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Circle of Fire

Some people are fortunate enough to know what's it's like to be free,
There are others who disagree -- they know what it's like to walk the tightrope.
-- Axiom, "My Baby's Gone"

Act I

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

The sweeper heard a dull hum and turned to see an electric wheelchair approaching him along the hall. Opening the door he was standing in front of, he stepped aside to let the man in and then followed him into the office. The man in the wheelchair turned it to face him.

Sam nodded at a small pile of folders on the desk. "That's the information you asked me to find for you."

The dark-haired man glanced sharply at them before nodding at the sweeper. "Thank you."

Sam knew he was being dismissed, but he had something he wanted to say. It was just turning out to be even more difficult that he had expected. The man looked up, his dark eyes boring into the sweeper.

Sighing, Sam examined the floor for a moment before looking up again. "I wanted to say -- sorry." He hesitated briefly, before continuing, his voice pleading with the other man to understand. "I didn't have a choice, Mr. Charles. Honest, I didn't. If I hadn't done what they wanted, they would have killed my family."

Jarod pushed the folders aside, placing his hands on the desk in front of him, his expression one of skepticism. "Considering your brother was out of their reach in 1998, I can't really understand why you continued to feel that way."

Resting his head on one hand, Jarod scrutinized the other man. "And yet, despite knowing how I must have felt, you did everything you could to keep me apart from my family?"

"Not everything," Sam protested immediately. "Who do you think sent you the information about your mother, a few years back?"

Sam shook his head. "I saw the photo that Sydney sent to you of your mother, and I was off-duty, trying to find some information I could send to Frau Berkstresser, when I found the site you put up. The file about your mother was in among some stuff that I'd taken from Mr. Raines' office, so I packaged it up and sent it off to Miami."

"And you sent it by courier because there was less chance of it being traced to you, considering how many things the Centre sends that way every day," Jarod stated thoughtfully.

"And because I wanted to get it out of Raines' hands quickly," Sam added. He exhaled slowly. "I didn't want them to suspect me, so I flew to Miami as soon as Broots got the lead on you. I knew you were probably there, but I couldn't stop them from going, because it would have looked bad for me."

Jarod nodded thoughtfully while Sam waited nervously for his response. The sweeper knew, from his experience with his boss, how important Jarod was to her, and consequently that he would be likely to play a role in the future of the Centre, if only an advisory one. The last thing Sam wanted was for his life to remain as uncertain as it had been for the previous nine years, and if this man didn't trust him, that was likely to continue. Finally, Jarod's gaze became more focused.

"With Miss P -- Miss Ritter," the sweeper responded promptly, correcting his small slip and using the name all staff members had been instructed to remember.

"So why did you work with Lyle when I was dragged back, a few years ago, rather than guarding her at the hospital?"

"Lyle kept me with him all the time and wouldn't let me go to her," Sam told him. "He knew about my brother, and my family, and he used the same threats everyone else did. I had no choice but to do what he wanted."

Jarod arched an eyebrow. "Was that button on your jacket already loose, or are my teeth really as sharp as I thought they were?"

Sam smiled faintly. "There were a few broken threads. I had no idea that had Lyle predicted what you'd do. I honestly hoped you might have managed to escape." He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his shoulders, the amusement dissolving. "I saw my brother put through a lot of the same types of experiments that you were, and I've got a pretty good idea of how it might have been for you. When I came to the Centre, I was immediately put on Miss Ritter's staff and I thought that, by working for her as well as I could, I'd have the best chance of saving the people I care about. Even when she was put onto the pursuit, I wanted to keep working for her, because so much time away from the Centre gave me a reason for not providing as much information to Die Fakultät." He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed a lump in his throat. "I never want to be a spy, or to deceive people, but I had no choice."

When he finally ran out of words, Jarod spoke. "What does your daughter look like?"

Sam readily reached into the pocket of his suit coat, suppressing his astonishment as the change of subject, and extracted the photo, offering it. He saw Jarod's eyes slowly travel over his baby daughter's little round face and big, dark eyes, with the smile that was so like her mother's, and then the man looked up.

"I guess all both of us really want is to protect the people most valuable to us."

The sweeper's confusion must have shown on his face, because Jarod suddenly smiled. "Have you ever discussed with Morgan the possibility of a regular job, which would let you stay in Blue Cove, rather than having to fly off at any time, with no warning? After all, it must be hard to be away from your wife and daughter, knowing that you might miss the most important stages in her development. Would you like me to suggest it to her?"

Almost speechless, Sam was only able to manage a jerky nod. "That… I… I would appreciate it, sir."

"Jarod, Sam," the Pretender corrected quietly, as he handed back the photo. "My name is Jarod."

As Sam left the office, Jarod reached for the first file. However, his eyes widened as he found that it was empty, and he was about to call the sweeper back and demand answers when a soft voice spoke from the far side of the room.

The Pretender's eyes widened in surprise as he looked up to see the psychiatrist step out of the doorway that connected the neighboring offices.

"I stopped by to collect a few things." Sydney tapped the pile of papers in his arms. "And I found Sam in my old office, going through my files. He told me what he was looking for, and who asked him for that information." Sydney's head tilted slightly to one side. "Is it in your best interests to go looking for those answers, now or any other time?"

Jarod sighed deeply, letting the folder fall shut. "I have to know, Sydney," he growled. "I have to know what happened after, and what led up to it. Then maybe I can stop wondering."

"And start wondering about something else." Sydney approached the desk to sit down in the chair that stood in front of it with an answering sigh, taking a thick bundle of pages from his pocket and placing them on the desk. "I thought you would've known by now that even having all the answers doesn't get rid of the questions. It just presents new ones."

"I want the answer to this one," the younger man explained quietly, his tones full of anguish as he reached out to gather the pages to him. "It was my fault that Kenny was killed. The least I can do is find out what happened after that."

"I took him back to his room," Jarod replied, somewhat distractedly, as he glanced over the first page. "He was a little overwhelmed and needed the comfort of familiar surroundings, however dismal."

Jarod barely noticed the older man leave, the fact that he was alone registering only faintly in his consciousness, his eyes running over the notes he had received, revealing the details of the plan to introduce Jarod to Damon, a situation which had begun even before the sim had been given, Jarod's actions having been predicted in advance. He felt something in his stomach clench as he saw the extent of the plan, even to giving Kenny more free time to spend with Jarod in the days leading up to the sim's delivery, and the Pretender felt his eyes burn with tears.

Putting the pages down, he sorted them rapidly according to subject, written along the top of each sheet, averting his eyes from the details, and slid them into the files from which they had originally come, finally taking up the last file Sam had retrieved for him. Jarod's fingers tightened around the manila folder as he saw that the body had been taken from the room and down to the testing facilities, where it had been experimented on for the next few days, before being cremated and the ashes dumped in the sea. Jarod's lashes were wet and he felt pain catch in his chest as he finally raised his head to stare blankly out of the large window in front of him, gasping for breath.

Two hands suddenly came down to rest on his shoulders, squeezing gently as he jumped slightly.

Shrugging, he shut the folder and pushed it aside, tilting his head back to find Morgan's blue eyes looking down at him, full of concern.

"I saw Daddy come out, looking worried." She half-smiled. "He doesn't look like that unless there's something really wrong, so I thought I'd check on you."

Nodding, he straightened in the chair, feeling her hands lift off his shoulders as Morgan walked around to the other side of the desk and sat down.

"How's it going?" he enquired, not from any curiosity but simply to break the silence.

"Busy," the woman sighed, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "There was so much going on that I really didn't know about." She suddenly grinned, her eyes sparkling. "If the old Chairman was in any state to listen, I'd drag him over the coals about it."

Jarod smiled faintly. "Which decade was he in this morning, when you went down to see him?"

"When I arrived, he seemed to have been reliving a meeting from the early days of the Centre. He was into the 70s when I left."

Her face immediately softened from its formerly hard lines, a smile dancing around the corners of her mouth. "Tomorrow. I've arranged to make sure I have every weekend free, except for work I can do out of the office, so that I can fly up to see him for Friday and Saturday nights. I want to be the person who puts him to bed on Sundays and then I'll fly back to Delaware."

"I checked it all over with Sebastian and he doesn't mind. Even offered me one of his jets to come back each Sunday." She smiled, before her expression suddenly became curious. "He said to tell you he had something he wanted to talk to you about whenever you went down there next."

Nodding, Jarod glanced at a calendar on his desk, before looking back at her. "Your doctors say I should definitely be fit enough to fly in a few days."

Jarod looked forward to this move with eager anticipation. His exhaustion did not only come from his gunshot wound. He barely slept, up here in Delaware, nightmares full of blood and pain and guilt waiting for him as soon as he closed his eyes. It had been so long since he had had to battle his demons in his sleep for longer than a single night that he had forgotten how terrible they were. Not a night passed without them coming to wake him after only an hour or two. Jarod knew his progress was slower than it ought to have been, and he put that down to a lack of sleep. When he was back in Texas, he thought eagerly, then he could really improve, turning his attention back to Morgan as she responded to his statement.

She smiled in satisfaction. "Ethan should be up to it then, too. You can go up together. He's dy -- can't wait to see his son again."

"I can imagine." Jarod overlooked the slip, both of them knowing just how close their brother had come to losing his life during the takeover. "I'll tell him when I go up to see him tonight."

Morgan raised an eyebrow, her eyes traveling over his face. "What else do you have to do today?"

Jarod pressed a button on the keyboard of his computer to deactivate the screensaver and turned the screen to show the woman a list of projects that he had selected to work on during the time in which he was forced to stay at the Centre, beginning to discuss them with her.

Die Fakultat
Berlin, Germany

The two men stood outside the room and looked in through the small pane of glass in the door to where the woman lay on her side, her hand lying gently across her swollen stomach and her eyes closed.

"Like I told you after it happened, she'll survive, and her baby's still alive." The blond-haired man pointed out the fetal heartbeat monitor. "She originally had bruised kidneys, as far as the doctor could tell, but that seems to have healed. She's still got a couple of broken ribs on her right side, and we thought for a while that Delius had broken her arm, but it turned out that it was only a bad sprain." His brow creased in concern. "But it's her lack of response that's got us most worried. She'll do anything you tell her to -- lift a leg, roll onto her side -- but she won't eat and she won't speak."

"Oh, yes," Peter Winston agreed at once. "But I really don't know how much she took in, or really believed."

Winston nodded. "She seemed to listen, but never responded and continued to refuse food." His voice became more anxious. "I don't know how much longer she and her baby can go on, with what they're receiving intravenously."

"She didn't believe you," Alastair explained, hoping that what he was about to say wouldn't cause offence. "After all, you were the person who arranged for her son to be taken away, and she's so unwell now that she probably can't even remember why it was necessary."

"Christ!" Winston ran a hand through his hair. "I never even gave that a thought." He turned away from the door, shoulders slumping. "Geeze, if only I'd thought!"

"It's okay." About to put his hand on the other man's arm, the former subject thought better of it and kept his hand in his pocket. "Let me talk to her. Maybe I can do something."

"I hope you can." Peter's eyes were anxious. "I promised Joseph I'd keep her safe. Pathetic bloody job I did of it."

Without responding to that, the younger man placed his hand on the door, and, after a second of hesitation, pushed it open. His eyes fixed on the woman in the bed, he believed that he saw her tense, but the machine showing her heartbeat never altered its constant rhythm. Walking to the bedside, he pulled up a chair and reached out to gently place his hand on that of the woman.

"Julia?" he murmured softly. "I know you're awake. Come on, little sister. Look at me."

It wasn't a genuine biological relationship, but when they had been brought to this place, both of them still struggling to recover from severe bouts of meningitis, it had given them comfort. He, having no contact with his brother, had mourned the loss of family, and she had been so terrified that he had wasted no time in providing what affection he could. The tie was strong now, and her response to it was immediate, the heavy eyelids lifting and the dark eyes fixing on him.

"Alastair," she breathed, relief evident in her eyes, before they suddenly became filled with panic and devastation, and her fingers tightened around his as she made a small sound in her throat, almost like a whimper. "They caught you? I didn't tell them where you were, I swear! I didn't tell them anything!"

"Shh." He brushed the hair off her face before stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "No, Julia. It's not like that. They didn't catch me. Peter Winston asked me to come, after he took over from the Herr Direktor." Alastair moved the chair closer to the bed. "It's over, Julia. The nightmare we lived with for so many years is finished. We're free now. All of us."

Her eyes registered her confusion and panic, and he could imagine the thoughts that were going through her mind. She thought he was being forced into saying this, or had been drugged and lied to, and she wasn't going to accept it, wouldn't be tricked into believing it. He had to stop her before she retreated, even away from him, back into herself, to escape from her future.

"Didn't you see it?" he urged gently, easing his other hand between her cheek and the pillow, and cupping it in his palm. "It was a great victory, Julia, and Mr. Parker -- do you remember him? -- he was locked up in the darkest room in the whole of the Centre, never to see the light of day again, just like he was planning to do with us. Jarod was one of the people who arranged it all. I'm sure you remember Jarod. He helped me with all those jokes when we were sick. Remember? He's looking forward to seeing you again, but not as much as Joseph and Peter are. And Uriel, too. He can't wait to see his Mommy. And Ethan's looking forward to meeting you, to find out what the mother of his son is like."

She shook her head, her eyes slowly filled with tears, which began to soak into her pillow, some rolling down her nose and dripping off the end.

"I… I saw it," she whispered, gasping for breath. "I saw Jarod… die. I saw Ethan die, too. How can you say they're waiting for me? Are they going to… kill me?" she whimpered, looking around with wide eyes. "Is that why you're here?"

Alastair inwardly cursed the fact that he had thought to mention them, shaking his head as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"No, Julia," he soothed. "No, they aren't dead. You might have seen it, but they aren't, I promise. They were badly injured, but they're still alive, and at the place we'll be going, just like your sons."

At the mention of her children, she began to sob, and her free arm tightened around her stomach.

"It's true, little sister," he assured her softly, bringing his face even closer to hers, so that she was still able to see him through her blurred vision. "I wouldn't lie to you, Julia, you know that. I was going to bring Joseph with me, but he didn't want to leave his sons, and the children have to stay together as much as possible. That's," he paused briefly, smiling, "that's why Rebecca didn't come with me either. But I've told her so much about you and she can't wait to meet you. And Tempest, that's her daughter, she knows about you, too. Uriel told all the other children about you. He's so proud to have a mommy. And he can't wait to have a baby sister. He keeps asking Joseph when you're coming, so that he can meet her."

She mutely shook her head, seeming to shrink away from him, and he released his hold on her hand, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and pulling out a small book. Flipping through the pages, he found the one he wanted and turned the album to show her a photo of Rebecca and little Peter, who was wrapped in the quilt his mother had made him and waving delightedly at the camera. Alastair saw the color come back into Julia's bottom lip as she bit it to stop a gasp from escaping, but she couldn't prevent her eyes filling with tears once more as they turned up to his.

"It looked like it, I know," he agreed softly. "But it was all true, even if you mixed it up with other things." He slid an arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him and letting her head rest on his shoulder. "When you're strong enough," he promised, "we'll fly over there and you can see your boys and Joseph again. When I left, they were setting up a special room for you." Alastair described the fun that the children had had, helping them to paint the walls and put up pictures, making the room as different from Julia's room in Berlin as it was possible to be, and the man felt tears sliding down onto his shirt as she sobbed, gasping occasionally from the pain but letting the emotion flow in a way that Alastair knew could only be good for her.

"When can we go?" she finally asked, her voice still interspersed with sobs, even as she was calming.

"The moment you're strong enough," he vowed, beginning to rock her gently. "You need to sleep and eat properly for that to happen. But, when it does, then we'll go, I promise."

She nodded, snuggling closer to him before relaxing in his arms. Alastair fixed his attention on the heart-rate monitor, listening as the beeping gradually slowed, waiting several minutes longer to ensure that she was asleep before easing her back onto the bed and covering her warmly with the blankets. Standing, he looked down to find that her features were more relaxed than they had been when he had entered the room, a tiny smile curling her lips and a last tear still clinging to her cheek. Gently brushing it away, he bent down and kissed her cheek before turning away from the bed and leaving the room.

A gray-suited man waiting in the hall, opposite the door, came to attention as he appeared. "The Herr Winston asked you to go up to his office when you came out, sir."

"Thank you," Alastair responded quietly, before looking back in through the door. "Will you be in this place all afternoon?" he asked after a moment, and the guard nodded.

"The Herr Winston told me to stay here and that I was to page you whenever the patient woke up, sir."

Nodding in response, and without another word, Alastair turned towards the elevator, riding it up to the floor on which the director's office was located. Maria Thermann sat at her desk in the outer office and gave him a warm smile as he appeared.

"You're to go in right away," she told him, pressing a button on the phone, at which a dull buzz could be heard in the other office, despite the closed door, which opened a second later to show Winston in the doorway.

Alastair couldn't help hesitating briefly on the threshold, before walking over to the chair to which Peter Winston directed him with a wave.

"Is she" the older man stopped, as if unable to finish, and the psychic filled the gap.

"She'll be okay," Alastair promised, as much to himself as to the man opposite. "In a few days, she'll be better."

The blond man sighed with obvious relief. "Thank God for that," he breathed, before reaching out for a folder and drawing it closer, finally looking up. "I wanted to ask you a favor," Peter began, before correcting himself. "Another one." Pausing briefly, he continued, his words seeming to fall over each other in his eagerness to get them out. "I wonder if you'd consider working here, as a paid employee. We're changing the direction of our work, and I think you'd be very useful here."

The younger man froze at the offer, unable to prevent his heart from suddenly beating faster and his breath catching in his throat as his fingers tightened around the arm of the chair in which he was seated. Winston seemed to understand what he felt, because he sat back in his seat and shut the folder.

"This isn't a trick," he assured the other man. "If you want to say no, that's fine. No one but the two of us know, and I know you have reasons to be attached to America."

"Sam! Of course, I'd forgotten about him. No," Peter stated calmly. "Forget I asked. If I'd thought, I would never have made the offer. Of course you have to go back there. And I assume you'll take Julia with you?"

"That was the plan," the psychic responded hesitantly. "Unless you had other ideas"

"No, no, I think that would be the best," Winston assured him. "Did Sebastian MacKenzie arrange transport, or"

"He said that I was to call him and he'd send a plane over," Alastair interrupted, suddenly feeling desperate to have this interview over. Peter Winston seemed to understand this, because he rose to his feet.

"Lunch will be served in the cafeteria from midday," he told the former subject, "which is on the second floor. It won't cost you anything. Or you can go into the city and buy yourself something, if you'd prefer it." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beeper, offering it. "If Julia wakes, we can let you know on this."

Accepting it, hoping that there were no secondary motives in the older man's actions, Alastair left the office and hurried up the stairs to the room he had been given on his arrival, thankfully closing the door behind him and leaning against it with a grateful sigh. He didn't want to be here, but he'd been unable to refuse Joseph's plea that he go, as soon as they knew Delius had been removed from power, to find out how Julia was. Now he was counting down the hours until he could leave, swearing to himself that, once back on American soil, he would never return to Berlin again.

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Morgan hesitated on the threshold of her old office to see the occupant frowning over a long list of papers.

He looked up, the frown disappearing, replaced by a grin. "Good morning, Miss Ritter. What can I do for you?"

"Trying to work out how much of the current security measures we need and what we can remove from the system." He turned a sheet around as she sat down, taking his seat again. "This is a list of all the old cameras, and most of them will be removed in the next three days."

"Yes." He turned the screen, showing her a 3D model of the Centre, with each existing camera in red. She stared at it for a moment.

Broots shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a second before responding. "Jarod, actually. He had it made up before the take-over and he gave me a copy. We put the cameras on together."

"Well, he helped me a little," Broots confessed. "I mean, I wouldn't have Debbie if it wasn't for him and that's pretty important."

Morgan raised an amused eyebrow, but decided not to push the point. "So you're taking the day off, then?"

"Just tomorrow." The head of Security's voice was confident. "Everything's in hand, and Warwick can deal with any problems that might come up."

"Fine." The woman nodded curtly. "Just make sure that you don't strip us of security entirely."

"No, ma'am," he agreed readily. "We'll still have cameras in the halls, and the system on the cell level will remain in place, as will the one in the infirmary. We're also going to still have security on the fringes of the property. But the individual cameras in the former subjects' rooms and the offices will be dismantled."

"Good." She nodded and stood up, smiling. "I knew you'd be good at this work, Lazslo. And you haven't disappointed me. Thank you for proving me right."

Jarod placed his hand on the lock and heard it disengage as it recognized his print. The door slid open and he wheeled inside, seeing Yuri look up briefly before lowering his head again.

"They said you got shot," the younger Pretender greeted him, eyes refocused on the book resting on his knee. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alive." Jarod heard the door slide shut behind him as he steered the chair down a ramp that had been installed on one side of the raised platform. "It'll take time, but I should recover fully." He nodded at Yuri's leg. "How about you?"

"No, it's not," Jarod responded thoughtfully, noting the lines around Yuri's mouth. "I'll have them bring you painkillers a couple of times every day. Whether you take them or not is up to you."

Jarod propped his elbow on the armrest of the chair and leaned his head on his hand. "If we left you to suffer, we'd be no better than the people we took over from."

"I came to find out how you were doing." Jarod nodded at a computer standing in the corner. "I've kept an eye on what you've been working on, and there's a few more projects I think you might want to consider, now that you've finished so many of the preliminaries."

"Your daughter." Jarod's voice was steady. "I've uploaded all the biological information, as well as what we could find from Allegra's file. There's got to be a way to stop that degeneration, we just have to find it. It's a race against the clock, but luckily," his voice shook slightly, "we've got more time than we did with Jacob."

Yuri had already lowered his head at the term Jarod had used but looked up sharply again at the conclusion of the sentence. "I… heard," he began awkwardly. "I'm sorry, Jarod."

"It was always going to happen," the older man stated, his voice deepening to a soft, pain-filled growl. "If only we'd found out more about him in time…" He trailed off, his eyes trained on the floor for a moment, before focusing on the other man. "I don't want to lose that fight against time again, and we've got the advantages here that we didn't have there, so there's no reason we can't do it."

"I understand." Yuri glanced at the computer, and Jarod guessed that he was already planning to spend all of his waking moments on the project, just as Jarod himself had labored for his son's son. The other Pretender suddenly looked up again. "You said 'a few more projects.' What else is there?"

Jarod exhaled slowly. "Sydney said he showed you all the children. Do you remember Gideon?"

"He's likely to have similar problems to Michaela -- in fact, quite a few of those kids could. Those who have gifts that require conscious effort, or actually affect their surroundings -- telekinetics, pyrokinetics, healers -- they're all at risk from this degeneration. We might be lucky enough to find a treatment that will only need minor adjustments to the process to work for all of them, or we might have to create new, individual processes for each one. In the next month or so, once things calm down in Texas, I'm going to have CT and MRI machines bought and scans done on them, plus other adults with similar gifts, but it's too unsettled right now. Many of them are still trying to recover from serious injuries and couldn't deal with complicated tests. Others are up to their necks in work to cover for the missing people and don't need extra complications. Until it settles, we've only got normal biological data available."

Jarod smiled faintly. "I don't know whether you'll want to use it, but I had a private camera link to the playroom of the Prometheus Building put onto your computer. It's a separate camera from the security system there, so no one will care if it's on at weird times or moves independently. You can use it whenever you want."

The older man sighed sadly. "This situation was what you wanted, Yuri, and what you felt you deserved for the things you did. Whether I agree with that or not is moot. But I don't want to cut you off from the world, or the things that are most valuable to you. It would be the quickest way to make you feel angry or resentful."

"No," Jarod confessed softly, seeing the pain that contorted the younger man's features. "One of the most valuable, then. Is that better?"

Yuri had turned away, risen slowly to his feet and limped heavily towards the bed on the opposite side of the room. Jarod was about to leave, but the other man's voice stopped him.

"She's hurt," Jarod confessed honestly. "Not physically, but emotionally and mentally. She's been worried about me -- all my family were -- and she's still hurting from what she found out about the man she loved, the one she thought she knew."

There was silence from the other man, and Jarod thought of something that had occurred to him earlier, and which was a secondary reason for this visit.

"As you might have guessed," Jarod began, "Morgan and her security team are looking around for any other potential threats. I just wanted to know whether what you did was under your own initiative, or whether there was someone else, pulling the strings, backstage. Was it as a favor to anyone, or your own idea? Was there a defining moment, or was it planned?"

There was a moment of silence, during which Jarod expected a refusal, before the younger man turned and looked at his visitor. His face was calm as he returned to the sofa on which he had been sitting when Jarod arrived and, in an emotionless monotone, described the scene in the car, listening to the poem and the music that had accompanied it. When he finished, there was another moment of silence.

"Why did you kill the man who saved your life?" Jarod finally asked. "Wasn't there any feeling of justice that stopped you?"

Yuri laughed mockingly. "Justice? What part did justice play in this place? When was anyone in this entire hellhole of a building ever just to us?"

Jarod nodded, forced to accept this. "So why the change? You moved from Centre contacts to the Centre staff themselves. Was it a conscious decision, or just opportunity?"

"A little of both." Yuri stared down at his hands. "I'd always intended to go after the big-shots, if I ever had that chance. I always dreamed about one day even maybe getting the chance to knock off Raines himself." He raised his head, and Jarod could see his eyes gleaming with fury, but he knew that the younger man's anger was focused solely on one person, and that person was dead. Suddenly they swung in his direction, full of curiosity. "Didn't you ever think about it, Jarod? Consider the way it would have felt to get a little of your own back?"

"Yes, of course," Jarod confessed. "But then I thought about what my family and Sydney would think if I let that side of me take over. I weighed up revenge and the good opinions of the people I loved and valued most, and I made my decision. That was one of the reasons I escaped from the Centre in the first place." He told the younger man a little about his first meeting with Damon and the consequences of it. "I felt that I had a decision to make," he concluded. "I could become like him, or I could become a better person than he was. If I'd decided to become like him, I never would have bothered escaping in the first place."

Yuri's shoulders were bowed and his head was once more lowered by the time Jarod finished this speech. Rather than saying any more, Jarod turned the chair and headed for the door, opening it in a heavy silence and leaving the room without a farewell.

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Sebastian sat at the head of the table and looked along the length of it, resting sad eyes on each of the seats that had regularly been occupied by those who had not survived the conflict. Of those who had volunteered for the mission, more than half had received injuries of varying degrees, and nearly a quarter had been killed.

To distract himself from the depressing statistics, he looked down at his hands, seeing the many tiny scars and marks, all that remained of the injuries he had sustained as a result of the lapses in his inability to control his pyrokenetic abilities. Now, with the medication Jarod had made for him, the chances of that happening were greatly reduced, and, which he now knew was better, without the problems that Aurora would have caused. Having seen evidence of the drug's power, not only in the prisoners at the Centre and the Seraphim's caregivers but even in his own sister, he was exceedingly grateful that he hadn't ever begun it.

Standing, he pushed back the chair and left the room, running up the stairs to the residence level and along to knock on a particular door. When there was silence inside, he pushed it open and hesitantly entered, suddenly hearing the sound of retching from the bathroom.

There was a moment of silence before the door was pulled partly open, and he could see his sister curled up on the floor beside the ceramic toilet bowl, brushing the hair back from her face with an unsteady hand as tears stood out in her eyes. He hurried over to grab the facecloth from the basin, soaking it in cold water before gently washing her face with it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he prompted gently, smoothing her hair as she leaned against him and began to sob. "Are you getting sick, or is it something else?"

"It… it's the medication Jarod made for me," she choked out, turning red-rimmed eyes up to his face. "It helps with stopping me from setting things on fire, but it makes me feel awful."

Sebastian turned his head, kissing her hair gently. "Why didn't you say something before?"

"You… were busy," Keely reminded him, as he lifted her to her feet and supported her out into the bedroom. "It didn't start until after you left for Blue Cove, and I was too scared to stop taking it, in case I'd forgotten how to control it."

"Oh, baby." He helped her lie down on the bed, mentally kicking himself for not calling more often to find out how she was, rather than the one or two calls he'd managed during the hectic weeks of preparation, and which had left little time for personal details, although, Sebastian thought guilty, he had always managed to find time to ask about Gideon. "You still should have said something, if not to me then at least to Joseph."

"Jordan said that we should only go to him for emergencies, because it hurt him when he had to heal somebody." Her eyes closed in exhaustion, but her breath still caught, showing both her pain and muffed sobs.

Sebastian stored the comment away in his mind to be discussed later and picked up the phone beside his sister's bed, asking that Namir be sent to the room and, after a moment of thought, for Elizabeth also. When they arrived, he gave them a brief run-down of what had occurred and then went to his office to get in touch with the doctors in Blue Cove and find out if Jarod could fly down to Texas any sooner than anticipated.

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Jarod checked that everything he needed was within arms' reach and then removed the left-hand arm of the chair, easing himself onto the sofa and sliding back until he was sitting properly on it, feeling a stab of pain in his chest as he did so. He was at least thankful that the discomfort he had initially felt, even when sitting, was now gone, but he was also looking forward to getting rid of the wheelchair and walking again, although that was apparently still some time off.

Looking around, he knew that he had been given a suite usually reserved for visiting international dignitaries, but, luxury or not, it was still the Centre and he was aware of that. In addition to the usual benefits that came with the room, he also had a nurse on call, 24 hours, but so far he hadn't had to call her, and had no intention of doing so.

Sighing, he settled back against the cushions and slowly lifted his legs onto the footstool, briefly resting his head against the back of the sofa before moving his laptop onto his knees, opening a file and picking up the notes he had written that day about the people he had worked with. The work itself was very interesting, and the fact that he could help those who had been in a position with which he could so closely empathize made it more valuable still, but the paperwork was a continual bugbear. Still, it had to be done, and this was as good a time as any.

When the phone rang, Jarod groaned aloud before reaching out to answer it, knowing from the tone that it was an internal call.

Stifling another groan, Jarod glanced at the wheelchair, then at the papers scattered all over the sofa around him. "Can you have somebody bring them down?"

The call was disconnected and Jarod began gathering the papers together, trying to rapidly sort them as he did so. Closing the laptop, he was reaching over to put it on the table when the newly sorted sheets slid off his lap and scattered all over the floor. His curse rang through the room, just as the door opened.

"Temper, temper," an Australian voice scolded laughingly. "It's not that bad, the Yank."

Jarod looked up sharply at the male figure who stood in the doorway, his brown hair gleaming in the light from the hallway, grinning broadly.

"For Pete's sake," the Pretender exclaimed in amazement. "Steve Taylor! What on earth are you doing here?"

The younger man laughed. "Are you going to invite me -- us, I should say -- in, or do we have to stay on the doorstep?"

"We?" Jarod looked past him as Steve stepped into the room, his smile broadening as Lauren appeared behind him, a small bundle in her arms. The older man nodded at the sweeper, who closed the door, before turning his attention back to his visitors. "Sorry I didn't come down and meet you, but…"

"Don't worry, Jarod," Lauren assured him. "We understand." She approached the sofa and was leaning over to kiss him when he saw the bundle in her arms move and looked down to find two round eyes staring back at him from a bunny-rug.

"What on earth…?" he gasped, gazing at the small face for a moment before looking up at the woman. "When?!"

Lauren gently placed the small baby into the man's arms before moving back to sit in an armchair opposite. "She's three months old. Rachael Erica."

"Paul's and mine, yes. I sent a letter with photos to your dad, in Barrow, but it was sent back, so I thought I'd wait until I could tell you."

"She's beautiful," Jarod remarked, looking down into the large green eyes, which gazed back at him placidly. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Lauren smiled. "Actually, that was why I was able to come to, well, you know." She stopped awkwardly, before continuing. "I'm on maternity leave. If she wasn't still being breastfed, I might have left her back with Paul, but -- "

"No way," Steve interposed, grinning. "You couldn't bear to be parted from her!"

"Paul has to be," Lauren retorted somewhat sharply, and Jarod looked up to catch a glimpse of a thin band of gold on the woman's left hand.

"Ecstatic. She's their first grandchild, you know, and they're so possessive that, if we lived down in Melbourne, we'd probably never see her!"

"The arrangements are still pretty much the same as when you were there," she agreed. "But we bought a house and sold the apartment so that there was enough room for all three of us, and it's within walking distance of the base. Whenever Paul gets a break, he comes home, so he sees a lot of his daughter."

Jarod looked down again as the baby's fingers curled around his little finger and held tightly, his smile becoming slightly tense as he realized that he had never had the opportunity to experience this with either of his sons. It seemed that the other people in the room picked up on his feelings, a fact proven by Lauren's next words.

"Actually, Jarod, we're not here just so that you can meet Rachael. We had a suggestion -- about Jordan."

Lauren's eyes strayed briefly over to the wheelchair before looking back at him, and she took in a deep breath before speaking again. "I was wondering… We thought about inviting Jordan back with us -- to Australia. He needs to get away from where he is now, and you're going to be up to your neck in work, not to mention everything else." Her eyes rested once more, thoughtfully, on the electric wheelchair. "My suggestion is that we take Jordan, and Merritt, if her mother agrees, back with us. When everything settles down here, and Jordan's over everything that's happened, they can come back."

Jarod exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the floor. It would certainly solve some of the problems that he had already anticipated, namely the depth of involvement of his work with the Centre, and his recovery from the gunshot wound, but the pain of Jacob's loss ran nearly as deep in him as it did in Jordan, and having the younger man with him seemed to sometimes make that a little easier.

"He'd get all the necessary education," Lauren pursued, willfully misunderstanding Jarod's lack of response. "We'll make sure of that, and he'll also be out of doors most days. Whether he comes up with Paul and me to Katherine, stays down in Yarragon with Mum, Dad and Steve, or goes off with Mark, you can guarantee that."

"I can't answer it right away," he told her. "I'm not going to make any decisions without his input." He grinned faintly, thankfully changing the subject. "It was bad enough when they did that to me."

"You were in no fit state to make your own decisions then," Lauren told him tartly, grinning. "It's nice to see that things have changed a bit."

Act II

Raleigh, North Carolina

Michelle put the last book into the box and sealed it shut with tape, looking around the room with a feeling satisfaction. This would be the last time she would have to do this. After everything had been packed, the truck would come and pick it up to drive everything to Sydney's home in Blue Cove, where they would live after the wedding. She understood his longing to continue to live there, where his daughter was, and had no objections now that those who had frightened her out of the town in the first place were no longer in power. Nicholas, too, had seemed keen, and she had an idea that he had an agenda of his own, one that he refused to discuss with her, but which seemed immensely personal. Michelle couldn't help reflecting on the number of secrets that they had kept from each other for so long.

A knock on the door made her stop packing and she went over to open it, expecting it to be the man who would give her a quote for the move, once he saw how many boxes she had. But she nearly slammed it in the visitor's face as soon as soon as she saw who it was. Only the man's quick respond was able to prevent it as he grabbed her wrist.

"Not so fast, Michelle," Lucian warned, in a hoarse growl. "You wouldn't shut your own nephew out, would you?"

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, drawing herself up to her full height and trying to pull her hand out of his hold. "This isn't a safe place for you."

"Not many places are, right now," he agreed with a grin, pushing her further into the house before he turned the key in the lock, securing the only external door. "At least, not on this continent. But there are other holes I can hide in for a while."

"I want to know your plans," he remarked lightly, placing an arm on her shoulder and forcing her into the living room. "I just want to know what my favorite aunt and cousin will be up to for the next few weeks, or months."

Michelle suddenly felt anger burning in her stomach and momentarily pushing aside her fear as she glared at him on the sofa he had forced her to sit on. "I've warned you before not to touch my son. You might not have had anything to do with his abduction, but, if anything happens to him now, I'll know who's responsible."

Lucian raised his hands innocently. "Now, now, Aunty, as if I'd do anything to the dear boy."

Just like you didn't do anything to your mother, Michelle thought, not daring to state the words aloud. Or so you told the board.

"You seem to be leaving," the man commented, looking around. "Back to Blue Cove, I suppose, and the arms of the man you love." He chuckled. "Only 28 years late, right?"

She clenched her fists around the edge of the cushion on which she sat to stop herself from the retort that sprang to her lips, dropping her eyes to the floor so that he wouldn't see the anger that she was sure was burning in them.

"Well, you won't have to worry," he informed her. "I'm leaving the States, for a while, anyway. And I think it's about time you got the chance for something you want." Lucian grinned. "Consider it my wedding gift. Go somewhere nice. Settle down. Live happily ever after. All that crap. Just promise me one thing."

Lucian already stood in the doorway and, as she watched, he unlocked the front door, still with his dark eyes fixed on her. "Keep the door open, in case your beloved nephew ever needs a place to stay." He winked. "I'd hate to have to break it down."

On the word, he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him, and she could hear him whistling as he strolled down the street. Shakily getting to her feet, she managed to make it to the window in time to see a car pull away from the curb, the flashy type of vehicle he usually drove. Unable to stop trembling, she staggered over to the door and locked it, going back to the sofa and sinking onto it again, holding her head in her hands.

Meetings with her nephew usually left her tense, but, knowing what had occurred over the past few weeks, this one had been worse, despite the fact that he had done nothing. He had simply been reminding her that he was still around, still dangerous and, apparently, still determined to get back what he perceived to be rightfully his. She knew that he would now find those parts of his empire that were still under his control and build them up into a state fit to take back what he perceived as his belongings. Michelle couldn't bear to think what would happen when he did.

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

The man tapped against the doorframe of the next room, seeing his brother's head, lying on the pillow, roll towards the door, and a warm smile cross his face.

Steering the chair over to the bed, Jarod leaned out of it to hug his brother, gritting his teeth to hide the pain the action caused him. "How's the wounded war hero?"

Grinning, Ethan pulled himself slowly up in bed, ignoring the restraining hand that Jarod put out to stop him. "I've missed you," he stated. "Morgan and Angelo have come and seen me a few times, but you haven't lately."

"I know. I'm sorry about that, but Morgan gave me some work to keep myself occupied and it was taking up a lot of my time."

"Actually, that's the reason for my visit." Jarod leaned forward. "Sebastian wants me to go down as soon as I can, and your sister and Sydney have just left, so they won't know until it's too late for them to do anything about it." He winked at his brother. "Want to fly down with me now?"

Jarod indicated the chair he sat in. "That makes two of us. But I've got other reasons for wanting to go down there today, and your son would never forgive me if I came without you. Sebastian's jet is already waiting on the runway, and he sent a nurse up with it, to make sure that we behave ourselves."

"Hi, Ethan," a familiar, Australian voice stated from the doorway, and the young man looked up to see Elizabeth standing there. Her fingers were wrapped around the handles of a wheelchair and she grinned at him. "Are you ready to go?"

"Come on, little brother," Jarod urged, as the woman went over to the wardrobe and began to get clothes out of it. "Let's go and see our sons."

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Morgan looked approvingly around the playroom, seeing that the ceiling was covered with helium-filled balloons and that streamers decorated the walls. Letters cut out of aluminum to make a chain spelled 'Happy Birthday' and reflected the light, casting blue, pink, orange and green marks on the opposite wall. The man beside her chuckled softly.

"He can afford to," she returned, finally finding her son among the other Seraphim gathered in a corner. Suddenly, as if feeling her eyes on him, he looked up and then ran across the room with his arms outstretched.

"Mine!" he shrieked in delight, kissing her rapturously as she scooped him up in her arms.

"How's my baby?" she asked, hugging him warmly as she walked over to the corner in which the large furniture stood. "Are you having a good day?"

"And how old are you today?" she prompted, watching as he held up his hand, using the other to force two of his fingers down to his palm.

"That's right," she agreed, before turning to Sydney. "Aren't you going to say 'hello' to Grandpa?"

Gabriel reached out of her arms to enthusiastically hug the man, before the smile suddenly faded and he turned to his mother with an anxious expression on his face. "Daddy commed, too?"

She was about to regretfully answer the question in the negative when a hearty male voice from behind her interrupted.

Turning in astonishment, she found Jarod sitting in his wheelchair and, behind him, saw Ethan, also in a chair, being enthusiastically greeted by his son. Gabriel yelped in delight and reached out of his mother's arms to his father, even as Sydney cast a dubious glance in the younger man's direction.

"Don't start," Jarod interrupted, gently returning the enthusiastic hug Gabriel gave him. "It took me long enough to persuade the medical team in Blue Cove that I was well enough for this." He looked down at his son's beaming face. "But I wasn't going to miss today."

Morgan rolled her eyes as she sat down and Jarod steered the chair around so he faced them. "I hope he inherited my temperament, and not yours."

Ignoring the jibe, Jarod reached into a bag that hung from the arm of the chair and produced four wrapped gifts.

"I missed your other birthdays," he explained to his son, "so I'll make up for them now. Which one first?"

Gabriel thought for a second before pointing to the biggest one, enthusiastically tearing off the paper. His eyes went wide as he picked up the large red diamond and held it wonderingly in front of himself, before turning curious eyes to his father.

"It's a kite, Gabriel." Jarod pulled away the paper to reveal the brightly colored bows on the tail. "When it's windy, we'll take it outside and let it fly up in the sky."

The little boy suddenly scrambled down from his lap and ran over to a pile of books in the corner, picking up one and tearing back with it. Sydney helped him climb back onto Jarod's lap and then he flipped over the pages until he found the one he wanted.

"Like dat?" he asked his father, pointing at a rainbow-colored diamond that flew high above the head of a boy on the page, and Jarod nodded.

"Just like that. The next windy day, we'll take it to the park and fly it, okay?"

"Yup!" Gabriel beamed and hugged his father, before taking up the next present, tearing off the paper as his mother moved the kite aside. The box it contained was too large for his little fingers to open, but Jarod eased up the lid and Gabriel reached in, tossing out bubble wrap, until he felt something hard under his hand.

A clear plastic dome was revealed, with a flat white plastic base, and Jarod saw a smile appear on Sydney's face as he picked up the snow globe and twirled it, making the glitter fly around the inside and surround the little bear and the piles of presents around it. Gabriel's eyes were wide as he took the globe in his hands.

"Dat's nice," he pronounced, and Jarod agreed. The boy stared at it for a moment longer, until all the glitter had settled, before turning to the next package and tearing off the paper. The big brown eyes looked down at the two objects in confusion, turning the wire brush and leather leash over in his hands. "What dis for, Daddy?"

"I's got a brush," Gabriel protested, his little hand patting the metal bristles. "An' dis is too hard for me."

"Hmm, well, maybe it's got something to do with this present," his father suggested, as the other children gathered around, Uriel riding on his father's lap, his delight at having his father back obvious in his eyes. "Why don't you open this one, and maybe then it'll make sense."

"Okay!" Cheerfully, Gabriel turned to the last gift, tearing off the paper and finding a box. When he tore off the lid, Jarod saw the hopeful expression fade quickly from his eyes and disappointment replace it. "'S empty, Daddy," he said sorrowfully, turning it upside down and shaking it, as if to loosen an invisible object.

Jarod saw one of the caregivers wink at him to announce the arrival of his surprise and looked at the Seraphim to see that Gabriel's disappointment had spread to the other little faces. The room was silent, heavy with emotion, but then a scratching sound was heard from the outside the door, accompanied by a soft whine.

"What's that?" Jarod asked his son quickly. "Did you hear it? What could it be?"

"Where did it come from?" Jarod asked, seeing that Rebecca had taken Tempest on her lap to keep her still and Ethan was holding Uriel back from calling out the answer, the brothers having spoken about the surprise gift on the flight.

Turning his attention back to his son, Jarod could feel that the boy was tense with anticipation, and then Gabriel wriggled down once more from the chair, going over to the door and struggling to open it.

"Mine!" he called urgently, and Morgan got up from the sofa, lifting him so that he could reach the handle, helping him to pull the door open.

He gasped, before 'oohing' softly with delight and stretching out his hands eagerly for something that nobody inside the room could see. Morgan took a step back and Elizabeth appeared, a small brown bundle in her arms, with a pink tongue that licked Gabriel's nose when he leaned out of his mother's arms to touch the puppy. The other Seraphim ran over as Elizabeth put the dog down and Gabriel wriggled until his mother put him down beside it, sitting on the floor with a bump and taking the little animal into his arms, patting the spaniel puppy's soft head and floppy ears.

"What made you think of it?" a soft voice asked, and Jarod turned to find that Sydney had moved to sit on the sofa near him.

"I remembered a discussion I had with Sebastian and the others, a couple of months ago, about the need to ensure that these children know the value of other people's lives," the younger man responded. "I figured that if they had even partial responsibility for something else, it would go a long way towards developing that."

Delaware

"And you know what they liked the best, Daddy?" Debbie's voice asked from the back seat of the car, and Broots smiled at her in her rearview mirror.

"My tattoo!" The girl beamed, and Broots heard a muffled choking sound from the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. "They were sooo jealous!"

"And what was the most fun thing you did?" the woman asked, turning around to smile at the girl in the back seat.

"Hmm, I think it was the night we stayed up to have a midnight feast and tell ghost stories," she was told. "Amy had the best one."

"Amy is her oldest cousin," Broots told Kim under his breath, seeing her nod slightly.

"She told all about this house that's got a real ghost." Debbie's eyes were wide. "Nobody can bear to live in it, because they get too scared."

"Apparently this house shows them all their worst fears and nightmares and stuff." She bit into the bread roll that her father had bought when he had stopped to buy gas, chewing and swallowing it before continuing. "The story goes that an old guy - Mr. Woods - built it for his family to live in. He was really into magic and talking to dead people and stuff, and he used to travel around doing it, with his family, but then he got too old, so he came back to this place that his family owned and built a house on the land and moved in."

Debbie took another bite. "But apparently his son fell in love with a woman, and she moved into the house with them. Mr. Woods believed that she was a witch."

"A good witch," Debbie responded emphatically. "But Mr. Woods thought that she was a bad one, and that she'd bewitched his son, so," the girl's voice lowered, and Broots felt a chill run down his spine, "one night he tied her up and tried to force her to leave the house and his son, but she wouldn't go, so he killed her."

Broots found that his hands were gripping the steering wheel unnecessarily tightly, and he had to force himself to calm down as his daughter took another bite of the roll.

"He buried her body under the house," Debbie went on, "and wrote a note to his son, pretending to come from his girlfriend, which said that she was leaving and wasn't coming back. But his son didn't believe it, and every morning said that she'd come into his room at night and told him that she was still in the house. And Mr. Woods kept having dreams about the woman, and she always accused him of killing her. Then, finally, one morning his wife found him dead at the bottom of the stairs. Nobody had heard him get up or leave the bedroom, but they guessed he was walking in his sleep. After that, Mr. Woods' wife wanted them to leave, but the son, the one whose girlfriend had been killed, didn't want to. The rest made him come, but he remembered what his girlfriend had said about still being in the house, so he made sure that the family kept it."

"So ever since then, her ghost has haunted the house, and scared people away?" Kim offered, and Debbie nodded in agreement, beaming.

"Very cool," the woman agreed, before turning to the driver. "Lazslo, do you want to swap places, like we discussed? I can drive for a while."

Rue de Victor Hugo
Paris, France

Lucian glanced at his watch as the sun peeped over the edge of the window-ledge in his rented apartment. He tucked his hands behind his head, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling. Being in this city was possibly a little close to the Berlin branch, but he was waiting to see what repercussions would follow the takeover, in preparation for his own attack.

His gaze fell on the paper that lay on the bed beside him, which had earlier been occupied by one of the city's night workers. It had almost gone against the grain to pay her and let her leave, but he wanted to remain in this place for some time, so he had been forced to do so, so as not to attract unwanted attention. The front page bore a photo of one of this country's politicians, but what had attracted Lucian's attention was the similarity this face bore to that of his father. Picking up the paper, he let his eyes roam over the picture, recalling the problems Hermann had had with this organization in the years before his death.

Hermann Bruce read the report and frowned. He'd heard the rumors, of course, that Catherine was on a downward spiral, that her mental state was deteriorating rapidly. That didn't bode well, and sure enough, Catholic or not, it seemed she had taken her life in that elevator, ending their hope of the excellent potential her offspring could have brought them.

He pushed the report aside, pleased now that he wouldn't have to make up excuses to the Triumvirate to have her killed afterward. She had stolen from him, and that was unforgivable. And he had no doubt she was planning to go to the Triumvirate with the truth about his secret eugenics projects. It might already be too late, if she had tipped off one of them already.

But he had plans to resolve that, as well. And should anything happen to him before he could carry it out, he knew he could depend on his son to see his plan through. Lucian was as brilliant as both his parents, and as handsome as his mother. He would make an excellent commander in chief when his turn came; in fact, Hermann was thinking of setting him up as the Chairman and letting the young man run things personally. But Lucian had his own ideas about how things should be handled, and had requested to be enrolled in some of the training programs. Though he hadn't specified which ones, Hermann trusted his judgment and signed the orders.

The Triumvirate was making him nervous, snooping into research and funding, asking questions about a project they should have left alone, and he was beginning to wonder if it might not be time for a drastic change in personnel. He'd talk to his son about it, the next time Lucian called. But for now, the science was all that mattered, and he signed off the report and put it in his OUT box for filing.

Lucian thought of the heads that had lined the wall of his secret room at the Centre and smiled. It had been the perfect outcome, as far as he and his father had been concerned, not that Hermann had been alive to know it. From that time, he had been able to move forward without interruption, and although Lucian knew how furious his father would have been at the fact that the truth about Ethan had been hidden from him for so many years, that small detail hadn't mattered to Lucian. It had only proved to him how devoted Raines was to the cause in which the entire Bruce family had wanted to be involved. The man smiled at the thought of how it could go forward once he regained control of his empire.

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Jarod paused in the doorway that separated the two apartments, looking in to see Jordan sitting on the floor against the sofa, a blue blanket, patterned with white clouds, between his hands, his fingers rubbing it gently as he stared blankly at the floor. Jarod's fingers tightened around the control of the chair as he saw a single tear slip out of his son's eye and begin the slow trek down the boy's cheek, which looked thinner than it had the last time they had seen each other. Out of the corner of his eye, the man could see piles of papers on the desk in the corner, recognizing his own script on formulae, a mockery of what had not been achieved in time.

"Jordan?" he asked softly, and the young man's brown eyes, filled with unshed tears, rolled up to meet his. Another salty drop began its journey as the man rolled over to the sofa, stopping beside his son and reaching out to gently brush it away.

Jordan blinked several times to clear his vision and then eased himself up onto the sofa, reaching out for his father. Speechlessly, the man returned the embrace, pulling him as close as the chair would allow, feeling the warm tears soak through his t-shirt and tasting salt in his mouth as he let some of his own emotions out in a similar fashion.

"I'm sorry, Jordan," he murmured, tightening his grasp. "Sorry that I wasn't there. Sorry that you had to go through it all alone."

"You're still here," the young man choked out. "That's all that matters. You didn't leave me, too."

The voice, so similar to his own, broke into a storm of sobs, his hands clutching at Jarod's back, tightening his hold so much that pain flashed through Jarod's chest and he was almost forced to ask Jordan to let go. He inhaled a difficult breath, feeling his son's head immediately lift as he let his arms drop.

"I'm sorry," he snuffled, rubbing his sleeve across his nose. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," Jarod assured him, reaching out to smooth his son's hair with a loving hand. "I'll be all right."

Jarod wiped Jordan's cheeks with his thumbs, meeting his gaze steadily. "You know I wouldn't lie to you, son. The doctors say I'll be almost back to normal in another few months, with no long-term problems, thanks to Namir." His voice trembled slightly. "And Faith."

Jordan nodded numbly, pulling a tissue from a box on the table and scrubbing his eyes before he pushed it into the pocket of his jeans.

"Have you been spending time with your brother?" Jarod continued, choosing his words carefully and watching as Jordan nodded.

"I wanted to see both of you," Jarod responded gently. "But if you'd come up, Gabriel would have wondered, and we couldn't have exposed him to that sort of environment at his age. That's the same reason Uriel didn't come up to see his father."

"We flew down together," the older man informed him. "He's in the playroom now."

Jordan nodded speechlessly, and Jarod decided to change the subject. "How's Merritt?"

"She's okay," his son replied, inhaling shakily. "She's been really good, you know, about knowing when I want to be alone or when I want to talk about things."

"I can imagine," Jarod remarked thoughtfully, giving his son another gentle hug. "Gabriel wants to show you the birthday presents I gave him."

"Sure." Jarod watched his son go into the bathroom, hearing a tap turned on a moment later, but his thoughts were distracted as two arms wrapped around him from behind.

"I thought I heard your voice," a voice scolded in his ear. "What are you doing here, Jarod?"

He looked up into his mother's brown eyes, smiling as she bent down to kiss his forehead. "How could I miss my son's birthday?" he asked, warmly returning the hug.

"But are you sure you were up to flying?" She closely examined his face with her eyes. "I planned to come up and tell you about it."

"It's not the same as being here," Jarod retorted, as Jordan came out of the bathroom, his eyes less red and swollen.

"No, it's not," Margaret agreed, her hand resting on her son's shoulder as the trio left the room.

When they got into the elevator, Jarod suddenly remember something he had thought of on the flight over and pressed a button for the first floor, on which the offices and boardroom were located.

"I'll meet you up there in about 20 minutes," he explained, seeing that Jordan was about to speak. "Promise."

His mother and son stepped out of the elevator a few moments later, to be excitedly greeted by Gabriel, while Jarod pressed the button to close the doors. Exiting the car a short time later, he steered the chair along the hall, glancing into the boardroom as he passed and, when it proved to be empty, continuing to an office, the door of which stood open.

"You know," he remarked lightly, seeing the occupant's head snap up in astonishment, "there's a party happening on the nursery floor. I'm surprised you're not up there."

"I thought Trevor would have told you that he sent the jet down for Ethan and me," Jarod stated, as he entered the office.

"He didn't say a word to me." Sebastian shut down the screen on which he was working. "How're you feeling?"

"Getting better." Jarod sat back in the chair and looked at the man opposite. "Morgan said you had something you wanted to talk to me about."

"A couple of things actually, but one is more important." Sebastian told the older man about Keely and her reaction to the patches Jarod had given her. The Pretender's expression became more thoughtful as he listened.

"To be honest," he said, once Sebastian had finished, "that isn't totally unexpected. It's the sort of thing I was expecting when I said it might make you sick. But I spent more time on it for your dose and, because we were running out of time, just scaled hers down according to height and weight. Obviously it needs more than that, or she might have an allergy to one of the components of the drug."

"She's too scared to stop it, in case she can't control what happens. I think she's willing to put up with the side-effects, if it keeps the pyrokinesis at bay," the girl's brother reported.

Jarod's fingers tapped on the arm of his chair as he contemplated ways to work on this project and also the others to which Morgan had assigned him. Suddenly a thought struck him.

"I can't desert the Centre yet, much as I want to," he explained, seeing Sebastian's face fall at the prospect of his sister having to suffer. "But I'll get Jordan to work on a few preliminaries for me. He needs something to think about before he flies to Australia…"

"What?!" Sebastian's expression reminded Jarod that no one knew about the invitation except for himself, and he laughed slightly before explaining. When he was done, Sebastian nodded. "I think it's a good idea," he stated. "I'll even fly them back on one of the jets, with all the trimmings."

"We'll give you the trimmings here," his host retorted, smiling also. "Name it and it's yours."

"You already gave me what I wanted," the Pretender remarked softly. "I couldn't ask for any more than what's been done since you rescued me at the airport that day."

"Ditto," Sebastian agreed, before looking concerned again. "But what about Keely?"

Jarod's thoughts dwelled on Alexander, the project, of all those he had worked with, who seemed to most need the continuity of the same advisor. He would also be useful in the research Jarod knew would be necessary to help Keely. Explaining a little of the young man's situation, he then put forward his request.

"Is it possible for Alexander to come here? We're trying to locate his family, but so far we've had no luck. In the meantime, he'll need to work so he doesn't go out of his mind with boredom, and he's got the potential to be a gifted researcher."

"He sounds like somebody we could really use," Sebastian enthused. "Either here or up at Saltier. And, if he turns out to be as good as you think he is, once he's able to work on his own, he can have a position there, if he wants one."

"Great." Jarod smiled in satisfaction. "I'll put it to him when I go back in a few days."

"For as short a time as possible," Jarod affirmed. "I'll need to talk to Alexander about moving, and to the team at the Centre about transferring him, just so they know where he is, if they manage to find his family. Hopefully, that will only take a day. Once it's settled, I should be able to come back for good. I don't have any reason to stay there. Morgan can handle any problems that might come up."

The younger man nodded slightly. "If you are intending to come back, I might as well put forward my suggestion now, so you've got time to think about it." He sighed, before continuing. "As I'm sure you know, we lost a lot of people in the takeover, and although some, like Ramona, will be well enough to come back to work eventually, a few can't manage that sort of pressure. They'll all stay here, of course, if they want to, but not doing the work they were before."

Jarod nodded slowly, not entirely sure where this conversation was leading. Sebastian seemed to realize this, because he stopped beating around the bush and came directly to the point.

"I'd like to offer you a place on my board," the pyrokenetic told him, continuing hurriedly. "It would give you more input into how the Seraphim will be brought up, and we'll also be working closely with The Centre from now on, so you'll have some say in that area, too."

There was a long moment of silence, during which Jarod could see Sebastian's expression grow increasingly concerned, before the Pretender suddenly grinned. "You're just determined to keep me here, aren't you?"

Jarod chuckled, stretching his right hand across the desk. "Give me time to sort out my things at the Centre, and then you've got yourself a new employee for Pele Enterprises."

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Kim got out of the armchair and shut her book, strolling over to the other side of the room where the home's owner sat, hunched over the computer, and putting her arms around his neck.

Broots' eyes turned up to her face. "It sounds kind of dumb," he began hesitantly, with a sheepish grin, and she grinned in response.

"It's that story Debbie was telling us about in the car," he explained, as she pulled up a chair to sit beside him. "It's familiar, and I don't know why. I know that name from somewhere."

Kim arched an eyebrow. "It's hardly a rare name, is it -- Woods. The Centre probably has clients with that name."

The woman laughed. "Next, you'll be telling me that you researched haunted houses once, just in case Jarod happened to be there."

He stared blankly at her, his mouth slightly open, and she shot him a curious look, finally clicking her fingers in front of his face.

"Certainly I believe in ghosts," she told him indignantly. "Just not in legends that get built around them to promote Halloween and scare little kiddies, and big kiddies," she teased, leaning forward to lightly kiss his cheek.

Ignoring the taunt, he opened up the Centre's mainframe, passing the two new levels of security he had added to keep Lucian and other threats out, and got into his own files. The information he had gathered about Ammon House was still there, and he opened it to show her. "That's where Cox offed himself," he told her. "And take a look at these articles. They all mention a guy called Woods, who built the house and died in it."

"Coincidence that Debbie was talking about it, yes," he agreed. "But apparently Jarod gave Cox the deed of the house as a gift, and the next thing we knew, he was dead."

"Well, what difference does it make?" she queried. "Always assuming that Jarod's handover was legal, the house goes to any of Cox's surviving relatives."

"That's just it." He opened another file. "According to this, he doesn't have any relatives. His dad died a year ago, and his will leaves everything to the Centre."

"I wonder how Jarod convinced the Woods family to sell it," Kim mused thoughtfully.

"I could find out," Broots offered, reaching for the phone, but she caught his hand back.

"Lazslo, it's past midnight, and Jarod needs all the rest he can get to recover from that gunshot wound. Ammon House isn't going anywhere, so wait until you see him at the Centre next."

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

The room was full of a white light. Jarod looked around, trying to get his bearings, but there was only the brightness. Then two faint shadows appeared, forming into people, one tall and the other short. They slowly approached him, their features gradually becoming increasingly recognizable.

Kyle's blue eyes shone brightly as he smiled at his brother, and Jacob's brown eyes glowed with a peace that he had only ever felt for such a short time during his life. The boy gave an excited yelp and ran to Jarod, throwing much sturdier arms around him and hugging him, even as Jarod found himself sitting on the ground.

"I know," the boy sighed against his chest as Jarod put both arms around Jacob, feeling as if his limbs were heavy and that the child in his arms was so light as to be almost non-existent. "But I never got to see him after he left."

Jarod struggled to speak, trying to apologize for not being there, but, although he felt his lips moving, the words didn't come out of his mouth. Jacob looked up out of dark eyes and seemed to know what he wanted to say.

"It's okay," he responded warmly. "Daddy was there, so you were, too, sort of."

Nodding mutely, Jarod buried his face in that small shoulder, feeling his eyes burn as the tears began to slip down his face. His brother's hand came to rest on his shoulder and Jacob's body gently eased out of his arms. He looked up in time to return the enthusiastic hug Kyle gave him, seeing that the scars which had marred his face and, most importantly to Jarod, his hand were no longer evident.

Then footsteps could be heard, lightly running towards him, and suddenly two arms slid around his back as he somehow rose to his feet. Turning, he found Faith hugging him, her eyes glowing with happiness.

"I wanted to see you again," she explained, reaching up to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. "I love you so much, Jarod. Be happy."

How can I, he wanted to ask, without you there? But again he couldn't frame the words. However, Faith nodded with a smile.

"You can," she assured him. "And you will. You have to, because my daughter will know if you're not. All I ask is that you take care of her for me. Treat her as your own. Love her."

"Yes," he stated, surprised at the sound of his own voice, finding that the tears still poured down his face. "Of course. You know I will. I do."

Faith stepped back beside Kyle, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "We'll look after Jacob for you, too, until you come to us."

The light suddenly dissolved as he jerked up into a sitting position, the familiar objects of his room barely visible, even in spite of the lamp that glowed on his bedside table, his vision blurred by the tears that rolled down his cheeks, his chest heaving agonizingly. A shadow detached itself from the wall, the woman sitting down beside him and wrapping her arms around him, her brown eyes glowing with sympathy.

"I thought you'd want to see it," Elizabeth explained softly, as he wept against her shoulder. "And it was so strong. Almost too strong for me."

His arms tightened around her back, flashes of the dream that he knew instinctively he would be able to remember forever recurring in his mind.

"They're happy now, Jarod," she soothed, her own voice thick with emotion. "You know that. They told you so. Now you have to be happy again, eventually."

"I know." Elizabeth gently stroked his hair. "But you have your sons and your family. You have the chance to build a new life. You can't change what happened. All you can do now is take control of your future."

He inhaled a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut to stop any further tears, and then felt a slight tingling sensation as Elizabeth placed the palm of her hand flat against the back of his head. Fear of what might confront him as soon as he fell asleep made him tense, but she murmured softly in his ear.

"It's okay, Jarod. I won't let anything happen to you. But you need to rest, or those wounds won't heal. You're safe with me."

The tingling strengthened, but this time he didn't fight it, feeling a wave of drowsiness smother the pain, both physical and emotional, that the dream had conjured up. Her arms supported him as he felt his body become increasingly heavy, his head drooping against her shoulder and his arms slipping down from their hold around her back.

"That's better," her voice soothed, gradually becoming more distant. "Let it go, Jarod. Just relax. I won't let anything bad happen, I promise."

Darkness swallowed him up as his eyelids slid down, and he felt a gentle swaying motion, hands supporting his body until he lay against a soft surface, something warm placed over him. A gentle hand smoothed down his cheek as his awareness grew hazy and a soft touch on his forehead was the last thing he felt.

Boston, Massachusetts

Emily came out of the bathroom of her small, single-bedroom apartment, her bathrobe wrapped around her, and picked up her bag from where it lay on the floor, tossing it onto the bed with such force that it bounced off again. Grumbling under her breath, she picked it up, rescuing the pages that had fallen out and stuffing them back in.

She had returned to her work at the newspaper after the funeral, and after seeing that both of her brothers were going to recover from their injuries. She hadn't been able to remain at the Centre, knowing that Paul -- Yuri -- was only a couple of floors below the one on which her brothers were. Hoping that work would act as a sufficient distraction, she had eagerly gone back to it, despite her mother's plea that she return with them to Dallas and Sanctuary. She didn't want to see Michaela, either, after learning whose daughter she was, and she knew that the little girl would have sought her out, as she had done constantly after they had met.

A plate containing her dinner was already waiting in the fridge and she put it into the microwave, glancing through her few letters while it heated and placing them with her other bills.

In spite of her urge to escape from the warm family unit that was developing, Emily couldn't deny that she was lonely. She had become used to the companionship of the man she still loved, and she was torn between that and the feeling of horror that had come with learning the truth of who and what he was.

Rescuing the food, she ate it without really tasting it. She had been in this state since her return from Blue Cove, and the few friends she had made at the paper had begun to comment on her listlessness. Work had proved such an ineffective distraction, despite working late into the night and starting early every morning, that she had begun fishing around for some other solution, but so far, nothing had come up. Sighing, as she stared out of the window and into the dark night, she hoped something would.

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

The sun was showing on the horizon as Jarod made his way up to the roof. The bed in his son's room had been empty when Jarod had checked, and he had instinctively known that the young man would be up here. His instinct was verified when he saw the long form stretched out on the sun-lounge, staring blankly at the sky.

"It's a little early in the morning to be trying to work on your tan now," he joked, seeing a faint grin form on Jordan's face.

There was silence between them for a few moments, but it wasn't comfortable, and Jarod had a feeling that Jordan was building up to tell him something. Finally, the young man turned to him, his expression pained.

"Because of," Jordan hesitated, his lips quivering. "Because of Jake. Everywhere I go, there's something that reminds me of him. I just want to get away from that, until it doesn't hurt so much."

Jarod nodded, glad that he had an alternative to offer, but he wanted to hear whether his son had any suggestions first. "Where were you thinking of?" he suggested.

"Anywhere!" Jordan abruptly got to his feet, furiously pacing the glassed-in area. "Just…not here." He turned to his father, his expression pleading. "Do you know anywhere?"

Jordan returned to the sun-lounge, his eyes fixed on his father, the strain he was under obvious in the intentness of his gaze.

"I had visitors a few days ago," the older man began. "Lauren Taylor and her brother came to see me, and they suggested that I let you go back with them to Australia when they fly home, in a day or two."

"They also suggested," Jarod continued, "that I send Merritt along with you. Now, I haven't talked to Morgan about it yet…"

"Oh, please," a female voice begged, and suddenly Merritt was standing in front of him, her blue eyes full of eagerness. "Please, Jarod, let me go! I'd love to see Australia!"

Jarod raised both hands in a gesture of protest, unable to help smiling at the urgency on her face. "Whoa, slow down, Merritt. I'm not the person who has the final say. You'll have to talk to your mother about it, and get her okay."

Merritt turned and ran for the stairs. "I'm going to ask her," she called back, and Jarod grinned at the thought of the way Morgan would react at being dragged out of a sound sleep to be asked a question like that.

He turned his gaze back to his son and, seeing that Jordan was looking at him, opened his arms and embraced the young man firmly.

"Take as long as you need over there," he whispered into Jordan's ear. "Call whenever you want."

Jarod felt tears dripping onto his shirt and heard his son's voice, thick with emotion, in his ear. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, son," Jarod responded warmly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "And all I care about is that you're happy. I'd send you to the ends of the earth if it would achieve that."

"Hey, it's only 16 hours," the older man protested, laughing. "And we should have a chat about the place before you go, so you know what you're getting yourself into."

25 Washington Ave.
Blue Cove, Delaware

A car pulled up in the driveway and a dark-haired woman leapt out, seeing the home's occupant appear on the white porch. She ran lightly up the few steps and into his arms.

"Michelle," he greeted her warmly. "I was just beginning to think you should arrive soon."

He walked with her back down to the car, Michelle opening the trunk as Sydney greeted his son, who was getting out of the passenger seat.

"Busy," the young man returned with a smile, hugging him. "I can only stay for tonight, then I have to get back to work."

"I'm glad you decided to come now." Sydney tried to take one of the bags, but was circumvented by the younger man.

"I'll get them," he insisted, glancing briefly at the cane his father continued to use. "You take Mom inside and show her the rooms you've probably got ready."

Smiling acquiescence, Sydney escorted Michelle into the house, but it was quickly obvious that she didn't need the brief tour he was ready to give.

"Not much has changed," Sydney responded, kissing her lightly. "You can either have Jacob's old room, or…"

"Name it and it's yours," he told her, and she immediately carried her small bag into his room and put it on his double bed. Nicholas appeared in the hall outside the room and placed his mother's case on the floor without a word. Sydney stepped out and waved slightly down the hall. "I set up Jacob's room for you," he explained, opening the door. "It's yours for as long and as often as you want it."

Reaching into his pocket, he took out a key and placed it into his son's hand. Nicholas gazed at it for a moment before pulling his keyring out of his pocket and solemnly attaching the key to it, looking up.

Sydney smiled. "Dinner's almost ready. Come into the living room and tell me what you've been up to since we last spoke."

The trio walked down the hall and into the living room, settling themselves comfortably in front of the fire. Sydney saw Nicholas' eyes drawn to the picture frames on the mantelpiece and stood up to gather the photos, offering them with an explanation of who was in them. Returning to his seat beside Michelle, he watched his son examine the faces, a warm feeling spreading through him at the thought that he finally had these members of his family at home with him.

A sound from the corner, near the fireplace, drew his eyes there to find his older son sitting in the corner, watching the newcomers. Turning back to Nicholas, he saw that the young man had also see his older brother and was in the act of handing the photos to his mother. Rising, he went over to the corner and knelt down on the floor in front of the empath.

Sydney was pleased to see that Nicholas didn't move away or try to avoid Angelo's touch, looking at Michelle and seeing her smile, despite the pained expression in her eyes.

"We talked about him," she murmured, glancing briefly at Sydney before turning her gaze back to the empath. "It's such a tragedy."

"I know," he responded curtly. She placed her hand over his and squeezed gently.

"That doesn't make it any easier," he replied shortly, and then got to his feet as a buzzing from the kitchen announced that dinner was ready.

Act III

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

The hallway was empty as Jarod slowly steered the chair along it, headed for the last door before the turn that would lead to the elevator. It was closed, and he reluctantly reached up to open it, a moment of hesitation passing before he finally pushed it open and guided the chair inside, turning on the light as he passed the switch.

It was almost totally empty. The bed had been stripped, the covers piled at the foot and pillow at the head, both smooth and ready for a new occupant. The screen along one wall was black and seemed to absorb the light from the room. The lamp beside the bed, and that on the desk, were off, only the overhead light allowing him to see the space. His eyes slowly traveled the length of it, halting briefly at the open door leading to the bathroom. This wasn't an apartment, like his own, because they had all been full when Faith had arrived at the Centre. Now, of course, he thought bitterly, there were many standing empty, their occupants having lost their lives during or after the battle, as Faith had.

Awkwardly managing to close the door behind himself, Jarod felt agony twist in his chest. It was a devastatingly familiar sensation, and he hated that fact. His life seemed made up of so much loss that he had to wonder how even Faith been able to keep his spirit alive. Surely, it would have been easier to let go. But there were his sons, his family, who would have found his death so hard to cope with. The loss of Jacob had been a bitter blow, but his own death might have torn the group apart, just at a time when they would have needed each other most.

A box stood in the corner, containing the few possessions to which Faith had laid claim. On top of it lay a gold rectangle, which reflected the light from the ceiling and into his eyes. Going over, he picked up the plaque, seeing the name engraved in it and running his fingers over the five letters. It had been made before Faith's identity and family had been established, and there hadn't been time to change it. Jarod had sent the envelope containing the photos and letters to Morgan, along with the other personal possessions that had been in Faith's trailer. They belonged rightly to Faith's family and not to him. Beside, he didn't want them. Thoughts of Faith were hard enough to deal with, as it was.

Suddenly, a painfully vivid memory of her flashed into his mind, and Jarod could see her, as if she was standing in front of him, her blond hair hanging down her back, blue eyes shining happily, as they had been in his dream. A lump formed in his throat, but it dissolved quickly into hot tears that slid down his face, and Jarod placed his arms on the box, put his face down on them and allowed himself to weep, bitterly and unrestrainedly.

Faith was dead because she had, as she always did, put his needs before her own. He had made the mistake of allowing Lyle to pull the trigger, his instinct for self-preservation taking over, failing to remember that his armor would have protected him from the knife that madman had wielded. If only he had remembered, Lyle would never have had the chance to shoot him, Faith would still be alive -- and he wouldn't feel the guilt settling on his chest, as it was now, weighing him down. He might, even now, have been planning a future with the woman who had always been there for him, instead of having to mourn her. The regrets piled up, and he moaned aloud as he rested his head in his hands and leaned his elbows on the box, seeing that his tears had blistered the thick cardboard.

A steady stream of warm tears dripped from between his fingers, falling onto his lap and soaking through his black jeans. It was then, and for the first time, that he noticed a hand gently stroking his hair and looked up sharply into a familiar pair of brown eyes.

"It's all right, my baby," Margaret assured him softly, pulling up the chair from the workstation and sitting on it, easing him into her arms. "Go ahead and grieve. It's important for you to mourn. She meant so much to you; I know that. I could see it."

He rested his head against her shoulder, feeling her arms around him and not trying to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks. He had already known what she had told him, but it was important for him to have it corroborated by someone else. Jarod's arms worked their way around his mother's back and he clung to her, knowing that, because of Faith, she would now be able to be there for him, whenever he needed her.

Gratitude for everything Faith had ever done for him swelled in his chest, and it was, somewhat inextricably, even able to ease some of the pain in his heart for her loss. He had understood that side of her -- that it was important to her, as it was to him, to help people, except that her focus was always on him, whereas his was on the world around him. He felt guilty for the debt he owed, but knew that it had always been her choice, and Jarod hoped that his love, even for such a short time, had been able to give her something meaningful and worthwhile in return. Not that he would ever stop loving her, but he had a suspicion it would eventually become a love borne of gratitude, rather than the love that had, for such a short time, been so overwhelming and powerful, which would eventually triumph. His knowledge of human nature told him that such powerful emotions couldn't last forever. In a way, that was comforting. It meant that his grief, also, would, one day, lessen.

She smiled, smoothing his hair and kissing his cheek, before reaching down to trace something on his t-shirt, and Jarod recognized it as a heart. He reached up and pressed her hand flat against his chest, stroking the back of it with the tips of his fingers.

"Mothers always know when their children need them, baby," she assured him lovingly.

He smiled through his tears, reaching up to pull her closer to him, hearing her heart beating in his ear as he rested his head against her chest. Her arms were warm around him, one hand gently stroking his hair and smoothing over his back. The other was wrapped around him, warm and comforting, and he closed his eyes, letting tears ease out from beneath his lids to slip down his cheeks. He could grieve properly this time, with people around to keep him from going too far, to stop him from letting his guilt and emotion take too much of a toll, as had happened after Zoe's death, and that was something else for which he could be grateful.

"Daddy?" a little voice suddenly asked, and Jarod and his mother looked around to find Gabriel in the doorway, wearing his pajamas, bunny slippers and white bathrobe, the sash messily tangled around his waist, his brown hair standing on end.

"You should be having a nap," Margaret scolded lightly, getting up and going over to pick up the boy, carrying him back to where Jarod was sitting. The man took his son, and Gabriel snuggled in under the blanket over Jarod's legs, looking up at his father out of anxious eyes.

"Yes, honey," the man agreed, his voice trembling, feeling his mother's arm around his shoulders again. "I do."

He wrapped his arms around the warm body on his lap, knowing this was what Faith would have used to make him fight to continue living -- the knowledge that both his sons still needed him, and would continue to need him for as long as he lived.

"I glad you's here, Daddy," Gabriel sighed against his father's chest. "I an' Jo-den."

"I'm glad I'm here, too, sweetie," Jarod admitted, and knew this was true. Faith's loss was hard to cope with, but he couldn't bear to think of leaving his sons alone. He had missed so much of their lives already -- it was unthinkable that he might have missed the rest. Jarod vowed to remember this feeling, knowing it would help him through some of the hardest times still to come.

Fort Worth International Airport
Irving, Texas

The jet pulled to a stop and the door opened, letting in a gust of hot, diesel-scented air. Alastair offered Julia his arm for support, and, as two men in black outfits with flame logos on their shirts appeared in the doorway to collect their bags, the two psychics made their way off the jet. Julia gasped as the early fall heat hit them, tightening her hold on the man's arm, the weather in Berlin having failed to prepare her for such extreme temperatures.

A large black car stood nearby, a blond woman struggling to control a little boy, who was jumping up and down with excitement, and at the sight of whom Julia's eyes filled with tears. The moment her feet were on the ground, Peter broke from Rebecca's hold and threw himself at his mother.

"Mommy!" he yelped, grabbing her so tightly around the legs that, except for the arm Alastair put around her back, she would have fallen. She bent down to pick him up, sobbing with the sheer relief of holding him again. He clutched her around the neck, breathing warmly into her face and planting kisses on her cheeks and forehead. "Mommy never go 'way 'gain," he ordered.

"Never again, my baby," she vowed breathlessly, feeling pain tug at her side, where the broken ribs were still repairing themselves. "Never ever again."

Alastair's hand on her shoulder helped her straighten up and then gently propelled her over to where the blond woman was waiting.

Julia felt the woman's lips gently brush her cheek as warm arms embraced her. "I'm delighted to meet you at last," Rebecca greeted her. "Alastair's told me so much about you, and the children have been longing for your arrival."

Feeling herself tremble, Julia could only just manage an almost inaudible 'hello.' Alastair seemed to realize her feelings, because he steered the group to the car, settling Julia in the seat facing the front, with Peter on her lap, and sitting opposite, Rebecca beside him, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.

"Down to the most minute detail," Rebecca laughed. "And we've had a heck of a time with Uriel and Raphael this morning." Her blue eyes danced. "I understand their caregivers are planning to go on strike if they don't calm down."

Alastair's hearty laughter rang through the vehicle. "I wish I'd seen it," he remarked fervently.

Julia felt pressure against her stomach and looked down to find that her son's ear was pressed to her bulge.

"I want to hear her talk," he explained, looking up and beaming. "'Cos I know what she looks like, but I hasn't heard her voice yet."

The woman blinked the tears out of her eyes as she gently pulled her son close, almost unable to believe that she was finally back with him. Her thoughts dwelled briefly on her other son, who was waiting for her at the place she had viewed so often in her mind but never expected to actually see.

"Uriel was going to come," Rebecca explained, as if she had read Julia's thoughts. "But we didn't want you to be too overwhelmed. When we arrive, the children will be having their naps, so you can have some time to recover from the flight before you meet them."

Forcing herself to smile, Julia nodded slightly and murmured her thanks. She was tired -- more tired than she could ever remember being in her life before. All the new experiences, when added to her continued weakness as a result of her injuries and long period of fasting, had overwhelmed her. Peter scrambled up into her arms and rested his head against her shoulder, looking out of the window and pointing out interesting features of the landscape as she leaned her head against the headrest, gently stroking her swollen belly.

Plane over Australia

Lauren heard the sound of muffled sobbing beside her and opened her eyes, looking over to see Jordan with his face buried in one of the pillows that had been provided. Reaching across, she placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling him tense immediately as she began to smooth his ruffled hair.

Extracting a clean tissue from her pocket, Lauren gently pushed it into his hand before raising the armrest between them, sliding her arm around his shoulders and drawing him slightly towards her.

"Did anyone ever tell you that I had a sister?" she asked, unsurprised when the young man shook his head. "Susie and I were twins. She was born 20 minutes after me. When we were twelve, she drowned in the pool in the back garden of our old house in the city."

"It still does," she confessed, gently stroking Jordan's hair. "I loved my sister like crazy. We were identical twins, and knew everything there was to know about each other. When she died, I went through 'survivor's guilt' because I was away from home on a school camp when she died and I had a premonition that it was happening. I just couldn't get to a phone quickly enough." Her arm tightened slightly around Jordan's shoulders. "Maybe it's not quite the same as the way you feel about Jacob, but I do understand what you're going through, and if you ever want to talk, I'm always an available pair of ears."

"Thanks." Jordan leaned his head against her shoulder, swallowing the lump in his throat as he looked out through the small window to see lights flashing below them and stars glowing brightly in the sky while Rachael gurgled cheerfully in her seat in front of them.

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

When Julia entered the building, her son clinging to one hand and Alastair supporting the other, she saw a man standing in the foyer, his teeth shining white in his dark face as he hurried over.

<"Julia,"> he greeted her, with a kiss on her cheek, stumbling a little over his German. <"It's lovely to see you again.">

"Trevor," she murmured quietly, remembering when the tall man had come to Germany to discuss the possibility of buying into some of Die Fakultät's concerns. In 25 years of work, he was one of only a few people who had recognized her as a person, treating her accordingly, even seeming to have sympathy for her. "It's good to see you, too."

He gently tucked her hand around his arm, guiding her over to the elevator, after putting Peter on his shoulders. This seemed to be a familiar game, because the boy pretended to use the man's hair to steer, giggling and expertly ducking under doorframes. The sounds brought a faint smile to Julia's face, making her think sadly, at the same time, that she had never heard her son laugh in his life before.

"Let's go up to your room," he suggested gently. "My wife's there, waiting for you. She's a nurse, and she's going to be in charge of you for a few days, until you've recovered a little."

"For month now, yes." He smiled proudly, flashing his wedding ring, before reverting to his former topic. "She and Rebecca will look after you until you're back to your usual strength, and," Trevor added, with a grin, "you've had a chance to get over that shyness." He winked. "It's certainly very different from the Julia I remember. Quiet, maybe, but not shy."

"That was a long time ago," she reminded him softly, as the elevator descended. "I knew what I had to do then."

"You'll learn what to do out here, in this big world, too," he assured her, sliding an arm around her shoulders and squeezing gently. "Not everyone could have done what you did for so long, and if you learned how to keep alive in that place then the world should present you with no problems at all."

Trevor guided her into a room, the size of which almost took her breath away. After her little cell at Die Fakultät, this seemed to go on forever. A bed was tucked away in one corner, so invitingly turned back that it made her ache with tiredness just to look at it. A screen ran the length of one wall, the picture showing a beach scene, with blue sky, where the waves lapped gently up on the sand. A large wardrobe stood opposite, and Julia wondered vaguely what was in it, as it was too big to hold her clothes. An oversized armchair stood in another corner, in which a dark-haired woman was sitting, her brown eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. When the trio appeared, she rose to her feet and came over.

"So this is Julia," she greeted the woman. "The one we've heard about for weeks! It's wonderful to have the chance to finally meet you." She slid a supportive arm around Julia's waist, her voice gentle. "My name's Elizabeth. We're delighted you've come."

Julia heard the accent but was too tired to work out where it came from. Elizabeth nodded at her husband, who quietly left the room, silencing Peter's protest and taking the boy with him.

"Let's get you out of these clothes and into something more comfortable," she directed, guiding the exhausted woman over to the bed and seating her on it. Going over to the wardrobe, she took out a long nightgown and returned to the bedside, gently helping Julia with her clothes and sliding on the garment.

"I should… see to my son," Julia murmured in mild protest, starting to rise, feeling the world spin as she did so, but the nurse shook her head, supporting her back onto the bed.

"For now, you have to get strong for your daughter. We'll take care of your other children, and you can see them either later today or tomorrow." She released the tight band with which Julia's hair was tied up on top of her head, taking up a soft brush that lay on the bedside table and beginning to brush it smooth. Julia looked up in mute protest, and Elizabeth placed a hand on her shoulder, both as a comfort and a gentle restraint. "We're going to take care of you," she promised, "just as we've taken care of your children since they were freed. You'll have to learn to trust the rest of us, like you trust Alastair."

Elizabeth gently did up the ribbon at the neckline of the soft nightgown, tucking a stray strand of hair in behind the psychic's ear.

"Now, you're going to have a good sleep, and when you wake up, you can have something to eat and then see your children. All right?"

Nodding wearily, too exhausted to argue, Julia waited until the bed had been turned back further and felt Elizabeth's arms supporting her as she stretched out on it. A gentle hand stroked her hair and she sighed at the softness of her pillow as her head touched it, feeling the warm blankets tucked closely around her. The lights gradually dimmed until the objects in the room faded away into the blackness and she let herself relax with another quiet sigh.

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Alexander's eyes had been wide from the moment they had left the Centre, and, although Jarod, exhausted by so much travel, having flown up to Blue Cove only that morning, had slept, Sydney had spent the flight watching the young man and chuckling inwardly at the variety of expressions on his face and his constant barrage of questions.

The car in which they were traveling pulled up in front of the large building, and, as the other two occupants got out, a group of men approached the vehicle with a wheelchair. Rebuffing their aid, Jarod got into it himself, and Sydney hid a grin at the resignation on their faces, having obviously been in the situation more than once in recent times.

"This is Sanctuary, Alexander," he responded calmly. "This is the place Jarod told you about two days ago. We would have brought you here sooner, but Jarod was seeing his son and friends of his family off, so we waited until today."

"Yes, it is," Jarod agreed, coming up to them and obviously overhearing this. "But I think you'll be happy here. There are other people of your age for you to get to know, and a special surprise for you, too."

Alexander's brow furrowed at the oblique reference, but he meekly followed the other men into the building, watching, from a short distance, as Jarod greeted the woman sitting at a desk in the middle of a huge area. He turned with a booklet on his lap and came back to where Sydney and Alexander were waiting.

There was silence in the car as it ascended, and Jarod checked a detail on the booklet before he turned the chair to the right as they exited the elevator, eventually stopping outside a particular room and opening the door.

"This is yours, Alexander," he announced, leading the way inside, the chair making it difficult for him to move back so that the young man could enter first.

The room contained a large bed and a workspace, as well as bookshelves and the screen that all rooms at Sanctuary had. Jarod rolled the chair over to the corner in which the workspace sto

Circle of Fire

Act I

The Centre Blue Cove, Delaware

Die Fakultat Berlin, Germany

The Centre Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

The Centre Blue Cove, Delaware

Act II

Raleigh, North Carolina

The Centre Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

Delaware

Rue de Victor Hugo Paris, France

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

The Centre Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

Boston, Massachusetts

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

25 Washington Ave. Blue Cove, Delaware

Act III

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

Fort Worth International Airport Irving, Texas

Plane over Australia

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

Prometheus Building Dallas, Texas

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Die Fakultat
Berlin, Germany

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Rue de Victor Hugo
Paris, France

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

The Centre
Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

25 Washington Ave.
Blue Cove, Delaware

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Fort Worth International Airport
Irving, Texas

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas

Prometheus Building
Dallas, Texas