"I thought he was dead," said Pegeen.
"So did he," said Becker.
Aural struggled to her feet and looked down at Swann's prostrate form.
"Thought sure you'd kill him," she said to Becker, disappointed.
Becker shrugged. "Thought I would, too. If he would have died a little easier, I guess I would have."
"Are you all right?" Pegeen asked.
Becker grinned and in the light of the flashlight Pegeen could see that his spirits had lifted and his mood had changed completely. Where during the past several days he had been a man sunk into the darkness of his soul, he was now boyish, charming, a man at peace with himself For how long? she wondered. When will he turn into the werewolf again? What will trigger it? Will there be a warning? Thank God, she thought, surprising herself with the sudden understanding and relief she felt, thank God I won't be with him to find out. He says he loves Deputy Assistant Director Crist? Let her deal with him, and she has my sympathy.
As Pegeen and Becker conferred about the best way to get both Aural and Swann above ground, they heard a sudden whoosh of energy behind them. A brilliant light flared up in the cavern and they turned to see Swann ablaze. Aural stood over him, the can of lighter fluid still in one hand, the cigarette lighter in the other.
Pegeen moved forward to extinguish the flames, but Becker grabbed her and held her back.
"You'll only burn yourself," he said, his voice whispering in her ear.
Pegeen struggled until she noticed the look on Aural's face. The tortured woman regarded the fire at her feet with the beatific smile of a saint. Aural's lips moved, and it took Pegeen a moment to realize that she was singing, her voice barely audible over the roar of the flames and the squeals of the bats.
Karen watched the press conference on television. Both Hatcher and Congressman Beggs were in top form, each deferring to the other, each sharing credit magnanimously with the dedicated men and women of law enforcement in general and the Bureau in particular, yet each managing to make himself appear the true hero of the hour. It was a masterful performance in Washington hypocrisy, simultaneously humble and self-serving. Karen had only a superficial interest in Beggs, but she kept a canny eye on Hatcher's demeanor. He held for her the same disgusted fascination she might have for a snake slithering up a greased flagpole. The man's ability to climb, no matter what the obstacle, was extraordinary. She sensed with suppressed horror that she was looking at the next Deputy Director of the FBI, the man just below the political appointee, the man who ran the show.
The two men gave a compressed and sanitized version of the case. Karen had already read the immediate action reports as well. They had been faxed to her the night before. She knew everything there was to know about the case-except the truth, and she could only get that from Becker.
Becker arrived back in Clamden after a day-long session with Dr. Gold, who had ultimately thrown his hands in the air, despairing of any real progress. "I can't do anything for you by myself, John, you have to cooperate.
You have to want to get at the root of it yourself."
Becker had grinned in a way that made Gold uncomfortable. "I don't want to root it out," he said. "I've decided to keep it."
"Despite all the pain it causes you?"
"The pain comes from trying to repress it."
"That's not true, John. You know it's not."
Becker had continued to grin at him. "Well, you know best, Doc. It says so right on your diploma."
Gold sighed. Becker had always been difficult, too smart for jargon, too perceptive for banalities, and completely lacking in the respectful awe so necessary in the doctor-patient relationship. They had become, after years of contention, grudging friends, affectionate adversaries.
Gold had not cured him and knew he could not and, worse, realized that Becker knew the same. Some conditions were not curable; they could only be contained, and then only at a very high price. Gold feared that Becker was weary of paying the price.
"So what do we do?" Gold asked. "Will you come for more sessions?"
"Do you see any point in it?" Becker asked.
Gold hesitated. There was no point in lying, not to Becker, there was no hope of fooling him.
"I hope you'll keep coming," he said.
"We'll see," Becker said, rising. "Don't look so glum, Doc. There's one good side to this."
"And what's that?"
"Hatcher will be so pleased."
Becker and Karen made love before they discussed anything, each trying to rediscover in the other the passion, the magic attraction that had brought them together in the first place. It had never resided just in their bodies, of course, but that is where they looked for it.
"How was it?" Karen asked when they had lain quietly in the dark for several minutes, each lost in his or her own thoughts.
"You read the reports," Becker said.
"But how was it, John? Are you all right?"
"Fine," he said. "No problem."
"How did you… was it as bad as you thought it would be?"
Becker was silent.
"I'm out of Serial," Karen said. "Hatcher put me back into Kidnapping this morning."
Becker turned to look at her.
"You okay with that?" he asked.
She touched his cheek. "Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
Karen smiled. "Do you really think I don't know what you're up to or why you do the things you do?"
"You do, do you?"
"I know all about you," Karen said, smiling.
Becker grinned. "You think you know all about me?"
"I know what I want to know about," Karen said.
"And if I don't want to know, I don't ask."
How wise, Becker thought. How lucky I am.
He took her in his arms again and held her wordlessly, his embrace asking for forgiveness at the same time that it expressed his gratitude.
"I'm coming back to work," he said finally.
"You don't have to," she said.
"Yes, I do. I can't keep fighting it-I'm too tired."
But Becker did not feel tired. By giving up his resistance to the pull of his desires, he had unleashed great energy within himself. He felt liberated and invigorated. By submitting to his nature, he had freed himself, he thought. A wolf is a wolf, and cannot be happy as a domestic dog.
"Will you be all right?"
Becker pulled her tighter in his arms, fighting an urge to howl. "I think I can handle it," he said.