast had been served to my parents in their room just minutes before her screams were heard. Steven had rushed into the bedroom to find Roland standing outside on the balcony, looking down at the broken body of his wife. He didn't utter a single word and to this day, he continues to be locked in silence. Whether it is an intentional prison he has built for himself, I do not know. Did my mother somehow lose her balance that day or was she pushed? Accident or murder? More questions that I shall never know the answer to unless, by some miracle, my father regains his speech.
Is he the reason why I am so driven in my quest to perfect the chemical formula? Perhaps. If the evil forces that have claimed him for so long can indeed be extinguished, why shouldn't I continue with my work? How can I let the ignorant Board members stop me now when I may be the only hope my father has? I still recall the man he had once been. I know he can be that man again.
Steven and I converse some more and I relate my father's condition. He still speaks to no one and I can see no recognition in his eyes when he looks at me. His stare is blank and he appears void of any emotion. I would almost prefer him to be wild and angry once more, instead of this hollow shell of a man.
In time, Steven announces he is going to bed. I bid him goodnight and retreat to my laboratory. An idea has been brewing in my mind ever since Doctor Benton and I parted on the street. It will be risky. Terribly risky. But it appears I have no alternative.
I am going to use myself in this experiment. Inject the formula and recite a prayer. Perhaps this is the way it should be, after all. Is it fair of me to force the formula on another human being when I don't know what the result will be? Although I am confident in my work, I must be honest. As a scientist, I concede that I cannot say for sure what will happen. But this must be done. It is the only way.
Rolling up my sleeve, I make the preparations to inject myself. Finally, with syringe in hand and my arm at the ready, I pause to think of Lucy. My dear Lucy. I believe she will come to understand why I am doing this. That is, I hope she will understand. I need her to understand.
No more procrastination. It is time.
With one sure plunge, I smoothly inject the contents of the syringe. There. It is done. Reaching into my desk drawer, I withdraw a notebook. I must document everything that occurs from this moment on. Now, there is no turning back.
***************
September 13, 1888 11:56 p.m.
The formula has been injected. No noticeable changes in me yet. My heart is racing, but that is due to anticipation and more than a little fear.
11:58 p.m.
A warmth is starting to spread. Pulse is still pounding. A touch of dizziness. A strange urge to laugh is bubbling through me.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A blot of ink mars the page as I gouge too deeply into the paper, shuddering from a sudden pain that seizes my gut. Though I feel as if I'm on fire, beads of cold sweat run down my forehead.
Agony. Piercing agony.
Perhaps this was a mistake after all. I'm not ready to die.
Unable to remain standing, I fall to the floor, writhing with uncontrollable twitches. I cannot breathe. Cannot think. What is happening to me? I'm being torn in two. It is unbearable! Please God, help me...help me...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The stone floor feels cold against my cheek. I blink, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs. Slowly, I rise to my feet, my breathing deep and even. I feel so alive. Reborn. Blood singing through my veins. The heady feeling of freedom bursts through me and I want to shout to the world...
"Free!"
I can't stand the confines of these laboratory walls any longer. There is someplace else I need to be.
***************
Somehow, my feet take me directly to the destination I had in mind. Entering the establishment of drink and sin, I immediately spot my prey. She is seated alone, a meal of bread and stew in front of her.
Without a breath of sound, I slip onto the seat next to her. Glancing at me with surprise, she doesn't hide her annoyance. "I'm not lookin' for company tonight," she declares. I do not utter a word. A flicker of recognition seems to cross her face as she stares at me, closer still. "Don't I know you?"
I smile, my voice low and soothing. "I think not, love. We've never met before. But after tonight, you shall never forget me."
Her eyes wide with curiosity, her meal now sits untouched. "What's your name?"
"Truman. Nathan Truman."
"I'm Abby Lockheart."
"My dear." I stroke her hand, feeling the fine and fragile bones beneath the skin. "Think of me as your guardian angel. Your protector. You deserve better than a place such as this."
"Well, aren't you the smooth talker. But I like your style." She leans towards me, searching my face. "I'm sure I know you," she whispers.
My voice lowers to match hers. Soft and seductive. "Yes, Abby. You know the real me. I am yours and you are mine. We have a destiny, you and I."
She blinks, looking unsure. "Destiny?"
"Mmmm hmmm. You have a room upstairs, do you not?"
Abruptly, she withdraws her hand from mine. "Look, I don't know what kind of woman you think I am, but I'm not that kind!"
I chuckle at her indignant tone. "Easy, love. Don't take offense. I only want to get to know you better."
"Right. I've heard that line before."
Sensing I won't be getting anywhere with this approach tonight, I feel it is best to retreat. A temporary setback, but I shall return soon. Rising to my feet, I tip my hat to her. "I bid you goodnight, then."
"You don't have to leave. Sit and talk with me. My shift is over so The Spider won't be buggin' us."
Her dark eyes implore me to stay and though I am tempted, I feel a hint of mystery may serve me better. Leave her wanting to know more.
"Some other time, perhaps." Once again taking her hand, I brush my lips against the knuckles, my gaze never straying from hers. "Goodnight, Miss Lockheart."
She swallows visibly. "Goodnight."
Once outside, there is a bounce to my step and I take no care to conceal my grin. It seems I cannot stop smiling. It feels so damned good to be alive! What to do next? Nathan Truman is unstoppable. He can do anything he pleases. Why, the possibilities are simply endless.
***************
September 20 11:00 a.m.
Nightmares consume me every night, making sleep difficult. Every transformation racks my body with horrible pain. Others have begun to notice I am behaving oddly. It is now the second week of the experiment and no matter how difficult, I am determined to continue.
September 25 8:10 p.m.
The chemical formula has been altered and I am hopeful this will strike the right balance. I must be able to control the dark impulses that have invaded me. Truman's evil persona is strong but John Carter must be stronger. Still, I must admit, there is some hidden part of me that takes delight in my alter ego's wicked ways.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts and my voice is laced with irritation. "What is it?"
"Miss Knight is here to see you, sir," Steven calls out.
"I'm busy! Tell her to come tomorrow."
There is a pause before the butler speaks again. "But I told her that yesterday, sir. Could you not spare a moment?"
Had she tried to see me yesterday? I honestly don't recall. With a sigh, I tell Steven that I will be there presently. After jotting down a note, I make my way upstairs into the parlour. Lucy greets me by taking my hands and kissing my cheek.
"John, you look exhausted," she admonishes gently.
"I haven't been sleeping well," I admit. The sight and smell of her fill my senses with pleasure. I truly am glad to see her.
"You have been working much too hard. Please, let me take you to dinner."
"No, I can't. I'm in the middle of something important right now."
The disappointment in her expressive face causes me some guilt, but I brush the feeling aside.
"We wouldn't be long. There is that place around the corner that you like so much..."
"I said I can't, Lucy!" I snap, walking away from her. My nerves have been stretched taut lately and I inwardly scold myself for letting it show so easily. Turning around, I find myself facing her anger.
"Am I asking so much of you? I have only seen you once since the party! All I ask for is some civilized conversation over dinner, before you lock yourself up in the laboratory. And speaking of which, when will I be allowed to assist you again? Why are you keeping secrets from me?"
I have been dreading this moment, for I knew it would come soon. Until I decided to test the formula on myself, Lucy was an integral part of my work. When the Board rejected my proposal, she was as disappointed as me. But I simply cannot tell her that I have made myself the subject of this experiment. I cannot tell anyone.
"Please, be patient with me," I say.
"Is it because you don't trust me? Or that you doubt my abilities?"
"No, not at all."
"Tell me the truth, John," she insists. "I can bear it. I just need you to be honest with me."
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I look directly into her lovely eyes. "The truth is, you have been a brilliant assistant. I could not have come so far without you. But right now, I need to be alone in my work. In time, you will know everything. But for now, it is you who must place your trust in me."
She ponders my words and finally, nods her acceptance. "I do trust you. But that doesn't stop me from worrying about you. Is Steven making sure you eat properly?"
"Yes, my love. There is no need to worry."
With a slight sigh, she places her head against my chest and I hold her close, breathing in the scent of her. We stay in the embrace until she breaks away. "I'll leave you to your work, then." Her voice is quiet and resigned.
I know she is not happy, but she has always known how important my research is to me. Other women would have long ago abandoned me for lack of proper attention. The very fact that Lucy does not cling to me like others I have known, make her all the more endearing to me. Sometimes, I think she does deserve better. "Thank you for understanding," I say.
After seeing her to the door, I return to the laboratory and continue on. Minutes later, another sharp rap severs my concentration. "What now?" I bark, glaring at Steven as he partially enters through the doorway.
"I'm sorry, sir, but another lady is here to see you. I have never seen her before but she claims to know you. I would have turned her away but she does have your card."
Frowning, I start to say that I will receive no more visitors, but something stops me. "Let her in, Steven."
Scribbling another note to remind myself of my train of thought when I return, I once again enter the parlour. A petite woman with dark tresses and a red dress is examining the large portrait of my father. She gives me a nervous smile when I approach her, smoothing down her hair with one hand.
"Remember me, Doctor Carter? From Magoos?"
"I do. Abby, isn't it?"
"Right. Um, you gave me your card that night." Reaching into her pocket, she shows it to me. "'46 Harding Street'."
"'Harley Street', you mean," I correct.
She looks flustered. "Right, that's what I meant to say. Usually I would've thrown something like that away but you were so nice to me when The Spider, well, you know..." Talking very quickly, her voice trails away, perhaps in embarrassment. "Nice place you got here. Real nice." She spins on her heel, throwing her arms wide, as if to encompass the room. With a sudden wince, she brings her arms back to her sides, seeming to favour her right shoulder.
I step closer to her, concerned. "What's wrong? Has he hurt you again?"
"No, not this time. This time it was a customer." I lead her to a chair and as she sits, she begins to unbutton the top portion of her dress. Again, she speaks quickly, her words tumbling forth in a rush. "But I don't want you gettin' the wrong idea, sir. This isn't somethin' I usually do with a customer. Some of the other girls do and The Spider is always on me to bring in more money. Pushin' me in that direction, you know? I always expect him to kick me out but I guess he doesn't because I'm a hard worker. Anyway, when this fella showed up again, I took him to my room because I liked him. He was...different than anyone else. Romantic. Talked about destiny. I never heard words like that from a man before."
Standing behind her, I gently push down the neckline of her dress to reveal her wounds. My breath is emitted in a hiss as I regard what appears to be bite marks and fingernail gouges, extending from her upper shoulder to almost midway down her back. The wounds are red; angry and swollen. "The man is a monster," I say sharply.
"Not a pretty sight, is it," she says, a sardonic edge to her tone. "I'll never forget his name, though. Nathan Truman."
This revelation sends a cold chill down my spine and I take a step backwards. "Are...are you sure?" I stutter.
"Oh, yeah. Like I said, I'll never forget it." I am silent for so long, she turns halfway in her seat, clutching the front of her dress together to glance back at me. "Is somethin' wrong?"
"No, I, excuse me a moment. I have some medicine downstairs." Beating a hasty retreat to gather some supplies from a cabinet in the laboratory, I pause to gather my wits. I am sick. Utterly sick at what Truman has done. But how can I deceive myself? My own two hands have done this to her. Bloodied her ivory skin and caused her suffering. I *must* regain control of the beast!
Returning upstairs, I set the supplies on a tray and begin to treat her injuries. As I start to cleanse the area, she flinches involuntarily, her breath catching in her throat. "It stings, I know. I'm sorry." I continue on and she stoically remains still. I can only pray that the area does not become infected. The final step is the placement of protective gauze over the wounds, and I am finished. I place a gentle hand on her unaffected shoulder. "There, now, I am done."
"Thank you."
Her voice sounds strangely hoarse as she briefly covers my hand with one of her own. I help her adjust her dress to regain some modesty again. A silent, lone tear slips down her cheek and the shame slices through me again like a ragged knife. "I'm sorry, Abby. I can offer you something for the pain."
She shakes her head, her fingers trembling as she fastens the last button. "It's not that. I'm just...you're so...wonderful to me. Nobody has ever been kind to me, like you are."
Her sorrowful admission touches my heart. "No one? Surely your family or your mother..."
She interrupts with a bitter laugh. "My mother? She's completely crazy. She's probably dead by now, but I haven't seen her in ten years. No, sir, you are the only bit of kindness in my life. Not that I deserve it, but I appreciate it all the same."
Rising from the seat, her face downcast, I lift her chin up until she looks at me. "Don't say such things, Abby. You deserve every bit of kindness. I'm only sorry the world has been so cruel to you."
Her eyes fill with tears again, spilling over, and she brushes them away impatiently. "Please stop sayin' 'I'm sorry'. You don't have anythin' to apologize for."
Grabbing my hand, she kisses the palm and presses it against her cheek. From this distance, I can discern the bruises beneath the makeup that stain her cheekbone; testimony of the cruelty she endured the other night. Our eyes meet and neither one of us seems able to look away. As she strains on her toes, tilting her head back, my head is drawn down, pulled by an invisible force. Before my lips manage to graze hers, I come to my senses. "I can't do this," I murmur, straightening up again.
"Why?"
"I'm engaged. To a woman I adore. I'm sorry."
"I told you, stop sayin' you're sorry!" she snaps. With a contrite look, she covers her mouth with one hand. "Oh God, what must you think of me?" she mumbles from beneath her hand. Abruptly, she uncovers her mouth. "Now I'm the one who's sorry. Here I go throwin' myself at you and you're just takin' pity on me."
"It isn't pity. I don't want you thinking that. If I wasn't involved with someone else, I...there might be something between us."
"Really?"
A tender smile curls my lips as I hear the mixture of hope, doubt, and wonder in her voice. "Yes, really."
"Well." She clears her throat and tries again. "Well, you certainly know how to make a girl's day, Doctor Carter. Thank you for your help. Again."
"You're quite welcome." I walk her to the door. "Abby, please promise me one thing."
"Anythin'."
Although it is on the tip of my tongue to warn her about Nathan Truman, I find I cannot do it. Besides, she must have the good sense not to go near him. Not after what he did to her.
"Just...take care of yourself."
After closing the door, I go to the window and look outside. Abby is making her way across the path with slow steps, her head slumped down once more. At one point she stops, bringing her hands to her face. Though I cannot say for sure from my vantage point, I imagine she is crying. With a final heave of her shoulders, her head comes back up and for several seconds, she remains as still as a statue. Finally, she begins to walk towards the street, disappearing from sight.
Back to the quiet confines of my laboratory once more, I try to continue from where I left off, but my mind wanders. I cannot erase the image of those bloody, swollen welts on Abby's skin. I have no memory of inflicting those injuries, yet I must have done so. Truman is to blame. I must alter the formula again. The current one still does not allow me to have complete control over my evil twin. There is much work to be done.
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