The Inn at the End of the Road

There was a darkness in Evert's eyes. He spoke when spoken with, ate when they asked, but did nothing on his own. Prescott didn't think he had ever seen anything so desolate as the bleakness in those orbs, on that face. 
"Evert?" The blue eyed agent reached out to touch the other man, but the slim man mentally withdrew though he did not flinch physically. Sighing, Prescott said, "It's going to be all right; I promise. Evert?" 
"Yes ... Prescott." Evert stared down at his hands. 
"Evert, I ... it wasn't..." 
"Prescott!" Bridges's voice was sharp. The agent jumped, flushed, and stepped quickly back from his friend and lover. The boss of CI5 pulled him out into the hallway. 

"Bridges!" Prescott threw a worried glance at the lone, slim figure sitting in a chair by the room's lone window. 
"I know, Prescott, but the doctor said not to mention any of it. He said he wanted a psychiatrist to handle it." 
"I know but I wanted Evert to know I don't blame him, that it wasn't his fault," the distraught agent protested. 
"I think he knows you believe in him. He wouldn't let you get so close to him if he thought you blamed him." 

"Yes, but..." The pain filled eyes of the man in the small room, turned to stare numbly at William Prescott. Help me, they seemed to beg... help me. 
"He knows, William; he knows," Bridges said in compassion. "Let him rest now." 
"I love him so much," Prescott said, hurting deeply for his friend and lover. 
"I know." Bridges rested a hand briefly on Prescott's back. "He knows too." 
"Bridges, do you still have that little cottage in Wales?" 
"I do." 
"Let me take Ray there; let me try and reach him. Maybe if it's just us, with no strangers messing in ..." 
"I don't think that would be wise. If you do or say the wrong thing, it could damage his whole future. I don't think I want that type of responsibility placed on your shoulders." 
"They're my shoulders." 
"And his life," Bridges pointed out in a firm voice. "Ask the doctor; will you at least do that?" 
"I can do that much, but I must have your word of honor, that you won't take Evert without approval, even if the verdict is no." 
"You have my word." 
And Bridges knew from the expression, from the tone of voice, that William Prescott meant what he said. Despite misgivings, the head of CI5 went to the doctor, presented Prescott's odd plan to him. 

( 2 ) 

Dr Hogan closed Evert's file folder with a sigh and turned to Bridges. "Send him away to that quiet, secluded place of yours in Loch Mary with his friend. This is totally unorthodox but everything in our testing points out that this is Evert's only chance of returning to normal. I don't like it but his mental health has to come before my misgivings." 
"Prescott and Evert are more than partners, Doctor." 
"I sensed that from several things Ray Evert said." 
"They've been ...together ... a long time." 
"That just might be the saving factor in all this. That might be the medicine Mr Evert needs to break the bond of depression." Sighing, the doctor admitted, "He's constantly asking to be released, to be allowed to go home with this Prescott." 
"Do they seek another doctor while they're in Wales?" 
"Only if there's a need. I'll make sure Evert's private records are sent to a colleague of mine in that area, just in case. However, it is imperative that Evert continue taking the anti-depressant." 

"I'll make sure Prescott understands the seriousness of that." They talked a while longer and then Bridges left, going in search of Prescott who was sitting in Evert's room watching the slim man sleeping. Bridges called the agent out into the hallway, told him what the doctor had said. 
"I'll take good care of him," Prescott promised solemnly. 
"I have no doubt of that at all." 
"None of us believes he was responsible for what happened," Prescott said with firm determination. 
"He believes it and that's what's causing the whole problem. Until that misconception can be removed ...: Bridges didn't finish; there was no need. 

( 3 ) 

"Well? Do you like it, Evert?" Prescott asked as he looked around Bridges's tiny cottage. 
"Yes ... Prescott ..." But Evert only sat, staring down at his clasped hands. 
Prescott's eyes hovered on the forlorn figure. There was pity in the blue orbs, and love ... and sorrow. He went to the other man, placed his arms around him. "Are you hungry?" 
"No." The voice was bland, dull. 
"Will you eat if I make something for us?" 
"Yes." 

Prescott caressed his lover's face. Evert glanced up at him, and for a moment, the blue eyed agent saw a glimmer of love and gratitude, but those emotions quickly vanished. "What do you think? Do you like it here?" He bent down, letting his hands rest on the other man's knees. "Of course, I think you'd like it better if it were spring or summer and not just March, but we're here now and we can suffer through the cool weather, now can't we?" He went to the door, opened it, and took a deep breath. "Can you imagine Bridges as an energetic, little brat, fighting imaginary villains." 
"Yes." A tiny bit of love seeped into that word, and again their eyes touched.