"Duel" (Other, 1986)

[riptide_asylum]

Title: Duel
Rating: PG
Summary: A case goes wrong, and Nick wakes up in hospital. But the reality he wakes to isn''t the one he remembers -- what if it never was? Could the Riptide Detective Agency be nothing more than a hallucination?

The siren rose and fell in his ears, loud, threatening and inescapable. When his eyes were open there were pink and blue flashes of light, blinding, confusing. He was hurt, he knew that -- pain penetrated his flickering consciousness as though from a great distance. A face leaned close to his, but it wasn't Cody.

Blindly, Nick struck out against the intruder. He would have shouted, but something was in his mouth, would have fought himself up, but his body refused to obey. Red suffused his vision, and he tried to scream.

Nick. Nick, don't fight, buddy. Let them help. Let them help.

Nick went limp all of a piece, afraid to open his eyes, afraid to move in case it was a dream. Cody? It broke him in pieces not to say the word out loud.

But Cody answered anyhow, honey voice in his ear, in his mind, in his heart, quiet words about holding on. Quiet words that banished fear, words that slipped away before Nick could fully grasp their meaning. Words that meant everything.

I'll hold on, Cody. Don't leave me. Promise you won't leave me.

*

Nick opened his eyes to a darkened hospital room. His head was fuzzy, his throat felt scratched, and when he tried to move, pain blazed down his right leg.

"Mr. Ryder?" A blonde, business like nurse crossed the room toward his bed. "You've done very well, but you must rest." She picked up his chart and made a note, then fiddled with an IV bag above his head.

Nick blinked. Very well? "There was a girl," he croaked.

"Yes, a little girl. She fell into the ocean, and you jumped in after her."

Nick's head swam. A small, dark-haired child running down the pier. Men with guns. And Cody. "Need him," he slurred.

"Rest now," the nurse said, and walked away.

"Cody," Nick said feebly to her retreating back, but she didn't turn around.

"It's okay, Nick, I'm here." Cody's voice came from the dark, and it took Nick a moment to realize his eyes were closed. He had no idea how much time had passed since the nurse had left -- seconds, minutes, hours -- but the important thing was Cody, here, at last.

He whimpered urgently, too weak to reach out, too exhausted or too drugged to even force his eyes open, and the relief when Cody took his hand was indescribable.

"You saved her life," Cody said softly. "Took a bullet for her, though. Thought I'd lost you for a while there."

Nick heard the pain, the fear in Cody's voice and whimpered again. He wanted to sit up, take Cody in his arms, reassure him, but it took everything he had to squeeze Cody's hand.

"Doc says you're doing great now," Cody continued, squeezing back. "Says you'll be up and around in no time. Ready for visitors." Cody gave a soft laugh. "I'm not supposed to be in here with you now, but you know me. I had to see you."

Wanted you. Needed you so bad. Nick struggled to force his eyelids apart.

"I know. I know you did, babe." Cody dropped a light kiss on Nick's forehead. "Don't try and wake up for me, pal. Right now rest's what you need. I'll get out of here before they throw me out, but I'm coming back real soon, okay? Don't you ever doubt that."

*

Next time Nick opened his eyes, it was day. He took in a private hospital room, an array of machines, a tube in his arm, an oxygen tube in his nose. Pain drilled up his leg and his chest ached with every breath. Guess I really did a number on myself.

He was propped to a partial sitting position, and his tray table contained a water glass, a clumsily-folded newspaper and a can of mountain dew. Nick smiled. It seemed his partners had just stepped out.

The door to his room opened cautiously, and Joanna Parisi stepped inside. That explains where Cody and Murray went. "Hi, Lieutenant." He'd intended to sound cheerful, but it came out weak and quavery. But at least his voice was working now.

Parisi looked surprised. "Mr. Ryder? You know who I am?"

Nick frowned. "Of course I know who you are. What'd they tell you, have I got brain damage or something? An' what's with the Mr. Ryder crap?"

"I think I'd better get the nurse." Joanna backed toward the door.

"Where's Cody? Where's Murray? You've just been talking to them, right? Joanna, what's going on?" Something felt wrong, something worse than the pain in Nick's leg and chest. He wondered if he could get up, if his good leg would hold him, but even thinking about it intensified the pain. He fell back against his mattress, panting. "Cody!"

But instead of Cody, the blonde nurse bustled in. "You'll have to leave the statement, Lieutenant, he mustn't get agitated like this. Just relax, Mr. Ryder, everything will be fine."

"Cody," Nick said weakly, wincing away from the needle in the nurse's hand. "Please, I want Cody." The needle stung and he felt the darkness coming down. "No!"

"Shh, Nick, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

Nick blinked back the dark. All he could see was the nurse. But Cody was close, he could hear him, and he thought it might be safe to stop fighting. "Cody?"

"Take it easy, big guy. I'm right here, and I always will be."

*

"Mr. Ryder. Mr. Ryder, wake up. It's time for some dinner."

Nick opened his eyes to a different nurse sliding a plate of pale-colored mush onto his tray table. He grimaced.

The bed whirred, and he found himself in a half-sitting position, regarding the unappetising mess at eye-level. "Way to put a guy off his food," he muttered.

"C'mon, Mr. Ryder, for me." The nurse dipped the spoon and held it out invitingly.

Nick spared her a glance. She was dark-haired, both younger and prettier than the blonde, and her smile was sympathetic. With a sigh, he took the spoon. "Does it taste better than it looks?"

"I think so. It's creamed rice. Try it."

Nick did. "Better than C-rats," he said, and had a second spoonful. It was, but not by much, but his stomach was getting in on the act, reminding him how hungry he was. "Where's Cody and Murray? I guess they hafta go home sometime, huh?"

"Cody and Murray?" The nurse raised an eyebrow. "Who're they?"

"My partners. I guess they've been underfoot all day, driving you nuts?"

"Your partners? Are they out of town, maybe?"

"No." Nick frowned. "Well, I guess Murray's been here. There was a Mountain Dew can so I just figured it was his. But Cody's been here most of the day, anyhow."

"No-one's been here, Mr. Ryder." The girl looked worried. "At least, a police lieutenant came to take your statement but you weren't well enough. But otherwise you haven't had any visitors."

Nick opened his mouth to argue then remembered Cody's words. I'm not supposed to be in here with you now, but you know me. I had to see you. "Oh, right," he said unconcernedly, and applied himself to his bowl. Stupid family-only policy. I really gotta get Cody down as my next of kin.

*

It was dark when Nick awoke, and very late. But he was unsurprised to hear Cody whisper his name. "Yeah, I'm awake, man. It's been a crazy day, you know?"

"I know. It's hard to get to you, buddy."

"Figured that. How's Murray? I thought he was here this morning."

"Yeah, he was, we both were for all the good it did us. He'd be here if he could, babe."

"I know." Nick blew out a breath. "They still haven't told me why I'm in here."

"Bullet through your hip, luckily missed the bone and any organs. But there's significant muscle damage." Cody's voice wobbled. "Then you went in the harbor and nearly drowned. They had you on a ventilator for a while."

"Significant muscle damage. Guess that's why it hurts." Nick sighed and reached out. "Where are you, man?"

"Right here." Cody took his hand, and Nick felt the bed shift as Cody leaned against it. In the dark, Nick could hardly make him out. "Man, it kills me to have to leave you alone in here all day."

"I'll be out before you know it." Nick pulled Cody's hand to his lips, pressing a quick soft kiss against his fingers. "Soon enough they'll have to let me have whatever visitors I want. Maybe even tomorrow."

"Yeah." Cody sounded sad. "Maybe even tomorrow. Listen, you gotta sleep. I know that, whatever the doctor says. You sleep, and I'm gonna stay right here with you, okay?"

*

"Cody and Murray. You gotta let them in." Nick started in without preamble when the nurse arrived to check his dressing in the morning.

It was the blonde again, and she gave him a confused glance. "Who?" She slipped a blood-pressure cuff on his arm.

Nick sighed and closed his eyes. "My partners. They're in the waiting room, right? Or did security throw them right out? Whatever, I wanna see 'em."

"We'll see about visitors later today. When the doctor says it's all right."

Nick sighed. He was getting nowhere fast. Fire still blazed through his hip, although breathing was easier. It would have been even easier if Cody was at his side.

He picked listlessly at some toast and pushed the rest of his breakfast tray aside. His heart quickened every time the door opened, but it was only the nurse. The third time, she was followed a uniformed police officer Nick didn't know.

"I'm Sergeant Williams," she introduced herself, and sat down in a chair beside the bed. She was short and stocky, with bobbed dark hair and tired eyes. "The doctor thinks you're well enough to give us a statement today."

Nick nodded, wondering where the lieutenant had gotten to. "I'll try."

The nurse left, and Sergeant Williams set up her tape recorder and took out a notebook. Nick cast his mind back to the pier, and started at the beginning.

It was a long, tiring process. Nick was breathing better, but talking for so long took it out of him. Some of his memories were confused, and he wished Cody was with him to straighten them out. "How is she?" he said at last, coughing a little. "The little girl?"

"Back with her family." Sergeant Williams nodded, and smiled for the first time. "Thanks to you."

"That's good." Nick rested back against his pillows, and started to cough.

It returned the pain to his chest, stole his breath, closed his throat. "Water," he gasped, panic rising inside him. "Help!"

A moment later, the nurse was there, and then, at last, a familiar face. Nick didn't have any more breath for words but he reached out, feeling Murray's hands on his shoulders even as the nurse's needle bit into his arm. Slowly the tight clutch on his chest released, his lungs filled, he breathed easy.

His eyes closed and he heard Cody's voice, whispering reassurance in his ear.

*

Nick opened his eyes again to find Murray sitting beside his bed. He tried to summon a smile but there was something over his mouth, and he felt too weak to try to push it away.

"Take it easy, Nick." Murray reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You have an oxygen mask on right now to help you breathe. Just rest."

Nick blinked. He remembered the coughing fit, the pain, and supposed it was just as well. At least if Murray was here, they must have let him have visitors at last.

"The police have some questions about your statement," Murray continued apologetically. "You're not strong enough to see them at present, so I've agreed to ask you some questions. But it's important for you to know we can stop at any time. If something hurts, or if you're tired, we'll stop. Do you understand?"

Nick managed a slow nod. He wondered how he was supposed to answer questions with an oxygen mask over his face.

As if in answer, Murray raised the bed, slipped the mask off, and replaced it with an oxygen tube to Nick's nose. "Better?"

"Sure." Nick closed his eyes. He was exhausted, but the pain in his leg felt distant and far away.

"My name is Dr. Bozinsky, and I've been assigned to your case. You'll be seeing a lot of me over the next few weeks until we get you up and around again."

Nick's eyes flew open. "What? Murray, what's going on?"

But there was no conspiratorial wink behind the black-framed glasses. Murray just frowned, looking at Nick measuringly. "I guess you were hoping to be out of the hospital sooner. Unfortunately there's no chance of that."

There were no black-framed glasses, either. Nick blinked, staring at Murray. The little guy had somehow changed for smart wire rims. His brown hair was neat and shorter than Nick had ever seen it. There was a stethoscope around his neck, and on his lapel was a small pin embellished with something orange. Nick's heart started to pound. "Where's Cody?" he whispered.

"The nurses told me you'd been asking for Cody." Murray's frown deepened. "Although our policy is family-only, we don't mind making exceptions. If you can tell us how to contact him, we'll try and get him down here."

"Is this some kind of joke? Boz, what's going on?"

"Boz?" Murray smiled. "Wow, no-one's called me that since MIT. But we're going to rethink this statement. You need to rest now, and we'll try and finish it up for the police in the morning."

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but Murray deftly slipped the oxygen mask back on, then lowered the bed. Nick stared at his back as he left the room, an edge of panic trip-hammering inside his skull. Something was wrong.

"Nick? Nick!" A light footfall, a shadow, and Cody was beside him, breathless. "I got here as soon as I could!"

Nick looked up at him, questioning. He considered taking off the oxygen mask, but the memory of the frightening, painful coughing fit stopped him.

"You were struggling to breathe. Murray's hooked into the hospital somehow and it came up on your chart."

Nick nodded and reached for Cody's hand. Hooked into the hospital. He sure is, all right. There was something weird going on, but Nick wasn't strong enough to think it through. He felt Cody take hold and closed his eyes again.

"We'll be okay, Nick. Just a little while more, and everything's gonna be okay."

*

"Even the address is wrong."

Nick came awake suddenly at Joanna's voice. The room was bright, and Joanna Parisi was standing at the end of the bed, half-turned away from Nick.

Murray stepped into view. "We're suspecting a form of short-term amnesia. There's nothing to suggest head injury or brain injury, but we may have to consider that in the future."

Nick gave a short cough behind his mask, and Murray came to the bed. "You're awake, Nick!" The bed whirred, raising Nick to a half-seated position. Just as he had yesterday, Murray slipped off the mask and replaced it with the oxygen tube. Then he handed Nick a glass of water.

Nick took a sip, pleased to note that holding the glass was easier, and his hand didn't shake. "Morning, Murray. Morning, Lieutenant."

"Good morning, Mr. -- uh, Nick." Lieutenant Parisi came to the other side of the bed and sat down. "I have some questions to ask you. Dr. Bozinsky is going to stay with us in case you need anything, okay?"

Nick nodded wearily and leaned back against his pillows.

"Let's start with your address. The Riptide, Slip 7, Pier 56, King Harbor."

"What about it? You want the zip code or something? Can't you look it up?"

Joanna frowned. "Mr. Ryder. Nick. According to city records, we have no fixed address for you. The people down on the docks tell us you're living in your helicopter. I understand you're unwilling to put that in a statement, but let me assure you there will be no repercussions -- "

"Living in the Mimi? What are you talking about? Joanna, you've been to the Riptide a hundred times. Murray lives there. C'mon, guys, can you stop with whatever playacting is going on?"

Murray held the glass to Nick's lips, and he managed a small sip. "Come on. Me, Murray and Cody Allen live aboard the Riptide. Have done since '81 -- well, me and Cody have. Murray moved in in '84."

"There are no live-aboards at Pier 56," Joanna said gently. "The city hasn't allowed them there since the seventies. And slip 7 is rented to a charter company called Barefoot Tours."

Nick stared at her, then turned back to Murray. The orange pin, just above his pocket protector, jiggled, and Nick pointed. "The Roboz," he said, hearing the tremor in his own voice. "The Roboz is back on the Riptide, right?"

Murray looked blank, then pulled out his pin, holding it up. The familiar face of the orange robot smiled at Nick. "This? The guys at MIT gave me this when I switched to medicine. Robotics was always my first love, but funding was impossible. It would have been a heartbreaking field to continue in."

"That's your robot," Nick said desperately. "You built it. We use it in our investigations all the time."

Murray shook his head. "I still have the blueprints," he said, restoring the pin to his lapel. "But it's never been built."

Nick covered his face with his hands, shaking. "Please, guys. I don't know what's going on here. I wanna go home."

"We're still trying to establish where your home is," Joanna said calmly. "It seems your memory's been scrambled by the trauma you've undergone."

Nick lowered his hands. "Where's Cody?" he asked dully. "Please, can you let him in here? I feel like I'm going crazy, an' -- " He broke off, struggling for control. "I need him. Please, Boz -- Murray."

"We haven't been able to find any Cody Allen," Joanna said flatly. "The address is wrong, the phone number's wrong. No-one's ever heard of him."

Panic rose in Nick's chest. He stared from Joanna's speculative, suspicious gaze to Murray's concerned, confused face, and wondered if he was asleep, if this was a nightmare. He said nothing, unable to trust his voice, his brain free-wheeling.

Cody had been with him in the hospital. That was all he had to hold on to. Everything else was so much smoke and mirrors. Nick stared at Murray and his Roboz pin. It was the only link he had.

"Perhaps you better tell me how it all went," he said, impressed at how steady he could keep his voice.

Murray shot a worried glance at the lieutenant. "It's really better if you remember on your own, at your own pace."

"No, that's not gonna work." Nick held himself in check with difficulty. "I need some help here. Let's start with the Mimi."

"Your helicopter," Joanna confirmed.

Nick breathed a sigh of relief. Another link. "You're telling me I live in her?" It wasn't impossible; he'd done it before for short periods.

"That's what I heard around the pier."

"Okay." Nick breathed deep, pushing his panic away. If it was a nightmare, he'd beat it. "So where do we run the agency from?"

"That was my next question." Joanna looked at him narrowly. "There's no Riptide Detective Agency operating in King Harbor. As far as anyone knows, you make a living flying harbor tours, small cargo jobs and working construction with your helicopter. I say as far as anyone knows, because it seems you're not an easy guy to get close to. You arrived here in seventy-six after you left the army, and since then… well, you're known as a loner, and you've got a temper everyone in town knows about."

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. Joanna was accurately describing the months he'd spent apart from Cody, before they'd reconnected and joined the MP's. "No agency," he said hoarsely. "You can't find Cody, and Murray, you're a doctor." It was some kind of setup, it had to be. "Have we stumbled into something big? A CIA cover up or something?"

Joanna shot a glance at Murray, and nodded. "My predecessor had a file on you, Nick, and he described you as paranoid and prone to conspiracy theories."

"My life's disappeared." Nick dropped his hand, staring at her in consternation. "You two are sitting here telling me everything I know, everything I've ever done, is a lie, and I'm the paranoid one? No fucking way." He reached for the hospital nightstand, fumbling his wallet out into his hand. "Look, I got my PI license right here."

But his wallet fell open to reveal a library card in the place his PI license had always occupied. Nick shuffled in vain, but the card was missing. "Someone's taken it," Nick said flatly, looking up at last.

Murray stood, gesturing at Joanna. "I think we have done enough for today," he said quickly. "The lieutenant has things to do, and Nick, you should really rest now." He took the wallet out of Nick's hands and restored it to the nightstand.

Nick let him. He made no demur as Murray lowered the bed, and turned his head away as Joanna said goodbye. There were no answers to be gained in the here and now. All he could do was wait for Cody's return, and hope against hope that his partner had some idea of what was going on.

He couldn't allow himself to consider the possibility that Cody would not come.

*

Nick dreamed of Cody all night, memories and flashbacks, pictures so clear he knew they were the truth. But when he opened his eyes the next morning, it was to Murray Bozinsky in his wire rims and Roboz pin, and there was no sign of Cody.

"Boz," he muttered thickly. "C'mon, gimme the truth. Where's Cody? If he's -- " Nick broke off and took a deep breath. "Dead. If something happened, you gotta tell me. This game we're playing is killing me."

Murray's eyes filled with sympathy. "I don't know what to tell you, Nick. No-one's ever heard of Cody Allen. I did find a boat called the Riptide, but it's a derelict tied up at Old Dock. No-one's lived on it for decades. No-one even knows who owns it anymore."

Nick fought back tears. "Please," he whispered. "Please, Murray, if anyone knows what Cody means to me, it's you. Don't do this to me."

"I'm so sorry." Murray bestowed an awkward pat on Nick's arm. "I contacted your superior officer from your time in the army. I hope you don't mind. But I wondered if he could shed any light on -- on your confusion."

"Pitbull?" Nick's heart lifted. "I mean, General Johnson? He vouched for me, right? He told you about Cody?"

"Brigadier General Johnson, yes." Murray looked somber. "In a manner of speaking, you could say he told me about Cody."

"What do you mean?" Nick groped for his bed control, lifting himself to a sitting position. "We were both in his unit. We were partners."

"Nick." Murray sat forward in his chair. "Brigadier General Johnson informed me you were one of his best men in the field. But when you came back stateside, things started to unravel. You were in the hospital for some time, and when it became clear you could no longer perform your duties, you received an honourable discharge."

Nick stared at Murray. "I served out my contract," he said stiffly. The words felt harsh and spiky in his mouth. "I wasn't in the hospital except one time I was wounded, an' that was for maybe ten days."

Murray reached to the ground and picked up a slim manila folder. "In the end, they called it PTSD. You were on a low dose of thorazine when you were released. I'm going to hypothesize you've been on it ever since, and that what you're experiencing now is a recurrence of the symptoms that put you in the hospital in the first place."

"Thorazine?" Nick took a long breath. "No way. They don't let you fly on that stuff, with good reason."

"I wouldn't have expected you to share that information with the FAA," Murray said wryly, and handed over the folder. "Nick, I'm going to start you on thorazine again now, and we'll see if your symptoms decrease. If my hypothesis is correct, I expect these false memories to recede over the next few days."

"False memories." Nick clutched the folder tightly. "What are you talking about?"

Murray patted his arm again, kindly. "The detective agency. The way you've somehow interwoven my presence into your memories. The old boat, which I'm sure you've seen hundreds of times as it's tied up quite near your helipad."

"And Cody." Nick stared down at the pale cardboard in his hands. "You're telling me Cody's not real, aren't you?"

Murray stood up and adjusted the bag attached to Nick's IV. "Read the file, Nick," he said gently. He picked up a hypodermic and squirted the contents into the bag. "And get some rest. You've still got a lot of healing to do."

Murray walked out of the room and Nick lowered his eyes to the folder, heart pounding. It was ordinary cardboard, with the word Ryder inscribed on its lip. Cold terror churned in Nick's chest, making him sick, making the blood curdle in his veins. "Cody's real," he said out loud, running his finger over his name. "Cody's my partner."

His impulse was to fling the folder across the room, but instead, his fingers carefully opened the cover. Nick stared down at the revealed page, frightened and sickened. "Where the hell are you, Cody? I need you. I need you right now."

The white page, carefully ruled, was short and to the point. Nick's name, rank, serial number and date of birth were inscribed at the top.

Nick's eyes traveled slowly down the page.

Patient shows little grip on reality. Poor short term and long term memories of actual events. Able to carry out simple instructions in the moment; poor ability to repeat behaviors after a time lapse.

Patient is delusional, exhibiting visual and auditory hallucinations, particularly involving a fellow-soldier called "Cody". Patient hoards firearms and weapons in a number of locations. Patient has not shown any signs of violence, however, he must be considered potentially dangerous as he is emotionally unstable and believes the hallucinations he experiences are real.

Diagnosis: Schizophrenia-type symptoms brought on by PTSD.

Treatment: Thorazine 300mg daily.

Prognosis: Excellent response to medication. Good long-term outcome is expected in civilian life provided patient is medicated.

At the bottom of the page, a stamp and date recorded an honourable discharge on medical grounds.

Nick could feel himself shaking. He slowly raised one hand and touched Cody's name on the page. "It's a lie," he whispered, hot tears running down his cheeks. "Where are you, man? You promised you'd come back. You promised you wouldn't leave me."

*

"Nick. Hey, Nick!"

Nick jerked awake. He was still propped up in bed, the folder open on his lap. His hip ached, his heart ached, and he felt woozy. "Cody?" he muttered disbelievingly.

"Nick, buddy, I'm sorry, I couldn't get in last night. They've doubled security." Cody slipped into the chair beside Nick's bed, the one Murray had so recently occupied.

Nick stared at him greedily, drinking in the familiar face. "You got no idea how glad I am to see you," he said softly, reaching out.

Cody took his hand and Nick used the contact to pull him in, pull him close. "Hold me, man. I need you."

Gently, carefully, Cody slid onto the bed beside him and complied. "What's wrong?" Nick heard the worry in Cody's voice. "Are you hurting worse?"

"No, not that." Nick shuddered, wrapping his arms around Cody, holding on with everything he had. "It's -- Cody, man, tell me. Are we private detectives? Do we live on your boat?"

"Sure, buddy." Cody sounded both puzzled and a little scared. "Nick, what's going on? Is there something I don't know? You got a head injury or something?"

"I wondered about that." Nick's tears overflowed and he clung to Cody, burying his face against Cody's neck. "But the doc says no. Doc says… doc says I'm crazy. Doc says you're not real, man. You, our life, everything -- they say it's a lie. An' they got drugs to fix me with, turns out."

"Nick… Nick! That can't be right!" Cody sounded really frightened now. "I'll get Murray on the phone, have him look up your charts and everything."

"That's the worst part," Nick whispered. "Murray knows. He's the doctor in here. He's the one who says I'm crazy."

"Okay, that's crazy," Cody said flatly. "Murray's in San Francisco, trying to trace the ransom demand the kidnappers made the day you got hurt. We caught most of the gang, but there's at least two of 'em still at large."

Nick nodded, pulling back a little, breathing deep."I'm scared, Cody. Every time I ask for you, they tell me they can't find you, you don't exist. If that's true -- if you're not really you, if you're not holding me right now, then I got no idea who I am, you know?"

"Nick, no! I'm here, and I'm never leaving you again, okay? If I gotta chain myself to this bed, I'm staying. I don't know what's going on in here, but you're not… what they say, okay?"

Nick reached for the folder in his lap, but his hand found only the blanket. He looked down. The folder was gone.

"Someplace around here there's a folder says I was kicked out of the army in seventy-six because the army docs didn't like my imaginary friend Cody Allen." Nick clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. "They've put me on thorazine, Cody. To help me forget about you."

Cody looked at the nightstand, then leaned over and looked at the floor on the other side of the bed. "I don't see any folder."

"It was right here when you came in. On my lap."

"Well, maybe I'm more real than it." Cody shrugged. "Come on, big guy. You know what's real, what's important."

"Thought I did." Nick tightened his grip on Cody again. "But they got me so mixed up, so scared -- "

Cody operated the bed-control, lowering it so Nick was lying flat. "What you need is some rest, okay? You're still in rough shape. Today's the first time we've been able to talk for more than five minutes. You're on morphine and God knows what else. I'm not surprised it's screwing with you some, you know?"

Nick relaxed, suddenly realizing Cody was right. "Didn't think of that," he muttered.

"Take it easy, and get some sleep. I'm staying right here."

"Promise?"

Cody kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Promise, baby. Promise."

*

Nick's body felt heavy and unresponsive. There was a sweet taste in his mouth, a cloying scent in his nostrils. His eyelids were too heavy to prise apart. He wanted Cody, but his lips would not form words.

"Nick! Nick, can you hear me?"

Yeah, I hear you, Murray. Nick felt bad for not answering out loud, but he was so tired. He'd make it up to Murray later, buy the little guy a new transistor or something -- or maybe a new stethoscope. It was gonna be tough keeping track of two versions of Murray, that was for sure.

Cody?

"I'm here, Nick. I got you."

A wave of relief washed over Nick, and for a moment he cracked his eyes open. Murray was working frantically over the IV line with two nurses hovering at his elbow. Cody wasn't visible but Nick could feel him, so close, so strong. With a sigh, Nick closed his eyes again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so tired.

"Heart rate's dropping -- blood pressure dropping -- get a crash cart in here, nurse! Now!"

Murray was shouting, and Nick wished he'd stop. Whatever the little guy was excited about would wait, Nick was sure. They'd all been working too hard -- Cody'd been looking stressed for weeks. Nick sighed deeply. A fishing vacation, that was what they needed, and to hell with the bank account, the slip rent, the electric bill, and everyone else who wanted a piece of them.

Nick opened his eyes. There was a blur of activity a few feet away, too confused for him to focus on. But Cody was perched on the side of his bed, holding his hand, staring at him intently.

"You should pull the anchor," Nick slurred, staring back. "Get us outta here, guy."

Cody leaned in and pulled Nick's hand against his chest. "You got it, pal. Thought you'd never ask."

Nick smiled slowly and closed his eyes. They were gonna be just fine.

*

Murray Bozinsky hung up his lab coat, straightened his tie and touched the orange pin just above his shirt pocket. It was a big day -- a huge day -- one he'd thought long and hard about. He knew he might regret his decision, but something told him it was a chance worth taking.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Pringle," he said calmly, "but I won't be dissuaded. It's time for me to return to my first love -- robotics."

"Well, Bozinsky, I'm sorry to lose you." His superior, a slim man in horn rims with a lab coat of his own, shrugged. "But I wish I understood why. You're an excellent surgeon, and you have a wonderful career ahead of you. If you're thinking about Ryder, you can't blame yourself."

Murray sighed thoughtfully and looked out the window at the ocean. Far to the south, a tiny white boat bobbed on the vast surface. "It's not about Ryder," he lied. "It's just the right time." Without further farewell, he left the office and headed through the hospital for the last time.

Nick Ryder's photograph was still displayed in the lobby, along with a barrel soliciting donations to a local children's charity. Murray hurried past with averted eyes. It was two months since he'd listened to Nick tell a story of a detective agency and a crime solving robot. Two months since he'd labeled the story a delusion and administered psychoactive drugs.

Two months since Nick Ryder had had a catastrophic stroke, leaving him catatonic, unable to breathe on his own, his brain slowly dying. A month later, it had fallen to Murray to make the inevitable, tragic decision to turn off life support.

Murray's reason told him the stroke had been caused by the near drowning, the false memories possibly early symptoms of bleeding in the brain. But Murray's heart told him different. He'd given Nick thorazine to end the delusions, but those delusions had been Nick's whole world.

Squaring his shoulders, Murray Bozinsky marched out the doors and hailed a cab. "Take me to Pier 56," he said, diving in. "Slip 7. I need to see a lady about a boat."

The cab roared out into traffic, and Murray closed his eyes. He could still hear the panic in Nick's voice when he'd handed over the folder. "You're telling me Cody's not real."

"He's real, Nick," Murray whispered. "And wherever you are now, I know he's with you."

*

Nick awoke feeling refreshed and relaxed. Sun warmed his face; a gentle breeze stirred his hair. He'd rarely felt such a perfect contentment.

Almost afraid to break the spell, he sneaked his eyes open.

He was stretched out on the bench seat on the upper deck of the Riptide. Beneath him, the boat rolled softly, cradled in a swell that meant the open sea. Slowly, cautiously, Nick raised himself up until he was half-sitting.

There was a muted ache in his hip that spoke of painkillers and a healing wound. He was breathing easier, despite a lingering tightness in his chest.

The deck was empty, and so was the wheelhouse. Nick listened to the silence, then pushed himself onto unsteady legs.

His hip spiked pain at every step, uncomfortable but not unbearable. Nick limped to the stairs and cautiously descended, aware he should rest, but driven by a nameless, formless fear.

The salon was as empty as the deck, but fresh coffee bubbled comfortingly on the hotplate. There was no sign of the Roboz, but Cody's straw hat sat on the chair. Nick limped toward the TV, looking for the old framed photograph of himself and Cody.

"Nick! What are you doing down here?" Cody's voice, sharp with worry, followed by Cody's quick, light step on the galley stairs. Followed by Cody, golden and perfect, real, and present, exactly as Nick remembered him.

Nick stood, one hand on the table for support, and his eyes filled with tears. "Cody," he managed.

Cody caught him in his arms. "You have to rest. You know what they said in the hospital."

Nick cried harder. In the hospital they'd said Cody was a hallucination. "They wanted to drug me," he panted. "They wanted me to forget you."

"Listen up." Cody took Nick's weight, and looked seriously into his eyes. "No-one's gonna drug you. Not on my watch. Now come on downstairs and get in bed before you prove those doctors right and I gotta take you back there."

"Don't take me back. Please, Cody -- "

"I won't. Hey, I won't." Cody led Nick to the stairs and half-carried him down to their stateroom. "C'mon, buddy, what's going on? Did you have a nightmare, maybe?"

"I -- I don't know." Nick shivered, letting Cody's soothing touch calm him. The stateroom was just as Nick expected, and the familiar surroundings helped to distance the horror of the days in the hospital. "Last thing I remember was the hospital. They kept telling me you weren't real."

"I never left off being real." Cody smiled as he helped Nick into bed. "But you were pretty sick for a few days there, pal. I guess I'm not surprised you don't remember too well. But you asked me to spring you last night, and even though it's against medical advice, even that doctor agreed all you really needed was rest."

"Thorazine. That's what they said I needed. What Murray said."

"Murray's in San Francisco," Cody said, sitting down on the bed next to Nick. "He traced the ransom demand, and the cops up there have the rest of the gang in custody. It's all over." Cody took Nick's hand in one of his, and with the other lightly stroked Nick's hair. "I want you to relax. No-one wants to dope you up with anything stronger than Advil, okay?"

"In the hospital…" Nick stopped, thinking of the file. "They said we weren't detectives. They said I was hallucinating. I was so scared, Cody, so scared I'd lost you forever, and -- "

"Stop. Nick, take it easy, okay?" Cody squeezed his hand hard. "You were hallucinating in the hospital, that's a fact. You didn't seem to know where you were, or even who you were, half the time. You've had a rough few weeks. But that's all over now, an' you got nothing to worry about except relaxing and working on your tan, all right?"

Nick shivered. "Don't leave me, Cody. Whatever you do, don't let me end up back there, man."

Cody stood up quickly, dropped his pants and pulled his shirt over his head. "Move over, big guy," he said, sliding under the covers without waiting for Nick to comply.

Nick did the opposite, rolling into Cody, getting as close as he could. He sighed with relief as Cody's arms slid around him, as he felt the familiar thud of Cody's heart, the whisper of Cody's breath against his cheek.

"You'll feel better tomorrow," Cody murmured in his ear. "We'll be in Mexico by evening, with no-one to bother us."

"Mexico?" Nick tensed. "Tell me, man. Do we live in King Harbor? Are we docked at Pier 56?"

"Sure. Of course we do." Cody kissed Nick's forehead, hands kneading Nick's shoulders gently. Despite himself, Nick's tension eased. "You're kind of a hero at home right now, and Murray and I figured it was a good idea to get out of town for a while. Murray'll fly down just as soon as he's finished in San Francisco -- Friday, likely."

Nick relaxed more, soothed partly by Cody's voice and touch, partly by the safe familiarity of Cody's closeness in the bunk. His mind could be made to doubt, but his heart, his body never could.

"Don't mind if Murray wants to take up medicine," he muttered, nestling into Cody's shoulder. "S'long as you ain't gonna disappear on me. That was hard, you know? That was more than I could take. Don' do it again, okay?"

"Listen to me, Nick Ryder." Cody punctuated his words with a soft kiss on Nick's lips. "I'm not going anyplace, and neither are you. Trust me on that one."

Nick closed his eyes, breathing Cody in. Whatever had happened -- CIA conspiracy, Twilight Zone, morphine-induced hallucinations -- it was over now, and he had Cody back. And when it came right down to it, that was all that mattered.