*click*
GUS THE JANITOR: Is that the right switch? Oh, good.
Hello again, Gus the janitor from Smarmsluts
Headquarters here. Things have gotten, um, a little
out of hand (sounds of distant explosions and angry
yelling) so I guess I'll take over for a while.
(tremendous crash) The occupants of this place are
preoccupied at the moment, so without further ado
here's some more of their story. Things should be
settling down here very soon. (Sound of doorbell) Oh
good, the police are here. Excuse me.
*click*
**************************
Ashes of the Mind, pt 25
by the Smarm Sluts
Disclaimer: See pt 1
For the previous installments to this story please
visit our website at:
https://members.tripod.com/AshesoftheMind/index.html
*****************************
*Where is this?*
*Nowhere.*
*That's fine. At least here nothing hurts.*
Darkness; drifting through it, silently, seeing
nothing. A thick velvety blackness. *Maybe this is
death.*
Images bump against the outside; horrifying,
painful, or they would be if they could get in.
Feeling nothing now. Except safe.
Other images wander through, almost recognizable,
flashes of feeling .
*He's got me again.*
*We're trapped.*
*Am I going mad.*
*Fire.*
Fading in and out, like pictures from a faulty magic
lantern show sliding across the mind, leaving nothing
behind.
*How long has it been? Days? Years? Can't tell.
Doesn't matter, nothing does. Better this way.*
Staring into darkness, drifting...
*********
The room was warm and dark when Maude entered it,
quietly, the noise from the saloon downstairs barely
filtering into the still, silent air. As she closed
the door she looked down at the bed, and even though
she
fully knew what she was going to see, the sight still
caught at her throat.
In the days since returning to Four Corners, Ezra
had been properly seen to, and gave every appearance
of being on the road to a full recovery. his battered
and burned skin had been gently bathed and treated;
clean white bandages covered the still-healing wounds.
He had been shaved and dressed in one of his
nightshirts, and laid to rest in his bed, ready to
spend the next days recuperating.
But closer inspection revealed that something was
still very wrong. As he had done since collapsing at
the asylum, Ezra was staring blankly ahead, at
nothing, in a ceaseless pattern. He had not closed
his eyes at all, or slept, since their return. His
expression was blank and listless, registering neither
joy nor pain, and the normal bright light of his pale
green eyes had dimmed to a distant flicker.
Maude stood by her son's bedside, gripping her
parasol, feeling strangely terrified. God, son, she
thought, I can't believe you remembered the fire, you
were so small I was sure you'd forgotten it. It was
just a horrible accident to everyone else, but I guess
it was something more to you. I wish I could have
realized that.
She shivered as she recalled Josiah's words, asking
that she try to reach Ezra by reassuring him of her
presence. By being motherly. If only she could
explain to Josiah...
Maude sighed and walked around the bed, quietly
sinking into the chair in the corner, settling in with
a rustle. Explain what to him? He wouldn't understand,
kind man though he was. None of them would, they'd
simply say she was a cold woman who never learned to
be the sort of warm, tender, loving mother she'd seen
other women be. But other women didn't have to raise
a child in her cold, hungry world, didn't have to
train the tenderness out of themselves to survive.
She raised her eyes to look at the still, silent
form of her son, lying on his bed. She could recall
teaching him, with pride, to live as she had lived,
because it made dealing with the world all that much
simpler and less painful. The world was already full
of those who felt too deeply and gave themselves to
others; therefore, it was only logical-and
profitable-to use that to her advantage and teach Ezra
to do the same. It had been productive, to read the
emotions other people laid bare and discern their
weaknesses based on that information, all the while
keeping her own thoughts to herself.
Ezra had learned the talent quickly, and she had
always felt confident that he would carry her
teachings to success. Why had he abandoned all her
ideals and put himself in such danger? What was in
this town, and those men, that could compel him to lay
aside her hard-won wisdom? They were brave, kind men,
certainly, but there had to be something else holding
him here, Ezra had never stayed anywhere long enough
to become attached to anything. Becoming attached
made you distracted and sloppy. But Ezra hadn't been
distracted or sloppy, she marveled; he had
been...brave. And it amazed and frightened her at the
same time, because she didn't know where it had come
from, or where it would take him.
And now...She bit her lip as she recalled Josiah's
words. She had to reach him, somehow, and his
connection to her seemed to be all that held him to
the world outside himself. But they had only ever
communicated through words and the occasional touch or
kiss; she had taught him early to live free from her
grasp, to walk by himself, knowing that it was how he
would have to make his way. Josiah had no idea what
he was asking her to do, trying to reach Ezra as a
mother would a child. Even when Ezra was a child she
hadn't treated him much differently than an adult;
coddling only weakened a child. Even as a young
mother she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Could she now?
Trembling a little, she rose, laying
her parasol and gloves aside and slowly walking
towards the bed, her heart racing. She felt fearful
and foolish, but she tried to ignore the doubts
fluttering through her mind, the cold words which
said, I can't do this, I don't know how, oh Lord.
Something urged her on, telling her she had to try, or
else watch as her child died or spent the rest of his
wasted days in a hospital, slowly dying. Whatever
drove Ezra to stay in Four Corners was important
enough for him to suffer for it; she had enough love
for him to put her confusion and fear aside to do the
same for him.
What should she do? She drew the chair up next to
the bed and settled in it as she studied her son's
face. He hadn't moved; his eyes still stared vacantly
at the ceiling, as they had for the past several days.
He didn't even know she was there; but somewhere, she
thought, somewhere in there he had to know. He was
looking for her, and she was here, and there had to be
some way to let him know that.
She reached out and took his hand; she gasped at how
cold it was, and she looked at it for a moment as
sadness engulfed her. Her son's beautiful hands, his
pride and joy; how often had she marveled at his
dexterity as the cards flew through those slender,
nimble fingers? How could they now be so limp and
lifeless, like broken instruments, never to play their
music again? She gripped the hand tightly, frightened
at its stillness.
"Son? Ezra?"
Nothing.
"Darlin', it's your mother."
The eyes continued to stare.
She sighed, trying to fight back the tears stinging
her eyes, and the doubting thought, I don't know what
I'm doing. But then she took a deep breath and
composed herself; she'd fought against the odds all
her life and won. She looked at her son, her only
child, lying still beneath her eyes, and a painful
feeling flooded her heart. He had to come back, she
needed him, and they did too; even if he was lost to
them and she never understood why, it was far
preferable to the idea that his cheerful voice and
easy laugh was lost to them all forever. These were
the highest stakes she'd ever played for, and she
would be damned if she-if they-lost.
"Son," she continued, sniffing a bit, "now you know
I-I'm not very practiced at this. Josiah says-well,
he says you need me, so...here I am."
She waited, but nothing happened; not that she had
really expected anything to, it simply couldn't be
that easy. What had Josiah suggested? She remembered,
and hesitantly lifting her hand reached out and gently
touched Ezra's cheek. The skin was smooth and cool,
and Ezra didn't react, which caused a terrifying
burning feeling in her stomach.
"Ezra? Please, son..."
Something told her to try again; she did, first
touching his cheek again, then stroking it. Maybe that
would help. She tried to do as Josiah suggested,
listening to her instincts. But she was used to
relying on her instincts to tell her how to win a card
game, or pull a con; she had never listened to them
where mothering was concerned. using her head had
always been good enough.
But now...now, her head was telling her, this is
foolish, there's nothing you can do. he'd be better
off at a hospital or a home, somewhere where they can
look after him. Josiah is a good man, but even good
men can be wrong. This obviously isn't working; save
your time and effort and face facts, as you've done
before. The cold truth is, Ezra is gone.
She gasped a little at the pain this thought caused,
but her lip against the tears stinging her eyes. As
logical as this idea was, she found herself pushing
hard against it; she didn't want to fact facts this
time, there had to be something she could do, even if
it seemed illogical and silly. She took another deep
breath and tried very hard to listen, to find the
small speck of tenderness buried deep within her that
would tell her what to do. If other mothers could do
it, she certainly could, and Ezra's life depended on
it. She had to disregard the intellect that had
served her so well and continue to try and reach her
lost son.
She leaned closer, until she was right next to the
bed, bending over Ezra's quiet form, her slender hand
caressing his face, urging him back. It all felt very
unfamiliar, but somehow right.
"Now son," she said softly, feeling foolish but
somehow encouraged, "this has gone on long enough, I
think. These men you work with, they're quite anxious
for you to get better, you know, and I don't want to
have to disappoint six men of such determination."
She paused, thought, no longer speaking aloud. You
know, I...I never have asked you exactly why you're
doing all this, staying in this Godforsaken town, she
thought as her hand moved up to lightly stroke his
forehead. And that's part of why you must wake up,
son, because I think you're the only one who can
explain all this to me.
Here I've told you time and again not to form
attachments, and look what's happened, she silently
chided him, almost in wonder. These men-they care
about you, son, they've asked me about you so often
it's driven me to distraction. And you must have some
sort of attachment to them, or else you'd never behave
in this dangerous manner. Certainly I hope you're not
doing it for the dollar a day, she thought, smiling a
bit as she fought back tears.
Suddenly she realized that, without even noticing
it, she had begun to softly smooth his hair. She was
stunned for a moment-it was the first time in years
that she had done something without carefully thinking
about it first. She hesitated for a moment, then
resumed; even if it offered Ezra no comfort-and there
was still no signs of recognition in those pale green
eyes-it made her feel closer to him in a way she
wasn't able to define.
"You've got to get better so you can tell me why all
this has happened and put your poor mother into a
panic," she said aloud, softly; she was gripping his
hand tighter without knowing it. "I've never known
anyone who look out for each other the way you and
your friends do. It's a gift, I suppose, son, even if
it does result in all of you getting your fool heads
blown off. Now, I don't exactly approve of all this,
but-I have to admit, their loyalty to you, and yours
to them, is quite admirable. If I had ever found
someone..." She trailed off, sighed, and shook her
head. Enough of that.
She had no idea how long she sat there, holding
Ezra's hand, touching his face and stroking his hair,
murmuring as many gentle words as she could think of,
whispering his name, calling to him. The icy bonds of
practicality and calculation slowly melted away,
replaced by a newborn feeling of closeness with Ezra
that she had not experienced since he had outgrown his
first suit of clothes. Since he was a child Maude had
urged him to be independent and thrown him on the cold
mercies of the world, believing it would make him
strong; now in his weakness he needed her again, and
she was shocked to find that she was still capable of
feelings she was sure were long dead. Hours went by,
and in those hours she realized as she gazed at her
son's lifeless eyes: I'd do anything, even be poor
again, if only he would recognize me.
Finally she sighed, the time suddenly catching up
with her; she felt very tired, but did not feel that
she should give up. She thought for a moment, then
leaned close, her voice as low and gentle as she could
make it. "What I should say, son, is- they're waiting
for you, and so am I. Whatever you're trying to hide
from, we'll help you with it, only-don't hide from us
too." She could feel her eyes brimming, but ignored
it; she was trembling slightly, no longer feeling
embarrassed. "Your mother is here, Ezra, and she
wants to bring you home."
The darkness seemed to hesitate, then faded away
before a gentle brightness.
*Who's there?*
Slowly coming back now...
*Wait - am I ready, the pain...*
Soft words, hands on his cheek, his hair.
Unfamiliar, but it felt so...
*Know that voice. Stirring.*
*Sunlight. A child again, running. Like before, but
the fear is gone. Happy now, she's here, I can hear
her. Where is she?*
"Ezra," Maude whispered, ignoring the tears slipping
down her cheeks as she stroked her son's impassive
face. "Please come back to us, son."
*It's so bright...*
Maude held Ezra's hand to her chest, no longer
caring that this was all new to her. Something else
was overwhelming her now, besides her usual
self-control; the more she realized that her son might
be lost to her forever, the more her reserve broke
down. She had never felt less in control of herself,
but for some reason she was no longer afraid.
She sniffed a bit as she caressed his cheek. "God,
son...I don't believe I've ever said this to you, and
I don't think you can hear me..."
*It's her, she did come back for me. It's all over,
I'm going home. Oh, Lord.*
*Mother.*
She bent close to him, her lips almost touching his
ear.
"I love you, son."
The eyes flickered, moved a bit. She noticed it and
sat back, startled.
"Ezra? Ezra, can you hear me?"
A small sound, like a gasp, escaped his lips, and he
turned his head a bit and looked at her in something
like awe struck wonder. She laughed a little in
relief, grasping his hand tighter and leaning forward.
"Son? It's your mother. Do you-"
Before she could finish the sentence he sat up and
in one lightning-fast motion threw his arms around
her, holding her in a tight, wordless embrace as he
buried his face in her shoulder. He was shaking, and
the startled Maude realized that Ezra was sobbing as
he clung to her.
She sat still for a moment, too shocked to move;
could he really be all right? It almost seemed too
much to hope for...She returned his embrace, awkwardly
at first, then wrapping her arms tightly around him as
a flood of unfamiliar emotion swept over her. She was
sobbing too, unashamedly, for the first time in years.
"Son?" she whispered, grasping him to her, fiercely
stroking his hair as if to drag him all the way back,
"Ezra? Are you-do you know me?" If this was just some
sort of reflex...
She felt him shudder, heard him gasp and choke a
little; then he pulled back a little and looked up at
her, his bruised face wet with tears. His pale green
eyes were bright and clear, clouded only with a
half-dissipated haze, as if he were coming out of a
dream. He gazed at her, blinking a bit in confusion
and concern.
"Mother," he said in a voice so quiet she could
barely hear him; it was a statement of recognition and
discovery, as if he had just come upon her in the
street after thinking she was long dead. She smiled a
little, greatly relieved, and nodded as the tears
continued to flow.
"Hello, son," she whispered, gently wiping the wet
strands of hair from his forehead.
He sat in her arms for a moment, still shaking a
bit, staring at her. His eyes were relieved but
confused as he studied her face. "Are-are you all
right?"
She laughed a little and shakily wiped her eyes with
one hand. "I'm fine now, son, really. Just worried
about you, is all. But don't you fret now, everyone's
all right, it's all over. "
She gave him a reassuring smile, then gently laid
him back down onto the soft bed. Ezra studied her
face for a moment, then nodded, too worn out to talk
any more. His eyes slid closed as he nestled his head
against the pillows with a sigh of pure exhaustion.
"That's right, you just rest," Maude said softly,
sniffing and stroking his hair as he drifted off to
sleep. "You're home now, son. You're home."
Some time later Nathan decided he ought to check on
things; after knocking on the door and receiving no
reply, he gently pushed it open and peered inside.
Maude was sitting close to the side of the bed, and
Nathan was surprised to see her holding his hand, her
face wet with tears. As she looked up at Nathan she
gave him a rather embarrassed but happy little smile,
and it was then that the healer noticed that Ezra's
eyes were closed in what appeared to be a deep,
peaceful slumber.
He walked in as quietly as possible, looking at her
hopefully. "He OK now?"
She laughed softly and nodded. "Pray forgive my
appearance, Nathan, but-yes, I think so. He seemed to
recognize me, at any rate."
Nathan nodded; that was encouraging.
At this point Ezra stirred a bit, took a deep breath
and opened his eyes a little, looking up at Maude and
then at Nathan with a bewildered expression.
"Mother? Mr. Jackson-what..."
"Just take it easy now, son," Maude soothed.
Nathan walked over to stand behind Maude and studied
the gambler.
"You remember anything?" he asked, noticing Ezra's
puzzled look. The other man sighed and rubbed his
face.
"Parts of it...it all seems...quite a blur." He
sighed, trying to remember; suddenly his breath
hitched in a frightened gasp, and he looked at Nathan
with wide, anxious eyes.
"Oh God-JD!"
"Hey, now, take it easy," Nathan cautioned, holding
out one hand.
Ezra gasped a bit, remembering Jed Maxwell's cruel
words. Had they found JD's body? "Is he here?"
"What's wrong, Ezra? We found JD, it's all right."
Nathan had no idea Ezra thought the boy dead.
Ezra lay there trembling. They had found his body.
Oh God, it was true. "I want to see him."
Nathan looked at Maude, puzzled. Why would Ezra want
to see JD so badly?
"We'll let you see him when your stronger, son."
Maude murmured, unaware he statement further convinced
her son JD was truly dead.
Ezra nodded in acceptance, heart now heavy. Then
another thought came to him.
"Maxwell." It wasn't a question.
Nathan nodded. "Yup. Branford too. We found you
in the asylum, but you didn't know us. Glad you
decided to come back."
"Hmm," was Ezra's bleary reply, as his hand dropped
back onto the bed. "I do recall the asylum,
unfortunately. I was hoping that was just a
nightmare."
"Well, don't worry on it," Nathan said brightly.
"All them poor folks been sent to where they'll be
looked after right."
Ezra looked at him. "Did you happen to find a girl
named Madeline?"
"Yeah, she's the one who helped us find you. Turns
out her family came and got her, they didn't even know
where she was. They left their address if you want to
write 'em."
"Hmm," Ezra mumbled, his eyes closing again. Maude
smiled and patted his arm.
"We'll see you later, son."
Nathan walked out as quietly as he had come in;
Maude rose to go but was stopped when she felt her son
touch her hand.
"Wait..."
She stopped, looked down at him; he was looking at
her in sleepy urgency, trying to stay awake long
enough to talk. She sat down again quickly and took
his hand.
"Is something wrong, son? What is it?"
Ezra seemed to hesitate then, slowly licking his
lips as his eyelids fluttered. "I thought I ought to
let you know..."
He paused, his mouth moving soundlessly, as he
groped for the words. "The sentiment which you
previously..."
He stopped again, still thinking. Finally he
sighed, resigned, and said simply and quietly, "I love
you too." He looked at her, smiled a bit,
embarrassed.
She was at a loss for a moment, then squeezed his
hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled
again, a little; after a second his eyes closed, and
he was asleep once more. Maude sat, holding his hand
for a few minutes, then gently lay it on his chest,
rose, and left the room without making a sound.