The first inkling I had that something was wrong was when he walked right by me without even a hint of acknowledgement.  I didn't expect a 'hi' or 'how you been' or even an off-handed wave.  That wouldn't be John's style.  He never did what was common and expected.  Once it was over, any signs of verbal awareness came to a skidding halt.  He simply changed the rules.  Usually, an ever so slight turning up of his lips was the only indication he made of my presence and former position of some significance in his life.

I must confess that hurt.  After everything we had shared and experienced together in those few all consuming months, that's all I had come down to now...a brief veiled smile.

Even though I knew it was just John's way of compartmentalizing me to some dim folder in his mind marked past relationships, I felt rejected.  I felt dismissed.

This might sound egotistical but I'm dead certain that I was one of the more meaningful girlfriends he had ever had; at least I was relatively sure of that until recent affairs.  To then be treated like I was inconsequential did not sit well with me.

Yes, I realize I'm the one who ended it and maybe this was a way of saving face and preserving dignity but it left a scar nevertheless.

But it soon became even worse.  John started to downright ignore me like suddenly I ceased to exist looking away if he caught my eye.  This I just couldn't understand.  What had I done to deserve such ostracism?  I grimly reflected on this.

My hurt grew into anger; my anger into a need to retaliate.  So I fought his war with his own weapon-silence. 

Did I stop caring?  No, I didn't.

It was a Wednesday late in the afternoon when he breezed past.  I whirled around to see where he was going in such an all-fire hurry.  I watched as he put a hand on the pub's outer door and gave it a resounding powerful shove as he hurtled out.

It slammed back with a loud bang causing a stir at the tables closest to it.  Other than a few jumps and 'What the hell is his problem' remarks no one thought anything was amiss.

But they hadn't seen his eyes.  The quick glint that I caught haunted me that night as I lay in Jeffrey's arms.  They had been cold and flat.  The warmth of him had gone.

I had been keeping John under surveillance for awhile now.  Memories of our affair drifted in and out-both the good and the bad.  Why was I doing this?  I can't give an answer.

It wasn't the romance and the genuinely tender and beautiful moments that lingered and held me spellbound.  In fact it was the direct opposite.  I remembered times when he seemed to be walking on the edge of a precipice, fraying nerves tightly wound, bottling everything inside.  I sensed he was doing it again...in the present, here and now.

I tried to ignore my intuition that something terrible was going on inside him.  I told myself I was imagining things, and I tried to rationalize his behavior.

He was in a mood.  Everyone got those from time to time; John more so than others due to his reclusiveness.  The weight of his solitude had always hung heavily on him.

When I was with him, I saw many varied moods-irritation, distraction, reflection, amusement, anger, confusion, contentment, animation, defiance, euphoria...but never had I seen him exhibit indifference.  No, that's not strong enough.  I'd never seen him look right through a person and remain totally unresponsive.

His face that day had been a blank slate, vacant, empty, void of vitality and anything that made John Nash real and tangible.  Clearly he was walking a thin line.  Who knew what would send him reeling into the abyss.

I went to sleep with him still on my mind and had disturbing dreams about dark murky water surrounding me as I swam in the ocean.  I woke and sat up with a start when it swelled over my head and took me down into its icy cold grave.

Jeffrey stirred but didn't wake.

Shivering, I remembered how the water looked and felt.  It reminded me once again of John's eyes...black and soulless.

It was not even a week later that my misgivings grew so formidable that I had to act upon them.  I was sitting at the bar.  Jessie, Paul and Loreta were joking around.  Paul was doing his familiar preening routine in his latest boy toy outfit.   His groin area was quite prominently displayed in his painted on latex pants.  Jessie was letting him know in libidinous terms that he looked hot.  And me?  I just covertly snuck a peek and listened to the light teasing banter going back and forth, amused but not saying much.

I sipped at my screwdriver and gazed around the room.

Out of the corner of my eye, I registered that John was sitting at his usual spot in the back right hand corner near the pool table.  His clothing was disheveled.  He had allowed his hair to grow longer than the usual short style that he preferred.  It was unkempt and unruly.  He had not shaved in days.

I turned my focus fully on him.  His lips were moving but no one sat near him.  He was staring straight ahead sitting on the rim of his chair holding his body perfectly rigid.

I've heard John talk to himself before.  I mean haven't we all consulted aloud with ourselves from time to time?  But this was a constant stream of motion.  His mouth never stopped.

Being too far away to hear any words, I got up and deftly approached.  I pretended to be intently studying the juke box list.

"I told you to stay away.  How many times must I reiterate that?  Are you that obtuse that you can't see how intrusive your pursuit of me is?  Are you truly that pathetic and desperate?  Do you not have any morsel of self-respect in you?"

At first I was frozen in shock where I stood.  I was close enough to John that he could be talking to me or about me.  Oh my God, was he?  Had he finally broke his vow of muteness?  Had he discovered my subtle studies of him that apparently were not so damned subtle?

I swiveled my torso around and shot him a darting glance.

He was jabbing with his finger at someone but it wasn't me.  In fact, it wasn't at anybody.  Nobody was around.  He was still facing the front drilling an individual who clearly didn't exist...except maybe in his own head.

"John!" I called out a little louder and sharper than I normally would when addressing a person so nearby.  I wanted to jerk him back to his surroundings. 

His head never turned.  He had stopped talking though.

Not knowing what I should do, I calmly walked over and laid my hand lightly on his shoulder.  Close to him, I could smell the stale odor of cigarettes on his breath.

He raised himself up, swung suddenly and latched onto my hand with his own meaty one, his fingers taut as wire.

Not being prepared for him revolving, I let out a little yelp as it was so unforeseen and his grip so achingly tight.  I scanned hastily around to make sure we were not being observed.

"John, let go.  It's me," I quietly hissed.

My voice seemed to aggravate his eerie condition even more.

His eyes widened as they roamed over my face.  No recognition shone in them.

I managed to disentangle myself.  "What's the matter?  You seem..."  I didn't have time to finish the sentence.

Thrusting back his chair, he sent it and him sprawling to the floor.

"Stay away!" he exhorted stridently.

The commotion now made this scene very public.

Running footsteps and soon Arthur was trying to help me lift him to his feet.

"Leave me alone," a guttural growl emanated from John as he thrashed shaking off our hands.  "Don't touch me."

"John.  You seem distressed.  Please let us assist you."  Arthur was still trying to heave him to a standing position.

He was pushed away as John lurched upright and staggered headlong through the rapidly assembling crowd and plowed his way through the door and out.

"Karen, what happened?"  I faintly recalled Jessie's voice but it was drowned out by all the others who wanted to know too what had just occurred.

I tried to downplay it, like it wasn't a big deal.  "He was just upset by something that happened at work."

I didn't elaborate and I'm sure people didn't buy what I was selling but they left it alone.

As the others dispersed, Arthur spoke up.  "Are you sure you're fine, Karen?  You look quite pale.  Can I get you some water or another beverage perhaps?"

Engineering a fleeting smile, I nodded my head then shook it to decline the drink not trusting myself to speak.

Arthur's expression said he didn't fully believe my claim but he didn't persist.

The only one who did was Jessie.

"You look freaked, Karen.  Something did happen here with John.  He wouldn't have run out like a bat out of hell otherwise.  Do you want to talk about it?"

Taking a deep breath, I politely rebuffed her, my tone hopefully remaining civil.  "It was nothing.  Don't make more of it than it was."  I gave her a pointed look.

As I started to walk away, she quietly stated, "We all want to help John and it looks like he needs emotional support.  He's been troubled for weeks now.  Maybe this is something we should handle as a tag team?"

Why did her simple recommendation grate on my nerves like fingernails scratching down a blackboard?  So she could tell something was off with John?  So she's his friend?  So she's being nice and making a gesture of peace?  I just wanted her out of my face.

I turned back.  The one thing I did not want to do anymore was openly battle with her.  "I'm sure he'll be fine."  It was a flat statement that I did not further embellish.

Jessie shrugged off my assertion.  "I know you were once heavily involved with him and are still looking out for his interests.  But you're not the only one who cares about him, Karen."  Her softly spoken words gently hit home.

"I believe Kathy has a proprietary interest for one.  He has other friends here as well who wouldn't want to see him in a bad way.  Let's work together on this."

Casting my eyes down, I thought very carefully before replying.  I didn't want my words to be misconstrued.  Looking up once again, I said in a measured voice.  "I'm aware, Jessie, of your rapport with John, and I'm most certainly conscious of the dynamics between him and Kathy.  I believe he's just had a bad day.  Thank you though for the offer."  With that comment, I departed as well.

Jeffrey wasn't informed by me when I got home about the incident but I felt out of sorts.  John was getting sick.  I had no doubt in my mind now.  He was becoming delusional.  That he couldn't identify me was frightening in its implications.

Where was he now?  Had he gone home?

I went into the bathroom and dialed his home number on my cell.  It took me a minute for my mind to recall it.

"Pick up," I urged, short-tempered as the ringing went on and on.

That in itself wouldn't be atypical.  He never liked being disturbed while working   Often he just wouldn't even hear it as he would be fully engrossed in whatever task he was performing.

I hung up.  John plainly still didn't have voice mail or an answering machine.  

Sitting up in bed, I attempted to read a book.  I'm sure Jeffrey wondered why I was so low-key and monosyllabic.

My emotions were all in a muddle.  I was no longer a major player in John's life.  You couldn't classify me as a bosom buddy or pal.  I had never been that to him.  I had no role.  I was just the ex. 

He had put distance between us since we broke up.  Did I have any right to barge in on his privacy and figure out was going on with him?  We had been intimate in thought and deed.  I felt I knew him better than anyone at the pub; yes, even better than Kathy.  Her relationship with John was very new.

What about Jeffrey?  How would he feel if I stepped into this and made it my business?  How fair was that to him?

Jeffrey admired greatly loyalty in all forms but after all the shared history the three of us had, wouldn't it be more prudent to stay clear?

As weariness made my eyes heavy, I decided I would just wait this out.  Maybe it was an isolated occasion.  Maybe John was already deciphering one of his masterpiece equations not even aware that he had crossed a delicate line or maybe...this was a full blown case of Paranoid Schizophrenia at its worst.

The next afternoon from the office I called in to Chili to see if John was there.  Often after his teaching was done, he would drop in at the pub for a beer. 

He said he hadn't seen him as yet and would I like to leave a message for him.

"Oh no, Chili.  It's not important."  I tried to come up with a feeble excuse for my inquiry.  "A co-worker of mine, her boyfriend was thinking of taking some advanced courses in math logic and theory so I said I knew the supreme scholar who might be able to advise on his curriculum."

I didn't need to do that I realized as Chili obviously didn't think anything was off in my trying to reach him.  Why would he?  Why would anybody?  Just because I used to date the man and was now with somebody else did not mean my motives here were suddenly suspect.

But I felt guilty and I knew why.  It wasn't because of the invisible triangle that used to exist between Jeffrey, John and me.  I had made the right choice and was quite ecstatic and hopelessly in love, but there was an uneasiness here.   I was perturbed that John still had some kind of a hold on me.  There was unfinished business between us so we were as yet irretrievably linked.

I wondered if he was mindful of it too.  Perhaps that's why he went to such great lengths to give me a wide berth.

John was never one to confront an issue when he could dodge it by pretending to be oblivious or brushing it aside as a pesky momentary interruption that he would not permit to be hindered by. 

I know how the practical mathematician thinks.

Karen Donovan equals past tense.  Past tense equals irrelevant.  Irrelevant equals extraneous, neither here nor there, out of place and inappropriate.  Therefore, Karen Donovan must be banished permanently as it's non-productive to think of her as an entity with any residue of potency however minor the remnants may be.

I'm an open and shut case.  Thinking this out logically, I shouldn't then be offended by his detachment.  It's nothing personal.

But I'm not a genius academic governed by and dedicated to rational linear resolutions to problems.  For that's what I am now whether John would like to admit it or not.  I've become a problem with no solution.

I'm still in his world.  I haven't fled the scene like all his previous lovers.  

You think I'm being too harsh at not giving him the benefit of the doubt or a chance to speak in his own defense?  Well, that's the whole point of my rhetoric here.  I'll never know what he presently thinks of me.  He's too busy running away at full tilt.

Despite this unflattering assessment of my value in John's life, I still want to help him in his battle against the demons that lurk inside.  No, it's not that I want to help; it's that I'm compelled to.

This man once thought of me as his angel.  I'd rather be his truth that proves to him that the fallacies and the mirages he carries in his head that have become his albatross do not need to vanquish him again and again leaving him in despair.

How often does he hallucinate?  I don't know.  Since I've met him I have yet to see him have an episode.   

However, John is a bit like a cat...stealthy and capable of putting on a show of complete superior high-handedness that comes across as condescending contempt.  He's good at disguises; he excels at covering up.  For all I know he could have been having troubles with maintaining a grip on reality all along.

He's not counting on me though...my own stubbornness and my refusal to lie down and stay dead.  The ghost of Karen Donovan is about to rise once more for John Nash.

I drive over to his apartment that same evening and knock on the door until my knuckles are raw praying to God that I won't interrupt any hanky panky but at the same time hoping fervently I will.  If I do, though embarrassing, that certainly is a healthy indicator that things are going just swimmingly for John and also for Kathy.

No answer and I had given him back my key.

This was starting to drive me mental.  Should I buzz the Super?  I decide against it.

I go to the pub to see if I can see his car in the parking lot.

Lo and behold; there it is parked in its usual haphazard way.  Parallel parking?  John would have failed to obtain his license in this day and age.

But at least I had located him.

When I go in, my eyes immediately flick to the back.  Yes, he is here.  Yes, he is alone.  No, he isn't doing anything strange.

There aren't too many regulars in at this hour.  It is very early.  I order a drink and Jessie and I share a long loaded look.

Her eyes break away first and glance in John's direction.

"How is he?" I ask.  There's no point in trading bullshit.  Jessie doesn't do coy either, and I am far too disquieted at this stage to hide my concern.

"He didn't meet me today at our usual spot where we run."

"Did he give you any explanation for not making it?"

She shakes her head.  "He hasn't said a word to anybody today.  I just put a beer on his table.  I told him if he wanted to talk, he would know where to find me."

I drum my fingers nervously on the counter.  "This is bad.  This is so very bad."

"Cut the drama, Karen.  You're not playing to a crowd.  What's going on?  John's really sick, isn't he?  He doesn't look well.  Has this happened before?"

I don't know how to answer her questions so I disregard them.  I walk away and make a phone call.  Jeffrey will still be at work so I leave a message.

"Hi Hon, it's me.  Look I've had a bit of an emergency crop up and I don't know when I'll be home.  So I guess I'll see you when I see you." 

I then walk directly over to where he is.  There is no possible way in hell that John can shun me now.

He looks dreadful.  He almost has a full growth of beard.  The collar of his shirt is stained with sweat and grime.

I stand in front of him and wait for his eyes to rise to mine.  

Only they don't.

"John, why don't we go somewhere where we can talk in private?"

The minute he hears my voice, his eyes flash to mine.  They seem greener, must less blue in them, and they're red-rimmed from deep-seated fatigue.

What do I see blazing in them?  Panic, agitation...borderline hysteria.

"It will be all right.  We just have to walk out of here and then we'll be alone.  No one will bother you."

His lips gape open and shut, fishlike then his head does a little tic.

"You're not real.  You're not real.  You're not real.  You're not real."  He intones it over and over like a chant each time increasing his volume as if the louder he says it, the more it will prove to be the case.

I sit down across from him.  "John.  I am very real.  Here, touch me."  

I inch out my hand slowly palm up towards him.

He shrinks back.

I'm failing miserably in trying to calm him.  I'm making things worse.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he whimpers.

Rubbing a hand down my face, I anxiously wonder what I should do.

"You're one of them!" he finally violently spits out, his jaw jutting and rises to his feet.

"Who do you see?" I ask him crisply.  "Is it someone from your movie...Charles...Parcher...the little girl?"

For one small clarifying moment I think I almost get through to him.

John roughly jolts his head from side to side in the negative.

"None of them?" I continue to hammer on.  "Someone new?  Describe who you see."

He then points his finger at me.  "You...." he snarls.

"What about me?  Do you know who I am?  What's my name?  Damn it; say it, John!" I bark out with full force, provoking on purpose, slamming my hand down on the table urgently trying to reach whatever fragment of the lucid sane man is left.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jessie approaching.  I hold out my arm in warning hoping she will back off.  She does.  But I lose him then.

With a roar, John broadly sweeps his arms across the table clearing off it the sugar container, salt and pepper shakers and his beer stein and sending everything crashing to the floor.

The clamor brings people to their feet in a knee-jerk reflex.

Too late!  Now everyone knows and everyone will interfere.  I am so afraid that if I relinquish my hold over John that he will be taken to a hospital and he is deathly afraid of them.  How many times did he beg off visiting when I went to see Bou and Cort after he was shot and then Scarlet when she had her babies?

These are our friends.  I know that.  They love John.  They mean well.  They just don't know him like I do.   All I want to do is get him alone so we can talk.  I'm not trying to play the hero here.

I'm forced to take drastic action.  I grab his arm.  "Come with me!"

At first I think he will fight me and I plead silently with everything that I have that he won't, not for my sake but for his own.  It will be his downfall.  None of the men here will let a man tussle with a woman even if he isn't in his own mind.

If I can only find a way for him to identify me then maybe I can find a way through.  So I think back to the first night we had made love at his apartment after Bud and Marie's wedding.  What stands out apart from the very obvious?  I remember how nervous he was...how unsure that sex was what I wanted from him.  After we had come back down and lay physically spent, he had been different.  He had recovered rapidly his composure and what did he do then?  It nags at me. 

Something strikes a chord in my memory.  So I tell him exactly the same corny pun he had relayed to me in exactly the same manner.  I think what are the odds that John Nash has a repertoire of jokes so vast that he won't recognize one of his own?  After all how often does this man display a sense of humor?

"Remember you told me that?  Remember how we laughed?  John, you know me.  Come with me.  I promise I won't hurt you.  I won't let anyone hurt you."

He stops trying to pull away and stares at me guardedly, his brow furrowing.  

"We have to go now," I whisper.

Already Zack and Carol, Jack Corbett and Jim Braddock of all people are slowly surrounding us.

"Karen, stop!"  I hear Carol cry out. 

"Karen, do not try to handle this yourself.  Nash needs more help than you can give."  Zack is in full FBI mode.

While John hesitates I take advantage and yank on his arm dragging him out the back way.

I have foreseen that people will try to stop us if it looks like John is on a rampage.  That's why my car is right outside where the loading dock is for supplies that come in.

Outside by the car, he raises his hands suddenly trying to shake off my grasp.

The feral gleam is back in his eyes.  He's going to bolt on me.  If I can feed on his paranoia but do it in reverse.  Make everyone else the enemy but me.

"Aren't you tired of fighting them on your own?  What if I could help you hide from them?"

He cocks his head listening.

"I led you away from THEM, John.  I led you out here where you are free and not confined.  Look around you.  Can you feel the wind on your face?  Doesn't it feel good?"

I grip his hand again.  "Feel my skin against yours.  It's warm."  

I'm taking a huge risk here as sometimes he's repelled by touch.

He doesn't flinch, neither does he impress upon it.

"Listen to my voice.  Does it sound familiar?  Can you tell it's a woman's voice?"

I step nearer and place his hand on my breast.  

The expression on his face softens and his hand quivers when he lifts it away from me.    

I open the rear door.  We only have seconds now.

"Would you like to go for a ride?  I know somewhere very special that you've gone to before."

He looks depleted like he hasn't slept in days.  He doesn't know how to make the decision.

"You could rest in the back seat.  All you have to do is close your eyes.  Doesn't that sound good?  Being able to just rest?"

While I'm talking soothingly, I get from the trunk an old blanket that I carry around in case I end up at the beach.  I unfurl it in the back sitting down and beckoning him to sit beside me. 

He looks furtively around.

That's when the pub door creaks open and Zack comes flying out.

John catching sight of him vaults into the car.

"Karen, what the hell are you doing?  Don't be as crazy as he is."

I'm already at the driver's side lunging inside.

Zack tries to block my driving away.  Before he can pull any high-end Fed maneuvers like jumping on my hood or similar antics, I step on the gas and peel my way onto the road.

I can't see John in my rear view mirror as he is still lying down.

"John?" I call out.  "Are you okay?"

I hear his breathing, ragged and uneven.

"We're just going to go a little ways to that place I talked about before.  The one we've both been to.  Why don't you just close your eyes and maybe you'll fall asleep."

No response other than his heavy respiration.  It sounds like the rush of a freight train.

By my calculations it should take just over an hour to get to our destination.  I hadn't really made a plan coming into the pub tonight.   I just knew I had to get him out of there.

Who did he see?  Who was it that had made him so crazed that he was convinced that a living human soul standing next to him wasn't there and one that wasn't, was?

I run his movie through my head.  None of those hallucinations though are persecuting him this time.  Who out of the three had made him frantic, aggressive, afflicted and the most unhinged?

Parcher, of course!  Charles and his niece...I snap my fingers, "Marcie", were benign and harmless in that they didn't threaten John, his family or any of his acquaintances, at least that's how he saw it.

But Parcher or someone like him was insidious and clever.  He knew exactly how to manipulate and play John.  He praised him for his genius intellect, said that no one else could handle a highly classified government assignment, worked on his pride and arrogance.  He knew all the buttons to push.

I know it's absurd.  I'm thinking here that Parcher is a real entity.  In John's mind, he was.  I need to know the enemy he is facing.

Shit!  I look at the dash.  I'm going over the speed limit.  That's all I need now is to get stopped by a cop with a semi-delirious man in the back seat.

I slow down slightly.  My cell phone then goes off.  I can hear its distinctive ring but it's in my purse which I threw on the floor of the passenger side.  I can't reach it.  The call can't be more important than my mission.  Eventually it stops.

Not hearing any exhalations, I wonder has he gone to sleep.  I pray to God he has.  He needs it.

Shadows...echoing disturbances...the stench of unfamiliar odors.  It's cold.  He sees black.

Some thing approaches.  Not some thing, some one.

Footsteps, staccato rhythm, quick and intentional.  A bright flare of light startles.  It illuminates his prison.

"Good Day, Dr. Nash."

The voice, definitive, brittle and direct, destroying the stillness, creeping into his awareness.  The sharp sting of it stirs.

"As you can see, it's been a futile exertion on your part to try and circumvent our rendezvous.  I did tell you that when we first met in your class room.  I'm not a man who wastes words or allows himself to be thwarted.  Do you remember our conversation, John?"

The image, tall, wiry, ashen colored skin, jet black hair tied back.

Strange lethargy dragging him down.  Tremendous effort to stay alert...pounding...pain shooting through his head.  Must leave...  Must...His body betrays his mind.

"Perhaps you need another reminder of how powerful our organization is.  We are very influential in all levels of government, across all branches of the military and in the upper echelons of law enforcement.  Do you, John?  Need another reminder?"

No...sinking down...memories...welcome...must follow...

"My instructions were distinct.  You said you understood them.  Was that not the case?"

"The woman has now been eliminated from the equation as we warned you would happen.  Yet, you still have not acted.  That was not a wise decision Dr. Nash."

His fault...consequences...guilt...shame...no where to run.

"We left you in charge of this situation.  We told you our agenda had to be executed to the letter.  You asked for one thing.  We granted your request to show good faith."

Sorry...too weak...protect...must...let go.

"You were meant to eradicate that establishment.  Instead you dragged your feet.  You tried to buy time with my associate, Claire."

"Did you think she was an easier mark John because she was a woman?  Did you let her beauty and the vision of her soft flesh dissuade you from taking her seriously?"

"Let me give you a word of advice.  The female of our species is more deadly and lethal and carries more toxic venom because of her looks.  She knows that's the only ace up her sleeve, the hole in one, the true weapon in her arsenal.  It's the one thing she can count on to never fail her unlike her intelligence, her athletic prowess, her razor sharp wit and even her will to survive which are all expendable."

"Women have been beguiling men since the beginning of time and enticing them to their doom.  Think of mythology from the Sirens who lured sailors to the sharp craggy rocks.  Think of biblical times---that insipid little story of creation.  How Eve persuaded her mate to disobey God's edict.  With one bite---Poof!  Paradise is gone, a write-off, lost forever."

"Never underestimate the power of a woman, John, nor turn your back on them.  It's your weakness, isn't it?"

Too late...escape...so tired...swirling blackness coalesces.

"Nearly there," I say aloud not knowing whether he hears me or not.  

I veer off the main road and onto the unpaved shoulder.  The drive has taken a lot longer than I had anticipated.  Night has fallen full force and the dim light from the street lamps only makes perceptible the thick fog that has managed to creep over the highway.  It's hard to see, and I have never claimed to be the best driver.

Unbuckling my seatbelt, I hover over the seat to check on him.  He's asleep but his slumber is not peaceful.  John looks agonized.  His handsome features are contorted into a twisted mask of suffering.  I silently will him to fight whatever invisible foes surround him.

"Believe me.  I will do everything possible..."  I can't finish the sentence. 

I can only do what's in my ability to do.  I'm not a doctor.  I'm not a mind healer.  I'm not God.  I'm just some one who used to and still does love this man.

Now I can admit to that where I couldn't before.  Now that I'm no longer afraid of that emotion.  Now that I have learned that love doesn't just have to encompass one person solely, that its roots can spread and twine around any number of people.  Since I've experienced love's open-handed attributes, I know that the more you embrace love, the larger your capacity to love is.

No, I was never in love with John nor he with me but my affection, fondness and attachment ran too deep to disconnect just because we simply couldn't make it work.

I brush my hand down his cheek.  It comes away damp.  He feels hot like a fever has taken hold.  I undo the top buttons of his shirt and loosen his collar.

Outside it looks like rain will soon teem down.  I had better push on.  As I'm about to turn the key, I remember the phone call.  

Scrambling through my purse, I fish out my phone and punch in the code.  The pub's number pops up.  What now?  More people on my case telling me I'm wrong for taking John on.  I almost automatically delete the message without playing it.

Jeffrey by now should have got mine.  I deliberately had left it vague to make it seem like work had kept me later than usual.  I hadn't lied.  This was certainly an emergency.

I listen to the recording and then I listen to it again.  How did he find out so soon?

"Where are you, Karen?  I'm down at the pub.  I know what's happened with Nash.  I can't believe..."...static, noise in the background... "I can't believe that you would do something so dangerous, so irresponsible as to go off with a man who's off his rock...having a psychotic breakdown.  He needs professional help.  You are NOT qualified to handle him in this situation, so I want you to either bring him back to the pub where all his friends can decide what's best or you get him to a hospital.  I'm not kidding around here, Karen.  I want you safe.  Call me back on my cell as soon as you get this message."

Fuck!  Who squealed?  Zack?  Carol?  My money's on Jessie.  

I had hoped that this would all be resolved by the time I had to explain what happened.  I thump the steering wheel hard in frustration.  Murphy's fucking Law strikes again!

What do I do?  I can't call him back that's for damn sure.  I've never heard Jeffrey speak with such steel in his voice.  But he's not been himself lately.  He sounds too furious to see my viewpoint, and I don't have the luxury of time to justify my actions.  The only thing I can do is push on.  Get John to a quiet place and try to talk him down.  So I forge ahead.

He thinks back to the day when the stranger came, sometime back in June.  He was in the class room shaking his head and clucking his teeth reviewing mostly unimaginative theses that his students had churned out like little robots, not one innovative idea among them. 

He had glanced out the window distracted and his eye caught trace movement of an indistinct ominous figure.

"How did you get in here?" John sharply accosted the shape which rapidly took the form of a man.  "I thought I had locked the door."

"Locks don't keep men like me out Professor Nash."

"Do I know you?"  He was puzzled.  He had a good memory for faces yet he didn't recognize the man before him who stood taller than he, dressed in an expensive, well-tailored grey suit.  He was in his forties John surmised with long black hair that was greased back and contained in a ponytail.  His face was all sharp angles and bone.  He had almost translucent white skin.  Only the pupils of his eyes burned with any vivacity.

"The point, John, is that I know you."  The man approached, leaned over his desk and said, "It's an honor Dr. Nash."

He took the hand that was proffered and warily appraised him.  "Is this to do with my other work?"

Occasionally, John did classified research involving decoding encrypted messages for the CIA.  No other living soul knew about that except the ones who hired him.  He respected that his assignments were top secret and came to him on a random basis through a variety of different routes via agents working undercover.  Could this be one of them?

"No, my being here has nothing to do with your profession."

"What's your name?" He bluntly asked.

"It's not important for you to know that but for the sake of civilities, you can call me Evan."

The man then had started to walk around the perimeter of the room checking underneath the sill of the blackboard , throwing open the cupboard, staring along the walls and up to the light fixture on the ceiling.

"Has this room been swept?"

John didn't need to ask what he meant.  "It's checked for bugs twice a week.  But I don't ever bring my work into this room, and you did say you weren't here to talk about that.  You seem to know what I do."

"Your CIA gig?  Yes, John, I'm aware of your career sideline.  You see my organization makes them look like Little League.  You want to play in the Majors, Dr. Nash?"

"I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about or why you are here.  Kindly state your business with me and vacate the premises."

The man known as Evan started laughing, a loud and hearty almost jolly sound.  "I like your style.  Abrupt and brusque.  You must be a complete charmer with the ladies."

His smile quickly disappeared as he expelled a hiss like a coiled viper.  "However you should be aware that I have little patience or tolerance for people who show a lack of respect towards me especially when they have no clue as to who they're talking to."

"Why don't you enlighten me?"  John's words came out terse and clipped not willing to be intimidated.

The tale then that took most of the afternoon and well into the evening that John was told was shock-inducing, inconceivable and staggering in its proportions.

Evan's interest began and ended with the pub, specifically The Come On Inn.  He was part of a group whose identity he refused to divulge which had no political affiliations or ties to any other and that had scrutinized and watched the arrival and daily goings-on of twenty-four very special men for years.

In fact, his group claimed onus and accountability for each of their entrances into this world.  When the men crossed from their celluloid artificial lives, they went through a time continuum and ended up at some point trekking into the pub.

No, the woman John thought was entrusted with their care was just a lovely front they used as a cover.  Even she herself was not aware of their power and how she was used.

They were the main conduit.  He was told in fine detail the process of how the passage from one universe to another was completed.  Here's where he was drawn in.  The techniques utilized and the quantum physics involved were exactly how he had calculated the crossing would take place taking into account the necessary adjustments for each different time period the men belonged to.  He had been right on the money!

Evan praised the genius of the man before him.  In particular John Nash was of special import. 

"Your superior intelligence, your expertise in deduction and your aptitude for understanding the complexity and the gravity of what we do and how we accomplish that are all vital skills to us.  In essence Dr. Nash you are about to be granted an accolade unheard of given to an outsider since I've been employed."

John was trying to absorb and process an abundant overload of information.

"And if I refuse such attention and plaudits?"

"You don't want to do that.  We own and created you, and now we are calling in our markers."

Evan made his firm's position very clear.  To every question John posed, there was a concrete answer.  For every request for a rationale, he was given an explicit explanation.                                                                                                                                       

John, not a man easily persuaded or duped, was ensnared by Evan's matter of fact manner and his masterly gifts as a strategic tactician.  It all made sense in a mad way as to why all of the men eventually came together in one place.  They had a purpose.

His instructions were specific.  The portal was now to be closed permanently.  The last man they intended to let cross over had done so.  All twenty-four men were about to be programmed and sent out into different geographical areas.  John Nash was to be their co-coordinator and liaison. 

Their common aim was to assist the organization in achieving world-wide domination and control.  Evan couched the latter in circumspect terms in case his new protégé found himself battling with inconvenient ethical principles.

Before the men could carry out their orders, the portal had to be sealed.  The only way to do that was to have one of them destroy the gateway, the point of entry.

"There's only one person who we trust to do that.  That person is you.  You are to annihilate The Come On Inn, Dr. Nash.  Quite simply, you're to blow her to kingdom come."

At this juncture, John's enthusiasm notably waned and faltered.  He didn't understand why this had to be the ultimate conclusion to one life before each of them commenced on to the next journey.

Talking himself hoarse using logic and reason as a means of preventing such a catastrophe was to no avail.  Evan calmly countered every argument and laid waste to every protest.

"I don't wish to cause injury.  It's not just the men that frequent that place.  They have their women."

"Your Achilles' heel, John?"  Evan had given a snide smile.  "Very well.  The women may be spared.  They are of no use to us.  Do it when there's no one there."

"There are people who live upstairs."

"It's your function to ensure this operation succeeds.  We will accept no excuses.  Have we misjudged the confidence we have placed in you?  You're a smart man Professor.  Figure it out."

When he was finally dazed, dumbfounded and adrift by the wealth of data and his obligation, the necessary coercion factor was applied to the formula.

"You have three months, Dr. Nash.  Your success is critical to the rest of our quest.  In order that you know how serious we are about this undertaking and to ensure your continued co-operation and that the plan is proceeding on schedule, we will send another one of our associates to contact you.  Do not fail us John.  The future of the brave new world and each of these men's fates rests in your hands."

And so it had begun.  Evan was true to his word.  In July and overlapping into August, he had met a stunningly beautiful woman at the pub named Claire.  She was an Amazon-like blonde with Nordic features and flawless skin.  But she was cold, caustic and fanatically dedicated to the organization and Evan.  She prodded and pushed John for evidence of progress.  She berated him for wavering and attempts to stall.  He soon dreaded her appearances.  At least when Claire left him alone, he could pretend he was just a normal man without the burden of other people's destinies weighing him down.

Then it happened.  It happened exactly like they both had lain out at the end of his three month deadline.   Suddenly, they had killed her.  She was no longer of value to them.

That's when John crumpled.  All of his discipline, all of his absorption, all his powers of concentration and focus fell completely apart and deserted him.  His famous faculties he could no longer hide behind and rely on.  He surrendered to the chaos.

The voice...still pressing and urgent...his failure...no peace.

"What is it with you and women?  It's not just about the sex is it?  A man can get that anywhere.  It's not like you've been doing without.  And now a new lady has entered the picture.  Yes, we know all about Kathy.  Another redhead?  Is that a little fetish of yours?"

Don't...don't hurt her...must protect.  He can't get up.  He is unable to defend the woman he...

"Don't worry.  She's safe for the moment.  It's not like she knows much.  She's harmless to us.  She hasn't infiltrated herself."

Relief...flooding him.

Then the velvet threat was reborn and presented like a sword over his head.  "But Karen has.  She's firmly entrenched as one of the regulars and has been for some time.   Her intrusive nature does not endear her to us.  She snoops around.  Perhaps she knows too much."

"After all, she's shacked up nicely now with one of the other puppets who also has a high intellect, your favorite person."

Toxic laughter.

"That must have stung; a man that much older taking her away from you.  Or was it that he was merely retrieving her back?  Women can be so heartless.  Did you even feel the knife in your back?"

Malevolent threats return.

"We have plans for Jeffrey Wigand as for all of you and your inactivity and dereliction of duty has caused an enormous setback.  We can't let that go unpunished."

"You have already been liable for one woman's death.  What did we say would happen to Karen, John?  Is that why you won't go near her?  Do you believe in some warped way you can play White Knight for her if you pretend she's no longer an issue?  How stupid do you think we are?"

...no more killing must be done.  His mind is less hazy.  No more people will die because of him.

"Your defeat just signed her death warrant only it won't be as quick and painless as it was with the skinny delectable spitfire.  How do you think she'll hold up to torture, Doctor?  Will she be crying out your name then in waves of ecstasy or cursing it in the throes of her agony?"

"She's rather pretty.  How much of that natural beauty do you think will remain after every one of my boys that I can spare get through with her?

Finally we've arrived.  The rain really slowed us down.  I park by the side of the road.  I don't know how long we'll be here.  I've never come at night before.

John's still conked out.  I'll wake him in a few minutes.  I can no longer put off making the phone call.

I get out of the car praying that my cell will still work this far out of range.  Good, I've got a signal.

"Karen?" Jeffrey immediately picks up.

"Yes; I got your message."

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm safe, Jeffrey.  John and I are just going to talk."

"Where...Are...You?  I'm coming to get you."

"You can't do that."

"The hell I'm not.  You tell me right now."

Silence.

"I need to be alone with him.  Please understand."

"I don't.  Is he rational?  Is he sane?  Is he making any sense at all?"

"I don't know.  He's asleep."

"What happens if he wakes up and he's disoriented?  He could seriously hurt you in that deranged frame of mind.  He's a man nearly twice your size, Karen.  He's much stronger than you are."

"John would never harm me."

"You, no, but what if he thinks you're someone else or sees someone standing by you?  Remember his movie?  He almost knocked his own wife down."

"That's not fair.  He was protecting her from P..."

"From who?  Last time I saw it, no one was there but the two of them.  He needs medical attention."

"He can't stand hospitals.  I am not bringing him to one nor will I allow anyone else at the pub to do that."

"I'm not going to debate this with you.   You're not thinking clearly.  You are reacting."

The rest of his words I don't hear.  John has just hightailed it out of the car.

"I'm sorry Jeffrey.  I can't talk anymore.  You obviously don't understand."  I disconnect.

He slowly rises to the surface.  Evan has solidified into corporal matter no longer just an unembodied vocalization.  He can see him.  He can see his surroundings.

He also sees the woman who he can now with dread and trepidation define.

"That's right, John.   You led us straight to her.  All your circuitous evasion and the massive amounts of effort into spurning her were for naught.  We will not be obstructed."

Evan's hands slide casually down his leg to his leather boot to release the jagged edge knife stored there.  He lifts it out with impunity dangling it before John's terror filled eyes.  He smiles savagely and disembarks from the car.

John's paralysis that has held him in such a wretched death grip is instantaneously cleaved in two.  He hurls the door open and in a spurt of adrenaline dives headlong after Evan trying to tackle him to the ground.

"John!"  He's fallen.  It looks like he might have tripped.  I rush towards him to pick him up.

He feels thin air when he tries to wrestle the slightly less imposing predator.  John is a man in his early thirties with a much more muscular build.  Evan though is a highly trained professional assassin.  Slippery like an eel, he manages to elude John but he is now in range of...her.

"Stay back!" Evan hollers out, "Or I slit her throat and she dies like a dog at your feet."

He won't let me near him.  He's crouched down in an attack posture.  He uses his arms and hands to ward me off.  The turbulence in his eyes and the barely restrained violence I sense is about to be unleashed holds me fast in place.

"Who's there John?  Please.  Tell me.  Who do you see?  Can I talk to them for you?  Make them go away.  I won't come any closer.  I promise.  Just show me who they are."

Her voice.  Oh no!  Not again.  Sweat pours from him as he shivers.  He sees her figure standing not ten feet away.

He brings his hands to his ears trying to drown out the roar of the inferno.  He sinks his fingers deep into his hair scraping it back roughly from his face, tugging against his scalp as though the pain might replace the vision.

"You sniveling yellow coward!  You can't even stand up for yourself, and you expect to shield this worthless bitch?"

The blond spiky hairdo, the buxom body with the hour-glass shape, the eyes that narrow to mere slits...the sneer of disdain painted on the vivid voluptuous lips.

Claire has come back.

As Evan recedes back into the shadows, Claire struts up boldly behind the red-haired woman.

"See these hands?"  She flexes and stretches them out.   "I could snap her scrawny little neck like a twig."

Blood red fingernails inch forward.

"You let us down.  You weren't enough of a man to execute a simple single detonation.   That's all it would have took, one neatly concealed explosive device.  Boom!  Job's done to everyone's greater glory.  Instead you had to whine and whimper about those poor helpless friends of yours.  Oh Dear!  What if they don't get out?"

Claire puts a hand to the side of her face in derision.  "I've got news for you, Honey.  They're not your friends.  They make fun of you behind your back.  Did you know that?  Poor Nash.  He's crazier than a loon.  He's a clumsy anti-social buffoon.  Hey, that rhymes."

"We were your family.  We gave you everything and look how you betrayed us.  That is unwarranted, unacceptable and unforgivable."

As Claire creeps alongside her, the twin silhouettes of both women merge into one.  He can't tell which woman is left standing there.  She has two faces.

I have to break through.  I have to believe that the goodness and strength in John Nash will overcome the forbidding menace that has eclipsed his soul.

Never in my most hideous nightmares did I think that I would ever be frightened of this gentle, soft-spoken man who had held me in his arms so tenderly and made love to me with such sweetness and passion.  I have to trust that his sanity will return. 

I've just broken out in a flow of perspiration.  I shut my eyes a moment trying to quell the sudden surge of panic.

I take baby steps moving to him.  "It's just me.  You may not remember my name but I know you can feel what we once meant to each other.  We were each other's harbor.  You made me realize I still had something to offer not just to you as a man but to myself.  You gave me back my dignity, respect and showed me I could still feel."

"I feel so much right now, John.  My heart is full.  It's filled with your pain, your desperation and your fear."  Tears stream down my face.

"How pathetic!  Listen to her prattle on trying to make you believe you now walk on water.  Such a load of bullshit!  If you really meant a damn to her, if you were such hot stuff, why didn't she stick with you instead of dumping your ass?  Huh?  Were you too much of an oddball, too weird, too passive?  Or is it because you were a lousy lay?  You must have been pretty sad in the sack Nash to drive her to a portly, middle-aged man whose righteous airs make me want to puke my guts out."

Somewhere in the void, she reaches him.  Her message is sincere.  He finally feels what she told him on the night she left.  It was all true.  He had been there for her too.  It wasn't all just one-sided.  They had failed, but he wasn't a failure.

The knowledge brings him courage and fortitude.  It bubbles up inside of him bursting to erupt.

John finds his voice.  "Leave me be!" he shouts out forcefully.  "You're vile and coarse.  You don't know what it means to be a real woman so you cut down what you in your ignorance can't comprehend and can never be.  Yes, you have the looks and the appearance of a goddess, but inside you're withering, cracked and ugly.  You don't know the first thing about compassion and being humane.  You're hollow and a sham."

He's not addressing me.  I can tell by his tone and by the words he uses.  Is that it?  Is his phantom a woman?  

That infuriates me twice as much that his illness would toy with him, giving him skewed visions of the sex that he has enormous conflict about.  Women are curious, highly sexual beings to him.  Yet, he idolizes them in his own unique way.  He adores our softness both in body and spirit.

"I will not obliterate the only home I've known in years.  I will not allow you, Evan or anyone else to hurt innocent people whom I...whom I have come to treasure.  You want someone to pay for my shortcomings, then here I am.  Kill me but you let her go.  Find another marionette to dangle on your string."

He hears a high-pitched scream of outrage.

John comes towards me after spewing out his antagonistic vitriol.  He strides forward with long determined steps.  Tingles of fear shoot through me at his sudden momentum.

After what I've just heard I'm perplexed trying to decipher what it all means.  

He roughly grabs me by the upper arms yanking me up on my toes and starts shaking.

Maniacal whines and howls of guffawing peal out sounding synthesized as though coming from a vast machine.

"At last.  The stalwart fiber of the man leaps out.  Bravo, Professor!  You have balls after all.  Perhaps your breed IS worthy of further study."

Claire vanishes leaving only one woman behind.