6. Land of the Free
Dr. Larkin had come to a difficult decision. Never would he in good conscience betray the ethics of his profession, but the stupid, little cretin from the CIS had given him little choice. In the end, his decision rested upon what would be best for Boromir.
He tapped his pen impatiently on his desk; his guest was late. Once again checking his gold watch, he was pleasantly surprised when the door suddenly opened, and a pretty woman in her late twenties walked in.
“Dr. Larkin?” Morgan said, reaching across Dr. Larkin’s desk and shaking his hand.
“I am. And you are Morgan Harris?”
“I’m very pleased to meet you. Do sit down.”
Morgan sat in the chair opposite the good doctor, which had so often been occupied by Boromir, yet she had no notion of it upon sitting down.
“I believe we have a similar acquaintance,” Dr. Larkin began.
“You mean Boromir...” Morgan said. Dr. Larkin nodded affirmative, and Morgan continued. “He had I have an unusual past, but I would consider us friends.”
“I am happy to hear that, Ms. Harris, because Boromir will be needing his friends. He has mentioned you often during our sessions, and continues to request your visiting him.”
“I didn’t know that. I would have come.”
“I hope you’ll forgive my not having told you before now. Boromir’s case is...unique, and in the beginning, he was showing violent outbursts toward my staff. I thought visits might hamper his recovery.” Dr. Larkin went on to explain Boromir’s mental condition, of his meeting with the slimy runt of a politician (though not quite in those words), and of Boromir’s possible futures. Ms. Harris took his overwhelming news well, he thought.
“So, where is Boromir to go?”
“That has been a dilemma that has kept me up the past three nights. I don’t think him a danger, but in a shelter his mental state would deteriorate, I think. He still requires care, and weekly sessions. If the FBI were to take him, I have a strong notion of where he’d be shipped to, and he certainly won’t be getting any help there.”
“Where would they take him?”
“The government has imposed new laws in the wake of 9/11, Ms. Harris. Boromir fits the bill perfectly. He is an unknown with no known connections to the country. He could easily be deemed a possible threat, or terrorist, if you will. They could hold him in a facility indefinitely with no trial, no other ‘just cause’ necessary.”
“But he’s harmless! I know you said that he hurt those men, but you’ve also said that he’s changed, right? You can’t send him there!”
Dr. Larkin sighed. “No, I can’t. But, I don’t feel comfortable just releasing him homeless and destitute onto the street, either.”
Morgan at last understood the reason for his phone call, and her requested visit. “So,” Morgan said, “reassure me. Is Boromir dangerous? You did say that he attacked your staff. I know I just made excuses for him, but I really don’t feel like being murdered.”
Dr. Larkin could not help but smile. “In my professional opinion does Boromir pose a threat? No, I don’t believe so. I would like to see his treatment continue, and you could make that happen. It isn’t my wish to put any sort of pressure on you. I understand you are not his family, that you have no legal obligation, and that it may be a burden. Therefore, I cannot ask you to take him. If he does not go with you, I will release him to a local charity shelter, and keep my fingers crossed. My hands are tied, Ms. Harris. This is all I can do.”
Morgan looked out the window a minute, contemplating what a change like this would be to her life. It never ceased to amaze her just how often her thoughts gravitated toward Boromir, and how frequently she reminisced things he had said and done. Without him, her life had been boring and prosaic. He had brought a spark to an otherwise dull existence. The occasional sex with neanderthal men had been her only flicker of a heartbeat until that one winter’s day. Did she want to go back to that sordid, isolated existence?
“Alright,” Morgan said at last. “I’ll take him.”
Dr. Larkin smiled, and an invisible weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He picked up the phone and said, “Hello, can you please send for Boromir? Thank you.”
In the minutes that followed, they discussed Boromir, but in a lighter mood. They each could agree that he was an extraordinary man, and unlike any they had ever before met. They both shared in the gladness that Boromir was not to be condemned to one of the government’s detention centers, never to be heard from again. To incarcerate so obviously a free bird seemed neighbouring upon sin.
The door opened, and Morgan turned to see the most shocked face she had ever seen. Without word, Boromir rushed toward her, seizing her in a tight embrace. She had no fears, and did not mind. Affectionately, she stroked his back, soothingly affirming that everything was going to be alright.
“I dared not think that I should ever see you again,” Boromir said hushed, his face buried in her shoulder.
“No worries, Boromir,” Morgan replied, smiling. “I’m here, and I’m going to take you home.”
Grasping her shoulders he held her back a moment, studying her face to see if she were an earnest. “Do not trifle with me, I beg of you. My courage cannot endure such torment.”
“She’s not trifling with you, Boromir,” Dr. Larkin confirmed. “You are being discharged into Ms. Harris’ care today.”
“Thank you, Doctor!” Boromir said, his voice and body full of elation and spirit.
“You’re certainly welcome, son,” Dr. Larkin said, holding out his hand to shake Boromir’s. Unaware of such customs, Boromir did but what he knew of, and grasped the good doctor’s forearm in congenial embrace. The doctor appeared confused a moment, but shrug it off in the end as another of Boromir’s eccentricities.
- - -
Boromir climbed in Morgan’s death chamber Honda with an eagerness even he would not have thought possible before. Never had he been so delighted to leave a place in all his breath.
Morgan mused that he looked like a little boy on Christmas morning, so excited and wide-eyed. “Dr. Larkin seemed nice.”
“Aye, he is a good man. Slightly mad, I think, but fair and just.”
Morgan could not help but chuckle. How she had missed this! Boromir thought the doctor was the mad person in the insane asylum.
“Was it really so bad in there?”
“Oh, yes,” said Boromir more sombrely. “Dr. Larkin may have been kind to me, but I shall not deceive you, Morgan. That is the place they send mad people!”
“Really?” Morgan said, starting up the car, and pulling out of the parking lot. She felt the strongest pang of guilt as it had been her who put him there for all those months. What he didn’t know won’t hurt him, she thought.
“It seemed no matter whom I spoke to,” Boromir said, “none had heard of Middle Earth, or Gondor, nor Sauron, even!”
Now, Morgan felt a little foolish asking her question, but she could not help herself. “Um, who’s Sauron?”
“You neither?” he asked astounded. “I must truly be far from home for none to have heard of Sauron the deceiver.”
He said no more, and Morgan let the subject drop. She would save that joy for another day. They roared down the highway, the fresh spring air whipping past. Boromir stared at the budding trees, and recently sprung green grass, his eyes taking in all his newfound freedom would afford.
“Do you want your window open?”
“That is possible?” Boromir asked, and gazed in awestruck amazement as the glass disappeared before his very eyes! “This is a most wondrous Honda!” he exclaimed, and stuck his head out of the window.
“I’m not sure how fresh that air is...maybe you should wait until we get off the highway.”
“It is the air of freedom,” Boromir said, his eyes now closed. The wind blew his hair about in dancing bursts. How real it seemed to him that he was back in Gondor, travelling upon a lightening steed, free and careless of crime or punishment.
A/N: Well, what did you think about this plot advance? Sorry it's a little short. The next one will be longer, I promise... Please review!!!
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