"Kieran."
"Kieran, then. Will assumed I'd be jealous of the fact that he was happy and in love, so you only decided to show yourself to me at all as an attempt to lure me away from them because there's always going to be a part of me that wishes to destroy anything good, anyone who's happy. And naturally, it would only take Sergeant Nathan Stephenson to effect such a change. I'd only change for you. I couldn't possibly have moved on and matured in the seventy fucking years I thought you were dead, could I?"
Silent, I look at Adam, wondering when all this is going to end. The guilt, the blame, the apologies.
"If that's all, I'll be off---"
"You're going?"
"Why, yes. I can still cover a fair old distance in the hours of night left remaining. You know that. No need to stay. Unless...? Do you have anything else to say?"
"I've apologised."
"Yes." He nods. "You have."
I swallow back nerves before speaking again, barely resisting the urge to look down at the floor like a nervous schoolboy. "I need you to help me find John Williams."
"John W---? Oh, the guy who...?"
"Yes. Him."
"The guy who attacked Alyssa. The guy who, incidentally, wasn't me?"
"Yes, Adam. We've already established that you're completely innocent in this regard, and I assumed incorrectly that you were responsible, and I'm sorry, okay?"
"And you want me to hang around to help you find this John character?"
"You'll be able to show me where the attack happened. The doorstep where you dumped him. He doesn't have his ID now, so he'll know it's been stolen for a reason, that someone's after him, so he might do a disappearing act. I might need help tracking him down."
"You expect me to hang around to help you out?"
"No; I don't expect it. But I'd like you to."
"You'd like me to?"
"Appreciate it. I'd appreciate it." It's damn hard to look at him now, so I let my gaze wander all over the room. Above the window and the locked-tight blackout blinds. What looks like the vaguest beginnings of a spider's web in a far corner of the ceiling.
"Not very good at tracking people down, huh? You seemed to manage it okay with me."
"Will helped." Automatically, my head flicks in his direction, and I frown in something like anger. Frustration, maybe.
"Ah." He nods. "Will helped. Of course. Will helped you to track me down; you need me to help you track John Williams down. To be honest, Nathan, I don't think you need me around at all. You just would like it if I hung around for a bit to salve your conscience then pissed off quietly into the night. I kinda like having the upper hand---I don't know if you've noticed that about me---so that's why I'd rather just drop you in it and leave you to deal with this yourself. Pardon my bluntness, but you've had a good few years to get used to it, so, would you excuse me---" He tries to push past, but I stop him with one hand on his chest.
"No."
He looks down at my hand on him then up into my eyes. "No?"
"You can't just go now, when we need to...I mean, a day or so of..."
Adam looks down at my hand again; the hand which I can't seem to withdraw. "Nathan." He pauses, and the look in his eyes when he meets my gaze again has no anger or frustration in it at all.
Just that mysterious something I heard in his voice earlier. Some might call it hurt. "I don't think you appreciate exactly how it would feel for me to spend any more time in your presence, knowing that you think the worst of me possible, at any given moment."
"I don't."
"You do. Oh yes, you do. You thought I was the one who attacked Alyssa. Why? Because of what I did to you all those years ago. And okay, I can understand that; I mean, you haven't spoken to me in seven decades. To you, I'm the same Adam Locke I was seventy years ago. But I don't want to look at you and see an accusation in your every movement or word or glance."
Ironic though it may sound, I swear as if I feel something in me has just died. "How am I supposed to see what a fine, upstanding member of the community you are these days if you bugger off back home, or to some other locale?"
"I'm not saying I'm a saint. Far from it. But..." He takes my hand, lifts it away from his chest, and lets it go. "You're the one person who can make me feel guilty. I saw your ghost for years, and I don't need to see the accusation in the real Nathan's eyes too. I can tell you till I'm blue in the face that I feel bad about it, I've moved on, I'm not quite that mischievous anymore, but you think I'm the same old Adam. And to me, you're the same old Nathan. You haven't changed. Not to me. We look at each other and see people who don't exist anymore."
"So what? You're just going to go home?"
"What else is there to do?" Adam shrugs.
I feel like I have to say something. But I've no idea what. If I open my mouth to speak, pure nonsense will come out. Something stupid. "I'm sorry about your broken rib." Yeah. That was pretty stupid, all right.
"And I'm sorry about the..." He waves a finger at his own neck, without touching it. "Thing. All the blood."
"It's all right." And for the first time in a long time, I realise it is. It really is all right. "No one died, right?"
He snorts with laughter, and I smile.
"Right. Well. I
