Forester slowly traced the lines of the book with his finger, wincing against the morning sun. A breeze pushed against the trees overhead and the birds were just distant enough. The grass under him pulsed against his feet and he tried to control his heart beat, God it was green out here. The doctor told him it would be good for him to get out, instructed him to do so. He looked down and watched the gamma rays from the sun bombard his skin with vitamin D, watched the melanoma darken and pool and turn cancerous. He breathed in the pollen and dirt and tasted the acid on the air, trying to concentrate on the book. It would not do, he had been told, for an agent to have a phobia of all things organic. It was more than Hastenburaphobia or Agoraphobia, and more specific than nihilism, but Agent Forester did not like to be outside the confines of his quarantine, no, no, did not like that at all.
Dr. Everett had found it amusing to no end that someone named "Forester" had felt that way about the great outdoors, and his humor was reflected in that the book he had given him to read whilst standing barefoot in the grass contained the word, "Rye" in the title.
Forester closed the book and suppressed a shudder at the feeling of paper against his skin. A few yards in front of him a man stood looking out at a lake. The shudder he was able to suppress, the smile he was not. Just a few says ago that man had known he was an agent named Pedaf Truman, but now, he's anything Forester tells him he is. Which was "Sebastian" for now, not that that means anything to Truman now, but it will before it's all over. It was just some crazy luck that had delivered Truman to him and the doctor, just a faint blip that "deserved attention" the doctor had said. And there he was, huddled into some alley, telling him his name was Sebastian had been a long shot, but it worked. And now, a man Forester had once shared a professional rivalry with, was eating out of his hand like some lost puppy.
On the night it came through the channels that Controller Gustav had been arrested as an accomplice for his rogue agent's actions, Forester had allowed himself to feel something other than complete loathing for once, just a tart sensation of victory.
Allowing "Sebastian" to listen to the feed, to hear the things this "Pedaf Truman" had been doing in VChicago had created a distance there as well. Chancey as it had been to let Truman hear his true name, but in accordance with the violent crimes that had been taking place? The murders of The Arbiter and Captain Davis? Well, no wonder Truman didn't have any trouble believing he was this Sebastian.
Sebastian turned around, facing Forester, a serene look playing across his face, "I want to thank you."
"For what?" Forester said.
"I think you saved my life. I know you did."
Forester smiled, "Just wait 'till I get you home."
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