Foundations 3/6

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Foundations
By T. L. Odell

Part 3/6
See Part 0 for Disclaimers


On Wednesday afternoon, Kelly sat in her office working on her
PowerPoint presentation.  Duncan was doing whatever he did
outside all day, probably working on the cabins, or chopping
down trees, or just sitting by the pond.  Suddenly the front door
burst open with a resounding slam.  Startled, she got up to see
what caused the noise.  From her office doorway, she saw a tall
slender man with a scraggly beard brandishing some kind of
sword.  She blinked.  *A sword?*

"Where's MacLeod?" he shouted.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she blurted out, but
she knew it didn't sound very convincing.  She felt herself
trembling, her palms sweating--actually her entire body
breaking out in a cold sweat, and she could hear her own
breathing start to rasp.  *This can't be happening.  Not
happening.  No No No!*

Before she could will her muscles to move, the stranger grabbed
her and slapped her across the face.  She struggled uselessly in
his grip.  He pulled one of the dining chairs to the middle of the
room and shoved her into it.

"Don't move!" he commanded, holding the point of his sword at
her chest.

"Please, please no!  Don't hurt me!"

"Shut up!" snapped the man.  "I said don't move!"

Using a cord cut from one of the lamps, he tied her securely in
place.  A blindfold turned everything dark; a nasty smelling
cloth covered her mouth.  Fighting her gag reflex, Kelly
whimpered and retreated within herself to that safe place she
had created years ago.

Time ceased to have meaning for Kelly.  Eventually, claps of
thunder began to force their way through her semi-conscious
state, and the brightness of lightning shone through her
blindfold.  The storm seemed short-lived; the lightning flashes
ceased.  She heard footsteps on the gravel, then coming up the
porch steps.  *No! Got to get away.*  She struggled against her
bonds to no avail.  Her heart pounded so hard her head
throbbed.  Then everything was black again.

***

Duncan staggered up the porch steps, still shaking off the
effects of the Quickening.  He had to find Kelly.

"After I finish with you, I'll have some fun with the girl,"
Crawford had said as they fought.  "She's waiting for me, you
know."  One of Kuyler's students, hell bent on revenge.
Duncan had never known of Crawford's existence.  He had been
more angry than skilled with a sword, and the fight had not
lasted long, although Duncan had taken his share of blows.  He
had dragged the body out of sight into the woods for the time
being, and then hurried back toward the house.

He yanked off his torn and bloodied sweatshirt and threw it
behind one of the chairs.  The front door was ajar.  Duncan
burst through and saw Kelly bound and gagged in a chair in the
middle of the room, her head lolled down on her chest.

For a fleeting moment, he saw Tessa, held captive by Pallin
Wolf.  *No, this isn't the same.  Crawford is dead.  Nobody will
hurt Kelly.  I'm not going away.*  He crossed the room in two
strides and felt for a pulse.  Strong. Good.  He carefully
removed the gag from her mouth and the bindings from her
wrists and ankles, murmuring soothing words of reassurance all
the while.  "You're fine.  It's me, Mac.  You're safe.  Don't
worry."

She remained unresponsive.  He carried her to her room and
laid her on the bed.  Her breathing
was regular.  He removed the blindfold and went quickly to his
room to remove any remaining traces of blood and put on a
clean shirt.  He returned moments later with a bowl of cold
water and a rag, and began to minister to the swelling on her
face; she was still unconscious.  He sat by her side, continuing
to speak softly.  She stirred, and her eyes opened.  She
immediately stiffened and tried to pull away.

"Shh.  Relax.  You're okay.  It's over."

"Mac!  You're ... you're all right?"  He heard the confusion and
terror in her voice.

"I'm fine.  How about you?"

"Some big man.  Had a sword.  Wanted you."

"He found me, but I sent him away.  He's gone now.  He won't
bother either of us again."

"Oh," she said.  "That's good."  She looked into his eyes, and
he could see that she would rather accept that terse explanation
than know what really happened.  Then she passed out again.

He made sure her pulse and breathing were still normal; her
color looked good, so he didn't think she was going into shock.
She moved restlessly at his touch, opened her eyes briefly, then
closed them and curled herself into a tight ball.  He covered her
with a blanket.  Sleep was probably the best thing for her.  He
left the door open so he could hear her if she stirred and started
a fire in the fireplace.  He found a lamp in the storage closet and
replaced the now cordless one on the sofa table.  That finished,
he poured himself a Glenmorangie and lay down on the couch
with his Grisham.  Before long, he too fell asleep.

The sounds of screaming from the bedroom awakened him.
Shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, he rushed to the bedside
and turned on the light.  He found Kelly thrashing in her bed,
bathed in sweat.

"No!  Stop!  Off ... get off of me!  Dead dead dead."  Her head
rolled from side to side on the pillow.

"Shh.  Wake up, Kelly.  It's just a dream.  You're fine."  He
continued to talk softly until she became coherent.

"I woke you again.  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  She sat up and
wrapped her arms around her knees, her breathing rapid and
shallow.

"Nothing to apologize for.  I've been there, too.  Nightmares
can be very real.  But it does help to talk about them, no matter
how difficult it seems right now."

She took a deep quavering breath, then released it.  "I can't."

"I think you should.  I promise nothing you say will leave this
room.  Tonight will be just between the two of us."

"It's not that.  I really can't remember.  I see bits and pieces, but
they're gone when I wake up."

"This afternoon--something bad like that happened to you once
before, didn't it?"

"I think so ... I mean, I know something awful happened, but
it's buried too deep.  Every now and then something triggers the
nightmares, but I still don't remember what caused them."

"Let's just go out to the living room.  We can sit and talk about
anything you want until you feel better."  He held out his hand.

Kelly swung her legs over the side of the bed, ignoring
Duncan's outstretched hand.  "I'm all right now," she said.  She
stood up slowly, her knees quivering.  Duncan reached out to
support her; she waved him away.  He followed close behind
her to the couch and reached to turn on the lamp.

"No!" she said sharply.  Then softly, "Please.  No light."

The faint light from the bedroom lamp combined with the
moonlight provided shadowy visibility.  Kelly watched as
Duncan poured two brandies and offered her one.  "Drink this.
Slowly."

She took a sip and blinked back the tears as the fiery liquid
burned her throat.

Duncan took his snifter to the hearth and sat by the dying
remains of the fire.  "I saw the signs you put out on the nature
trail.  They reminded me of an old friend.  She knew the names
of all the flowers and grasses."

Plants were familiar, comfortable.  She could talk about plants.
"Smart lady.  Plants have names, too.  Not just animals.  People
should know them; plants are as important a part of the
ecosystem as spotted owls, snail darters and tigers."

"Tell me about yourself," he said.  "What did you do before you
started working for the Foundation?"

Kelly took a deep breath and spoke.  "I used to live in DC; I
worked for the government.  I was married to a man I loved
more than life; we had a beautiful three year old son.  One day,
I had a report to finish, and I felt like some ice cream.  David
volunteered to get it; he took Michael, our son, so I could work
uninterrupted."

She stopped and took another sip of brandy, trying to prepare
for the next part.  When she did manage to compose herself, her
voice was a whisper.  "There was a drunk driver.  He killed
David and Michael.  David was such a kind, gentle man.  He
was a botanist.  And Michael never had a chance to become
anything at all.  The driver came through the accident without
so much as a broken bone; he got six months in jail, with a
suspended sentence.  I should never have asked David to go.  I
didn't need the ice cream."  She blinked back the tears.

"Nobody should die for ice cream,"  she said, not even sure she
had spoken the words out loud.

She looked at Duncan.  "Do you know how hard it is to lose the
ones you love so soon, to have to go on living without them?"
She saw his expression change, saw the pain cross his face.  *He
does know, she thought.  He understands.*

"It wasn't your fault," Duncan said quietly.  "It was an accident.
You can't blame yourself.  Trust me, I know.  It hurts, but
eventually you can move on."

The words came more easily.  "I know.  I did manage to put my
life back together.  I just built a wall around that part of my life.
I quit the government job and went back to school.  Got a
degree in biology, as a matter of fact.  One small tribute to
David.  My uncle's the CEO of the Foundation; he helped me
get a job there, and I started feeling things again.  I even fell in
love with a man.

"He did all the right things:  flowers, candy, impulsive picnics.
He made me laugh again.  He was strong when I needed him to
be.  I thought I could live with Robert for the rest of my life.
What a mistake."

Kelly looked down into her glass, and swirled its contents,
staring at the way the amber liquid reflected the tiniest
glimmers of light in the room.  The fire had gone out, but glints
of moonlight remained.  She could see Duncan sitting in
shadow on the hearth, not moving.  She felt numb, her mind
separate from her emotions.  She heard her words as if someone
else spoke them.

"One day Robert came to take me on a picnic.  I woke up in the
hospital in a lot of pain, with no real memories of what
happened.  Ever since then, I don't handle being around people
very well.  The Foundation understands, and that's why I get
these nice isolated job assignments."

She stood up and walked to the kitchen for some water, familiar
enough with her surroundings to do so in the dark.  She drank in
long, deep draughts, setting the glass on the counter when she
finished.

"The mind buries things we can't handle," she heard Duncan
say.  "When you're ready, the memories will probably come
back."

"You sound like Sidney, my shrink."

"I knew a very good shrink once.  I may even have picked up a
few things.  Do you remember what you were dreaming when
you woke up tonight?"

"No."

"You said something about someone being dead.  Does that
help?"

"No, no.  Please no.  Don't make me go there."  She stopped,
and memories began to return, disjointed images at first, turning
clearer until that horrendous day flooded through her
consciousness.

"It can't be.  Oh God, it can't be."

"Kelly!"  Duncan crossed to the kitchen and took her hands,
pulling her to face him.  "What do you remember?"

"All of it.  Oh my God, all of it."  She squirmed from his grasp,
covering her eyes against the visions in her head.  The pain.
The blood.  "Blood everywhere.  So much blood."

"Stop!" he said sharply.  He held her shoulders.  "You're safe.
Just talk.  Let it out."

He led her to one of the chairs in the living room.  As soon as he
released her, she got up and began pacing the room, running her
hands through her hair.  "No, no, no."

"Is there someone I can call?  Your doctor?  Your uncle?
Someone who can help?  Kelly!  Answer me."

Some part of her heard Duncan calling her, asking her
something.  She forced herself to comprehend, then to answer.
"No.  Doctor's away."

"Won't he have a service, someone covering for him, or a way
to get a message to him?"

"Speed dial two," she managed to whisper.  She felt herself
being guided back to the couch.

End of Part 3

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