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Adam Pierson, mild mannered Watcher got up from his tired behind to get himself another beer. The translation project Joe gave him was right up his alley, but he realized that it was much more than he could handle all at once. Joe had given him a set of 4 books that looked at least 400 pages long, per book. It took about 24 hours for Adam to fruitfully translate one full page and transcribe the translated text into his computer. Lunch had passed and dinner was looming closer and closer. In the middle of a paragraph, he stopped and thought about ordering in because of the nasty weather. He considered pulling an all-nighter, staying up late as he could to get as much of the project as he could done. Adam knew Joe would appreciate it and he might get more free beer out of the deal.
"I'm tired of all this damned rain. Maybe I will disappear with the project and magically end up in some place warm like Brisbane, Australia or better yet, Bora Bora…" Adam thought aloud and smiled.
A few hours later, dinnertime is upon him. Adam decided he was in the mood for smoked salmon. He grabbed his navy blue trench coat with weapons secured inside close to him and in his pocket, keys. Adam locked the door behind him as he left to find dinner. He took a cab to Pike Place Market, since he left his Cherokee at Joe's. He picked a good time to leave, the rain had stopped for a while, and the sun threatened to make an appearance just before it set. Adam paid for the cab, and headed for the fish bins. There wasn't a large crowd there, but there were a lot of scattered people in the Market. Out of the blue, Adam felt a pre-immortal nearby. He looked to his left at the wrong moment, and was nearly run over by a large woman and her purchases.
Earlier, across Seacouver, Lynda Maxwell laid in bed. She was looking out of her bedroom window, into a gray, chilly, and rainy January afternoon. She curled up with a pillow and her favorite blanket around her chilled body. Lynda felt so close to death and wanted to die.
"Let me fade away," she called out into the empty room as if someone were there.
Lynda's depression was eating her from the inside out. Her so-called friends from her hometown had abandoned her. No letters, not even a call on the phone. She tried to be the better person and tried calling, writing, but no responses ever came. She assumed they were too busy, or just didn't care. There was a break in the clouds and the rain stopped for a while.
Something made Lynda summon up enough energy to get dressed and go out that evening. She left her umbrella at home, figured she'd get wet and if lucky she would catch pneumonia, and took a cab to Pike Place Market. She looked at the food around her and found no desire or hunger. She was already severely obese by societal standards. Lynda paid cash for a few items she could freeze in the refrigerator just in case things changed.
Suddenly, a headache distracted Lynda as she was leaving the Market and she ran into someone's shoulder hard. Her eyes flashed up to look up at whomever she ran into to apologize, she saw this mans a beautiful face for a few moments.
"Oh excuse me, I'm sorry," she shyly looked down and then tried to flee the scene as quickly as possible.
"Hey," he called after her picking up her now puddle soaked wallet, but it was too late, she was gone.
Lynda grabbed a cab and made a fast getaway with her perishables. When she went to pay for the cab and then noticed her wallet was missing. Fortunately, she had enough cash left in her pocket to pay for the cab ride. She got in the door of the building it started raining again. She made it into her apartment, put the food away, and slipped into a clean pair of pajamas, as thoughts of the stranger she ran into filled her head. Lynda wondered if he found her wallet or if she actually lost it somewhere.
* You stupid idiot. Look what you did. Can't trust you to do things right! * Lynda inwardly berated herself, in negative self-talk.
She would have to take precautions to move her equipment, and soon. In her business she could not afford to let the information or equipment she had be found. Too many lives depended on her keeping it secured and secret. Lynda curled up in her bed once more and fell asleep to the sound of the heavy rain. In her night visions, that little voice popped up again,
* Why can't you have a man like the one you ran into? Because you are ugly, fat, and a pig that is why. *
She carelessly let her thoughts abuse her because her heart gave up its fighting spirit a long time ago. The family she had been adopted by had seen to that. The sweet little old lady at the deli down the street from her house turned her to food as a comfort and so she ran to food in times of crisis. Lynda had grown up as a large girl all her life and she realized one day that she was not going to change and so she settled on being a fat woman. When she found out she had been adopted as a baby, she finally accepted that as the reason why all of her family was thin and she was the 'black sheep', the odd man out, etc.'
* She had been the one with the buzz. * Adam thought alone as he tucked the wet wallet into an empty pocket on his trench coat.
Adam had looked into her eyes for a moment and saw so much sadness in her eyes; it almost hurt his own heart. Then she quickly turned and disappeared into the crowd, like a ghost. He continued his shopping, bought his salmon and a few things to go with it. Once home he put his food away and as he hung up his coat he remembered the soaked wallet. He pulled it out, took it into his bathroom slash makeshift darkroom, and turned on the red light. Opening the wallet he found it had been hers with a rather large amount of American, Canadian money, and two credit cards.
* Hmm, well, well. I wonder what Miss Lynda Maxwell does? * He thought.
He took out the money and draped it over his shower rod to let them start air-drying. Adam took her ID and headed for a phone when he noticed she had no phone number on the card.
* Strange… But she does have an address. * Adam decided to wait and go deliver the wallet and the dried money the next day.
He put food on the counter and started prepare his dinner. As he prepared a small salad, he remembered the look of the woman's face, which he found out later, was Miss Lynda Maxwell. He thought her face seemed to be haunting him a bit. The salmon cooked perfectly while he messed with drying the leather of the wallet Adam served up his fish and salad and wiped his hands on a paper towel. He ate and savored the excellent smoked salmon. The dinner was excellent, he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, added soap, flipped it on, and then he settled in, sprawling with a beer on the sofa. He fell asleep after the beer, dreamt of more of beer, the good old times, and old friends.
During the night, Lynda got sick. She felt ill and spent the night making friends with the porcelain throne, puked her guts out. Before dawn, Lynda cleaned up her face, looked in the mirror, and thought she looked a little pale, but she did not care enough to do anything about it. She weakly went to her bed, crawled back up into her covers, and went to sleep.
In the morning, around 7 am, Adam made some breakfast and a cup of coffee before heading to Lynda Maxwell's place with the dry wallet. He picked up his Jeep Cherokee from Joe's and drove to 43583 S. Bahia Rd. He arrived at her building, noticed it looked like a roach motel, definitely someplace he would never stay in, and headed in looking for apartment #D. Adam found the right door and knocked lightly on the door due to the rather still early hour.
Suddenly, Lynda woke up, and tried to fight off getting a headache like the one she had last night at Pike Place Market. She stayed as silent as possible; hoping whoever was at the door would go away. The headache persisted and she decided to quietly pack up her equipment in her metal, polystyrene lined briefcase, and try to make a run for it. She dressed in something warm over her pajamas, grabbed the emergency packed suitcase of clothing in the closet. Lynda crawled out the window onto the fire escape. She made it down the escape to the alleyway, ran as fast as she could to the main street where the traffic was, and grabbed a cab to the nearest motel.
At the door, Adam waited for an answer but he heard nothing. He still felt her pre-immortal presence so he knew she was home. He knocked again and as he waited her presence began to get fainter until it disappeared. He decided now must not have been the best time. Adam went back out to the Cherokee and as he looked up before getting in he noticed that one of her windows was open on the floor he was just on. He remembered it had not been open when he arrived.
* This is beginning to look like an Outer Limits episode. I need a beer. * He thought.
He put the keys in the ignition, started the engine, put the Cherokee in gear, and headed to his favorite bar in town.
Joe was playing around with his guitar and rocking like usual, when Adam enters the bar. He stopped playing and left the stage to greet his friend, and headed behind the bar.
"Hey Joe, you didn't have to stop playing on my account."
"Fingers need a break. Looks like something's on your mind old man, what's new?" Joe passed a draft filled glass to Adam.
"You know Joe, I never thought I would see a hurting soul as bad as mine was. Not until last night."
"Everyone hurts Adam, nothing new."
"Not like this Joe. I saw into her eyes, in the light behind me, for just a moment, no evil, but pure sadness. Beats me, I suppose it frightened me because of some of my past. Like I saw myself in her and it scared me a little."
"Beats you? That's a first."
"One more thing Joe, she's one of us, but she hasn't crossed yet. She dropped her wallet in a puddle when she ran into me at Pike Place Market. I dried everything out and I went to deliver it this morning. I think she either felt me and spooked, and ran or, something has happened to her. One minute I felt her in the apartment and then suddenly it was gone."
"It's odd, maybe she has a reason for running. Did you think about trying to call first?"
"Maybe she does, she was carrying a thousand, in American and Canadian, Joe. She didn't have a phone number."
"Whoa man, that is strange, but it's not that odd not to have a phone. People do it all the time. People are buying cell phones so they don't have to pay high phone bills. She must have a cell phone one for emergencies."
In her motel room, she got with a fake ID; Lynda made contact with her bosses. On her computer screen it read:
((Been compromised. Money gone. Had to run. Will contact when safe. Out.))
Lynda had been a hacker for different governments about 5 years. She helped the highest bidders and in return she was highly paid and remained a secret, always careful not to get caught, a master of disguise. She was paid to help each government break into various systems. Even though she was paid well for her work, she still preferred to live in a seedy part of Seacouver. She had kept in somewhat good shape just in case she had to flee at any moment.
Then, three years ago after a doctor's appointment, Lynda went on temporary leave because of finding out she was in the early stages of cancer in her lymph nodes. Luckily it grew slowly, but because of the cancer, a bout severe depression that she could not control developed and she just gave up, letting the cancer start winning. She knew it would jeopardize her job. She arranged for temporary leave in case she wanted to come back, but that was a long way from happening. In that time she gained a new identity, more than one hundred pounds, and started giving piano lessons to children in the neighborhood. She handmade quilts to sell at local craft fairs and special events for mad money in case of emergency even though she didn't need it. Lynda had become a filthy rich woman. She had made some very wise investments; all of her money was in foreign bank accounts under various identities of hers. She staked out her own place on foot for a while just to see if any one was on to her secret business.
After a week of living in the motel and alleyways around her neighborhood, all she saw was the man she ran into at Pike Place Market. He kept coming around almost every day. After he lost interest, and stopped coming around she figured it was safe to go home. Lynda had to be cautious of anyone that came to her door. Once home, she warmed up a can of soup, ate, hit the shower, and then went straight to bed. Her neighbor across the hall in #C, Old Mrs. Swanson kept her mail for her, every day never opening anything.
Next morning, Mrs. Swanson came over and slid everything under the door. Lynda put on a robe over her pajamas and sat down to look at her mail. A few bills, a small blue folded note, it had her name on it. She opened it and read cautiously and carefully.
"Dear Miss Maxwell, I have your wallet and I would like to return it at your earliest convenience. Adam, the man from Pike Place Market."
"Great, well at least now I know what happened to my wallet."
Lynda made herself a little food and ate; she had intended it to be her last meal. She lay down to take a nap. When she awoke the depression was so much worse that she just stayed in bed. No energy to get up and continue her day. No appetite to eat lunch. She felt lost in a sea of blackness, sometimes not coming up for air. Lynda stayed in her bed for almost a week. The pale look came back to her face as once before, making her look sick. She knew the cancer in her body was worse; she didn't need some doctor to tell her so. Her body started to attack the muscles in her body for any energy it could get.
That evening, Adam took a chance and drove by Lynda's place once more, this time he noticed a light on in the apartment. He parked across the street, as he headed across the street he saw the light go out, as if it had blown out. Adam went up to her place anyway. He knocked on the door and it came a jar. He felt her faint pre-immortal existence and checked around. Then he carefully entered her apartment.
* Well if she does call the cops, I could say I was a concerned citizen. * He thought and tried to justify his entry.
Once inside he reached for the wall for any switch, turned the light on, and he noticed the place was a mess. There were newspapers everywhere, empty take-out boxes all over the living room, and dirty dishes in the sink. He noticed that the garbage had not been taken out because of the stench in the air coming from the kitchen. Adam ventured further into the apartment, and found what he assumed was the bedroom door. The pre-immortal sign was weak but he could still feel it. He knocked on her bedroom door and no response. Adam cautiously opened Lynda's bedroom door and found the room dark. He figured this was the room with the blown light. He observed she had candles placed around the room so he went into the kitchen for matches or something to light them with. A few candles now lit, he saw Lynda's sleeping and ill looking face. Adam thought about calling for help but he figured if she were skittish about him, how would she feel about doctors and nurses poking and prodding her in a strange smelling room with bright lights.
Adam figured he could handle treating her on his own. Time was of the essence, so Adam went out to his black Cherokee and pulled out a small medical bag. Lynda was unconscious, he did his best with his medical training that he had to try and bring her back to consciousness. He gave her a shot of something in her bum. Everything seemed to be working as it should have and soon Lynda began to wake up.
"Hello, welcome back," Adam said softly.
"Go away," Lynda grumbled in a raspy dry voice, then tried to roll over.
"Not while you are this sick. Let me help you," Maybe he could save her since he had no choice with Alexa.
"I said go away," she said, almost growling.
Then the realization hit her and she reached for her gun from under her pillow and tried to lift it to aim for his chest.
"Quick buddy, who the hell are you, why are you here, and how did you get in here," she questioned.
The gun was shaking and Adam didn't take her threat seriously, but to humor her he decided to act like she was serious.
"Whoa, take it easy. I just came to return your wallet and when I knocked the door came open. I was curious. My name is Adam Pierson and I'd like to help you," Adam decided it best not to bring up Immortality now.
Lynda reluctantly accepted his answer for the moment.
"Don't you know curiosity killed the cat? You've finished your quest of returning my wallet. Now you may go, I do not need your help or pity," Lynda was putting up a wall and he saw it clearly for what it was.
He tried to look in her sunken eyes, just to try and see hope, but found none. Something about Miss Maxwell was tugging on his heartstrings, and he did not exactly know why. He considered that maybe she was part of his atonement for all the things he did back with the Four Horsemen.
* Fine time for it to start happening now. * He thought.
"All right, I'm not going to fight, you are too weak. I am going to stay and help anyway. You can bite my head off when you are better." Lynda didn't hear the last of his words as she went to sleep because of the drugs he gave her.
Adam took the gun and left her room, started to clean up the kitchen, and the living room, keeping himself busy for a while. He finished up and secured the door for the night. He sprawled on her sofa since it was his only option for something to sleep on. He kept his shoes on just in case. He slept lightly, carefully listening to the sounds of the apartment.
Sunrise, Adam rubbed his face awake and then left to go get real food. He hoped Lynda could hold down whatever food he bought, because she had looked so sick.
While he was gone, Lynda managed herself into a standing position, tried to walk to her bathroom, but she fell. She crawled the rest of the way into the bathroom on her hands and knees. She reached the toilet and she got an attack of the dry heaves.
When Adam returned he found his patient passed out on the floor by the toilet. He got her into bed and started her on more drugs. He made her some chicken bullion and helped it down her throat a little at a time.
After a while Lynda woke up, her eyes a little out of focus. She really wanted this man to leave her alone, but she realized she was going to have to play his little game to get rid of him.
"Please help me," her exhausted voice says, Adam hoped she meant it.
"I'm going to try my best," he fed her a little more soup.
Two weeks of visits from Adam passed and Lynda was able to get out of bed on her own. Adam hung around to make sure she was eating. Her color was improving to a nice shade of pink. While Adam was gone shopping or cooking, Lynda would contact her bosses to let them know she was safe. She hardly spoke to Adam at all, giving him a half-hearted silent treatment whenever she did not want to talk to him. It made matters worse that he was so darn cute and occasionally her shy side came out. Having to depend on someone for her well being, nagged on her need to be independent. The fact that he hardly ever left her alone nagged at her too. If she was not so ill and overweight she might actually consider going out with oh-what's-his-name, but she put out those thoughts and tried to think of something else. She took up her last quilting project and found solace in the needlework. It regulated her breathing and helped take her mind off of her reality, that she still had cancer.
Finally, early one afternoon, Adam decided it was safe enough for him to leave her alone. He realized she did not get out much. He wanted to get to know something more about her but Lynda hardly ever spoke to him, other than a choice expletive when he pissed her off, so he decided to take a chance and hoped she would follow his lead.
"Miss Maxwell," he addressed her smoothly from the front door on his way out, "Would you do me the honor of coming with me to the library tomorrow?"
"I don't think so, maybe some other time," she said from the bedroom, declining his offer.
He heard in her voice that she really was interested in going but he did not want to push the idea on her. He couldn't figure out why she would decline.
"All right then, may I take a rain check?"
* Now this irritating man wants you to go outside? Damn, get rid of him, ugh! * Lynda's inner voice told her.
She really does want to go but something inside her made her turn him down.
"Fine. Whatever."
He left her apartment and cruised on over to Joe's for a cold one. Adam felt another buzz as he came up to the door. Upon entrance, he found Duncan at the bar talking with Joe.
"Hey old man, Adam," came from Joe and Duncan.
"Duncan, Joe," he nodded in acknowledgment.
"We were just discussing Amanda's latest feats and ill-gotten gains," said Duncan.
Adam hung up his coat and pulled up a barstool next to Duncan.
"What's new, haven't seen you in a while," Joe asked.
"I've been over at Maxwell's. She's got some color again, but I'm not sure how long it will last." Joe pushed over a beer to Adam.
"Maxwell's," Duncan queried.
"Miss Lynda Maxwell," Joe filled in while Adam took a swig of beer, "One of you guys, almost. She's pre-immortal."
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