Todd Revisited: Substitute (Chapter 32)

The trek to Viki's was not as long as he remembered.  In fact, he enjoyed the walk, seeing the sights of Llanview, the place he loved and dreamed of the whole time he was held by The Agency.  The different places he frequented had been in his dreams and remembrances throughout the 8 years of torture.  Rodi's.  The Park with the Bench.  The Palace.  Angel Square.  Llanview Hospital.  Llanfair.


He needed to hear Viki's soothing way of making things all right.  Recently, when there was confusion about who he was, she had given him the ray of hope he longed for when he returned.  Of course, Starr's reaction to him, the first moment, had brought him a sense of peace, however, short, when she walked to him for the first time and said "Dad?"  Remembering it now, brought him a great deal of ease inside himself.  Still battling the voices of Pete, Tom, Peter and himself, hearing Starr say "Dad" was the strongest sound.  That, and the reasonable sounds of Viki - coupled with Blair's love an acceptance, would make everything all right.  It might take a while, but it would be there.


Rounding the corner to the drive at Llanfair, he felt secure that whatever he would hear when he got there would make things all right.  He grabbed the handle and opened the door.  She was standing in the lobby, as if waiting.


After expressing her concern for him, the banter began.  In no uncertain terms, he let her know that the loss of Victor Lord, Jr. was no loss to him.  Suddenly he realized, "You think I killed him?"  He could barely hear the sounds of their conversation.  But through it all, he knew the overtones were suspicion and doubt.  "Just because I had a gun does not mean I killed Victor."


"No, but it looks really bad.  You made your feelings about him really clear."


"The guy stole my life.  Let me ask you something.  When he replaced me, when he suckered every one of you, that didn't upset you?"


Viki seemed put off.  "He didn't know!"


He laughed.  "I don't believe you buy that."  He could feel the anger becoming larger and moving forward inside him.


"Yes I buy that.  Maybe that's how bad we all wanted you back.  We believed him.  We loved him.    Starr did, Tea, Jack, we all did.  Everybody.  And he was my brother, too."


His hands found his pockets, containing the tremor he was experiencing.  "He was a tool, who was manipulated by an evil and insane mother, that's if you buy that.  My own, my own personal belief?  Is that he knew exactly what he was doing.  He was a fraud and he didn't give a damn about any one of you."


She started to say, "No, that's not true . . ."


"Ok let me ask you something, Viki.  Did Victor ever stand up for you?  Did he ever protect your children?  Was he ever a brother to you?"


She hesitated.


He continued, "World's better off without that parasite, don't you think?"  She went for her phone. "What are you doing?"


She answered, "I promised John McBain I would call him if you showed up."


He was not certain her heard her.  In his ears, Pete was asking for attention.  He pushed him back and continued.  "You're calling the cops?"


"Oh come on, they just want to talk to you.  Just tell me you didn't kill Victor!"


"I shouldn't have to tell you anything.  You know me."


"Yes, you're right.  I do know you."


"Ok, let's say I did kill him," he went on to explain how stupid it would be to have shot his brother after just coming back to regain his life.  She argued that if he just let her know the truth . . . and then, suddenly, he could not listen anymore.  "What do you care?  You've already written me off."  And with that, he headed out the door and left her behind.  She had doubted him.  He had no one.  Again.


Stopping outside Llanfair for a moment, he leaned against a pillar to regain his repose, still reeling.  "Let me handle this, you wimp."  Pete said.  He winced as if in pain.  


"No, you're not getting the floor, Pete.  Just step back."


"Let me out and you'll be so much better off.  I can start with that stuffy old bottle blonde rich girl you call your sister."


"I said no, just step back!"


Tom spoke up, "Don't let him take over, Todd.  You know what happened before!"


"I know Tom."  Then aloud, "I know."


He sat by the garden for a few minutes, going back over the conversation he had with his sister.  She was not encouraging, accepting Viki, she was someone else, someone conned, someone spoiled.  He truly was alone.  Just like the last time I came back here.  He thought of Ireland, his past, and how painful it was to be transplanted back in Llanview the last time.  And this time, he had promised himself, vowed it would be easier.  He wouldn't care who Blair was with or what she was doing, he would take her in his arms and show her what she meant to him.  He would shower Starr with attention.  He would teach his son to play football.  He would sit by the fire at Llanfair and talk over his pains with his sister.  But his plan was foiled.  He had spent years planning his reunion with each one of them.  And instead, he had been replaced.  Why couldn't they see that Victor was a substitute, a pawn?  He was utterly alone, the most alone he'd felt since the Swiss clinic.  Or the tomb.  A pain shot through his temple and he pushed the latter away and found himself in Switzerland, again, as if yesterday.    


It was terrifyingly quiet.  In the hospital bed, he felt tied.  Looking down, he saw that his wrists were  restrained by snake-like moving ropes.  It startled him, the way someone, watching a horror film where something jumps unexpectedly.  The room was different that he remembered it.  There was a greenish glow around the bed, seemingly coming from odd-shaped, exposed bulbs hanging from the ceiling.  The walls, instead of pure white as he remembered, were grayed, sometimes having drip-marks and liquid stains sporadically.  He felt a slight panic when a shadow moved from the doorway.


"Who's here?  Nurse?"


He waited.  Nothing.


"Doctor?  These restraints are not really necessary," he paused, "See?  This is just why I don't sleep!"


The panic was about to overtake him, when he spotted Tom standing by the bed.  "Tom!  Help me!"


Tom just stood.  He was very still, the green cast over him made him appear cadaverous.  


"Tom?"


Another shadow came from the doorway.  Looming to his right, he looked up.  "Pete."  He said, resigned.


"You pansy-ass.  Get out of that bed.  Go ahead, let me see you try.  Get out of there before that banker father of ours comes by to make a weekly deposit, if you know what I mean."


Todd pulled against the restraints.  The leathery snakeskin shone and twisted tighter.  "I can't."


"Of course you can't, you good-for-nothing.  I have to do everything around here.  Look at Tom.  He's so scared he can't move.  It's always up to me."  Pete retrieved a long switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open, the green light almost making a Star Wars saber out of it.  "You thought if you just stayed awake, you'd be rid of me, and Peter, and everything else that ails you?"


Todd still struggled against the bindings.  Tom was frozen, as if in shock, until his right hand lifted slowly in a frozen point.  Bringing it chest level, Todd could see he was pointing directly at the mirror in the room.  "We're HIM!"  He screamed.  Todd's head whipped around to catch a glimpse of Peter in the mirror opposite Tom.


He shot up in the bed, screaming.  The rest was a blur; nurses working around him, at least one doctor had his hand in this, repeating in a loud firm voice, "Mr. Manning, it's all right.  You're awake;" sounds of wrappers opening and equipment alarms going off; the typical drone of hospital electronics; a few mild announcements over the PA system.  He finally stopped fighting when one of the voices shouted, "don't restrain his wrists!"


He could hear someone breathing laboriously with a terrified moaning and realized it was himself.  He slowed his breaths and tried, however impossible it seemed, to focus on the here and now.  He looked down.  Both wrists were slightly gouged from his own digging as he tried to free himself in the dream.  Little speckles of blood soiled his skin and the sheet.  "I was dreaming," he said.


The doctor smiled patiently, and soothingly spoke.  "You sure were.  You're all right now, Mr. Manning.  You're safe.  We're just going to clean up those wounds and let you rest."


Rest.  He would not rest.  He knew if he could sleep only one or two hours a night, he'd not have to run into Peter or The Big Truth.  He also knew he had the power to keep Pete away.  He was certain he was strong enough for that.  No one ever had to know.


"That's what got me into this mess, Doc.  That and . . ." he trailed off, and the look on his face must have shown something abysmal, because one small and pretty nurse broke into tears and turned away, leaving the room hurriedly as if she had an appointment to keep.  "let's just say, I don't sleep well."


"Mr. Manning, you're suffering from acute exhaustion.  If you don't rest, it will get worse.  I'm also seeing signs . . . Mr. Manning, have you been in the military or in some kind of high-stress employment?"


He laughed a little.  "Just in my head, Doc.  Just to get me back on my feet.  I almost died."


"Yes, I can see that."  To the staff, "That will be all."  They exited the room.  "Mr. Manning, I am seeing signs of post traumatic stress disorder.  From the look of those wounds on your wrists, though, we're not dealing with missing line items in an accountant registry."


Todd had to smile, in spite of everything.  The doctor did his homework, and was not giving up.  "No, I don't like keeping the books.  I have people for that."


"Mr. Manning, you may not want to trust me, but I caution you, if you are as disturbed as you're letting on, it won't get better by ignoring your body's cry for sleep."  the doctor leaned a bit closer, placing his hand on Todd's forearm.  "In fact, you could worsen it.  Do you understand that?  I know you are waiting to go back to your wife and baby, but . . ."


He adjusted his face and his eyes hardened.  "Get your fucking hands off me."


The doctor, though not afraid for his personal safety, pulled back and stared.  "Mr. Manning?  did I upset you?"


"Mr. Manning?  Mr. Manning?  Shit, just SHUT UP.  All of you white coats are the same.  Go away and don't come back, take your medical mumbo jumbo with you and leave us alone."  Pete turned his back to the doctor and pulled the covers over him.  "And do that before I give you a reason to leave."


The doctor quietly got his items together and went toward the door.  "Hey,"  he said from the doorway.


"What?  Didn't I say leave me alone?"


"No, in fact, you said leave us alone.  I can do that, but you're making a very big mistake not letting me help you.  I can't force you, but, you're making a very big mistake."  And with that, he was gone into the hallway of shoe scuffs, conversations and rustling uniforms.


"It's my mistake to make then, isn't it?"  Pete growled, turning over.  "Now, let's get some shut eye, and don't worry you pansies, I'll handle the dreams."


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