The Commander Ch. 03

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By the end of the day I had a diagnosis of a rapid onset of viral myocarditis -- an infection of the heart muscle. That explains the fever and white blood cell count. The doctors were certain this had nothing to do with the cancer or the operation -- it was something completely different, but it impacted the cancer treatment options. Speaking of which, the biopsy results were back. More bad news. The pancreatic cancer had already metastasized to the liver. I remember my friend who died of pancreatic cancer actually died of liver failure after the cancer spread.

Between the cancer and the heart infection, I had anywhere from minutes to months. I needed an escape plan, and I needed it soon.

By Sunday morning I was getting very weak. I had trouble staying awake. Nurses wanted to give me something for the pain, but I refused. I wanted to stay alert. I tried getting out of bed, but that was becoming impossible. If I didn't jump soon, I never would.

I knew my next jump would be a blind one -- I would have done no homework at all. It was a risk I had to take, considering the alternatives. The opportunity presented itself on Sunday afternoon. I haven't mentioned that Billy went for his operation on Saturday morning, and he was discharged Sunday morning. His bed lay empty until an orderly wheeled a new patient in on Sunday afternoon on a rolling gurney.

I had already decided I can't jump a nurse or a doctor -- they have too many people interacting with them every moment. Not to mention what would happen if an emergency came up while I was jumping a doctor -- there was no good outcome from that scenario. No, it had to be a person lower down the chain. The woman who brings the meals around is a last resort, but I'd prefer someone who does not have rounds or a fixed schedule to keep. Someone who can disappear for an hour without seriously disrupting a lot of other people. An orderly pushing a patient in a bed. That was my opportunity.

When he finished transferring his patient from the wheeled gurney into the bed, I asked him to hand me my book that was on the window ledge, and that was that. As Bruce (I had to check his name tag) I left the ward without anyone stopping me. I took the elevator down to the ground floor. I am certain Bruce has a locker in the hospital with his stuff, but I have no idea where it is, let alone a million other details I would need to know.

Anyone watching (and I am guessing someone was) would think it odd Bruce walked outside in his hospital uniform and hailed a standing taxi. I took the cab to my house. When I got there, I told the cab driver my money was inside, and asked him to wait a moment. I went to the front door, and pressed the correct combination sequence on the door mounted electronic keypad. I had that security feature installed on my front door for exactly this eventuality.

Inside, I disarmed the alarm, and then retrieved my wallet from the bedroom. I paid the cabbie outside, and returned to the house. Bruce was on the clock -- I didn't want to waste too much of his time, so I got my car keys, locked up, and drove to Jet and Fiona's condo building.

Leaps from one person to another person take longer than jumping to and from my own body. This was going to be dicey. I was counting on one or both of them to be home on a Sunday afternoon. As part of my earlier homework for Jet, I remembered the security passcode to get in the front door. I took the elevator to the top floor, and stood outside Jet's and Fiona's door for a few minutes, thinking about how to do this. My biggest concern was to avoid a commotion. I decided to just stand there and knock. The leap would be tricky, but I had a plan.

I literally had raised Bruce's hand to knock on the door when I heard the ding of the elevator -- someone was arriving on the floor. The hallway was a square U shape with the elevator at the bottom of the U. Jet's apartment was at the end of the hallway on the upper left arm of the U, so I could not see the elevator from here. I had no way of knowing who was stepping onto the floor.

I couldn't be seen lurking in the hallway, so waited until I heard footsteps come out of the elevator, and then I started walking down the hallway toward bottom of the U. A man I didn't recognize in his fifties turned the corner and walked toward me. I let him pass by, and then shoulder checked behind me -- he stopped at the door before Jet's with keys in his hand.

I stopped and turned around. "Excuse me," I called to him. He turned and faced me. "Are you Mr. Terrance's neighbor?"

"Yes," he replied cautiously.

I approached "Hi, I'm Bruce from the hospital," I offered, extending my hand. My orderly's uniform left no doubt in the man's mind I was from the hospital.

"Oh hi," he warmed, and offered his hand to meet mine. I gripped his hand firmly, and the long dark tunnel began. I am guessing we stood there for three to five seconds until I regained my senses in Jet's neighbor's body. I steadied myself before taking hold of Bruce with my other hand, making sure he didn't fall over. I dropped Jet's neighbor's keys in the process.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"What the hell?" Bruce looked around in total confusion.

"Can I help you?" I released him, and picked up the keys. Great -- seven keys, and I don't know which one is for the door.

"Where am I" Bruce asked. "And how ..." he drifted off. I looked at the keyhole pattern on the door, and guessed at the keys that would fit -- it seemed two were close. The first one didn't work, but the second one did. I realized I had to be ready for anything -- I had no idea who was inside this condo.

"Do you need some help?" I asked. "Can I call someone for you?" That question triggered Bruce to feel into his pocket and pull out a cell phone. He flipped it open, and noticed the time. Bruce swore in disbelief. I waited at the open door until Bruce looked around, took in his surroundings, and started walking down the corridor toward the bottom of the U and turned the corner. I waited until I heard the elevator doors open and close.

I came back out into the hallway and closed the door. I walked to Jet's door and knocked. I heard footsteps approach, and the door opened. It was Jet -- that was good. "Hi Carl," he said. My name was Carl.

The bandage on Jet's left hand was replaced by a medical splint on his baby finger. "Hi Jet," I smiled. "I'm wondering if you can do me a favor -- just look at something really strange in out here in the hallway." Jet felt for his keys in his pocket before stepping into the hallway. The door pulled closed automatically behind him.

"What is it?" Jet asked. I looked down the hallway -- no one around. I led Jet to Carl's door.

"Here," I pointed with one hand, still with the keys in it, and I took Jet's arm with the other.

"Carl, are you okay?" I asked after coming out of the long dark tunnel.

"That's strange," Carl ventured. "I could have sworn ... Jet!" He just realized Bruce from the Hospital had transmogrified into Jet from next door.

"Yeah," I said cautiously, as if I had no idea. "What's going on, Carl?"

"I'm not ... well I was just ... Fucking Hell!" he blurted in an agitated growl.

"Carl, can I help you with something?"

"Where are my keys!?"

"There in your hand," I offered gently, pointing. I realized then Carl's keys were in the opposite hand he held them in before I leaped from Bruce to Carl.

"Fucking Hell," he repeated quietly.

I waited until Carl unlocked his door and went inside. After his door closed, I went back to Jet's door, pulled out his keys, and entered.

"Who was that?" called out a familiar voice. I walked into the living room, and there was Fiona wearing a frumpy purple cable knit sweater and jeans. I guess the dress code has fallen to the wayside. She sat on the sofa with her legs folded underneath her. She was leafing through a magazine. Fiona had no makeup on and her hair wasn't fixed up. Which is to say she was gorgeous.

"It was Carl, next door."

"What did he want?"

"I honestly have no clue," I ventured. I waited for a moment. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"Nope," she snapped without taking her eyes off the magazine. It was a curt, harsh answer. There was a lot of baggage wrapped around that one syllable. Clearly I have missed a lot between Jet and Fiona.

"Well get dressed, because you do now, honey."

She looked up from her magazine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I walked to the sofa and sat beside her. I reached out and stroked her wavy blond hair with my right hand. "It means," I promised, "as of today, we start over. You and me. Starting with," as I stood up, "dinner out tonight."

"Where?" she asked.

"Your choice"

"Really?" she smiled.

"Really. Your choice."

"Even Boissy's"

I'd never heard of it, but then again I probably don't mingle in their circles. "I'll make the reservation for tonight."

"Uh, hullo," she scorned, "Boissy's is in Paris."

Think fast. "Okay. How about Friday, then?"

She dropped the magazine on the floor and stood up half smiling. "Are you serious?" she asked with guarded optimism.

"Did I promise you Paris?"

"Yes," she mumbled, looking at the floor. That brought some memories she'd rather forget.

"Boissy's in Paris -- Friday night. It's a date."

"Yessssssssss!" She leapt into my arms and hugged me hard.

"So what about tonight," I asked.

"You let me take care of tonight, Big Boy!"

"No." I paused for effect. "It's time I take care of you for a change. Go get dressed in something nice -- something elegant -- something ..." I was searching for the words.

"Glamorous?"

"Exactly!" She literally jumped up and down clapping her hands. All that joy and beauty. She leaped forward and hugged me again with enough force I had to step backward with my left foot to maintain my balance. I whispered in her ear "What's something that I never do after dinner that you always wanted to do?"

She pulled back with a stunned expression. "You don't mean ..."

"You have to tell me."

She winced while she just barely squeaked out the word for fear of a brutal reprisal. "Dancing?"

"DANCING!" I shouted. "WE'RE GOING DANCING AFTER DINNER!"

Fiona was out of control. She was hopping and spinning and barking giddy "yippies" and clapping her hands like a seven year old. And then she suddenly stopped.

"Wait!" She paused. "I can't wear glamorous to dancing, can I?"

I walked up to her, put my hands the sides of her face, careful not to scratch her with my splint. I kissed her on the mouth for a few seconds, then pulled back and looked her straight in the eyes. "You could wear a mud soaked burlap bag and a dead chicken on your head and you'd still be the best looking girl on the dance floor," I told her solemnly. "Wear whatever you want."

She kissed me hard on the lips while she slipped her hand down the front of my jeans and fondled my cock through the fabric. She pulled back, got down on her knees and lightly kissed the bulge. "I'll deal with you later, Big Boy," she promised. She stood up, spun a half twirl on her toes, and skipped away to the bedroom gleefully singing "dancing ... Paris ... dancing ... Paris ... dancing ... Paris ..."

Bath, hair, makeup, fingernails, dressing, and whatever else took Fiona hours. That gave me the opportunity to check up on a few things. First, I checked Jet's wallet -- two gold cards and two platinum cards -- I hoped Jet kept his accounts in good order.

Next I called the hospital and inquired on the status of Don Malloy -- my real persona. He was listed as critical and stable. So I wasn't dead. This was completely new territory to me. I had never just abandoned my body before. I had no idea what happens to "me" when my body dies. Does some ethereal link snap me out of Jet's body when my body dies and I just disappear into nothingness? Or was I always able to permanently leave my own body? If I do decide to stay in this body, does Jet disappear forever? I had no answers, and no clue how to find the answers except to wait and see. If I die when my body dies, I figure I haven't lost anything -- it was my time to go. If nothing else, I will have lived the last days/weeks/months of my life with an otherwise unattainable quality of life. So I decided not to dwell, since there was nothing I could do.

I then went through Jet's papers. I found a file folder full of financial statements and other documents. I spent an hour sifting through the documents while I heard Fiona humming happily in the bathtub. I checked and rechecked my figures because what I discovered astounded me. Jet was actually living an austere lifestyle compared to his wealth. A trust fund left by his deceased parents gave him twenty thousand a month -- nearly a quarter million a year. That much I already knew. But in addition to that, these documents showed liquid assets that, according to my calculations, accrue to over seven million dollars. He also owns a $1.5M condo free and clear and some investment property worth another three million. According to my calculations, Jet's life value net worth was about $18M.

Next I spent an hour on his computer. Jet had bookmarks for online banking sites, but I didn't know his login passwords. I tried accessing Jet's own memories, but it wasn't working. So I clicked on the 'forgot password' link on the online banking website, and it said it sent me an email. Sure enough, there was an email in Jet's inbox, and I opened it and clicked on the embedded link, and bingo bango bongo I was in Jet's online banking account. He had a little over $100,000 in his chequing account -- more than enough for a trip to Paris.

While in his computer, I went through his email. Jet had deleted all traces of the video The Commander sent to him. That was probably a smart move.

Last thing I did on his computer was to buy two business class tickets to Paris leaving on Thursday night. I printed out the confirmation notice and itinerary and kept them.

I started rifling through his desk drawers for any interesting documents, but also specifically for his passport. I had no luck there -- maybe I could ask Fiona later.

I decided I had to get ready for dinner, so I went into the bedroom to change. I perused through each dresser drawer until I had oriented myself to Jet's clothing organization. I put on a pair of black pants and a powder blue short-sleeve shirt. I found a cream colored linen jacket. Some socks and leather shoes. I combed my hair and I was done.

It was about then Fiona stepped out of the walk-in closet. My heart nearly stopped. She wore a Thai silk, high cut, crimson red dress with a deep open back that had four loosely hanging strings of pearls across the back opening that connected the two sides. The mid-thigh hem showed off her lovely legs. She was looking for some shoes when she caught me staring at her. "Do you remember this?" she beamed as she spun around.

"How could I forget," I faked it.

"You bought this for me last year in Paris. I haven't worn it since, but I thought tonight would be a good time to take it out for a spin."

I looked at her in silent awe. My stare unnerved her. "What?!" She was looking around her dress for the defect she sensed I was looking at.

I drew close to her. "It's just that you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes on."

"Phhhhht," she waived her right hand dismissively. "You just want to get into my pants."

I put my left arm around her and pulled her close and fondled her breast through the silk fabric of her dress with my good hand. "You got that right," I confirmed before kissing her.

As I let her go, I said "Speaking of Paris, do you remember where I put my passport?"

"You told me you put both ours in the wall safe," she replied without concern. Great. Now I had to figure out the combination to a safe.

Within half an hour we were driving to Georgio's -- a high end Italian café on St. James Street. Fiona brought a fur shawl to keep warm in the car. In the end she chose black high heel shoes with red rubies encrusted on the top that accented her dress nicely. At Gerogio's we talked chit chat, nothing really important, until Fiona finally broke the ice.

"So what's going on, Jet?" Fiona asked after a pause in the conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't looked at me, let alone touched me, for the past few weeks, and now it's all Paris and dancing and I'm beautiful."

While I was rifling through Jet's documents earlier that afternoon, I had some time to think about this, as I thought it might come up in the evening's conversation. "Do you remember a few weeks ago when we did it, like four times."

"Remember?!" she called out, "that's the most amazing sex I ever had." Just as she finished saying it, she realized she had spoken too loud in this crowded restaurant, and Fiona covered her mouth with her hand and squeaked out an embarrassing giggle, but her eyes twinkled with delight.

"It was pretty awesome,"

"Awesome?" she was whispering now. "You came four times. That's not awesome, that's a freak of nature!" Our waiter was nearly at our table with a water pitcher when he heard that, gave me a smile, and retreated.

I paused for a moment. "Is that good or bad?"

"It was fantastic!" she roared. Now other patrons were staring at her, and she didn't care. I smiled warmly at her and she glowed back.

"What do you say we break my record tonight," I asked playfully.

"Honey," she said more in a mocking tone that meant 'hey you', not a term of endearment, "you wore me out last time -- I couldn't walk for two days. If you want to break the record tonight, we'd better bring another girl home from the dance club."

I sat a moment, replaying what she said over and over in my head until I convinced myself I heard it correctly. "Is that an invitation?" I asked.

"Tell me what's been going on in the last few weeks, and convince me this Paris thing is for real" she replied in a rehearsed manner, "and we'll see." Smart girl.

"Okay," I said. While I was mulling this over earlier that afternoon, I decided honesty is always the best policy, just not too much of it. You always sound more sincere when you tell the truth. The whole truth would be a disaster, so I cherry picked my truths.

"You remember after that amazing sex we had," I started, "I went out for an hour and then came back with my finger all banged up."

"You really scared me," she lashed out. "You've never told me the truth about that."

"I will now," I lied. "First, you need to understand I needed to sort some shit out, and that is what the last few weeks has been about. But I need to start with that night.

"When I left the condo, I went to a place -- a hardware store -- and I hit my finger with a hammer."

"WHAT?!" She brought her hand to cover her open mouth. I couldn't tell if it was fear or revulsion -- probably some of both.

"I know it sounds weird," I continued as she nodded wide-eyed, "but it had a purpose. It had a really, really good purpose." I paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath for show. I wanted her to think Jet was struggling to press forward. "Fiona," I started, "I have done some bad things to you. You know what they are." Her eyes went dark and teary.

"I had to stop hurting you, but I didn't know how. We can't go on this way, so I had to do something. So I punished myself in a way that I could never forget, and make sure I never hurt you, ever again."

Fiona sobbed out loud, both eyes streaming tears. She started to speak.

"No," I cut her off. "Let me do this. Let me finish." I paused again for effect. "Fiona, that night I made a promise to myself that, if I ever hurt you again, I would punish myself again, but harder next time." Even I was starting to get emotional. I waited to regain my composure. "You are too good, too beautiful, and too special to ever have to put up with what I did. I am sorry for what I did to you. I can't ever change what I did, but I can control what I will do, starting today.