It was at night when Patrick returned, and an entire month had gone by since the last time he was there. From where he was standing, he could see Sam closing and locking the hovel. Right then, the silence that reigned in the cemetery was disturbed by the rustling of the leaves on the trees. Sam then lit his pipe, and it was the orange glow of the flame that guided Patrick in the aisles.

“Do you have any port left?” Patrick called out in a tired voice.

On hearing Patrick’s voice, Sam raised his eyes and met the coppery and cold eyes of the man who was not dead, but looked to be in a terrible state. He was staggering among the graves with his arms crossed over his torso, and his breathing ragged. He was so alone. So weary.

“Come, I’ll take care of you,” Sam responded.

When Patrick got to him, Sam reopened the hovel and let him enter. After going in, Patrick grimaced under the raw white light in the hovel, then he sat on the bench and sighed. He had a blue bruise on his cheek and a cut above his left eyebrow. The wound bled faintly, reddening his pale skin. He let himself be tended to by Sam without saying a word, but refused to sleep in the hovel.

“It’s too risky for Ruth, and it’s not just her,” Patrick said.

“I don’t fear death, son,” Sam said.

“No, not you. Her daughter. Her mother. If my enemies learn I’m alive, they’ll all die,” Patrick said flatly.

“Can I do anything to help you?” Sam asked.

Patrick smiled bitterly. “I’m the only one who can do it,” he said.

“And what are you doing, exactly?” Sam asked.

Before responding, Patrick hesitated for a brief instant. “I’m dismantling a criminal network, a spider-web,” he finally said. “It’s so vast that it’s taking me forever, but I’m almost at the end. Soon I’ll be able to come back.”

“And if you die?” Sam asked neutrally while nodding his head.

Before responding, Patrick closed his eyes briefly. “If I don’t come back in, let’s say six months, tell Ruth everything you know,” he said.

“I’ll do that,” Sam responded, holding his gaze on Patrick, and trying to be patient and understanding.

“Thank you,” Patrick said faintly. He then got up, ran a hand over his face, and let out a groan of pain.

“Your ribs?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Patrick responded, letting out a breath. “Those bastards broke at least two.” He then slowly made his way towards the door and turned towards Sam. “Tell Ruth that she was everything to me, and I’m sorry. Tell her that I love her, if that really means anything.”

After speaking, Patrick disappeared into the twilight, and Sam wondered if he would ever see him again. He was hoping with all his heart that the answer to that question was yes, but he understood that if it was no, then the man who was not really dead would die for good.

***

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