It was Stephen she followed inside. Stephen who had never once looked like he did this cold, wind-swept night of nights. She wasn't even sure he recognized her. His eyes were ice.

In his hand, a Glock. She remembered Cullen demonstrating how to use it, him saying something to Stephen and Jack about them having to aim their big guns without a powder boy at their beck and call. Jack had cleared his throat and glowered. Stephen had stepped in, smoothly taken the gun in question from where Cullen was having a bit of sport at their expense, giving them a break in the tension, she knew.

Stephen moved with such fluid grace.

He'd taken the gun, quick as you please, lifted it, sighted along its sleek muted barrel, gently pressed the trigger ... and the gun's kick had stepped him back maybe half a pace. And they'd all looked toward the target. Even before Cullen had taken the gun from Stephen, then gone to check on the target ... they'd known that Stephen had sent his shot home.

"Stephen always was a dead on sharp shooter ... as deadly with his revolver as with his scalpel," Jack said, not suppressing the smirk but somehow blowing up his chest to look down his nose at Cullen, coming back with a long whistle and that black smile of his.

Uma had smiled ... not at Cullen but at Jack's remark. Somehow, hearing his little blunder, knowing what he meant but ... still ... Jack had such a way with words.

And this was why, so many cold hours later, she felt comforted to be following Stephen as they made their slow, deliberate way into the alcove that hid an entry to the building.

Acting as the recon, Cullen had slid from shadow to shadow. His body was encased in black. He could have been another shadow.

The wind that swept the landscape gave scattered noises that would make it so hard for the waiting forces to really know if they were hearing one lone man creeping incrementally closer.

This was a dance ... and Cullen always led in every dance he started.

It'd been a slow go, circling, finding the easy sights and locating the hard feints. But eventually, the shadow that he was had melted back across the landscape until he could brief Terry and come up with the final approach plan.

Now the team was deployed in various places, each with initial tasks. Cullen was mainly keeping tabs on those defenders who might interrupt their tasks. He was the fail safe ... the one who watched over the others and made sure the risks were reasonable.

Reasonable?

Cullen paused and looked toward the parapet.

There were some missions where the odds were reasonable. This was not one of them. Although his recon had shown less overt strength than they had expected, they were convinced it was a bad sign that even a man with Cullen's skills had not seen every defender in hiding.

They were not a big enough team in numbers.

What saved them and what actually put their nerves away was this one and much more important fact: they could not fail because failure meant every single person they loved would be in danger. There was no fail ... there was only the reality that as long as one of them made it through and was able to get the Biebe's free, then their loved ones would have a chance ... it would take both them and the team in Tennessee, both had to succeed at their missions. The ones in Tennessee were ultimately going to neutralize the powers pulling the strings ... but the ones in France had to rescue the Biebe's and then find some miracle way to contain the threat here.

His eyes darting around, Cullen concentrated the majority of his attention on the parapet. It was the logical place for a hidden counter operative. He and Terry knew someone had to be up there. Maybe more than one. Maybe four or five, it was large enough. There was no good vantage point to see up there.

Cullen looked at his watch, at the soft green glow that he covered with a black hand as he tapped the button that lit up the arrows. Okay, he said to himself, time to dance.

Shinnying up a nearby tree, he propped his arm on a "v" of the limb above where he ended up perched. He sighted along the night scope. He studied the parapet and saw ... nothing. Dammit. Finally, he pulled in a breath as he squeezed the trigger slowly but firmly. The shot hit exactly right ... in the upper mortar of the parapet's top layer of stone ... through the scope, he watched bits of rock flick and fly and clatter down.

He waited for the human who would peer from his position ... or jump up to see what the noise was ... or turn his own scope toward the point of origin, the fractured point of a glint sure to be some clue to the sniper's location.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

Not a sight.

"Feckin' ..." Cullen breathed softly. And then a slight whisper into the transmitter, "Thorne ... nothing here."

"Head north ... cover the area ... got it?"

"Got it."

The first enemy he encountered was running away. Cullen knew the man had not heard him approaching. But there the man went, skittering across a barren runway where a small plane had just been freed of its starter by Nash, who now simply tapped a signal into his transmitter so they'd all know he'd succeeded in his first task.

Nash had a gun with him but Cullen did not believe in taking any risks with a member of their team. His shot was barely louder than a metal puff and in the rustle of the night, it was not heard by anyone but him and Nash.

"Inside?" Nash whispered softly, his voice wet and sly in Cullen's earpiece.

"Inside," Cullen answered back, now turning to proceed on his way.

If he noticed anything, it was only a rise in the nervous skittering of the lab rats otherwise known as Loriebat's assistants.

Sid strode through, determined, yet watchful of all around him. But the lab assistants were of no real importance. Just outside Loriebat's lab, he reached out and grabbed the neck of one who cowered in his way.

"Dr. Loriebat said no entry ..." the white-coated boy stammered out.

"Do I look as if I give a damn what Batman says?" Sid asked him softly. And then putting his mouth at the assistant's quivering shell of an ear, he screamed, "Do I?"

"No ... non ... non ..." the assistant blubbered.

Sid tossed  him to the side and entered the lab unannounced.

Loriebat was a showman ... he stood under a circle of bright light, the corona so bright Sid could barely make out details where it hit the prone and still body on the steel table.

"Tut tut tut," Sid hissed out across the space.

Loriebat's face lifted and he peered at Sid. His mouth was hidden behind a white sterile mask. "You are not welcome here, sir," Loriebat told him in that haughty tone that grated on Sid's nerves.

"And yet, here I am," Sid replied, a broad smile on his face as he adjusted the lapels of his purple lab smock, tailored to his impeccable tastes and body. "Indulge me by stepping away from the table, Doc."

"You interrupt my work. Go. Now."

"I think not ... but you get points for that snooty voice of yours ..."

"Come no closer ... we are in a sterile field and ..."

"Sterile schmerile ... you think I give a fuck what you want? What matters here is what I want, Doc. Me, me, me."

"Stop!"

Suddenly, Sid stopped every outward movement. Even his breathing seemed to stop. Loriebat should have taken the scene of Sid as his assistants did ... they dropped what they were holding and backed away as quickly as they could without falling over backwards.

Slowly ... the sound in the room a vacuum ... Sid's chin raised ... somewhere in the distance the wind ruffled but it went unnoted here ... his eyes sharpened ... the air seemed colder by perceptible degrees ... Sid breathed in through his mouth, the harsh sound an aural scrape across the jittery nerves of the scattering assistants.

"What ... what was the one directive you were not to violate?" Sid asked into the sucking vacuum of the room as he stepped toward Loriebat. "What ... was the one directive?"

Loriebat's hand trembled.

In it, he held a scalpel.

"What ... was the one directive, Dr. Loriebat?"

"My life's work ... it led to this ... what did you expect me to do?"

"What ... was the one directive?"

A voice from a far corner piped up ... "We could not cut him."

"No blood."

"There is only so much I can see in blood tests and CAT scans and MRIs and nuclear ..."

"No. Blood."

"There is no permanent damage ..."

"No blood."

"He will remember nothing. I will give him the special formula ... you saw how it worked last time ... we will reinvent his memory as before ..."

"You have violated my directive, Dr. Loriebat."

And now, he had backed the scientist up ... until the corona of one of the surgical lamps lit a blinding circle into the scalp that had little hair to shield him.

Dr. Loriebat was both captivated and repelled by the eyes that held him ... the man who threatened him by nothing more than a quiet, sneering, velvet voice ...

"It was only so little blood ... so little ..." he mumbled, holding the scalpel up to show the few drops there. "I had only just begun, you see ..."

Sid's eyes rolled. He allowed another personality to the fore. "Show me how you were going to cut him, Dr. Loriebat. Let me visualize it ... let me see your skill ..."

Loriebat looked at Sid's hand, the one he held up with the index finger pointed toward the scalpel. He turned his head to glance at Subject A, shaven and disinfected with orange swabs, prone upon the operating table ... draped so that only the incision area on his chest revealed orange-tinted bare skin to the lights above.

"You want me to show you ..."

"Show me, Dr. Loriebat. You who defy my directive ... show me what it is you are capable of ... the skill, the expertise of your technique. I am fascinated to see."

"Very well. That is very good. I shall show you, sir, and you shall see ... this is a great moment ..."

Dr. Loriebat smiled, nervous, not sure what had just happened ... this Sid person had scared him down to the soles of his feet and up to the fuzz upon his head ... he didn't understand how one moment he could be so furious that he'd begun the operative procedure and now he wanted him to show him by proceeding?

Yet, as a scientist, Dr. Loriebat was always of the belief that his superior purposes, the pursuit of his work, would make converts of every intelligent person ... perhaps this Sid was actually not quite the Neanderthal he had presumed ... so Dr. Loriebat took a step toward Subject A ...

"No, no. Doctor, really. Tut tut."

"You must step aside and let me at the subject ..."

"Oh, Doctor, you misunderstood me ... just as you misunderstood the inviolate nature of my directive ... and just as you misunderstood the price for disobedience."

Now Dr. Loriebat stopped. He was very close to Sid. He looked in his eyes ... and something frightening exploded there in the glance he gave the scientist.

"Show me what you were going to do to the subject ... but ... not on him, dear Doctor."

"Then ... on whom?"

Sid smiled and his hands snapped out to grasp at the scientist's lab coat. And with barely a flick of his two wrists, Sid ripped the scientist's shirt open, the dull green scrub shirt rended under his powerful fingers ... and there before him was Dr. Loriebat's bare chest.

"You will demonstrate on yourself, Doctor."

"What?" Loriebat stammered and tried to back away but he was in Sid's grip now so there was no escape.

"Cut, Doctor. Show me the incision ... show me what you were going to do to the subject ... show me the blood you were going to spill ... show me how little pain you were going to cause ... show me how inconsequential it was going to be ..."

Loriebat tried to drop the scalpel but Sid read his move and his hand clasped over the doctor's fingers, preventing him from getting rid of the instrument.

Now Sid curled the scientist's hand in ... the doctor struggled but he was no match for Sid ...

"Here? Is this where you will be making the incision, Doctor?" Sid asked softly.

Loriebat screamed.

"Oh, please. Why would you want to ruin my fun?"

Two men approached a large set of steel doors. These doors were the entry to the section of the lab where large equipment and supplies were first brought after being offloaded from large delivery trucks and then placed on pallets moved by small forklifts.

They were not simple doors thanks to the security system that shielded them from unauthorized entry.

The men's assignment was to approach their tasks in stages. First stage had been to get into position without being detected. Check that one off as complete.

Next was to get one of them close enough to really examine the hardware that Cullen had gotten a look at through his scope.

Terry waited for the report. He was already inside the building and heading toward where the main power grids should be controlled. The TOL team had gotten as recent plans as they could of this building but it was before the modifications Sid had installed so much of their plans were based on best guesses of what he'd move and what he'd leave in place.

Based on what Cort and Jack would report to him, Terry would know better what to look for and what to aim for inside the control area. He'd already given Cullen instructions on the safe areas he could pass through to bring Nash in to him. While there was much that Terry and Cullen might figure out swiftly inside the control room, if Sid had installed material or security measures they had not yet seen, they had reason to believe Nash could work his way around it all, if that was needed.

They may need every additional second that Nash could save them in figuring out what to cut and what to save and what to divert ... and how to do it in coordination with their movement into the internal guts of the lab.

If they were lucky, Terry thought, then Nash could be left to the work by himself ... and he and Cullen could both get to where Stephen and Uma were waiting.

"Do I read you the serial number or what?" Cort asked softly.

"Just describe it first ..."

Before he finished, Cullen had joined Terry. Nash pressed in beside where they hunkered in a darkened hallway.

"Okay, got it. You and Goldilocks hang low ... for now."

"Terry ... someone's coming out ..."

"Get into cover ... do it now ... take Jack with you ... Jesus ..."

The three men in the hallway hung in suspension, listening to noises they did not quite understand ... long minutes that Terry mentally cursed because they were eating up their time. He wandered if Stephen and Uma were worried over the sounds they heard ...

"Terry, it's okay ... Jack's got all of them corralled."

"All of who?"

Terry and Cullen traded looks.

"They say they work in the lab ... they want protection ... something bad's going down inside ... it's our boy, by the descriptions ..."

"I don't understand ..."

Jack's hearty whisper came across their earpieces. "They have surrendered to us and asked for safe passage. I have bound them to the gate. They are gagged so that they do not send up an alarm in case they are flying false colors ... but I feel it safe to say they are too scared to be of any threat to our endeavor."

Cullen rolled his eyes. Terry closed his.

"Okay. Keep your position secured. But stay out of sight ... and if anyone else comes through those doors, don't let them get away. We have to contain the people here if they are trying to desert."

"Understood."

"You may count upon us."

Cullen put a finger over his transmitter, leaning in to speak softly in Terry's ear. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking we don't think too far ahead. Let's go."

They were on their feet and moving, now feeling a new vigor give their tired limbs life and buoyancy that carried them swiftly, easily toward where they hoped to find the control room.

Inside, they surprised two security men and dealt with neutralizing them with the only noise being the surprised and rude grunts of the men as they were overpowered. Trussed up and out for the count, they stuffed the two men inside a closet. By the time they returned, Nash was ready with his report.

Power could be dealt with in a grid manner ... all outside lines of communication had been silenced as the first order of business ... and security doors were all now open. Cullen grinned and patted Nash on the back. Terry frowned, gave Nash further instructions and then tugged Cullen behind him as he rushed from the room.

Stephen heard the soft release of the internal latch mechanism. He grabbed for the door and pulled it toward him swiftly. Just before entering the stairwell, he reached behind him, groped for Uma's hand and yanked her bodily inside with him before shoving the door shut ... at the last second, slowing his movements down so that the door would not slam. Unless you were near the doorway, you would not have heard the noise. But the light that lit the stairwell would have come through the open doorway like a torch in the dark nightscape.

Now he glanced at Uma to find her staring at him. The sudden light took a moment for them both to get used to. Her drawn face made him pause to touch her shoulder.

"You are doing well, Uma. I have always admired a woman of courage," Stephen told her softly.

"I'm so scared I think I'll just go on and have my heart attack here and now," she hissed back at him. "If that's okay with you."

For some reason, it made them smile at each other.

And then they sped down the silent stairwell to where another door opened to Stephen's gently prodding.

They found themselves inside a hallway that led to the main lab area. They were alone. They listened carefully and heard sounds that told them there were others inside the lab itself ... the mechanical sounds emitted by equipment and air conditioning gave them scant coverage. If they were to accomplish their main task, now was when the ability to move silently counted most.

With no warning, a scream split the hushed air ... Uma jumped back into the wall, her hair nearly standing on end. Another scream rolled over them. Stephen crept forward, his hand holding the Glock was steady and in position to react to any threat. A moment later, Uma peeled herself from the wall and followed him.

They hid behind a wide counter once they had to leave the hallway and go into the open area that was the main lab itself. Several people in white lab coats rushed about, obviously freaked out by whatever had caused the person to scream out. Soon, the people in the white lab coats were yelling and hissing at each other ... they had to get away ... the doctor was going to be killed ... they'd be next ...

Stephen and Uma could not see where the men ran off to but they heard their retreat.

When they were gone, the hush returned to the lab.

They looked at each other.

"Was it John?" Stephen mouthed to Uma.

"I don't know," she mouthed back. "Oh God."

Stephen touched her hand. It was trembling. His was cool, steady. She looked away for just a moment and then collected herself. Looking back at him, she watched his mouth moving, forming the words that he thought the scream came from their left and that they should try in that direction first ... and could she still do this?

Yes, she nodded. Emphatic.

And she felt it inside her ... the fury ... the unwillingness to back down from this ... the determination that if this was where she met her end, she would go down knowing she'd stood for something in this life. Later, she would think of this moment and wonder why in the middle of it all, she thought she heard an owl hooting, as if it was a sound floating through the vents from somewhere outside, reaching her subconscious and making her take note of it ... and when she realized later what had been happening in this moment a half world away, she would never tell anyone else about the owl's hooting.

Before they could move, they both heard footsteps strolling from their left ... they held their breaths ... and the footsteps continued on ... then they heard a voice humming a tune ... what was it? So familiar ... and then it sang ... clear, light, satisfied ...

"Everything is good for you ... If it doesn't kill you. Everything is good for you ... One man's ending ... Is another man's beginning ..."

They looked at each other and both formed one word, "Sid!"

They had known he was there, in the lab. For some reason, they had thought he'd be so hard to locate ... or that he'd find them right away ... or that he'd turn them over to the enemy ... hell, he was the enemy after all ... but instead, here they were lurking, listening as he strode alone, singing, as if he had not a care in the world.

He kept going on, singing, his step even spritely. They could not see him once he passed to their right but they heard the singing as it got fainter and then heard the whine of a door sliding open ... and then ... the door sliding shut ... and then ... they heard ... nothing.

For long moments, they stayed where they were and listened. Then Stephen stood up slowly to look about.

They were alone. He could see the door to the right that he presumed Sid had gone through. On the opposite side, to their left, a similar door stood open.

Motioning to Uma, they advanced swiftly toward the open door to that was to their left at the end of the open area they were in. Stephen wanted to get them inside before Sid came back out. It seemed to Stephen that there might be no one else in the place but Sid ... surely he was the bigger danger.

Stephen pulled Uma to a stop as they got to the doorway. He looked inside, a quick jerking motion just to see if anyone was laying in wait for them. What he saw was not as bad as he feared and yet it was as bad as he anticipated.

After a pause, he advanced into the room, heading straight for the prone body on the operating table.

"John!" Uma whispered, loudly, too loudly.

Stephen gave her a stern look and shook his head.

But she had rushed toward where John Biebe lay, his body draped in blue surgical towels, his arms held down by straps, an IV in one of them, leads on his chest and forehead. She never noticed Stephen's rebuke. She opened her mouth to say something but Stephen put his hand over it. His mouth at her ear, he reminded her that she must be quiet.

She nodded and he let her go.

Now, Stephen began examining John. He was obviously heavily sedated. There was the beginning of a precise incision on his chest. Stephen lifted the drapes to examine John's body for other injuries. There was some bruising that appeared to be the results of struggling ... he hoped it was that John had had to be restrained and not that they had abused him for sport or experimental purposes. There were swollen areas on the back of his hands that appeared to be the result of other IV lines that had been used over the course of John's captivity. Those would resolve, Stephen reminded himself even as he felt a helpless rage well up inside his chest. There were obvious signs that blood had been taken from him, round holes in the hollow of his arms, the veins slightly swollen, the skin around blue and blotched purple bruising.

Who would do this?

Just then, Uma gasped. He looked up. She was pointing away from them. He turned and saw a young man in a white lab coat with streaks of deep red blood down the front. The young man was dazed. He simply stared at them.

"Uma, do not touch John ... he will be fine ... let me see to this other one ... he may be injured," Stephen said.

"Be careful," she whispered. "Terry? Are you picking this up? We are in the lab."

In the stairwell, Terry and Cullen both stopped instantly. "Condition?"

"We've found John. He's out. Stephen says he'll be fine but they ... nothing. Nothing."

"What? Is he okay?"

"I think so. Terry, Sid is in another area ... we saw him ... we haven't found Clarity."

"We're in the hallway ..."

"You should be okay ... just listen for Sid ... we're on the left side."

By the time Terry and Cullen made their careful way to the lab, Stephen had found Dr. Loriebat, cowering in a corner of the lab, where he'd been drug by the only assistant who'd stayed behind. The assistant had hidden behind rolling carts of equipment and when Sid had left, he'd crawled out to check on Loriebat, dragging him out of sight so he could work unseen at stemming the bleeding, which was not actually as bad as it might have appeared.

Cullen stooped down to watch as Stephen and the assistant pressed white towels into Loriebat's chest. "Who is he?" he hissed to the assistant. "Name ... who is he?"

The assistant rotely told Cullen who the injured man was. Cullen looked back, at the table where Terry and Uma hovered over John.

"He the one in charge of the experiments then?" Cullen asked, his voice deceptively easy and soft. The assistant nodded, distracted. "Dr. Maturin, I think he can wait, don't you?"

"Just a few minutes and I shall have him stable ..."

"I don't think you caught who this is you're saving, Dr. Maturin. He's the one who did that to our friend. The one who may have done worse to Clarity. Leave him and go help John."

"I will be with my other patient when I have stabilized this one. Now, leave me to my work." Stephen didn't even look up. A doctor's duty was to the injured ... not to justice. Not that Stephen was immune from the emotional onslaught of knowing who this was bleeding before him ... he simply had a higher oath that was ingrained in him. Even in war, he treated the enemy if they were in need of his services.

Before long, he shoved past Cullen and rushed to John's side. From what the assistant had told him, Stephen knew what needed to be done. If the cut was not too deep, he could begin bringing John out of the sedation ... a staple should be all that was needed, he saw when he had a real look at the incision ... he had work to do.

Now he made his report to Terry, ignoring Cullen's sharp glare.

They spoke in hushed tones and tried to be as brief as possible. All that mattered was that Stephen needed to stay there to work on John.

And the others had to find Clarity.

They probably all knew where she was.

And who was with her.

Clarity stirred, in a semi-conscious state, her body still feeling warm and relaxed. She didn't want to wake up and end that wonderful dream she had just had. In that dream, she was in John's strong arms, snuggling into his warm body. Yet, when she had heard his voice, it was muffled, as if it was coming from far, very far away, telling her that he was waiting for her.

But the dream was gone now and she was alone again. Cold and uneasiness were slowly starting to invade her. 

The noise of an old wooden door suddenly creaking open, accompanied by a wave of sharp biting cold, finished waking her up, reminding her where she was, and she sat up in a start. Her too fast movement also awoke a fierce headache that made her grunt in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and stop the violent white light that had invaded her warm, dark and silent little nest, from digging a hole into her brain... or at least, it was the way it felt to her.

A very cold Sheriff Biebe rushed into the cabin and, without even looking at her, started to gather their few things and put them back in his backpack, just telling her briskly: "Hurry up. Car's started again, can't figure out why ... but as it seems to be firing on all cylinders again, we gotta go pretty quick before it decides to stop again. Shake a leg ... don't want to lose this chance."

"Good morning to you, too," she muttered grumpily, rubbing her painful eyes. 

Then everything came back to her memory all of a sudden. It had been a... strange and long night for the two of them.

But she didn't want to remember that night. Not now. Not yet. Later, when she would be alone. Probably alone forever. For now, it was only bringing to her mind a disturbing mixing of intense feelings such as pleasure, frustration ... and guilt.

Guilt over what they had done, over what they had not, what they could not. 

John busied himself with killing the few embers left of what had been a flaming, burning, intense fire, now smoldering shyly in the rapidly cooling fireplace. It seemed to Clarity that he perhaps gave special attention to his task, as if there was something personal in this. She wondered if that was a cold rage he was showing as he crushed each ember. To her, in this morning, she couldn't help seeing it that way, as if it was a symbolic gesture ... and yet, what John was doing in actuality was a very normal and wise thing to do before leaving a wooden cabin surrounded by woods.

Her heart ached for him. 

As if he could feel her gaze on him, he turned his head and quizzically raised an eyebrow at her, cocking his head, motioning to her, silently but very efficiently, to move.

She blushed and got up as fast as her headache and lingering dizziness allowed her. She put her fingers on her aching temples, trying to get a grip on herself and find equilibrium.

A smoking cup of coffee appeared like by enchantment under her nose, held by a big gloved hand. She took it gratefully and looked up to thank the owner of that providential hand but he was already folding the blankets and putting them back where they had found them, so they could possibly save somebody else's life another time.

She started to sip her coffee and got a bit lost in the appreciation of this warm brew, even if it barely deserved the name of coffee... particularly without any Brandy in it.

"Claire?" 

She jumped, thinking that he was going again to tell her to hurry, and gulped down the hot liquid, burning her tongue and throat in the process, then walked rapidly to the sink to wash her mug.

John's strong hand grabbed her arm and made her turn to him. She almost dropped the mug in surprise. He instantly let her arm go, embarrassed.

"Claire..." he said, more softly this time.

She heard the change in his voice, and looked up at him, even more surprised.

"Claire, I... I..." She was staring into his eyes, waiting anxiously to know what he had to say, already both thrilled and scared by what it might be. She could see in those deep expressive eyes a painful battle of conflicting feelings.

"Yes?" She tried to encourage him. 

His body suddenly released the breath he had been holding for a few seconds and he said in a short whisper, taking the mug from her hands..."Gimme that, I'll wash it while you put your coat on," and turned briskly, not looking at her anymore.

She did silently what she was told, then followed him to the car. 

John had left the engine running, so the car was warmer when he came back from the cabin with Claire, and he didn't want to take the risk of finding it dead again. He thought that maybe some ice had oddly blocked the whole system on the day before, even if it seemed rather unlikely to him. He was frankly not in the mood to think about mechanics now. It was working and that was all that counted at the present time. He wanted, he needed badly to go back home as fast as he could now, back to the warmth and safety of his home and family. And he wanted to forget about this weird night.

A little voice inside him asked: "What about... her?" But he didn't want to hear it; he couldn't allow himself to hear it. Not now.

When he turned the car in the direction of Mystery instead of the airfield, Clarity opened her mouth in surprise.

"But..." she began.

"The radio's working again, too. Called the airstrip already ... no planes are leaving today ... still some tricky weather conditions expected rest of the day," he said, his voice soft but his words terse. "Best we return to Mystery while we can then we'll come back when the weather stabilizes tomorrow."

A question burned her lips: had he also called his family to reassure them? She would never have dared to ask it now. As if he could have read her mind, he said that, before the airfield, he had called Mystery.

What he didn't tell her, though, was that he had learned then that communications had been down part of the afternoon and all night long in the whole area, probably due to the storm. It had very seldom happened before, but this had been a violent storm. So nobody had really been worrying about them, Mystery people thinking that they were stuck at the airfield, and the people waiting from them at the airfield, that they had gone back to Mystery.

After that, they travelled in a heavy silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts... and also trying to forget some others. 

Clarity looked at the sheriff from the corner of her eyes, while he was concentrating on driving on the road covered with fresh and deep snow. She was struck by the demonstration that this John Biebe here was slightly different from hers. This John was more in charge, more assertive, relying naturally on his knowledge and abilities to survive and help others to survive in such an unmerciful climate and such rough conditions of living.

She had always admired him, the strength and feeling of safety emanating from him, among other things, but it was different to see him in action, in his real life, his job, his country. And he had just saved her life.

Not that her own John didn't have all this in him still. But he was, maybe, a bit more laid-back now, enjoying more easily each present moment, aware that it could stop anytime, no matter how hard he would fight. Her John knew now how fragile happiness can be; he knew how it felt to lose everything that used to give a sense to his life, to be torn away from his family, his friends, his passion, his job, his town. And he also knew that it could happen again, anytime, that he could - who knows? - fall all again into another reality, and have to build it all again.

Once in Mystery, John dropped Claire back at the Sleeping Bear Inn, advising her to get some rest. She reminded him that she needed to go away as soon as possible, and added, so low that he had just the barest chance to hear it, "now even more than ever."

He looked in her eyes briefly but intensely, for the first time since that moment in the cabin, and just answered: "I understand. I'll be back in the morning."

He didn't go inside with her and left in a hurry. 

Clarity looked for a while at the car driving him away from her, back to his family.

She felt suddenly very tired, and dizzy again.

The next morning, when Sheriff Biebe came back to the inn to pick Claire up again and drive her to the airfield, Doreen looked surprised. She thought they were already gone.

She explained that, when she had knocked on the young woman's door this morning, after having let her sleep as long as possible, she had gotten no answer. She had then opened the door slowly, only to find the room empty and in perfect order. She had been disappointed that Claire could have left without telling them goodbye but had thought that maybe the young woman didn't want to go through the painful farewells they had already exchanged the day before.

John ran his hand through his hair, then rubbed his neck, trying to understand what all that meant. His hand didn't find what it used to feel there. His leather necklace. He probably had lost it in the cabin, or more likely in the snow... if so, he had not much chance to ever find it again.

Where was Claire ... this was the real question, he reminded himself. John instantly flashed on the unfamiliar car he'd vaguely noticed while driving in front of the gas station early this morning. Maybe she had asked them to drive her somewhere, not wanting to see him again?

Should he be worried about her, John asked himself. Yes, he thought ... what if she'd done something rash? But looking around Doreen's warm kitchen, he realized he wasn't sure what to do ... if she'd left on her own volition, he had no right to worry over her, did he? Yet, he found he was ... and that above all, he hoped she would be safe ... and that wherever she'd headed, she'd find her way home eventually, to the people he knew must have been missing her. There was an unwelcome ache at this new reality ... but if he was honest with himself, he knew that she had done what was best for everyone.

Into this short reverie, Doreen handed him a mug of coffee and mentioned that Brett Humps had also left the town that morning, in his own car. Perhaps he'd given Claire a ride rather than bothering the Sheriff again, Doreen mused.

John brushed past her, saying he wanted to look around both Humps' and Claire's rooms to search for evidence that she could have left with him, willingly or not. He wanted to go there alone, so he could concentrate better on every detail and miss nothing.

When he entered Claire's room, he was caught by the weird feeling that it had never felt so empty. There was absolutely nothing about her in there anymore, as if any trace of the mysterious woman had been erased. As if she had never existed.

He thought that he could still smell slightly her fragrance though... but it was so light that he could as well have only imagined it...

"Hurry, hurry ..." Sid whispered harshly, the sound a rude hiss across the mechanical and muted sounds in the lab he'd custom fitted to his own specific experiment's needs.

He watched the large screen intently in between glances to check on the life support readings on the smaller monitor on the counter where he paced. For anyone but him watching the screen at that moment might have seemed impossible to keep up. The pace of actions there were so rapid fire that a normal human's eyes would not have been able to process it all.

But, of course, Sid is no normal human. He is a superior human, he would have you believe.

Is this why he rushed at this moment, as he concluded the experiment's key functions? As he wished he could immediately begin the return trajectory for the subject? To do it in the time he had allocated for it? To make it safe for the subject?

"I'm getting much too nice for my own good. I will need to work off some of this good karma before it corrupts my circuits," he grumbled as he walked over to the computer that had the assigned duty to copy the experiment's raw data and video output onto a DVD and tape back up.

He was just pulling the DVD from its drive when he felt the power fluctuation. His eyes darted to the large screen and then to the life support monitor. No one else might have noticed but he saw the subtle shift. Someone was playing with the power grids to the building.

Sid looked at the door to his lab. He frowned, deep in thought.

Could it be?

If so, he'd best be prepared ... but before the thought was barely prodding him into action to secure what he could not afford to lose at this point ... the door slid open.

He grinned at the sight of Terry and Cullen darting in and covering each other ... all those he-man, GI Joe maneuvers they thought were so necessary but only camouflaged their inability to get hard-ons without the pretence they were real rough and tough Alpha dogs.

Come on in, boys ... Sid's grin brightened as Terry first saw him, over to the side, toward the back quadrant of the lab. He gave Terry a little wave, a giggle and then blew him a kiss before turning and disappearing behind the rack of monitors.

He was part way down the row, hidden from those at the front door who no doubt were rushing after him but they'd never get to him before he got to his emergency exit ...

Only ...

Sid's eyes widened and his jaw clamped tightly ... for as he approached his emergency exit, the door slid open silently and he was not the one who'd activated its hidden control panel ... instead, it had been activated by the two men who now strode through without hesitation and with the knowledge they were going to be giving him a very rude surprise.

And Sid found his way effectively blocked by Jack Aubrey and Cort. Both armed to the teeth and looking very much as if they meant him harm.

"Where is she?" Cort growled as he kept coming toward Sid.

Sid smiled slowly and then very dramatically shrugged his shoulders.

"Wrong answer, silicon freak," Cort said curtly as he swung a fist that blew into Sid's unprepared yet perfect jaw so effectively that Sid stumbled backwards and nearly fell on his perfect ass.

Terry was waiting on Sid as he reeled backwards. The moment Sid turned, Terry's gun was in his face. "We can give you one more chance to cooperate. Give us Clarity now and we will not take your chip out. And you know we can do it ... four of us? You don't stand a chance."

His hands up in surrender, Sid adopted his chirpy tone. "Now, now, boys, no need for any of that. We're all on the same side. Who do you think kept Biebe alive? While you boys were out playing soldier and not doing it very well, it was up to old Siddie to make sure nothing bad happened to our young lovers."

Terry's eyes narrowed and he frowned. "Shut the fuck up about anything but where Clarity is or the chip comes out now."

A large, strong hand clamped around his throat from behind. Jack pulled him up and it was only Sid's superior strength that enabled him to pull away after an uncomfortable moment.

"Over here, boyos ... come see what I found," Cullen called. "Nash is on his way down ... but I think even a little Irish lad has this one figured out ..."

"Stop!" Sid yelled out, running to where Cullen was touching the wrong keyboard. "You Irish idiot! Go find some whiskey and leave the electronics to your betters."

Cullen backed away and Sid stood before the keyboard, looking at the monitor that tracked vital statistics and monitored a human body in stasis.

"This what I think?" Terry asked, suddenly realizing the patterns on the monitor could mean only one thing ... they had to be monitoring the heart rate, respiration and blood pressure of Clarity. Other measurements ... brain wave activity, an EKG and an EEG ... it made him stop in his tracks.

"Let's make a deal, boys. I'll tell you where she is, keep her alive, help you get to her ... and in return, I am lauded as the hero of the day ... my just desserts, after all," Sid said. "For if not for me, they would both have mincemeat for the grey matter you laughingly call their brains."

"The only deal you'll make with us ..." said a weak and shaking voice from the open door ... "... is to bring her to us and if you have hurt her, I will shove my hand inside that thing you call a brain, get that chip and smash it to a ..."

"John!" Uma barked out. "Sit down before you fall on your face!"

"What's he doing in here?" Terry asked, coming to help Uma and Stephen guide John toward a lab chair.

Stephen waved him off. "There are times when you must allow a man the prerogative of being stubborn ... and when in a case such as this, with the life of the woman he loves in the balance ... then if he can stand, there will be no restraining him from being here. Would we have been able to keep you away if Gaia had been in similar danger?"

"Is he okay?"

"He will be."

"Find her ... Terry ... find her, man," John said softly as he clasped onto Terry's shoulder for support and to hide the way his legs felt wobbly from the anesthetic's after effects. He was clad in his jeans and had a shirt half buttoned. They could see the large bandage, white and foreboding, on the upper middle area of his chest.

Terry's eyes found Jack's. And in another moment, Jack and Cort held a struggling Sid as Cullen made a show of feeling around his scalp, as if looking for the entry to the area where the chip resided.

Was Sid scared? Scared is all relative and Sid is not the sort to fully comprehend that even he is ultimately vulnerable, such is his own ego and feeling of superiority. However, it can also be said that he'd never faced so many strong men of impressive skills who were emotionally capable of eliminating him without a single shred of remorse if he did not help them find Clarity.

Just then, Nash walked into the room.

And Sid rasped out instructions to Nash on how to bring Clarity's leather chair up through the floor.

The sight of the floor panels opening and then the slow rising of a chair with the woman they all sought ... their focus shifted to Clarity, still out to what was going on around her ... but with the work Sid had been doing complete, already he'd started the program to bring her back to this time and place from where she'd been in the other world.

Uma held onto John, her arms around his waist, trying to support him as best she could until Cort came to help her. Others had already rushed toward Clarity's chair as it settled into place. Finally John reached her ... his warm hand instinctively reaching to stroke over hers and finding it chilled.

Nash was talking to Stephen behind them. They stood at the console, discussing the readings on the monitor and making adjustments to guide Clarity back to consciousness. Sid made a few suggestions ... and Nash implemented them all after assuring himself they were actually going to help the woman and not hurt her.

John bent low over Clarity and stared into her face, having taken in the lines running into her arms and the skull cap that held electrodes and wires. Cullen released the straps that bound her legs and then gentled off the ones that held her arms.

And then suddenly her eyelids fluttered. And her lips moved ... and a single tear came from each of her closed eyes.

"Clarrie ... Clarrie baby ... I'm here ... you're safe now, honey," John whispered, his mouth at her ear, his breath warm on her neck. "Come on, honey, you can wake up now ... I got you. I'm right here, waiting for you ... Clarrie ..."

"She cannot yet hear you," Nash said from across the lab. "Give me a few minutes, if you will ... the process to release the neural cap is precise ... Do not jostle her during this time."

John's eyes closed and his chin dropped to his chest. His free hand, the one that was not bracing his body upright as it clamped into the side of the chair, it sought a more complete connection with her flesh ... his hand sought hers ... his fingers prodded her fingers open so that he might slide their hands together ...

But ... something blocked his way. His eyes opened and he looked at her hand as he turned it over, unfolding her cold fingers. Inside the palm of her hand was a necklace ... one he recognized but had not seen in years ... since he'd left Mystery, in fact. What was it doing in Clarity's hand? His necklace ... had she been ...

The connection quivered inside his brain and he turned to gaze at Sid over his shoulder. At the way he kept glancing up at the screen where it sure appeared to be Mystery up there. John looked down at Clarity. Then back at the screen. Then down at the necklace he now prodded from her grasp and held in his own upturned palm.

Had Sid sent her there ... a game ... or something evil?  Had he tortured her emotions as he'd toyed with John's? If so, Sid would pay a heavy price, John thought, imaging what he would do to Sid when this was over. Just then he heard her say his name.

Looking in her face, he saw her unfocused eyes and knew she still didn't know where she was. But he knew one thing clearly: she knew he was there with her. He tucked the necklace in his jeans pocket and then squeezed her hand in his.

How long it took, John would not have been a good judge of passing time. But Nash said later that it took 13 minutes for Clarity's mind to reawaken to her surroundings.

As they waited, Terry pointed out the large screens to Cort and Uma ... and they watched winter scenes and Uma told them they were witnessing the streetscape of Mystery, Alaska. The movie, Terry had asked. These are not scenes I recognize, she told them. Then what could it be, Cort asked.

They looked at Sid who stood next to Nash and Stephen, overseeing their work at the computer.

What had Sid been up to?

Uma turned back to the screens just in time to watch Donna walk outside the Biebe house and call in the boys from their practice hockey rink. 

When she glanced away, she looked at Sid who must have had some sense she was gazing his way. He turned very deliberately to look into her eyes. He held Uma's for long moments. Time felt both fluid and slow to Uma in these seconds ... her eyes swiveled from Sid and she looked on the screen for a split second before a feeling washed over her. When she swiveled her eyes back to Sid, they were wide and round. Sid nodded, solemn and proud.

It seemed to fall right into place in that moment. She jerked in a breath. Terry put out a hand to steady her as she wavered on her feet. What is it, he asked her softly. She could only shake her head as she walked over to look closer at the chair that held Clarity ... and then followed the trail of wires that led from the chair and the neural cap ... and they went up, up, up into a large black box above the chair that reminded her vaguely of ... of ... of the virtual reality interface from Sid's movie, Uma thought with dread.

What had Sid been up to, she thought, her hand over her mouth. Had he sent Clarity into John's movie? But if he had ... something was wrong, wasn't it, if what was now on the giant screens had nothing to do with the movie?

By the time she looked back at Sid, he had turned his back on her.

At that very moment, Nash and Stephen strode over to Clarity and began removing the lines that ran into veins in her arms. Next they began the careful removal of the neural cap.

"Talk to her," Stephen instructed.

"Clarrie ... baby ... it's okay ... you're safe now ... I'm right here, waiting for you ... I love you ... open those beautiful eyes and smile for me ... C'mon, Clarrie, you can do it," John said, low and husky.

"Mon nounours ..."

"That's it ... talk to me, baby ..."

Her eyes slid open with a start and stared into the eyes of a man she knew instantly was not the one she'd been with in the cold frozen wastes of Alaska.

No, this was 'her' John Biebe ... but rather than the flush of relief she should have felt, her heart seemed to jerk back and forth until she identified the jittery feeling as ... as some mixture of guilt and relief.

Relief won out as John slid his arms under her body and pulled her up into a warm embrace that she could hide in forever if she chose.

"Where is Sid?" Stephen asked into a room that had let itself fill with relief. Clarity was safe and revived ... and where she belonged with John. Whatever had been happening here, the explanations could come later. For now, this ragged team need the comfort of knowing that the most important part of their mission was now successful.

But then Stephen had asked his question ...

"What? He's over there by ... Nash," Cort said.

"What the fuck?" The words burst from Terry even as he and Cullen began moving toward where Sid had last been, by the monitors ... and then they both began running toward the emergency exit ...

If Sid had been a normal human, he would surely have noticed how chilled the air was as he moved along the back corridor that led from his emergency exit toward his ticket to freedom. He needed to reach the room Nash had once been in ... where the power grid entered the building. He could probably have used any computer monitor but the one there had the most direct link to the server so that would have always been his preferred route out. However, in this case, it appeared it would be the only computer that was even plugged in to both power and the Internet ... every other room he'd passed with computer access, he'd checked and the power had been off ... he just knew that Nashie had been up to his elbows in thwarting him ... turning off power grids and shutting off access to Sid's netherworld lifeline. Sometimes humans were too clever for their own good, Sid thought to himself.

He turned left at the next junction and darted down that length of corridor. At the end, he peeked around, making sure no one was standing in his way to get across to the secondary stairwell he'd need to run up to the control room.

Behind him, a door opened with a bang.

Sid turned to see a shivering and stumbling Adam bounce out of a room and into the wall of the corridor.

"What now?" Sid groaned. 

"Help me ... Sid! I can't see ... it's too dark! I'm so cold ... Am I dying?"

"Oh, shut up, you whining waste of gonads ..."

Sid turned and was one step away from rushing across the open area between him and the door he needed to get through.

But then Adam's wrenching half-shriek scratched the air between them ... as he called out pitiably, "SID!! Help me!!"

There was no time but for reaction for if Adam's voice had not already alerted the Scooby Gang in the lab to his absence, then the nerd would likely scream the joint down until everyone came running ... and then Sid would never get away. Sid spun around and ran at breakneck speed to where Adam clung to the wall.

"Yes ... I'll help you, Adam me boyo ... Allow me to end your suffering ..."

By the time Terry and Cullen hit the corridor, Sid was already through the door to the stairwell. They went straight ... but when it ended at a locked door, they went back, then down the corridor that Sid had gone. This was where they stumbled over Adam's outstretched arm ... and found his lifeless form in a bundle in the doorway to another room.

"At least we know what direction he went ..." Cullen noted.

"We cannot let him get away from us ... no telling what he'll do ..."

"Or who he kills next ..."

Just then, the lights all went on. They both instantly covered their eyes and only peeked out slowly to keep their vision clear. Rushing ahead now, they knew where Sid was and knew another stairwell was ahead.

Moments later, they'd flown up the stairwell and then cautiously entered into the control room. It was empty.

But on the computer screen that monitored some of the utility inputs, was a blue screen with the image of a red rose floating there.

"Too late, my friends. But you always were a bit slow on the uptake," came Sid's voice over the computer's speakers. 

"We will hunt you down, Sid. You will never be safe," Terry growled, slamming his hand down onto the top of the table.

"You don't really think you're a match for me, do you, Captain Courageous?"

"You forget one thing, Sid," Cullen said, putting his lips right near the microphone that sat atop the monitor. "We know where your family is ... Myra and the blue boy."

"They mean nothing to me."

Cullen and Terry exchanged a look at the terse tone. "You'll never see them again, Sid. We already have someone on the way to get them. You'll never find them ... and if you ever did dare to come out of hiding to find them ... we'd have you."

"You are a bad liar, Murphy. I have monitored all your transmissions ... there's been nothing sent out concerning Myra or Sid, Jr."

"We have our ways."

"And I have mine. Don't push me, Murphy ... I know where you lay your dick these nights ..."

Cullen's jaw tightened. Terry put a hand on his shoulder to pull him gently away from the microphone. Terry spoke into it after a moment, "Enough with the threats, Sid. We can all do each other harm. Just a question, mate ... is what you've done here reversible?"

"You mean, can I put the genie back in the bottle? Mmmm."

"I mean, if we stop Mephisto, are we stopping you?"

"If you are asking if I am Mephisto, the answer ... is no. They are all their own. I am only me. Though that is truly enough, is it not?"

"So if we eliminate or neutralize Mephisto, then you're our only remaining threat?"

There was a long pause and then Sid's image appeared on the screen. He studied the two men looking in at him. One who looked somewhat like him. The other at least a man with some intelligence.

Sid's eyes dropped for a moment before flicking back up to look into Terry's. "I am not really the threat, you know ... you do know that?"

"No. I do not."

"Think, if you have the ability to do that ... which I thought you did. If all this was begat by the Mephisto geeks, then whatever threat there is begins and ends with them ..."

"You involved yourself in this, Sid. You endangered us all ..."

"Or was I helping save you all?"

"Save us?"

"Think about what has happened, Thorne. Who came along at critical junctions with information to help or was able to step in to keep Mephisto from really hurting anyone? You think all that just happened by itself?"

"I think you were playing both sides against the middle," Terry said. "I think you had your own game ... but that you wanted to appear to help both sides so you could be in favor with whoever won."

"Consider this ... something has happened in Chattanooga ... you will find out about it the moment you call in to the Pub, I am sure. It's safe to do it now, by the way. When you do, you should also learn that I stepped in to help when I learned of what had happened. I provided information that saved at least two lives. I asked for nothing in return."

Terry frowned, glanced at Cullen. "What's happened in Chattanooga?"

"Clean up your mess here ... what's happened there is over and done ... your team there has cleaned it up ..."

"Tell us what happened!"

"Thorne, eliminate the threats here and they are all gone but for one lone geek ... but at least those are fighting odds, are they not? Don't waste your time on me ... you'll not find me ... and besides, I have other matters to attend to."

"What matters?"

Sid looked into the screen and smiled. In his hand, he held a DVD in a lavender jewel case. He tapped one edge against his temple. "As a parting gift, I leave you with a suggestion ... ask Dr. Maturin his thoughts on the likely benefits of the drug Dr. Loriebat used on the Biebes the first time he captured and examined them ... the one that not only erased their memories of the encounter but did in fact induce dreams to cover the time they were gone ..."

And before they could ask any other questions, Sid was gone ... and the screen turned to shattered diamonds against a blood red background.

Hours later, Cullen pulled out his cell phone and called the TOL pilot who'd been standing by at the airport. Be ready to leave in 90 minutes, he told him.

It had long since been morning.

The cars had been pulled down to the back driveway where deliveries had been brought once upon a time.

Cullen looked from the window where he stood. He watched as Jack and Stephen settled the Biebes into the backseat of one of the cars. They were going to be fine. Both were worn out from their ordeals but any injuries would heal soon though John was stiff and sore. Clarity seemed in a fog ... Cullen felt for her. No telling what she'd been through and she refused to say anything. She barely even spoke to John, just clinging to him in silent need that he seemed to understand how to fill.

"You and Terry ... something ... right?" Uma asked him, her voice coming cool and silky from behind him.

He would not turn to face her. "You asking if we're boyfriends now? Kissed and fallen in love on the mission? Not gonna happen ... you'll have to get your fantasies elsewhere, ma'am."

"Tell me, Cullen."

"Nothing I can tell you, Uma babes. Ask the old man."

"Should I be scared?"

"Yes."

Stephen closed the car door after helping Jack tuck a warm flannel blanket around the lower torsos of John and Clarity. He wondered how long it would be until they were underway.

"Brother, do you truly believe their memories will be wiped as clean as a desert?" Jack asked him softly, nodding his head toward the carriage house where what remained of those in Mephisto's employ in France were now sleeping. "Is there no longer a risk?"

"None from this group," Stephen said, looking at Jack evenly. "The drug, according to the research material that Dr. Nash found for us in the computer records, will work just as it did for the Biebes. We have combined the drug's effect of wiping away the short term memory syntaxes with the post-hypnotic suggestions to erase all thoughts or memories of any of us, of Mephisto, even of their own route to this place."

"But will people not wonder about so many of them being in one place, absent this memory?"

"We have not simply erased their memories of us ... we have given them new memories to account for their time away. We did not stray far from the truth ... 'tis far better to keep it as simple as we can ... but rather than secret work on a new race of men, they were doing secret surgery on a member of the underworld who has threatened their families if they ever tell anyone ... And as we leave only after destroying this facility and the other, it will only serve to convince them to stay their tongues on discussing what they have done."

Jack shook his head and sighed. 

"It is far better than to have to shed their blood, brother," Stephen said softly.

"Perhaps."

"The only one to worry over is Dr. Loriebat ... though Thorne's people have swept his office at the university and at his home, taking away all computers and any records dealing with his investigation into our people, he is so unstable ..."

"He is insane, Stephen."

And the drug they gave him, combined with post-hypnotic suggestions that Stephen did not know about, only served to make Loriebat's mental unbalance teeter over into what might be seen as psychosis. When last Stephen had seen him, he'd been babbling about time travelers and a race of mutants taking over the world and their familiar, a man who bled blue goo and roared like a orangutan when riled.

Babbling and drooling, this was the new Dr. Loriebat.

Terry had already left, driving a trussed-up Loriebat to an asylum on the outskirts of a town just past Le Thor. On the way, Terry would stop at the first lab, the one set up by Mephisto, and burn it to the ground.

At the asylum, Loriebat would be left on the grounds with identification they'd manufactured for him swiftly via the Internet and their less-than-savory connections for such maneuvers. Who would link him to a scientist who'd once dreamed up cutting edge research as long as he continued to babble about time travelers and drool whenever he remembered the torture inflicted by Sid? By the time they did, if they did, there would be no evidence to connect any of those from the pub with Loriebat.

Cullen left the room where he had stood at the window once he heard the last tap of Uma's footsteps retreating. It was not that he wanted to keep anything from her, but it was simply that there was a time and a place for delivering the news. Not here, he thought to himself. And not him.

He found Cort and Nash working on the floor where the lab area was. Everybody out, he told them curtly. A terse nod and then they walked out slowly.

Shouldn't they have been happy, Cort wondered as he left with Nash. Hadn't they done just what needed doing here? Hadn't they rescued the Biebes, who were going to be fine? Hadn't they eliminated every threat thanks to drug and hypnosis done on the remaining lab workers and security people? Weren't they about to destroy any physical evidence or records?

But ... there were bodies that would be disposed of in the fire to come, Cort thought. And even though those lives their team had taken had been only in self defense  ... and even though any others were the victims of Sid himself ... even though there didn't seem there could have been another way to have limited the casualties, still any loss of life was a heavy burden to those involved, Cort believed. Perhaps it was this that was the reason for the deep pall that hung over them all.

Or perhaps they were all experiencing the mental fatigue following such dangerous times ... that euphoria you might expect to find yourself a survivor never seemed to really materialize ... it was more an overriding sense of weight and burden, in his experience.

Alone in the lab now, Cullen checked the leads ... and then walked down the line of wires until he was outside the large twin doors. One last glance inside. He heard Terry's voice giving the final order, just before he left saying, hard and rough, "Burn it all."

Terry saying this looking in his eyes, knowing that there were still bad times ahead. Cullen looking back, wondering how much more they could all take.

Walking about ten paces outside the building, Cullen pressed a button that sent a wireless signal to various locations inside the facility ... the control room, the main lab, each of the two ancillary research rooms ... the echoes of the chain reaction could be heard inside.

He turned and loped up the driveway until he slid into the passenger seat of the car that Cort drove. 

And they were on their way to rendezvous with Terry and the pilot at the airport.

While they were all waiting to board their plane, the others had, with much delicacy as always, given some privacy to the Biebes. 

John and Clarity had not talked together yet, and knew that it would have to come someday, so they could get over all they had been through separately. But for the time being, all they needed was to be together, as close as possible. Even if it was silently most of the time.

Clarity looked down at John's big hand in hers, on her lap. She gently rubbed her thumb against the bruises left on the back of his hand by Loriebat's treatment, as if the power of her love could erase these nasty traces of his ordeal, along with that whole nightmare. She held up his hand to her lips and kissed it softly.

As if this had brought some life back into her, she looked at John and said, almost in a whisper: "John, I need to show you something." 

She put her hand in the left pocket of her jeans, and frowned, obviously not finding what she was expecting to find there. She searched the other pockets, one after the other, more and more frantically, almost panicked when she still couldn't find what she was looking for.

John had a little smile, put his hand in his own pocket and asked her softly: "You looking for this?" In his open hand was the leather necklace, his, that he had found in her hand when he was waiting for her to awaken in SID's lab.

She paled, looked in his eyes, swallowed hard. But she didn't make any comment and shook her head. She was not ready. He understood that and put the necklace back into his pocket.

She simply said, "No. It was a letter. A letter I had written for you when I found myself alone... there. Missing you so much."

She didn't seem to be able to stop talking now.

"I didn't know if you would ever read it. I kept it with me because I had nothing else from you, nothing material. It never left me; it was my way of having you with me every second. I wanted to give it to you now ... it would have symbolised for me the end of this story, and the beginning of ours again.  I wanted you to do whatever you wished with it. I just didn't want to keep it, because it was meant for you, even if I had then very little hope to ever see you again..."

Looking away from him, she took in a shaky breath. 

"But ... I don't understand what happened... I can't find it anymore..." she finally said softly.

He took her face in his warm hands and wiped gently with his thumb the tear rolling down her cheek. 

"It doesn't matter, we're back together now, and that's all that counts," he told her. "It's all that counts."

In Mystery, Sheriff Biebe was going to leave the little room Claire had occupied for a while in the Sleeping Bear Inn. He hadn't found anything there that could help him figure out how she had left the town so fast and without his help. Marty had arrived in the meantime and told him that he had seen Brett Humps leave the town alone. So John could only imagine that his first guess was right. She was gone with the car he had seen in the gas station, probably.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that Claire had left because she knew, as he knew, that it was better that way, not to see each other again, even if only for a drive. It had been too hard for both of them.

She had disappeared from their lives, from his, like she had appeared. As fast, and mysteriously. 

He looked through the window at this landscape so familiar to him, but so foreign to her. There were so many differences between them, so many things that should have kept them apart, starting with his own family that counted more than everything in the world to him.

He shook his head, thinking that, at least, he had learned something. He had learned that, as much in love as he was with his wife, he was only a man, and no one was above temptation. He swore he would never let himself be tempted again.

Lost in his thoughts and without even thinking about it, he sat on the bed where Claire had slept while in his town. It seemed that the fragrance he thought he had smelled when entering the room, was coming from the pillow. He heard a soft, crinkling sound as he settled down upon the mattress. Odd, he thought to himself, standing up to run his hand over the blanket atop the mattress. He heard the crinkle again and pulled the blanket's edge up ... uncovering the source of the crinkling sound.

A paper. He found a paper, not really hidden, just under the edge there, as if dropped accidentally as Claire had straightened up the bed before leaving.

He looked at the paper. It was a letter.

He wondered if he should read it, not wanting to invade her privacy. But he remembered that he was looking for something that could explain how the mysterious woman had mysteriously left Mystery. So, not only could he, but it was his duty to read that letter. 

He read...

John, my love,
Whenever 
Wherever
You read this,
And even if you never do
Just remember that I loved you, still do, and always will. 
You're a part of me forever.
From wherever I am, I ask you as a last favour ,in the name of the love I know we once shared, even if not long enough, to forget me and be happy again.

This both moved and disturbed him. 

And, at the same time, made him feel strangely at peace. 

He walked to the fireplace, looked at the letter, read it once more... then without hesitation, burned it. He watched in silence as the thin paper caught fire rapidly, curl in the flames, then glow for a while like a fragile lace. He blew on it and its ashes disappeared in the vastness of the fireplace. He felt like he was closing the last page of a book he hadn't even entirely read.

Claire knew, he knew, that there was no possible future for anything between them.

Maybe in another place, another time? 

But there was no doubt, his heart belonged to Donna and his family. 

Forever. 

If he ever remembered the foreign woman from time to time, she would only stay for him the mysterious lady who waltzed with him on the ice in his dream...

"There's never a good way to give bad news," Terry said, his voice almost hard.

He looked around him at the faces huddled on chairs and the lone couch; some of the men standing, tense, expectant. He retreated into his inner distance so that he could do this without emotion ... so that he could do this with strength.

Glancing at Uma, he saw her flinch, as if she was waiting for something she had just realized she already knew. Maybe she had picked up on something ... but had shunted it away from her active awareness so she could deal with the rescue and then with helping John and Clarity re-join the real world.

"I've called in to Paul for a report ... we had an indication that the mission in Tennessee had either concluded or had reached a point where we could again safely communicate with our home base," Terry said.

People in his audience either looked at each other or stared at him, waiting, bracing themselves ... but hoping for good news, nonetheless.

"It's bad. About as bad as it can be. Maximus was shot in the rescue attempt ... he hasn't made it," Terry said, his voice a monotone now.

It was as if a collective gasp went through the plane. No one said anything for long moments. Clarity buried her face in John's shoulder, trembling. Uma paled to ash white.

"How did it happen?" Cort asked. "And what about the others? Ann ... was she there?"

So Terry briefed them ... that brisk, professional cadence. About how the team there had gone for Dunnell, to eliminate the threat he was to them all. About how just as they had control of the situation and just after Max had overpowered Dunnell, that one of the Geeks, Warren Bush, had somehow found a gun in his hand and used it, in a rage over the destruction of his plans ... a lucky shot fired by a coward who had himself then been shot.

"There's more ... unfortunately ... but at least hopeful ... Ann had been at the facility but was taken away in the confusion by another Mephisto operative ... However, it appears the team now knows exactly where she is. There is every reason to believe they will retrieve her," he said.

"Paul told you all this?" Uma asked, her voice shattered crystals. "So they all know ... everyone back there?"

"Yeah. They all know."

"What else, Terry? There is something else ... something that you're afraid to say ... to frighten us?" she asked.

He shook his head, sighed as he pursed his lips. "One of the Mephisto geeks escaped. They have not been able to find him."

"Damn."

"When will this end?"

"Who's hunting him?"

"Jesus. Maximus ... dead. They will be destroyed by this ..."

Voices filtered off as the people on the plane absorbed the implications of all the developments.

Somewhere over the Atlantic, lights in the jet's cabin were dimmed. Clarity and John had been ushered into the back area, the small bedroom, given privacy. They had so much to deal with just in terms of their own ordeals ... and they would deal with it together.

The others tried to sleep but most could not. It was a bitter homecoming ... how could it have all turned so bad so swiftly?

Maybe an hour after they took off from the upstate New York airport and headed for home, the co-pilot wandered back into the main cabin, looked around at the silent forms, most at least pretending to rest. He finally located Terry Thorne, sitting in a chair, tilted back, a forgotten glass of scotch on the table next to him, eyes closed.

"Mr. Thorne ... a call's come through for you," the co-pilot told him softly.

Rising swiftly, Terry followed the co-pilot. He stood in the galley for a moment before the call was switched to the phone there. He asked few questions but in reality, the first words from Paul were as much as he maybe had to know. Later, he told himself, he'd get a full debriefing from Dino.

Walking back to where the others rested in the cabin, he cleared his throat. He spoke softly but firmly, figuring everyone was awake but if not, let those who could sleep get their rest.

"They've got her," he said and watched the reactions. "She is fine ... physically. Not hurt. Obviously, her emotional state is another matter. They will be on their way back within a few hours."

"No one else was hurt?"

"Only the bastard who took her."