Doc Henry cleans his medical instruments, and his scalpel gleams in the faint moonlight drifting through the windows.
“You know,” he says. “I never expected to see you again. I thought you were dead.”
“Funny. I could’ve said the same for you. After all, you are two years older than God,” a light voice seemingly teases. But there is an underlying tension to Arcade’s words that permeates the air, and Henry isn’t deaf to it.
“You can’t run far enough, you know,” Henry says after a moment. “All you can do is accept it.”
“Accept what?” Arcade says. “My past? The way you accepted me?”
“Don’t blame me for Moreno’s shortcomings,” Henry says. “We all loved you, Moreno included. He just didn’t know how to show it other than knocking the hell out of you from time to time.” Arcade grits his teeth at his matter-of-fact tone, and shakes off the phantom pains that shoot over his skin from bruises long since healed.
“Subject change,” Arcade says brusquely, and Henry nods.
“Your cyberdog, Rex, is going to be just fine. His memories need time to meld with that of the old scrapyard dog, but he’ll be fine. Can’t say the same for your friend, though. She’s lost what, ten pounds since you arrived?”
“Almost fifteen,” Arcade says quietly. “But who’s counting?” Henry looks over at him and says,
“She looks like him, you know.”
“I know.”
“Have you asked her about him?”
“No,” Arcade says finally, pushing the image of a weary man with blue eyes from his mind. “I haven’t.”
“Afraid of what you’ll hear?” Henry puts down his instruments. “I don’t blame you. We lost all contact with him after Moreno ran him off. He loved your parents, as all of us did.”
“I don’t remember my parents very well,” Arcade admits. “I just remember him.” Henry smiles almost indulgently, and says,
“He was extraordinary. Unforgettable. If you were to see him again, I have no doubt you would recognize him in a heartbeat.” Arcade nods, and reaches over to pat Rex. The dog’s tail wags happily in his sleep, and the doctor smiles.
“I know you always wanted a dog,” Henry says, breaking the tranquil and resigned peace that had come over Arcade. His voice sounds unsure, tentative, as if he had never said the words he was going to say next and wasn’t sure if they would sound right. “I am sorry you never got one.”
“It’s all right. Would’ve been hard with all of the moving around we did. And the hiding.” Arcade pulls his hand away from Rex’s fur, his fingers still curling to touch it. Henry nods and, seeing as there was no more that Arcade was willing to discuss, he leaves Henry, and the memories contained within him , behind.
Keep Your Composure 22/?
“You know,” he says. “I never expected to see you again. I thought you were dead.”
“Funny. I could’ve said the same for you. After all, you are two years older than God,” a light voice seemingly teases. But there is an underlying tension to Arcade’s words that permeates the air, and Henry isn’t deaf to it.
“You can’t run far enough, you know,” Henry says after a moment. “All you can do is accept it.”
“Accept what?” Arcade says. “My past? The way you accepted me?”
“Don’t blame me for Moreno’s shortcomings,” Henry says. “We all loved you, Moreno included. He just didn’t know how to show it other than knocking the hell out of you from time to time.” Arcade grits his teeth at his matter-of-fact tone, and shakes off the phantom pains that shoot over his skin from bruises long since healed.
“Subject change,” Arcade says brusquely, and Henry nods.
“Your cyberdog, Rex, is going to be just fine. His memories need time to meld with that of the old scrapyard dog, but he’ll be fine. Can’t say the same for your friend, though. She’s lost what, ten pounds since you arrived?”
“Almost fifteen,” Arcade says quietly. “But who’s counting?” Henry looks over at him and says,
“She looks like him, you know.”
“I know.”
“Have you asked her about him?”
“No,” Arcade says finally, pushing the image of a weary man with blue eyes from his mind. “I haven’t.”
“Afraid of what you’ll hear?” Henry puts down his instruments. “I don’t blame you. We lost all contact with him after Moreno ran him off. He loved your parents, as all of us did.”
“I don’t remember my parents very well,” Arcade admits. “I just remember him.” Henry smiles almost indulgently, and says,
“He was extraordinary. Unforgettable. If you were to see him again, I have no doubt you would recognize him in a heartbeat.” Arcade nods, and reaches over to pat Rex. The dog’s tail wags happily in his sleep, and the doctor smiles.
“I know you always wanted a dog,” Henry says, breaking the tranquil and resigned peace that had come over Arcade. His voice sounds unsure, tentative, as if he had never said the words he was going to say next and wasn’t sure if they would sound right. “I am sorry you never got one.”
“It’s all right. Would’ve been hard with all of the moving around we did. And the hiding.” Arcade pulls his hand away from Rex’s fur, his fingers still curling to touch it. Henry nods and, seeing as there was no more that Arcade was willing to discuss, he leaves Henry, and the memories contained within him , behind.