Rob Thurman - Nightlife

Robin turned the color of milk. His eyes dark holes in his white face, he scrambled to his feet and ran. Moments later we heard him retching in the bathroom. I tried for a smile for Niko. My lips refused to cooperate, barely twitching. "Something I said?"

"I think he blames himself." Niko moved closer to me and, with hands fastened gently on to my shoulders, carefully eased me around. Then he pulled me into a hug so tight I felt my ribs creak. "He isn't alone."

Bewildered, I patted him awkwardly on the back. "Nik, what happened?" The colors were beginning to seep back into my surroundings; I was losing that peculiar distance. "How'd I get down here?"

Sitting up, Niko released me and swiped an absent hand across his face, smearing the blood. "Ah, damn." Carelessly pulling his shirtsleeve over the heel of his hand, he mopped the blood from his face. It was one of the most uncharacteristic things I'd ever seen my obsessively clean brother do.

The blood under my short fingernails caught my eye. Fresh. Red. And I had a pretty good guess whose blood it was. "What'd we learn?" I swallowed thickly. "From the hypnosis? What the hell did we learn?" That was worth this , I finished in my head.

"Nothing." He stood and reached down to grasp my wrist to help me to my feet. "It didn't work, Cal, simple as that."

Simple as that? Robin was in the bathroom praying to the porcelain god, both he and Niko looked like they'd had the shit beaten out of them, I'd been trying to burrow my way to China via a living room corner, and it was as simple as that? I didn't think so. "What'd I say?" I insisted, unsteady enough to grab a handful of Niko's shirt to stay on my feet. "When I was under, what did I say?"

"You didn't—" He stopped, tightened his lips, and then tried again. "You didn't say anything, Cal. Not a word, I promise you." Urging me toward the couch, he gave me a soft push down. "Sit down. I'll get you something for your throat."

My throat. If I hadn't been talking, why was it so sore? It struck me then, hard and dirty. Screaming. I must've been screaming. And from the ripped sensation of my throat, I must've been screaming my guts out. As Niko headed to the kitchen, I heard Robin beside me, voice soft and hesitant. "Caliban?" I turned to see him standing beside the sofa. His face was damp from where he'd splashed water on it, beads of moisture sparkling in his hair. "I'm sorry," he said, still pale. "I thought I could… I thought… I'm sorry."

"What happened?" I asked barely above a whisper. Niko wasn't going to tell me, but maybe Goodfellow would.

"You…" Robin shook his head. "What happened to you is best left forgotten. You weren't… coherent. Whatever they did far overshadows any ability I have of letting you reexperience it with any range of distance. I'm sorry I ever convinced you and Niko otherwise." He raked a hand through his hair. "And if I can't do it, Cal, it can't be done. Never… never let anyone else try. It was almost impossible to bring you back. Others might not be able to."

Before I could question him further, not that I had any idea what I would say, Niko descended on me with a cup of steaming tea. "Drink," he ordered. "It has honey, loquat syrup, and garlic. It should soothe your throat."

"Or put me in the grave." I wrinkled my nose but gave in and took a sip. When it came to Niko's herbal remedies, there was no escape. He'd picked up more than martial arts in the string of dojos he'd frequented over the years. Choking down another swallow, I stated flatly, "I hurt you guys, didn't I? What did I do?"

"Not a thing," Niko instantly denied. "We just got in your way. All you wanted to do was escape. You didn't intentionally raise a hand to us. Cal, you didn't even know who we were. You didn't know who you were either. You didn't know anything. None of it was on purpose."

"Yeah?" I studied the golden brown liquid in the cup and then finished it. Handing Niko the cup, I said lightly, "All better." My throat maybe, but everything else was far from all better. I think everyone in the room knew that.

Robin broke the long silence with a grim comment. "I need a drink."

"I think we all need a drink," Niko agreed. Yet another un-Niko-like turn of events. Niko have a beer? The world truly was coming to an end… or had done so only minutes ago. And Niko and Robin had been forced to watch it.

I was the lucky one; I'd slept through it.

It's strange how a familiar place can be so comforting, even if that place is a run-down bar. You would think that as much time as I spent in that hole-in-the-wall while working, it would be the last place I'd want to be in my off time. Yet here we were. The three of us, blank faces over roiling emotions, walked through the door and headed straight for the bar. The tables, parked in the corners of the room, seemed too shadowed. Too isolated. As little as I liked having my back to the entire room, I liked the thought of sitting immersed in darkness even less.

It was still early enough that we were among a very select group of hard-core alcoholics. I slapped a hand on the bar to get Meredith's attention. "Hey, Merry, hose us down, would ya?"

She finished stacking glasses and moved over in front of us to lean suggestively on the counter. Her skintight, baby-doll T-shirt had a neckline low enough to display the produce far and wide. "Cal, Niko, who's your new friend?"

I should've known. Merry had probably smelled Robin coming five blocks away. New meat. Ding-ding-ding. Of course, it could be interesting. Two predators coming together. We could lay bets on who would get gobbled up first. "Oh, sorry. Meredith, this is Robin… er… Rob Fellows," I introduced less than smoothly.

She leaned further, the twins teetering precariously inside their cotton prison. "Nice to meet you, Rob," she murmured with a throaty purr. "Very nice indeed."

Goodfellow gave her only a shadow of his usual leer, the glance at her overflowing breasts barely lustful. "Not as nice as it is to meet you, my fairy princess. Especially as there is so much of you to meet."

It was almost disturbing, his lack of enthusiasm. This was not the Goodfellow we'd come to know and vaguely tolerate. "Merry, this man needs a drink and fast," I ordered with dark cheer. "Before we lose him altogether."

"We certainly don't want that, do we?" With a practiced and flirtatious flip of her hair she took our choice of poison. She was so enamored of Robin that she didn't even blink at Niko ordering a beer. Granted, it was an imported one, but it was alcoholic and it still gave me a shock to see Niko taking a pull from the bottle.

"No glass?" I touched my bottle to his with a clink. "You barbarian."

"I have every expectation the bottle is cleaner than any glass here," he said with lofty disdain. I couldn't argue with that. I'd washed some of those glasses.

Robin didn't bother with warming up, but instead skipped right to the hard stuff: Scotch straight up. No rocks, no water, hell, barely even a glass. I swapped amused glances with Niko as we watched him go. He'd said Homer had almost drunk him under the table. I didn't believe that for a second. The man, to use the term loosely, could drink. Within an hour he had all but drained the bar dry and wore out Meredith trying to keep up with his demands for more drinks. More people had started to trickle in and she was looking more frazzled with each new customer and every wave of Robin's hand followed by a caroled "Another round, fairy princess!"

Goodfellow was waiting for his latest drink when he finally started to list on his stool. His head ended up on Niko's shoulder, his nose buried in the long blond fall of my brother's hair. The braid was history, courtesy of my freak-out. Robin inhaled and murmured, "Your hair smells good, like warm summer sun."