PART ONE
SID

I never get cold. I don't get hot either. The concept of pain is different for me.

I am endlessly fascinated by humans.

They are such puny things and have endlessly boring ways of disappointing me. I kept hoping that just once, one of them would actually prove of worth. If but one could even prove adequacy, I'd consider all this fascination to have been worth my while.

Just one human to just be adequate. Is that possible?

Actually, I have found one. One human. It is not the human I'm with, however; though he may rise to the occasion yet, I suppose. It would greatly surprise me. I rather like surprises.

John Biebe, the once and possibly future Sheriff of the Great White Crapfest known as Mystery, Alaska, is cold. I can tell by the way his lips have taken on the most striking shade of blue. Blue happens to be quite a favorite color of mine.

He is past shivering. He will die soon. He only has one real hope. He has to prove that he's worth me saving.

JOHN

When I was a boy, my best friend's name was Jamey Mack. Johnny and Jamey. You saw one, you saw the other. I don't ever remember meeting him, you know? It just seemed to me that Jamey was always a part of my life.

We grew up together in Mystery. My mom had pictures of us sitting together in our first snowsuits. You can't even really tell it's us because our bodies are encased in huge puffy layers of fabric and scarves are wound around most of our faces. But I used to love looking at those pictures. I was the chubby one; he was the slightly chubbier one. My dad used to say that we should maybe have been brothers, we were so alike in build and color. Even our temperaments were similar.

In grade school, we ran from the girls when they got old enough to get fascinated in boys but we thought they had cooties. In junior high, we thought up schemes together for how we'd draw on facial hair and make our voices sound real deep, all in the faint hope the girls our age would dance with us at school fairs. In high school, we staked out the girls we wanted to ask out on dates and we talked endlessly about the fascination they presented to us even as we were clueless what to do about them.

And then I met Donna.

Just like that, it all clicked into place.

Jamey died when were juniors in high school. I had been dating Donna for six months. It was getting near the end of the school year. Jamey was out hunting with his brother; I was getting ready for a date with Donna. It was a Saturday afternoon. My dad's the one who told me about the accident, about Jamey's brother tripping and the gun going off.

I don't remember a whole lot more of that weekend. Except for one thing. One thing. It was that through it all, someone was holding my hand. That someone was Donna. She held me together for a long time. And she became my best friend. She was that kind of girl. I knew she'd be that kind of woman. Solid. Someone who'd never let you down. Practical. Someone I admired. I asked her to marry me that summer.

Funny. I never really realized until I watched my film once that Donna had given up a life she wanted, stayed in Mystery, became my wife and yet for as strong as I thought of her as being, she wasn't strong enough to tell me that she had her own dreams. She'd married me instead of pursuing them on her own.

If that assessment sounds harsh, it for sure isn't meant that way. It's really just a way of clarifying something I needed to understand later, after I was on my own in this other world.

What I have realized is this: for me to have that kind of assessment of her means that I have removed some emotional investment from the memory I have of her. It's the only way I could have really gone on: I had to step back and realize that I was on my own. She became a fading memory; she was no longer an active part of my reality.

So I had no more best friends.

I'd lost Jamey; I'd lost Donna. My two best friends.

Don't even get me started on my boys. Their place in my life goes to places I never thought I'd look at again. There isn't a day that doesn't start without me getting a frisson of shock when the memory comes back over me that I don't have them anymore.

For months now, I have wondered more and more why it is that my sons and my wife did not come over with me when I came into this place where I am now. It's more curiosity than an open wound. Among the men in our group, most have their children from their film with them. One has his wife as well as his children. But it has become something I've thought about.

Why not me?

And in this moment as my limbs seem to lose connection to my core, I realize my time is brief and that I am no longer cold. As I leave, I do so with a smile because there is a warmth that comes from within as my last thoughts go from the answer I have finally gotten to that nagging question to the memory I have of a best friend who has for months now become the reason my life has been so worth enjoying. My new best friend. My love. My Clarrie.

Just the thought of her makes me whole because I will never be better than the man who loves Clarity.

My last thought is of her. I want her to go on and to be happy. I want her to understand what I have: that somewhere out there is the man who will heal her heart and she will love again and it will be beautiful in its own special way.

I want him to tell her that. It's the only reason I even talk to SID, lurking there beside me, waiting on me to die. It's the gift I give her with my last breath even as the steam of my words freezes in the air before me.

CLARITY

Engaged. We were engaged. We had exchanged the promise that, someday, we would unite our lives forever. With that man I love, above all and everything.

He is mine. I am his. Forever. Life is good! That simple! 

.... That simple? Nawww, not that simple! Why would we... okay, why would I... let it be simple when I can make it complicated? Huh? Not sure what it is? Call it female nature... or whatever.

After John asked me to marry him at Bud and Marie's wedding few months ago, many of our friends asked us if we had planned a date. Each time I answered that there was no hurry. And it was true, we were happy with what we had, and I didn't feel any hurry to change that into something more.... definitive. He loved me. I was sure of that now. And, of course, I loved him like I never thought it could be possible. What else did we need?

... A family. 

That's what he needed. A family. No doubt about that. He threw me a line once, when he suggested that we bought a bigger house, for when we get married... adding that he was not "trying to pressure me or anything but shouldn't we be thinking ahead?" I was slow to get what he meant, and when I started to have a doubt and asked him, he just said: "Well, you never know...best be prepared, huh?" But we both agreed that there was no hurry. Or rather, I said it, and he agreed. I'm not sure I'm ready yet... but I do want to give him babies. This man was born to have a family, to raise children, to protect them, to cherish them. To love them.

Me? I like children too. But I don't know much about them, don't feel really comfortable with babies. Oh, of course, I find them cute, but... they're so.... small, so fragile, so helpless. I didn't feel then that I was able to take care of them, yet. I found that out with Scarlet and Hando's beautiful little girls. Before I could say a thing, they put one of them in my arms... It was an odd sensation: I was moved, that's true, but also scared... scared that I could do something wrong, I don't know... not to hold them the right way or something... No chance I could ever feed them, or change their diapers! John, him, was so at ease with them, he looked at them with admiration, with love. And I looked at him. Every gesture was so natural to him, like something he's always done, always known...

.... Like something he has never forgotten. ones.

"Feels good to hold a baby again," he said then. And this simple sentence hurt me. Don't get me wrong... It didn't hurt me because it reminded me that he's had a family of his own. No, it hurt me because it reminded HIM that he has had a family... and, more than that, that he lost them.

We talked about that when Jim Braddock arrived with his family. He told me then: "Jim is Jim...I am me...everyone has their own story. Some cross alone. Some cross with someone else. But it is arbitrary, Clarrie, and it is irreversible...I've no time for might have beens now. I am looking forward and there are no regrets. Sadness at times but I have found a new meaning for life...you must understand I have no doubts. I wouldn't have asked you to marry me else..."

Who was he trying to convince? Me... or him? I don't doubt he was sincere; he was sincere in his will to look forward... because he had no other choice.  But "Jim is Jim... I am me"... was this an explanation enough for him? For me, it wasn't. Anyway, I contented myself with that then, and confessed him that I was a selfish lover, and that I was relieved because I wanted him, all to myself. He liked that!

But, each time we met or heard about one of our friends and their family, Scarlet and Hando, Jim and Mae, Jeffrey and his daughters, and now, Zack and his son Eric... I couldn't help noticing my man's sweet smile and melting look, but also the sadness in his eyes. Yes, this man is a family man. Everyone knows that. Me more than everyone. He needs a family....

... His family. 

Yes, I know, I'm pretty focused. But it's because I know, I feel that, in spite of what he told me many times, his family was still very present between us. Or maybe it was just me. Okay, I must be honest with you, but also with me, here. I've always thought of his family and how much he must have suffered from this terrible loss. But even more now that we were going to make a definitive step together. Like I said, I really intend to give him back what he's craving for: a family. No, not give him back, but to give him again, a new family if he can't have his first one. Yes, if he can't have the first one back....

But can't he? Really? That question has been bugging me since we were engaged. The real reason? Well, alright, again I must admit it, it was very selfish first: what if his family showed up after we were married, or worse, after we had children of our own? How would he react? How terrible it would be for him, to be torn between two families. I know, it happens to many other men, when they divorce. But it was different for him, it wasn't his choice, and it wasn't his family's choice. I love him... oh God knows how much I love him. But, or rather, because of that, I don't want to go on with my eyes shut, without thinking ahead. I do want him to have a comfortable and secure nest for him and his children. Even if it's not MY nest... and not my children either.

So that crazy idea came to my mind. I HAD to know if he could have his family back. So we could leave at peace. Only two solutions. He couldn't, OK, they're gone for good, they will always have a special place in his heart, but we can move on and make our own family. Or he could. And I would be to one to move. Away. For him.

Who knows how this world of ours works? Who knows what can happen next? Who knows? Well, if someone knows something, it must be Uma. So I asked her. She was very understanding and supportive. But, unfortunately, if she welcomed each man when he arrived in this strange place that is the Come On Inn, she didn't know how it really worked, what could happen next, or not. Like Heather liked to say: "If you build it, they will come". They built it, they came in, that's all she knew. She's been very straight with me about that, and I'm thankful to her. I needed answers, she didn't have them, so we got our minds into gear together to know who could have them. Nash? Sid? She pushed me to go to John Nash, he may or may not know, but there was no danger in asking him. Unlike Sid. She said I'd better give up the idea of asking Sid, too dangerous...

I didn't. I went for the most probable. I had no time to lose. Sid was the one who could take over our little world and transform it, like he did for Halloween, or when he sent all the men away. If someone had the key, then it could be him. It was worth trying.

So, I hesitated, not very long...and I did it.  

Before John came back from work on the evening, I sent an email to Sid. John had saved everyone's email addresses in our computer some times ago... yes, even Sid's one. In case, he said. Yes, thank you John, you will never know how useful it had been.

I chose each word of my message, making it as short and simple as possible. I wanted to be straight with Sid, it sounded like the safest way to go with him. When the message was done,  it seemed to me that this finger, my finger, placed on this "send" button, was the magic wand to our destiny... together. Or not. For the better... or the worse.  I pushed the button.

From Clarity@aol.com to Sidworld@burningblue.org
When you have a moment, would you please contact me? 
I'd like to talk to you. Alone. 
Thank you.
Clarity

It surprised me... or maybe it didn't surprise me that much, but he answered... 

From SidWorld@BurningBlueForMoi.com to Clarity@StuckWithAnEskimo.com
For you, cheri, time enough.
You wish to speak with me alone? Ah, music to my ears ... that charming voice meant for me alone?
Come tell me how I may pleasure you? Or is my company enough?
Sid
"L'être humain n'a aucun standard de qualité, hormis son besoin d'appartenance".

I was a little bit hesitant to answer him back. Was it fear? Wisdom? But someone helped me in  this choice without knowing it. John himself. He was talking with Carol on the phone about how much he would enjoy spending the evening with Zack's son after she asked him if we could baby-sit the boy while they had their party:

"Been so long since I had a kid in my life"... he said.

I sent my answer to Sid...

From Clarity@EngagedWithASweetMan.com to SidWorld@FreezingBlueForYou.com
Thank you for your answer, Sid. But I'm not looking for pleasure.
Tomorrow? Lunchtime? In the Park, near the lake? 
Please confirm if it's OK with you. 
Clarity

From that moment on, the messages went fast back and forth between us... 

From SID@IKnewSheWantedMyLoveMuscle.com to Clarity@He'sASchmuck.com
Aww, cheri! But no one comes to SID if they are not seeking pleasure. Many can confirm that.
However, it is up to me to confirm our date, isn't it?
Then a date it shall be, mon cheri. Lunch with the lovely Clarity. We'll dine at noon in the park, near the lake. I'll be on my most enchanting behavior, I assure you.
Sweet dreams. Maybe you can convince me to make them come true for you on the morrow...
"C'est clair, le brouillard est un danger. Mais relatif : au moins, on voit qu'on n'y voit rien."

From Clarity@YouLeaveHimAlone.com to Sid@MaybeInYourDreams.net
Thanks. I'll be there.
Quote: "But no one comes to SID if they are not seeking pleasure" 
Then, I'll be the one. 
Don't waste your talent trying to be enchanting with me. I need you mainly to be efficient. I hope I'll convince you, but this has nothing to do with my dreams.
See you tomorrow.
Clarity

From Sid@See?It'sAlwaysTheInnocentOnesWhoWantMeMost.com to Clarity@NeedingToBeRescuedFromYeti.ugh
Cheri amor, I'm flattered that you've been so taken with my talent for being so enchanting with women as lovely as yourself.
Yes, yes, my little love dove, as you so well note, many women do find me efficient. It's one of my charms. Another charm is that I can maddeningly (and delightfully) tease it out for such a long, long time.
You've given me all the clues I need with this last email, cheri. Obviously, if you are not looking for me to fulfil your dreams, you must have me in mind to help you live out a nightmare. Mmmm, you've convinced me ... you had me at "Thanks." Yes. I love the smell of fulfilling a woman's darkest nightmare in the afternoon, at the park, by the lake ... see you soon.

From Clarity@WhoGetsAllSheNeedsHomeThankYouVeryMuch.biz to Sid@YouGotItAllWrong.edu
I think we're not speaking about the same kind of talents, Sid. And you can keep your teasing to yourself.
Please don't try and read in my words what I didn't put in them. It seems that you're not used to be thanked, or that you got this word wrong too. Maybe we can change that.
I won't answer anymore now. We'll talk about all this tomorrow.
See you at the lake.
Clarity

From Sid@MyTalentsAreLegionAndIDon'tMeanTheFelixLegionSoCalmDown,Maxie.com to Clarity@SheDothProtestWayTooMuch.org
Enchante, dear Clarity. How I do look forward to our luncheon. I will do the honors, naturally. Come hungry, cheri, for upon the banks of the lake, I will provide an elegant picnic befitting a woman of your calibre.
I am eager to learn which talent you desire me to demonstrate for you. Until we meet on the morrow, then.
"Le patient use toujours l'impatient."

From Clarity@WhoUsesToMeanWhatSheSays.info to Sid@BetterQualityThanQuantity.pro
One last word. Don't bother about the picnic. I wouldn't want you to waste good food. I'm not going there to eat. 
A demain.
Clarity

And that was it. I had just started my trip on the trail to the unknown, again for the better or the worse, hoping it would, whatever could happen, be the better for John.

As soon as I was in touch with Sid. I started to feel uncomfortable with John. I didn't want to lie to him, but I absolutely couldn't tell him that I was going to meet Sid. In the park. For a picnic! Fortunately, I think he must hang his sheriff's legendary sense of observation along with his gun in the entry of our home, because he doesn't usually notice very much details there. At least, I think he doesn't. And, in that very case, I was glad he didn't. I was nervous, he didn't notice it. He just ran away in a hurry on the morning... while I was preparing myself to seal a deal with the demon. For him. For us, for our possible future together.

Before going to the park, at lunchtime, I stopped by the pub and put an envelope in Uma's mailbox, with two letters. One for her, explaining where and with whom I was, so at least someone would know. The other was for John. In case...

I was scared to death. But our "date" as Sid called it, went rather well, much better than I thought. Although I didn't want to show him, I was impressed by all the efforts he put in this meeting. The picnic was perfect, even if I couldn't swallow anything but a glass of lemonade, ignoring his Champagne, but touched, in spite of myself, by the attention he put in each thing he brought. He is a very charming man when he wants to... Too bad he couldn't be that way all the time, with everyone. He would probably not be so lonely anymore. And it would probably improve his mood and maybe keep his attention from playing mean tricks to other human beings. I'd like to believe that.

This time alone with Sid reinforced that odd feeling I already had about him the few times we met. I knew that he could be very mean, from his movie of course, but also from all he had already done to our friends in the past. Because he was made to be mean. And I knew that, as nice as he could have been with me almost each time we met, I should always keep in mind that he's a dangerous one. But that odd feeling I had was that, perhaps, he wanted to belong to our group, and knew no other way to attract attention but being mean.

I tried not to be too nice with him, but I didn't want to be too rough either. I had to play it tight, the room for maneuver was very thin... and I'm not very skilled. But, what I generally can't do with my brain, I try to do with my heart and feelings. It works... or not. But it was worth trying. My motivation was big. I needed answers: why didn't John have his family with him and, more important: could he have it back? Whether was the answer, I wanted my man to be happy... with or without me. For that, I would have met the devil... well,  that's what I was doing!

It seemed to work rather well. I even did what I knew I shouldn't have done: forget who he really was, even confiding him some rather personal things. He listened to me. It seems that I got his attention, don't know why. I had nothing to give him in exchange of what I asked from him. I knew that from the very beginning. He had absolutely no reason to help me. And he dismissed all my attempts to show him he could be someone else, or at least try, if he wanted to, do something good, that even him could have feelings, a heart. He didn't like that. But he listened to me anyway. I told him that, in spite of all what he had done before, I was placing my future and John's one in his hands... Was there a biggest proof of trust? He seemed intrigued.... and I was really surprised to hear him accept to help me. I'm not sure, I don't remember very well, but I think I even kissed his cheek!

After this, I kept Uma informed so she wouldn't worry too much anymore, even if I asked her to keep the letter for John. It was not over. It just started.

The following days have been hard ones for me. I felt even more uncomfortable with John. It was killing me to see him being his usual unworried self, not imaging that his woman had done something that could be so... definitive for both of them, without telling him anything. How could have he possibly imagined that? But he wouldn't have let me do it, he would have tried to stop it, and I didn't want it to stop now.  So I still couldn't tell him anything. As I said to Marie, "Not telling is not lying", that's what I kept telling myself anyway, maybe to ease my conscience. And, at least, one of us could go on living with his mind at rest. But he finally surprised me, showing me that he was more observant than I thought, by asking me, one day, if there was something wrong with me, if he had done something wrong. My sweet darling! I was the one who did something that could be wrong... but I couldn't tell him. How difficult it had been then not to unburden my guilty soul on him. Still I didn't lie, I just didn't tell him.

But I was also uncomfortable with my friends. Mainly Marie and Bou. They both reacted their own way when they understood that I wouldn't tell them anything, after our pleasant afternoon spend together with Cort and some of the girls, shopping baby clothes.

It was painful not to be able to share something that important with those I loved. I just couldn't. To give it a chance. I was not even sure that Sid could or would really do something for me.

And life went on, day after day. Still no news from Sid. It first disappointed me, then I get used to the idea, and I finally started to wish he had given up the idea and forgotten about me.

And then, one evening, he left. John. He left. Suddenly. He looked angry, troubled. He didn't say anything. He just left. I thought it was because of work. I went to the pub, alone, just to have a drink, maybe several. And got caught in an amazing travel through New Orleans with Ann and some of the girls... but it's another story. I was too drunk to even bother about what he could think. But, when I woke up in the morning, the place beside me in our bed was still empty.

But there was a heartbreaking SMS on my cell phone:  

"Clarity...my sweet Clarity....I have to go away for some time. I can't tell you what it's about. I'll do everything I can to return but...not everything in life can be sure...

I never lied. When I said I loved you and wanted you to be my wife....I never lied...I still do....but sometimes fate has a way of intervening...no one knows that better than me...

I love you...always...believe that...whatever happens to us in the end."

Since that, I've been waiting. 

SID

I never asked to be created. But I have taken the raw material I have had to work with and I have created a work of art. It may not be to everyone's taste, but that's the thing about art, isn't it? When it's really cutting edge, it turns off a lot of pretentious people.

People think I am nothing more than the various bits and impulses of fractions of over 200 personalities. Killers, rapists, misogynists, sadists, warmongers, sociopaths. That's my gene pool, so to speak. But there is one unifying string that is what I used to begin pulling together the unique personality of this creation named SID: it is the fascination with finding a human who can prove to us that there might actually be one among the masses who is worth respecting.

What I have found is that humans have such failings to make me think of them as nothing but weak, putrid and wholly unlikable beings. Like I told Daryl, they are frighteningly inadequate as deities. They are equally inadequate as equals.

In this new place that revolves around the Pub, what have I found? Men supposedly having something in common with me in much the same way of the 200 plus personalities Daryl programmed into me. But I don't see it. The closest might be the great and mighty General Maximus but even he has the annoying tendency toward self-importance and pride. Now, if he had some reason to truly be so proud, that would be one thing. But we are talking a man who wasn't even smart enough to know his second in command had turned on him and wasn't man enough to simply smite down the weakling who'd murdered the emperor. He should have just killed the son of a bitch immediately. One of his hands could have snapped the little twerp's neck and that would have been it. Although I suppose if he'd done that, there wouldn't have been much of a movie, would there?

Most of the people in the Pub treat me as if I am a novelty trick. They think to be amusing as they engage me in puerile repartee. They set me up as a boogeyman whenever they need to have their big strong men look important and manly. Oh please. As if. Tres boring.

But then Clarity came to talk with me.

Now there's courage.

She came to talk to me even though I scared the living daylights out of her. She appealed to my intellect, my primal nature and my desire to have something interesting to explore. More than that, she appealed to my never-ending quest to find a human worth admiring.

In spite of my best attempts to frighten her own self-interests, she asked me plain and simple to employ my considerable intellect and unique deviousness to get the answer to a frighteningly important question: why was John Biebe on his own in this world and was there any chance at all that his wife or kiddies would show up at some point.

I was fascinated. Was she really willing to sacrifice everything she wanted to find out? She wanted him to be happy ... she said. Was she being honest? If so ... Fascinating to consider the possibilities.

That's how simple it was. There was a purity to it that attracted me.

She was honest enough about how this would affect her, I suppose. Because if he were given the option of returning to Mystery or of bringing his family there to the Pub reality, then by necessity, she'd be shit out of luck in terms of her own future wishes to be Mrs. John Biebe.

Isn't that courage?

To face the loss of everything that matters to you and to hand the ability to take it away from you over to a being like me?

Was she really being honest with me? Would she really do that only because his happiness was far and away more important to her than her own? Would she really be happier knowing John was with his family if it was possible to reunite them? Would she really walk away with nothing but the wishes for him to be happy? Was that evidence that love between a man and a woman could be something pure?

I had to find out.

Not that I wasn't interested in the underlying question: why did John Biebe come over without his family when several of the other men had theirs with them? And then there was the secondary question: was it all reversible and would his family maybe pop into this life or would he be sucked back into that old life? And if I found out ... how could I use that knowledge for my own purposes?

I was curious also about this: if he were given the option to change things, how would Biebe choose? Would he choose wisely? Would he choose bravely? Would he choose with an instinctive unselfishness? Would he be worthy of Clarity's courage?

No one quite gets me. They get less my power and my need to play. As Clarity so wisely reasoned, only I have the intellect, the knowledge of the etherworld's possibilities, the ability to see routes and machinations that no one would even think to look for, much less find and manipulate.

The answers? Oh, of course I got them. It was not easy and even for me it did take some work. And I will never give the key away. Never. You may not want me in your messy little boring world, but I am here. You will one day see that I have my uses and they are not trivial crap like setting myself up as your resident boogeyman. I am worth far more than that.

Do you even care about what I might need or want? I need to belong to something worth my time. Have you never once thought of me as anything other than some cardboard psychopath? Of course, you don't. Humans are much too predictably shallow and self-centered.

Except one.

Which is why I set out to get answers for her. And which is why along the way, I wanted to know if this man she'd sacrifice for was worth it.

There is a way back. I found it. There was a way to see what has happened in his absence. Or at least to make him think that. 

JOHN

There are reasons so many people love Clarity. I just know the reason that I do: because she turned the light back on for me. Lately, though, her light had begun to dim. She chose not to share in words with me about whatever it was that concerned her; but we know each other so well by now that it didn't escape my notice.

I asked in my own way. But I also gave her room to move within her own needs to have some part of herself that she didn't have to share with anyone else. Everyone needs that place of internal privacy.

Others of our friends noticed her preoccupation. I wanted to shield her from intrusion but how do you do that if they do not seem to share your own unshakable belief in Clarity's steadfastness and strength?

I didn't put it all together until SID approached me and began taunting me. He asked me if I'd been honest with Clarity. If I'd told her all she had a right to know before I married her. If I'd come clean about the choices I made back in Mystery, back in my last moments there.

We met to discuss it. I knew it had something to do with Clarrie's increasing withdrawal. I could see the way she looked at me ... as if she were watching me walk away from her and she was letting me go. So I was ready for SID to throw some shit my way, to annoy me, to show me what he'd been planting in her mind. I was ready to teach him the lesson he'd long ago deserved to learn.

But then he asked me what I remembered about leaving Mystery, if I understood the choice I'd made to leave my family behind and come into this other reality. When he said that, I felt like he'd parted a curtain and I was looking back across the yawning span of six years.

What I remembered was being with Donna at the cemetery, putting the puck on Bailey's grave. I remember walking back to the car with her. I remember starting the engine and Donna saying something about time moving on. I remember looking out through my window, thinking it was a last look at the cemetery. I remember being surprised that I'd thought that because of course it wasn't going to be the last time ... other people would die in my life and I'd come back there. I had this flash of fleeting images of my family ... of seeing a tombstone with the name Biebe on it and seeing Donna's name on it ... and, hardest of all to reconcile my mind's ability to imagine this, I saw three other names there: my boys ... Michael, Joey, James.

I remember shivering that thought out of my brain. I remember the way it felt so odd to be imagining my life without them. I remember holding Donna's hand, feeling this incredible need to have the physical connection to her as we drove home. And then there was a storm whipping up from nowhere. The oddest snow. So bright. Swirling around the car. I remember gripping the wheel with both hands to keep the car in my control as I navigated through the worsening conditions. I remember saying to Donna that I'd never seen snow quite like this.

When she didn't answer, I dragged my eyes from the road ahead and looked over at the passenger seat.

It was empty.

You don't think very well in times like that, when your eyes tell you one thing and your mind tells you something else.

I told SID about this. About that memory of first leaving Mystery, of finding out there was no way back. I don't remember making a choice to leave them. He said I had.

That can't be true ... can it? Am I really a man who could choose to leave his family behind?

He said he could show me. And he could show me what became of them. If they survived. How their lives had been if they had. He said he could answer all my questions. It's the only reason I went with him. I had to know, you see? I had to know what I'd done, how they were, if they needed me, if I was about to build another life I didn't deserve on the ashes of one I'd somehow abandoned without meaning to. I sent Clarrie a text message on her phone; I didn't want her to worry but she had to know I had never lied to her. I had loved her, I had. I do. I always will. But you just never know when fate's going to throw something at you that means you have that happy life ripped away from you.

If anyone should know that, it's me.

From that moment, I was in SID's control. Not wise, I know. But how else would I ever get my answers? Besides, I could deal with SID. I've seen his movie. I know all about him. About his weaknesses. His fatal flaw. His childlike need for both approval and to play.

We were driving. He told me to pull over at the side of the road. We were on some state highway. He took off walking into the woods. I followed. I had just caught up with him, just asked him to just tell me rather than playing this game with me. He said it wouldn't be that easy. I had known it wouldn't be. Just hadn't expected it to be so hard.

But then he turned around, walking fast away from me. I could hear his giggle. I followed but lost sight of him for a moment in the darkness. Just when I was about to catch up with him, he turned to look at me, snapped his fingers. I took another step toward him and I was suddenly leaving behind a warm, August night in a green copse of trees ... and I was walking in snow, blinding white, swirling around me. The only thing that wasn't white was SID, just within reach of my hand. I grabbed for him, some instinct to hold onto something that would not disappear on me.

We walked in the snow. I couldn't even talk for the fear that I was fighting against. How had he done this? It wasn't possible. What would he show me? What did he know about me? Just how badly had I miscalculated his power?

And then he stopped walking. He swept his hand and the swirling snow abated, settled. It was just dusk, that curious way the light does in Alaska in the fall. I asked him where we were.

He said he'd taken me back. Back to Mystery, to the Halloween after I'd left this reality and gone into the other. He said he liked Halloween best of all. I blinked away the fog in my brain; I remembered that the day I'd left had been Oct. 1, 1999.

Were they alive on that Halloween in 1999? He told me they were. I realized I'd been holding my breath, waiting for him to tell me that the nightmare I'd always had was real. You see, I'd always harbored this fear, somewhere way down deep inside me, that my family ... Donna and my boys ... that they had simply ceased to exist.

And then he said, look at the pumpkins.

Pumpkins?

I looked at where he pointed. Three fat, solid pumpkins on a porch. But not just any porch. On my porch. Three pumpkins with snow frosting them. I didn't get it. Why show me pumpkins?

And then he said ... notice they are not carved.

It flooded over me. My stomach dropped.

Of course.

And this was the reality I'd felt was most likely of all ... and the one that had nearly broken me in that first year after I'd found myself unable to get back to Mystery. And that was this: that they had gone on living, never knowing what had happened to me ... thinking I'd abandoned them ... needing me ... grieving for me ... wanting me to return to help them face their worst times. And I hadn't been there. You will never know how that can torment a man's soul.

I got it all, the full onslaught of it, just looking at three uncarved pumpkins on our porch. Donna would never have enjoyed helping the boys carve their pumpkins if I was missing or if she thought I was dead. We're talking a month after I was gone. Who knew what she thought had happened?

We loved carving pumpkins. Scary traditional, all-boy pumpkins. I loved all that kind of stuff with her and my boys.

I looked from the pumpkins to my house. It looked cold. Abandoned. I turned to look at the little hockey practice area I'd set up for Michael. Snow drifted across it, but didn't bury it, so someone was still keeping it clear, used.

SID pointed ahead of me. On a branch. High in a tree behind the little goal. A red-winged blackbird. Singing with no sound coming out. Only white puffs of air against a stark, watery blue sky of Alaska.

He snapped his fingers again. We were in a home. I recognized it. It was Donna's cousin's house. I saw Donna. At the kitchen table. A mug of coffee between her hands. Talking to her cousin about how Michael and Joey had decided they didn't want to trick or treat without me. How she didn't have the energy anymore to do anything but carry on like she figured I'd want her to.

So familiar. That look on her face. The strength there. The belief that she knew what was right and could do it.

Her cousin left the room. Donna looked out the window, staring at a descending darkness. And just like that, her entire face changed. Fear. Remorse. Sadness. Weakness.

I walked across the room, telling her I was back, it would be okay, I was there ... I went to hold her, comfort her, love her ... but my hands slipped through her like she was water.

"They can't see you, Sheriff," SID said, giggling behind me. "What fun would it be if they could? Besides, this is the past, Sheriff. Don't you want to see what's happened to all of them, how they've been over the years since you left them?"

I turned to look at SID. This was when I realized. He wanted something from me. He would torture me if he had to, but he'd get it in the end. And that's okay. As long as I get the answers I need in the end.

SID

He's too easy. Not like the usual lily-livered humans who grovel and beg at my feet easy, but a different kind of easy. He's unafraid. But he's so full of that small town do-goodery that it makes you want to puke. All that "Why, hello Mrs. Johnson, let me carry your shopping there for you..." "Hey, Abe, you shouldn't be clearing snow at your age, let me just give you a hand now..." "Son, you know stealing's wrong. Now just go back to the store and tell Mr. Jones what you did..."

People like him are fools. They are so busy doing the right thing that they get everything wrong. He got everything wrong. Up to me to show him that.

I doubt whether he'll get the message though. Last person he's ever going to think about is himself. No....that's one of those sayings that mean shit. The last person he's going to think about will be the one he truly loves. He'll never ever think about himself.

What a lamebrain! Who else is there to think about but yourself? In every microcosm there can only be one sun. Or so my observations of humankind have taught me. They all think I'm the sum total of hundreds of the evil warped rejects of humanity. They got it so wrong. I'm the shining example of what they all really are. I orbit in a macrocosm far above the rest, the brightest star in the sky.

Take it from me. I'm the future. Get with the program. Guys like Biebe got no place in this brave new world. 

Or so it seems.

So, it's another year. Time's a great healer, Donna. You've pulled yourself back up by your bootstraps. People have been all small town, interfering, busybody nice to you. The trouble is, he isn't officially dead yet. Some tight assed bureaucrat in an office in Juneau says a state employee has to be missing for five years before he is presumed dead and a pension can be paid out. Times are hard for the Biebe family. Three growing boys, little mouths to feed, backs to clothe, heating bills to pay...and nothing coming in. You can't rely on the charity of folk forever, now can you?

Get a job, Donna. Oh, you have? That's a good idea. Get you out of the house. Stop you moping about. Meet new people. 

Except there are no new people. This is Mystery. The town that life forgot. The place you always wanted to leave. And now you're stuck here. With no money. No man. And no future. Breaks your heart, doesn't it, sheriff? Okay...October 2000....one year on. Let's go and see how they're all faring...

JOHN

I'd disappeared. The last time Donna saw me, I'd dropped her off at home after going to the cemetery to return to the office. Except I'd never reached the office. Somewhere between home and the station, Sheriff Biebe had vanished. They'd found my SUV outside town, door wide open but no footprints in the snow. It was a mystery. Even made the statewide newspapers. The Mystery in Mystery. What happened to the Sheriff there?

Some said I'd run off with one of the anchorwomen from the TV crew. Others that I'd wandered off and got swallowed up in some ice hole and fresh snow had covered my tracks. There were theories that I'd stumbled on something illegal and been killed and my body dumped where no one could find it. A worrying number of people were convinced it was proof of alien abduction. A doctor pointed to a case of a guy in Canada who had turned up with a head injury, no ID of any sort, no fingerprint matches and total amnesia. Maybe I was suffering from something similar somewhere? A TV psychiatrist somewhere suggested that I'd suffered a mid-life crisis brought on by my failing powers on the hockey field and the fact that I'd seen younger men than me given a chance at the big game - and thus killed myself. No doubt my body would wash up after the thaw.

But it didn't. God knows what Donna thought had happened. She must have clung to the belief I was alive and that somewhere out there was a rational explanation but then, if there were, what did it say about me? That I had willingly left? That I had chosen to desert her and the children and leave them penniless? In the end it is easier to accept that death is the likely explanation, however much that saddens you. At least it does not question everything you ever meant to each other and leave the bitter taste of betrayal behind.

SID took me home. It was almost Halloween. Donna was sitting at the table with a woman. I recognized her. Maisie Grover. She teaches school. They were baking Halloween biscuits and making costumes for the boys. The calendar on the pin board said Oct 30th 2000. There was the usual haphazard collection of garish drawings and strange works of art that my sons brought home, mixed in with cards for upcoming dental appointments and school events, local fixtures, church notices, reminders, bills unpaid. Made my heart ache to see such simple reminders of what had once been my life.

The kitchen was full of the usual clutter, clothes drying, boots scattered by the door, toys, schoolbooks, ironing, newspapers, meals being prepared, dishes waiting to be washed, shopping unpacked...you can't keep a house neat and tidy with three little boys and a father who is never there... Then I remembered I was never there. And that now Donna had to go out to work. Who had baby James while she worked? Where did she work? How did she manage? All that responsibility alone and still lost in her own grief? While I'd been living a new life with new friends, a decent job, plenty of money - and a new love? How could I have left her to cope with all this?

"Thanks, Maisie. I couldn't face this alone. I just couldn't. Halloween was always such a big thing for John. It's too raw. Thank God Matthew's asked them over to carve the pumpkins tonight. I couldn't witness that. John used to do it with them. Carve real scary faces. I used to say he'd give them nightmares but boys love that sort of thing with their Dad, you know..." She stopped and breathed deeply. "I'm sorry....I still sometimes..."

Maisie stopped sewing and slipped an arm round her shoulders. "Donna...It's okay to cry. You have to cry. What happened was a tragedy that no one should go through. Don't try to be too brave. You have to grieve..."

"Grieve? How can I grieve? I don't even know what happened to him! Am I a widow? Or did he leave me? I can't believe he would have left me! I can't believe it! But what happened? I lie awake at night wondering. Over and over in my head. Everything he had said in the days before. Everything he had done..." Her voice trailed away. Was she remembering that night on the ice? Remember that, Donna! That was how I felt. I meant it all!

"Are you out there somewhere, John?" She banged down the costume she was working on and walked over the window, her arms wrapped round herself. "Sometimes I am so angry. I really hate him. That he left me alone. And then I realize he's probably dead, and his body's out there somewhere in that damned snow...I hate this place! I hate the snow and the ice and the way we pretend that this is just a nice safe little town and it isn't! It's a wilderness and people should not be trying to act like they can conquer it and make it a fit place for human beings to live..."

So I stood helplessly in my own kitchen and listened to her heartbreakingly sad words and died a little more inside. I wanted to shout out to her that I was here and that I had come back and that everything was going to be alright now.

"SID! You bastard! Let her see me! Let me go back! She can't live like this! She needs me. Look at her! She's so thin and worn out...what did she ever do to deserve a fate like this? What about my boys? They need their father. I need them....I can't bear to think what they must wonder about me..."

SID simply smiled, that mocking expression of his, like some demonic cyber Cheshire cat, and my home faded away from me again. We were back in the snow. It was deep night. "That was still then. This is still now. The story isn't over yet....it isn't over until it's over...."

SID

Somewhere basic inside every man lies a need he is ashamed of having ... yet when it comes out, he relishes the freedom of giving in to it.

How do I know this? Take a look, you idiot. I've got over 200 men inside me to know that about. You can't count the women; they are few and they are not exactly typical of the species. Dismiss them. Concentrate on the men.

I'm not talking about that macho crap men think and do. I'm talking something much more basic. Something that women think civilized men have the ability to control.

Mmm. Au contraire, my little love doves. Exhibit A will be along any year now.

Oh, this is just getting warmed up.

What happens when the Sheriff shows what he's really made of beneath all that hair and bad flannel?

There are no vacuums in nature. I find it so amusing when humans realize that when there is an empty space, something will fill it up. So, we have the Biebe family, do we? What will fill the empty space there?

"There, there, Sheriff. You know how Octobers are in Alaska. A bit brisk, wouldn't you say?"

"We're not in Mystery," he said.

"You are so quick! What was your first clue, John? Was it that we're looking at a building that has more than two stories?"

"Where the fuck are we, you ass."

"Tut, tut, Sheriff! Such language! There are innocent ears about ..."

"What is it this time, SID? Why are we here? Just get it over with ..."

"Tell me something, John. I'm curious. If you had never been born, do you think Donna would have wasted her life away in that crummy town you were not brave enough to ever leave?"

"Probably not."

"Ah. Honesty. You're so noble. I'm getting all misty eyed."

"I'm not noble. I never claimed to be. I'm just trying to ... to live a life I can be proud of. How about you, SID? You proud of the life you've lived? Proud of all the friends you have? All the people who love you? The people who'd miss you if you weren't around? At least I have ... At least there are people who miss me."

"This is not about me. This, John, is about you."

"Then get it over with. Where are we and why?"

"We're in Juneau."

"Halloween in Juneau?"

"No. It's the week before. Come see ..."

When I snapped my fingers, we were inside an apartment in the building I'd taken him to see. It was a two-bedroom place. Not so great. But not that bad. Though the interior design left a lot to be desired. Then again, we are talking a state where flannel seems to be the height of fashion.

There were his three boys. They were watching television.

I watched as John walked closer to them. He knelt down before the baby. James. Sweet baby James. Not really a baby anymore but then he was a year older than the last time we'd checked in. John's hand swept through James. He did the same thing with Joey. Middle brat. With Michael, he just sat there staring into his face while the kid was zoned out on television.

How touching. Not.

JOHN

My boys.

My boys. I cannot believe it. Look how they've grown. I don't know if I can take this. I don't know if it's better to know they're okay or if it is worth this pain to see them and not be able to touch them, hold them, talk with them.

I tried so hard to be a good father to them. I loved being their dad. I loved having my own family. Making a home. Having a stake in this life.

This is so hard.

I can't look at SID. I know he's gloating. I know he gets a perverse pleasure out of this.

My boys.

I cannot believe how it hurts to understand they've had to go on without me there to care for them, protect them, shelter them.

"Michael! What are you doing? I told you to get your brothers ready for bed. C'mon. No more TV. Bed. We've got an early start to make in the morning!" Donna says. I look up; she's coming out of what must be a bedroom. She is even thinner than the last time I saw her. She's got her hair up in a ponytail; she looks like frowning has become her most frequent expression. I remember when a smile was so often there, lighting up her face. I knew her every smile. I could have told you what each one meant. I wonder how long it's been since she's really smiled in a carefree moment?

I watch, with SID next to me, as she shoos them away from the living room and into the bathroom. I stand behind them as they brush their teeth and wash their faces. I follow along as they run down the short hall and into a bedroom with two little beds. James climbs into one; Michael tucks him in. Joey dives into the other one. Donna pokes her head in; tells them to be good, to go to sleep because tomorrow is a big day.

In some ways, it seems so normal. In others, it is so wrong. Michael seems far older, far too serious. I have to admit, I am proud of him. Why? Because it's obvious to me that he has become the man of the house. He is much too young for that; but that is the sort of boy I always hoped he'd be.

He turns off the light; tells his brothers that if he hears anything from them, they will not be happy if he has to come back in and keep them quiet. I am right behind him as he returns to the living room. He is lugging a blanket. I watch over him as he falls asleep on the couch, huddled under the blanket.

I look around for SID, to see when he's going to take me to my next adventure. I walk through the apartment. Find him in Donna's bedroom. She is packing a box. I suddenly look around again. In my absorption of seeing the boys, I have not noticed ... the apartment is filled with boxes.

"What's going on?" I ask SID.

"You really want to know?" 

I nod my head even as I steel myself. He grins, snaps his fingers. Snow swirls. I am becoming familiar with the pattern. And then it clears.

We are standing now in Mystery. It is the gate to the cemetery. My breath comes in stutters.

"A week has passed since we saw Donna and your brats. It's Halloween now. The year is still 2001." SID opens the gate, smiles at me as he bows. "Come, John. Come see."

I don't want to. I know this is bad.

He almost skips ahead of me. I have no choice but to follow him. Snow is all around. I remember this particular kind of snow. It's heavy wet. It's not yet frozen solid. I see footsteps; there is a small figure, all in black, with a black and white mask ... an apparition, I am certain.

Oh, I don't want to know.

He points ahead. SID says I have to follow the figure but the figure disappears as quickly as it appeared. But it has left behind footsteps that I know I must follow. They lead to a small fenced in gravesite. The gravestone itself is white and is one of those tall tablet shapes. There are fresh flowers on the grave, placed carefully before the gravestone.

Hunkered down, just inside the gate, is another figure, facing away from me; all I can see is the person's back. I can't tell if it's a woman or a man. Black jacket, black fur hat.

I walk closer. Until I can read the tombstone.

"I died?" I look at SID.

"That would have too easy, wouldn't it?"

Just then, I hear the person at the gravesite speak. This is when I realize, it's Donna. Donna there in the snow, before my grave, talking to me.

"Well, Johnny, I suppose you already know I'm back. Back in Mystery. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I am proud of myself for trying. At last. For taking the risk to at least try to find a life that was not in this town. You'd laugh if you were here. You'd find it funny, I think, that after all this time, all those times I really was convinced that I could have been happier away from here ... the times I was convinced that I only stayed for you ... And here I am. Back in Mystery."

I kneel next to her in the snow. I reach for her hand even though I suppose a part of me knows I couldn't touch her. I have to somehow be there for her.

Laugh at her? Never. Donna ... I would never laugh at you. I would never laugh at your dreams. Is that why you were in Juneau? Why you moved the boys there? Were you trying to, at long last, follow your dream? How hard was that? How much courage did it take to uproot them, to strike out on your own? How could I laugh at that? I'm proud of you.

"So, Johnny, here I am again. I couldn't wait to come here, to talk to you. I miss you. Miss you like crazy. I have a new understanding of the attraction this town held for you. It's home. It's our home. I'm not leaving again."

She fusses with the flowers. She looks off toward the church.

"I want to tell you something. I was so angry at you for leaving me. I still wish I knew what happened to you. There is a part of me that will never rest, never be at peace until I know ... for sure ... how you died. But I do know you're dead. We all do, even if the bureaucrats still won't give me a death certificate. I know you'd never just leave us. I know that only death could take you from us. I wish I'd been there, to hold you. To keep you warm. To just be there. But I promise you this, John. I will be the best mother to our boys I can be. I'm back now. I haven't done that well, but I am back now. I can feel it, ever since we returned. Everyone is glad to see us. I have a new job. We have our old house. And I know this is where I want to raise our boys. I hope they will turn out to be half the man you were."

Her gloved hand glides across the letters of my name.

She is crying. She is still grieving for the loss of me.

"SID?" I call his name. He hops up atop my tombstone's top edge. He smiles at me. "What do I need to do to get you to let me return?"

"You want to go back to this life? Leave Clarity?"

I swallow hard. Clarrie! Oh, my sweet Clarrie! Is this what SID meant? Is this the secret he thought I should share with you? "I'm not leaving Clarity, you bastard. But you brought me here to see my family suffer. What kind of man would I be if I didn't realize I had a duty to them, above any other duty?"

"So it's duty, is it? Not love?"

"Love ... what can you know of love, you freak?"

"Who do you love, John? Donna or Clarity?"

"That's not what this is about."

"No? It's about duty? Sacrifice? You think Donna will be glad to know it's not love bringing you back, but it's duty and sacrifice? And what about Clarity? You think she'd admire a man who would go back to his bereaved family out of duty and sacrifice?"

"Shut the fuck up. Just put me back."

"Oh, Sheriff. I didn't do all this just to send you back the first time you asked."

"Then what ..."

"This is only the third Halloween, John. You have a few more to go before I let you decide a few things ..."

My last view is of Donna. Crying in the snow. Knowing that she is clinging by her fingernails to her ability to remain brave in the face of her new understanding that her life had to go on without me.