Chapter 24

 

 Saturday, February 27th, 1993

    

 

     This was the first time in all her sixty-seven years, that Cecilia Simon could recall having sunk to a sofa cushion in shock caused by the news someone relayed to her over the telephone.

 

     Cecilia had been in contact with Rick every evening since he'd been in San Francisco.  As the week wore on she could hear the utter dejection in his tone when, night after night, he was forced to tell her they had no leads.  That neither he, nor Town, nor Elizabeth, had run across anyone who had seen or heard of A.J.  Not that Cecilia was anticipating they would.  She had already prepared herself for this final heartache.  The final heartache that would come when Rick returned home from San Francisco without his brother, and without anywhere else to look.

 

     About the time the phone rang that Saturday evening was about the time Cecilia had been expecting to see Rick’s truck pull in her driveway.  When she talked to Rick on Friday night he told her he had decided to come home with Town on Saturday morning, as opposed to staying on an extra week as he had thought earlier he might.  She could hear the choked tears in his voice when he said over the phone line,  "I'm so sorry, Mom.  I just don't know what more I can do."

 

     Cecilia began to cry as well, though not for A.J.  This time her tears were for Rick, and his overwhelming pain and sorrow.

 

     Cecilia had longed to take her eldest in her arms, but had to make do with comforting him via long-distance. "Oh, sweetheart, don't apologize to me.  You've done everything you possibly can to try and find A.J.  I know that, honey.  I know that." 

 

     Now Cecilia ran for the phone and picked it up on the third ring.  "Hello?"    

 

     "Hi, Mom."

     "Rick, where are you?  I thought you'd be home right about now.  I've got supper waiting in the oven."

     "Well, I guess it's gonna have to wait a little longer."

 

     Cecilia thought she could detect a small hint of glee to her son's tone.     "What do you mean?"

 

     There was a significant pause, as though Rick didn't quite know how to break the news to his mother. 

 

"Mom...Mom, we found A.J."

 

     That's when Cecilia's knees wobbled back and forth like gelatin right before they gave away completely.  The woman slumped to the couch.   A trembling hand came up to cover her mouth.  The only sounds she managed to get out were repeated, gasping sobs.

 

     "Mom?  Mom, are you okay?"

 

     "Yes...yes," came Cecilia's shaky reply.  "Just...just...just give me a minute."

 

     "Sure, Mom," Rick intoned with soft sympathy.  "Take all the time you need."

 

     When Cecilia was able to speak her words tumbled out like rushing water tumbling over falls.  "Where did you...how did you...when did you...is he all right?"

 

     Rick had known that would be one of the first questions his mother asked, and yet he still wasn't sure how to answer it.  "He's...all right in terms of his physical health.  At least as far as I can tell.  His state of mind...well, it's pretty much like you and I discussed it might be before I came up here."

 

     "He doesn't know who he is?   He doesn't know you?"

 

     "I wouldn't say that exact...I guess I don't really know."

     "What do you--"

     "Mom, it's a heck of a long story.  A lot longer than I can relate over the phone.  I'll tell you everything tomorrow evening.  We're still at the same motel we've been stayin' at all week.  Town and I wanna get an early start tomorrow morning, so A.J. and I should be to your place somewhere around four o'clock."

 

     Despite the fact that there was so much more Cecilia needed to know, she agreed,  "All right.  I'll have supper warming in the oven."

 

     "That's fine.  And listen, go over to A.J.'s house and get some clothes for him.  Everything from underwear, to socks, to jeans, to shirts, to his pajama bottoms, bathrobe, shoes, and a jacket.  And maybe his razor and toothbrush, things like that as well.  Anything that might be familiar to him would be good I think.  And you'd better make an appointment for A.J. to see Joel as soon as possible."

 

     "That's a good idea, but why as soon as possible?  I thought you said he was all right."

     "As far as I know he is.  But I don't think we want to delay in getting’ Joel's opinion regarding a variety of areas.  We're gonna need his help in determining how we go...forward."

 

      "How we go forward?"

 

     "A.J.'s not himself, Mom.  Far from it.  He's gonna need some kinda professional help."

 

     For the time being Cecilia swallowed her many questions and worries.  "I'll mention that to Joel as well."

 

     "Good.  Oh, and call Abby, please.  Let her know what's goin' on.  But don't tell anyone else until after I get A.J. home.  Not even the relatives.  The last thing we need is for a buncha people to be waiting in your driveway for us.  That'll be more than A.J. can handle right now, especially if word is leaked to the press."

 

     "Okay," Cecilia agreed.  "Maybe Abby can take care of that end of things for us.  If she's agreeable, we can request that all inquires from the media go through her."

 

     "Good idea.  If nothing else it's worth a shot.  That won't keep 'em from camping out on your block once the news is out, but it may limit their numbers somewhat."

 

     "Rick...I'd like to talk to A.J. for a minute, please."

 

     "Uh...look, Mom, I'm callin' from Town's room.  A.J.'s next door in our room with him."

 

     "That's okay.  I'll wait.  Just put the phone down and go get him."

 

     "Mom...Mom, A.J. doesn't wanna talk to you right now."

 

     Rick could hear the bruising hurt in his mother's voice.

 

     "Oh.  Did you ask him if he did?"

 

     "Yeah," Rick reluctantly confessed.  "Right before I came over here to make this call.  But, Mom, don't let that upset you.  He's just...he's confused right now.  Confused and frightened.  It'll be easier for him tomorrow when he gets to see you."

 

     Cecilia didn't sound like she believed her oldest, but didn't argue with him further.  "Okay, if you're certain."

 

     Mom, I'm not certain of anything right now.

 

     "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Mom.  Bye."

 

     "Bye, Rick.  I love you.  And tell...tell A.J. I love him too."

     "I will."

 

     Rick disconnected the call then dialed one more number.  He got his cousin Elizabeth's answering machine.  He left a brief message that told her A.J. had been found, and that he was okay.  For the same reason he'd made the request of Cecilia, Rick also asked Elizabeth not to tell any other relatives about A.J. at this time, not even her own family.  He ended the one-sided conversation by thanking her for her help, and promising he or his mother would call early in the week to fill her in on the details.

 

     Rick placed the handset back in the phone's cradle and locked Town's room as he exited.  He had to dodge intermittent raindrops on his way to the motel's office.  He walked out carrying two newspapers, one for himself and A.J., and one for Town.  In his other hand he carried a bag filled with three different kinds of chips, six cold sodas, a handful of candy bars, and a paperback book he'd bought on impulse for his brother. 

 

     Rick juggled his baggage while fishing around in the pocket of his jeans for his room key.  He stopped himself from kicking the door shut, to instead close it quietly, when he caught sight of his sleeping brother.  A.J. was lying half on his stomach, half on his right side, on top of his bedspread.  His head rested on one pillow, the second one was perpendicular to his body and he was hugging it loosely to his chest.    

 

     Town was seated in the same chair he had been when Rick left the room thirty minutes earlier.  He had a basketball game on the television with the sound barely audible.

 

     Rick sat his load on the table and spoke in a hushed tone.  "When did A.J. conk out?"

 

     "About ten minutes ago."

 

     Rick glanced over his shoulder as he unpacked the bag.  "Did he say anything to you?"

     Town shook his head.   "If I asked him a question he answered me with as few words as possible like he's been doing all afternoon.  Otherwise, he didn't say anything.  I thought he might ask me about Agilar.  About whether or not he was in jail, things like that.  But he didn't bring it up, so I decided the subject was best left alone for tonight."

 

     "Yeah, probably."

 

     Rick left two sodas, a bag of chips, and two candy bars in the brown paper sack.  "Here's some stuff for you.  Oh, and a newspaper, too."

 

     "Thanks.  But you didn't have to get me anything."

 

     Rick shrugged.  "We ate kinda early.  I figure this stuff will ward off the hunger pains until morning."

     Town chuckled.  "Temple's gonna put me on a diet when I get home.  I think I've gained ten pounds on this trip."

 

     Although Rick was ready to be alone in the room with his brother, he didn't want to be rude to the friend who had done so much for him.  "You wanna stay and watch the game with me?"

 

     As if sensing Rick's need, Town replied,   "No thanks.  I've gotta call Temple.  She'll be wondering where I'm at."

 

     "Yeah, Mom was wondering the same thing."

     "How'd she take the news?"

     "She was elated, of course, but pretty shocked as well.  I didn't tell her too much about how we found him or anything.  I figured it would be easier to go over it with her in person."

     "I'm sure you're right.  Unfortunately, that news-reporter-wife-of-mine won't let me off the hook that easy.  If I know Temple she'll have a hundred questions for me, and think of a hundred more before I get the first hundred answered.  I'll probably be on the phone for the next hour."  Town glanced over at A.J.  "Then I think I'm going to follow your brother's lead and get some sleep.  This has been one long, rough week."

 

     "Don't I know it, Towner.  Don't I know it."

 

     Rick handed Town his room key.  The black man picked up the bag and his paper.  "I'll meet you guys at the Jeep at seven tomorrow morning.  We can eat breakfast across the street then head out."

     "That's fine.  See you in the morning, Towner."

     Town indicated to A.J. with a nod of his head.  "If you need me for any reason tonight, no matter what time it is, call me.  Or bang on the wall a few times.  I'll hear you."

     Rick opened the door for the black man.  "Thanks.  I'll do that.  Hopefully it won't be necessary."

 

     Rick locked the door after Town and slid the chain lock in place as well.   He quietly opened the dresser drawers until he came across a blanket.  He prayed he wouldn't disturb A.J. as he laid it over him.  His prayers didn't go unanswered.  A.J. didn't so much as shift in his sleep. 

 

     I suppose after sleepin' in a noisy cold alley for five months, nothin' much is gonna bother him now.

 

     Rick ran a light hand over his brother's damp hair and down one bare shoulder.

 

     It's gonna be okay, A.J.  I promise, given enough time, everything's gonna work out.

 

     Rick would have liked to perch on the bed next to his brother for a few minutes and simply offer both of them what little comfort he could.  He was afraid, however, that movement would indeed wake A.J.  The detective didn't want to force his brother out of what little peace he had managed to find after this long and disturbing day.

 

     The eldest Simon muted his movements as he moved about the room and small bathroom.  Ten minutes later he pulled off his boots, then stripped away his shirt and jeans, leaving him clad in just his boxer shorts and a kahki T-shirt. Rick turned the TV so it faced only him and kept the sound at the same low level Town had it set on.  He walked over to the table and picked up a soda and the newspaper.  He flicked off the lamp that rested on the table.  He replaced it with the soft glow of the lamp that was on the stand in-between the beds, while at the same time hoping its dim light wouldn't disturb A.J.  It didn't.  Once again, A.J. went on sleeping deeply and peacefully.

 

     Rick threw back his bedspread and covers, and plumped his pillows. He leaned back against them and opened the paper.   

 

     When Rick had read the paper front to back he carefully folded it and laid it on the nightstand.  If A.J. woke up later on he might want to read it as well.  The detective channel surfed a while before settling on a movie.   He caught himself dozing off about nine-thirty and fumbled for the remote control.   He aimed it at the TV and clicked, causing the screen to go black.  Rick hiked himself up on one elbow to see that his brother was still asleep and covered, though A.J. had rolled onto his back.  Rick reached up and shut the light off.  His jumbled thoughts and concerns kept him awake another fifteen minutes.  He finally forced himself to relax and slowly drifted off to sleep.

 

     A brilliant flash of lightening and loud crash of thunder woke Rick several hours later.  Outside, rain was falling fast and heavy.  The detective lifted his left wrist and pushed a dial on his watch that caused the face to glow green.  It was seventeen minutes after one.  He rose on an elbow and clicked on the bedside lamp.  He looked over at A.J.'s bed, only to find it empty. 

 

     Rick flung his covers back and catapulted off his mattress.  "A.J.!" He ran for the bathroom and slammed on its light.  "A.J.!"  Rick jerked the shower curtain aside, though wasn't surprised to find the tub empty.  He hardly thought A.J. would be taking a bath in the dark at one o'clock in the morning. 

 

     Rick fled back to the main room.  "A.J.!"  He dropped to his knees and looked under A.J.'s bed, then crawled over and did the same to his own.  Having exhausted all possibilities, Rick raised his fist to pound it on the wall in an effort to rouse Town.  Just as Rick's hand was about to connect with the plaster he heard a strangled whimper.  His head whipped to his left. 

 

     In a far corner of the room a few yards from Rick's bed A.J. sat on the floor.  His body was huddled into a tight protective ball, his arms wrapped around his head.  He had pulled a chair in front of him, giving Rick the impression he was trying to hide.

 

     Rick slowly rounded his bed.  He came to within five feet of A.J., then stopped to study him.  At first, Rick thought his brother was in the throes of some kind of sleepwalking nightmare.  But as he watched him, as he watched A.J. move, and react, and cry out as though someone was hitting him, Rick came to the devastating realization that his brother was suffering a flashback.

 

     Rick crouched down so he was at A.J.'s level, but didn't move any closer.  "A.J.!" he called over the powerful rumble of the thunder.  "A.J., it's me, Rick.  A.J., it's okay.  You're here in a motel room with me, remember?  No one's going to hurt you.   It's just you and me, A.J.  Just you and me."

 

     Had it not been for storm raging outside Rick had no doubt A.J.'s shouts would have woken a good portion of the motel's guests. 

 

     "No!  No!  Stop!  I won't say anything!  I already told you I won't say anything!"

 

     "It's all right, A.J.  It's all right.  No one's going to hurt you."

 

     A.J.'s left arm flew out as though he was trying to sweep someone away from him.  In his current state he didn't feel its repeated solid connection with the wooden leg of the chair.  "No!  No!  Get away from me!"

 

     Rick wasn't sure how long they went on in that vein, A.J. shouting with wild fright while Rick countered the shouts with soft words of reassurance.  It seemed like hours to the elder Simon, but in truth ten minutes passed from the time Rick knelt down in front of his brother, to the time his words started to penetrate A.J.'s mind.

     A.J.'s cries began to subside, and his head painstakingly emerged from his right arm like a frightened turtle emerging from its shell.   He looked over at Rick with a blank stare.

 

     Rick held out a hand, but again, didn't advance on his terrified sibling.  "It's okay, Andy.  It's okay.  See, it's just me.  I'm not going to hurt you."

     Rick began to see slow recognition dawn in A.J.'s eyes, as though a play's curtain was coming down at the end of one act, only to be lifted again to start another.  Rick scooted forward on his knees and wrapped his hands around the front legs of the chair.  Just as swiftly, A.J. grabbed the back legs and yanked the chair toward himself.

 

     Rick let his hands drop.  "Okay.  Okay," he crooned.  "If you don't want me to take the chair away I won't.  But you're all right now, Andy.  There's no reason for you to hide.  There's no one for you to hide from. I'm the only one here, and I'm not gonna hurt you."

 

     A.J. clung to the wooden legs of the chair until his knuckles turned white.  Rick sat down on the floor across from A.J. and continued to talk to him in soft gentle tones, until he could see his brother's grip begin to loosen.  Being careful not to advance too quickly, Rick scooted forward once more.  When A.J. didn't show any signs of backing away from him, Rick allowed his movement to progress until he came to rest against the wall within an arm's length of his brother.

 

     Rick sat down on the floor once again and let the wall support his back.  He studied A.J. a moment, then slowly offered his right hand, palm up.  A.J. stared at the hand as if he didn't understand why Rick would make such a gesture.  Several seconds of painful indecision passed.  With great hesitancy, A.J. finally raised his left arm.  His hand inched forward, then stopped, then inched forward again.  Rick held his own hand steady in willing offering.

 

     Rick finally felt the light touch of A.J.'s fingertips against his.  A.J. stopped his motion there, as though having to reacquaint himself with a hand he knew so well.  Although his outstretched arm was already beginning to tire, Rick didn't move.  His eyes held his brother's, as A.J. seemed to try and gauge what was in store if he extended his trust further. 

 

     "It's okay, A.J.," Rick reassured.  "I'm not gonna hurt you.  I'm only here to help you."

 

     A.J. studied his brother's face.  What memories that open scrutiny brought forth Rick didn't know, but they must have been comforting ones, for A.J.'s fingers slowly slid over Rick's until his palm finally came to lay within his older brother's.

 

     Rick made sure the grip he encased A.J.'s hand within was gentle and without threat or undue constriction.  A.J.'s face fell to hide against his right arm, which was resting on his upraised knee.

 

     "Are you okay now, A.J.?"

     A.J. nodded his head.

 

     "Do you know what just happened to you?"

 

     A.J. turned his head so that he could make eye contact with his brother.  "No."

 

     "You had a flashback.  Have you ever had one before?"

 

     "No."

 

     That answer didn't surprise Rick.  For a good number of months, A.J. had been able to block out who he was and what had happened to him in regards to the many tortures Agilar had inflicted upon him.  Rick's sudden appearance forced A.J.'s mind to acknowledge what he had so long been holding at bay.  Rick knew from personal experience his brother was going to pay a painful price for all that had been locked away and denied.

 

     For the time being all Rick could do was offer his sympathy.    "They're pretty scary things, aren't they?"

 

      A.J. rubbed his face against his arm in an effort to wipe away the beads of perspiration.  "I'll say."

 

     Despite the gravity of the situation, Rick couldn't help but smile a little.  Those two words, "I'll say", had been spoken with a tinge of the humorous sarcasm that was so much a part of A.J.

 

     Rick gave his brother's hand a light squeeze.  "Whatta ya' say we get you out of that corner and back to bed?"

 

     "All right."

 

     Rick pulled the chair away.  Still holding onto A.J.'s hand, Rick inched his body up the wall, leaving his brother no choice but to come with him. 

 

     When A.J.'s full weight bore down on his legs they buckled like an accordion.  Rick's free hand flew out and snared A.J. underneath his right armpit. 

 

     "Gettin' too old to sit on the ground that long, huh, A.J.?"  Rick teased lightly.

 

     "Yeah," came the raspy acknowledgment.  "I guess so."

 

     Rick didn't like A.J.'s pasty complexion, sweat soaked hair, the glassy brightness of his eyes, or his erratic breaths.

 

     Damn.  He looks like he's goin' into shock.

 

     Rick disengaged his hand from A.J.'s, to instead use it to grip the blond's upper arm.  "Come on.  Let's get you back to bed."

 

     A.J. allowed his brother to lead him across the room.  Rick hastily threw the blanket aside that had been covering A.J. and turned the bed covers down.  He picked a discarded pillow up off the floor and piled it on top of the one that was still resting on the bed. 

 

     "Go on.  Climb in."

     With disconcerting and uncharacteristic capitulation, A.J. did as he was told.  He turned on his side and brought his knees up in the fetal position.  Rick tucked the covers around the blond’s shoulders before heading to the bathroom with a firm promise of,  "I'll be right back." 

 

     The detective let the water run in the sink until it was lukewarm.  He thrust the empty plastic ice bucket that bore the motel's logo underneath the faucet and allowed the water to fill it three quarters full before setting it aside.

 

     Rick unwrapped one of the matching plastic cups left by the maid.  He turned off the hot water and only let cold run this time.  He held the cup underneath the faucet until it was full.  He grabbed a towel and washcloth off the rack, picked up everything else, and headed back to the main room. 

 

     Rick sat his paraphernalia on the nightstand.  A.J. watched him with wary eyes as though what little trust had been gained could easily be eradicated with one wrong move.  Rather than sit on the edge of A.J.'s mattress, Rick walked over to retrieve a chair.   There was just enough room for him to place it between the two beds.    

 

     Rick sat and picked up the glass of water.  He reached down and cupped a gentle hand underneath his brother's head.  "Here, take a drink."  Mindful of what had happened to A.J. at the hands of Eduardo Agilar he added,  "It's just water."

 

     A.J. lifted himself up on one elbow and took a hold of the cup.  He drained it dry of the cold liquid before handing it back to Rick. 

 

     "Do you want more?  We have soda, too.  It's probably pretty warm by now, but I could go get some ice.  There's a machine just a few doors down."

 

     Despite their physical closeness, Rick had to strain to hear his brother's words.  "No.  I've had enough."

 

     "Okay, but if you change your mind just tell me."

 

     A.J. nodded as he lay back down.  His eyes tracked Rick's movements as the oldest Simon dipped the washcloth in the ice bucket.  He wrung the excess water out of the rag, then ran it over his brother's warm face.  He repeated this comforting action for several minutes until A.J. finally allowed his eyes to drift close.  He opened them again when he felt the covers being pulled down to his waist, but didn't protest when the cool cloth was wiped over his sweat soaked chest and shoulders as best it could be considering the position he was lying in. 

 

     Again, A.J.'s eyes tracked Rick's movements as the elder Simon headed to the bathroom once more.  This time he filled the ice bucket with cold water.  When he returned to A.J.'s side he doused the washcloth in the frigid liquid before wringing it out.

 

"Let me see your left arm," Rick instructed.

 

     A.J. brought his knees down and shifted position so that the inside of his left arm was visible to Rick.  As Rick had suspected it would be, the fair skin of A.J.'s inner arm was already a mass of discolored bruises.  He loosely wrapped the cold washcloth around the angry splotches.

 

     "You were hitting your arm against the leg of the chair," Rick explained.  "I'll hold this on here a few minutes.  If nothing else it should help keep any swelling down."

 

     A.J.'s right shoulder lifted in a small shrug.   "It doesn't matter.  No one's cared before when I've been bruised up except Malachi and Dominique."

 

     "A.J., that's not true," Rick stated in mild reproach.  "Regardless of whether we were with you or not, Mom and I have always cared.  So therefore, yeah, it does matter to me when you bruise your arm like this.  You got that?"

 

     The blond man studied his brother's face a long moment before finally giving a small nod in answer to Rick's question.

 

     A.J. kept an ever-watchful eye on his older brother as Rick went about his various ministrations.  Without consciously thinking about it first, Rick began to quietly talk of things that had happened in the year A.J. had been missing.  He steered away from the subject of Agilar and anything pertaining to the man, but rather told about trivial occurrences within the family, or among friends, or happenings at the Simon and Simon office.  It was as Rick was turning to dampen his cloth once more that he noticed A.J. was asleep.

 

     Rick picked up the towel he'd brought along and ran it over his brother's damp torso.  He pulled the covers back up to A.J.'s shoulders.

 

     The detective reached out to brush sweat-dampened hair away from A.J.'s face.  "Oh, A.J.," he whispered.  "I'm so damn sorry about all that bastard put you through."

 

     A.J.'s blue eyes opened, his alertness catching Rick by surprise.

 

"Don't pity me.  I don't want your pity, or anyone else's for that matter."

 

     "I'm not pitying you.  I'm just...I just hurt for you."

 

     A.J. turned his face so he was looking up at the ceiling.  In so doing he broke eye contact with his brother.  "Well don't.  It doesn't do either one of us any good.  Maybe it was...maybe it was better when I was Jack.  Maybe we would have both been better off if you hadn't found me."

     "A.J..." 

 

     A.J.'s eyes flicked to Rick.  "Is he...is he...is he in prison?"

 

     "Agilar?"

 

     A.J. nodded his head.

 

     "Well, yes and no.  He's in jail right now. There hasn't been a trial yet or anything, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he'll be sent away for good.  Maybe even tried for murder."

     A.J. looked at his brother.  "For murder?  Why?"

     "Carson Baily is dead.  The cops think Agilar killed him.  They're gathering evidence in that regard right now."

 

     "Good," A.J. said as he turned away once more.  "Because if I'd have gotten the chance, I'd have killed the bastard myself."

     So would have I, little brother.  So would have I.

 

     A.J. closed his eyes, signaling an end to the discussion.  Rick sat by his side for a long time thereafter, listening to the rain pelt the window while lost in deep and troubled thought.     

    

 

 

Chapter 25

 

Saturday, February 27th, 1993

    

 

     The weeks ahead were not unlike a wild ride on an emotional roller coaster.  Rick Simon felt like he chugged up more hills, plunged down more stomach-in-your-throat drops, and careened around more hairpin turns than he ever could have on any amusement park ride. 

 

     The phone rang with Rick's six a.m. wake up call that first morning after they'd found A.J.  Rick snatched it up on the first ring with the hope it wouldn't wake his brother, but to no avail.  As he thanked the desk clerk for the call, Rick was looking across the small space that bridged the beds into A.J.'s open eyes.

 

     Rick hung up the phone and kicked his covers off.  "How long have you been awake?"

 

     All Rick got in return was a small shrug and a noncommittal,  "A little while."

     Rick had his doubts A.J. had ever really fallen back to sleep that night.  Rick had sat by his brother's side for a half an hour before returning to his own bed, where he laid awake another thirty minutes.

 

     "You can lay there and doze awhile longer if you want to."  Rick pushed himself into a sitting position.  "I'll get done in the bathroom first then turn it over to you.  We're supposed to meet Town by his Jeep at seven."

 

     A.J. nodded his understanding. 

 

     "Yesterday's paper is layin' up here on the nightstand if you want it.  Or I bought you a book.  It's over on the table."

 

     A.J.,'s  "Thanks," was devoid of feeling.

 

     "Do you want me to get either one of them for you?"

     "Not right now."

 

     He looks so wrung out.

 

     Rick smiled and patted a foot underneath A.J.'s covers as he passed by.

 

     Like Rick had promised Town would be the case, he and A.J. were waiting at the Jeep at the designated time.  After Rick was done in the shower A.J. had brushed his teeth, shaved, and combed his hair.  He then exchanged his jeans for the loose fitting pair of blue cotton work trousers he'd gotten the first day he met Dominique.  The red polo shirt he'd been wearing the day before had been neatly folded and carefully stowed with the jeans in his backpack. He wore a blue striped short-sleeved oxford shirt in its place.

 

     The rain had stopped during the night.  Even at this early hour the sun was already promising a day of mild weather and pleasant temperatures.

 

     Much like the previous day, A.J. was unnerved upon entering the restaurant.  His agitation was magnified by the fact that the eating establishment was already awash with the noise and confusion of the breakfast crowd.  Rick requested a secluded booth again as far from most of the people as possible.   A.J. still wouldn't talk to the waitress, but at least today he gave Rick his order prior to her arrival.

 

     The restaurant personnel were used to waiting on workmen needing to start their day, and vacationers eager to start theirs.  Amidst the clatter of silverware and plates, cooks shouting to one another in the kitchen, and the buzz of patrons' voices, the morning meals were served in well-organized harmony.  It was ten minutes to eight when the three men piled back into Town's Jeep and headed south.

 

     Town had taken immediate note of how tired A.J. looked.  He didn't question either brother as to the weariness he saw in the blond's eyes, but as they climbed in the Jeep after breakfast he tossed over his shoulder, "There's a pillow and blanket in the cargo hold behind you, A.J.  Feel free to use them if you want."

 

     For just that reason Rick joined Town in the front of the Jeep.  He thought A.J. might stretch out and lie down if he wasn't sharing the back seat with him.  Plus, Rick didn't think A.J. would try to jump out of a vehicle going seventy miles an hour down a four lane interstate highway.

 

     Rick's thoughts were correct.  Within a half an hour into their trip home, A.J. was sound asleep with his head resting on Town's offered pillow.  His right hand was wrapped loosely around a strap of the backpack that sat on the floor beside him, as though even in sleep he felt the need to protect his meager possessions.

 

     Town glanced in the rearview mirror at the slumbering blond man.  He looked over at Rick.  The noise created by vehicles flying by them on the left and right prevented his words from carrying to the back of the Jeep.

 

     "Rough night last night?"

     "You could say that."

 

     "What happened?"

 

     "He had a hell of a flashback around one o'clock."

     "What brought that on?"

 

     "Who knows?  Coulda' been the thunder, coulda' been the lightning, hell, it coulda' been the way the bathroom soap smelled or the color of the carpeting.   With those damn things, Town, almost anything can bring them on.  I'm just damn lucky he didn't get out of the room on me.  I woke up to find him huddled in a corner hiding behind a chair.  It took me a good twenty minutes to bring him all the way out of it.  And it's anybody's guess as to how long he'd been there before that."   Rick looked out the side window.  "A.J.'s gonna pay a high price for what Agilar did to him, Town, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it except be right there with him every step of the way."

 

     "He won't ask anymore of you than that, Rick."

     Rick looked across the seat at his old friend.  "No, he won't.  But I'm already wonderin' if it will be enough."

 

     Town had no easy answers to offer as he changed lanes and accelerated.

 

     The men made good time that morning.  A.J. woke up shortly before they stopped at a Subway sandwich shop.  The three of them went in only long enough to stretch their legs, use the bathroom, and order sandwiches and drinks to go. 

     Early that afternoon they pulled into the driveway of Town and Temple's suburban Los Angeles home.  Rick was in the process of transferring his duffel bag and A.J.'s backpack to his pickup truck, when Temple came out to welcome her husband home with a hug and a kiss.

 

     No one could mistake the fright in A.J.'s eyes at the sudden appearance of this new person.  Town had explained enough to Temple on the phone the previous evening for her to know what to expect upon first seeing the blond man.  She started to approach him, but halted when he took a step backwards.  Instead of the hug and kiss she would have normally greeted him with, the black woman settled on, "I'm glad you're home, A.J."

 

     She turned to Rick and bestowed on him the affection she couldn't give his brother.  "I'm so glad you and Brown found him, Rick," she said softly in the detective's right ear.  "You and your mother will help A.J. find his way back."

     "I hope you're right, Temple," Rick murmured.  "I hope you're right."

 

     Rick and Town exchanged a hug that spoke volumes of all they had been through together in the past year.  "Take care of yourself, pal.  And take care of your brother.  I'll call you later this week and see how things are going."

 

     "Thanks, Towner.  For everything.  I couldn't have done it without you, man."

 

     A.J. allowed Town to approach him and lay a light hand on his arm.  "Take it easy, buddy.  When things...calm down, you and Rick and I will take a week off and go fishing.  How's that sound?"

 

     A.J's nod was tentative, as though he wasn't certain if this was an activity the three of them had engaged in at some point in the past.   

 

     Rick opened the passenger side door of the Dodge for his brother.  He waited until A.J. had climbed in before rounding the truck and getting behind the wheel.  With a final wave and goodbye to Town and Temple, Rick backed the large 4x4 out of the driveway. 

 

     After a few false starts at conversation on Rick's part, the remainder of the trip home to San Diego was made in silence.

 

     Rick watched A.J. out of the corner of his eye as he turned down the street they grew up on.  Whatever A.J. might be feeling he kept well hidden.  Rick couldn't detect a hint of reaction, good, bad, or otherwise.

 

     The lanky detective pulled the pickup as close to his mother's side kitchen door as possible.  The last thing he wanted was for one of the neighbors to spot A.J. and come rushing over, or worse yet, to alert the media of the blond's sudden appearance.  He hoped that if anyone did happen to glance in their direction, A.J.'s shoulder length hair and second hand clothes would prevent it from dawning on them as to who he was.

 

     Rick gave his mother great credit for the remarkable restraint she practiced when he led his brother into the house through the kitchen door. She was waiting for them on the other side of it, but allowed Rick to get A.J. all the way in the room, and get the door shut and locked behind them. 

 

     Tears streamed down Cecilia Simon's face as she got her first look at her youngest son in over eleven months.  A.J. didn't step away from her as she walked toward him, but he didn't show signs of recognition, nor did he move into her open arms. 

 

     With all the perception a mother possesses, Cecilia clearly read the situation at hand.  "A.J.," she requested softly.  "May I give you a hug?"

 

     A.J. studied the petite woman with the overflowing tears as though he was afraid to allow himself to feel for her all he had been forced to forget.

 

     "A.J.?"  Cecilia repeated with outstretched arms.   Please, son?"

 

     A.J. bit down on his lower lip before finally giving a barely discernible nod.  As much as Cecilia wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him, she was careful to make her approach slow and gentle.  When she was close enough to touch him, she wrapped her arms around his ribs.  Although she tried not to, Cecilia broke down and sobbed against her youngest's chest. 

 

     After a long moment of standing at stiff attention, A.J. bent down and returned his mother's hug.  He bare