Inside the old house, a genteel structure in New Orleans' Uptown area, people spoke in hushed tones. On a table set in front of the large, ornate mantle was a golden urn that contained the ashes of Maximus Cooper. Atop the table, scattered about, almost as if a casual afterthought but surely with much planning to it, were boughs of laurel and cones from loblolly pines. One a symbol of the hero who'd died trying to save them all; the other a symbol of the man who'd begun sinking roots in the land of Louisiana's piney woods.

Ann was upstairs, in a room she'd lived in while a teenager. Max had loved coming in this room, asking her impertinent questions about various bits of memories enshrined in mementos on the walls, on the shelves, in the closet.

Chili sat on the bed and tried not to watch her staring out the window.

"I suppose I can go down now. I just wanted ..." she was saying.

"To figure out what you'd say?" he asked, guessing what was going on behind her placid face.

"No. I won't say anything at the memorial. I really can't. Cort has agreed to lead it ... If I say anything ... No, I couldn't put it into words. He is too immense to me."

"Should we go, then? Maybe get it started?"

"Give me just one second alone, Chili ... and then I'll be down."

When he left, she gazed around the room and thought about the first time she'd brought Max here. The day he'd come to her here, in this city, to confront his feelings for her, to reclaim what had been ripped apart because of their pride and misunderstanding of the other. She saw his shadow here, across the floorboards before her.

A part of her heard him ... his voice ... his whispered fidelity across whatever space separated them. She stroked over her tummy, round and growing every day with life that would not be denied. "I want to be with you, Max. I would do anything ... anything at all if ... I have ideas, see? And I think sometimes maybe I know something important about that ... I promise, I will love you forever."

She closed her eyes, screwing them shut tightly until the light was shards that broke across blackness littered with specks of red and orange.

Nothing happened and she wasn't sure what she expected. But then a tiny voice inside woke her ... told her to go downstairs. To where everyone who loved Maximus in this world was waiting to bid him farewell, to remember his life, to honor him.

"This isn't goodbye," she whispered as she opened her eyes and headed for the door. "Not for me, it isn't. I won't ever say goodbye to you."

After the memorial, Ann tried to speak with each person who had come to the service. She had special thanks for those who spoke, words she believed Max would have wanted her to say. This was for him ... all of it ... and her strength that she showed that day was for him most of all.

When her duty was done, she slipped away. She found Buck in the backyard, playing with the children under Bou's watchful eye.

The scene made her smile. She pictured Max's face, lighting up with enjoyment ... could almost see him looking at her just then, gazing at her tummy, knowing he'd be thinking of when their own child would be running around like that, yelling like a hellion, making Buck run and bark and jump.

"He will miss not knowing his son," Ann said softly.

"I was just thinking about that," Bou replied, her voice warm and deep.

Before they could say anything else, Terry stepped out onto the back porch, where they stood. He brought Pete and Ann's mother with him. They were going to watch the children, Terry said, for he wanted Bou and Ann inside ... there was news.

When Bou and Ann entered, Terry ushering them inside, everyone else was already taking seats where they could find them in the living room ... on the couches, the chairs, the floor, the hearth, the piano bench. There was a space left open between Ralph and Clarity; that is where Ann headed. John Biebe leaned against the back of the couch, hovering over his wife, still both recovering from their own ordeal.

Ralph stood to help Ann sink down with some dignity into the couch cushions. Bou slipped in beside Cort, where he sat on the hearth. Their hands found each other.

Zack cleared his throat and then launched in, telling them about the raid on Mephisto headquarters. The explosions that leveled the building were remotely discharged ... via a computer surveillance system ... a failsafe surely put in by Theo Dunnell ... and almost certainly set off by the remaining Mephisto geek, Danny Caulfield, who must have been monitoring remotely.

Were any workers inside at the time, someone asked. No. Were any officers harmed? A few were knocked off their feet but none were actually inside when the explosives detonated.

There was a silence in the room and then someone ... was it Hando? ... asked for the bottom line.

It was Dino who spoke up at this, his hand over Heather's, his voice low and intense. "When the FBI agents and the ATF men were able to enter the rubble, what they found was ... nothing useful. All computers destroyed, all hard drives destroyed, all storage medium and papers burned or destroyed. The explosives had been put in with just this sort of eventuality and purpose in mind."

"Why would Dunnell think to do this?" Dr. Wigand asked. "It seems excessive."

"The Mephisto geeks feared something or someone would get their research," Nash responded. "There was a pervasive attempt, and a successful one, to keep the gaming business front separate from their research into time travel ... they even segregated key personnel between the two projects. In fact, in the building itself, the two areas were wholly separate entities. Security into the time travel area was state of the art."

"Even the gaming area employed impressive security measures," Zack said.

"Why?" Ann asked, finally saying something before the group. Her eyes sought Terry's. "Why would federal agents raid Mephisto?"

"A credible source reported a RICO violation ... the gaming side was suspect," Zack said. "It'd been under investigation for months. The recent ... incident prodded them to go in."

"Who was the credible source? Was it one of us?" Ralph asked.

"No," Zack said. "I don't know who it was but everyone here with that kind of pull says he did not do it. I think it's reasonable to presume it wasn't one of us. If we wanted to get rid of the records, we would never have invited law enforcement agencies in for a look-see, would we?"

Paul was gazing at the toes of his shoes during this part of the discussion. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck buzzed, as if someone was staring at him. He glanced up ... and found himself looking into Uma's firm gaze. Her eyebrows rose. He turned away.

She knew nothing, Paul reminded himself ... probably just wondering about his fashion choice of mixing mint blue tie with deep burgundy jacket is all. Maybe she disapproved of his choice of shoes, he told himself. But he would not look over at her again ... just in case.

Voices murmured to each other ... could they begin to hope? Could this really be the news they needed?

It was Bou who asked, finally. "I believe each of us knew that Mephisto was such a danger to us that we would have to go into hiding. None of us are fools and surely we have each begun making at least tentative plans. So we must know now from those of you who have the most information ... does this development eliminate the threat to us?"

Dino and Zack looked at Terry. He shoved his fingers in his pocket, spreading his jacket as he braced himself to address them. "Everyone has to make up their own minds on this one, folks. But it appears that this one fell swoop has finished the job we started in France ... and the one that Maximus died trying to further in Tennessee."

"We're safe?" came the question from the back of the room. Was it Tulip? 

Terry winced. "Safe? Dunno ... there's always going to be a risk ... there always was. But all the evidence in France is gone, the people there handled. In Tennessee, all the evidence is gone ... Even the Internet has been scoured, if we are to believe our family expert, Sid, who has been trying very hard to prove himself a part of the group, though he is still in hiding with the wife and kid."

"The only remaining active risk is Danny Caulfield," Cullen said, leaning against the doorframe, Esme with her hand on his hip, her eyes on the floor. "I can tell you this ... we are going to devote ourselves to finding him ... but the reality is that he left in such a hurry that he took nothing with him. We have already confiscated his home gear. He probably has a laptop with him but Sid is claiming to have tracked his Internet access point and gone in to destroy every bit of material on us."

"And now you trust Sid?" John Biebe asked, anger leaking from his voice. "You're asking us to put our safety in that freak's hands? After what he's done to Clarity? To me? To all of us?"

"It's why I said that everyone has to make up their own mind," Terry responded softly. "All we can do is give you the facts as we know them and tell you the risks as we see them."

"But you do trust him ... on this, anyway, or don't you?" Uma asked.

Terry looked at where she sat, perched on the arm of a large chair where Andy sat, his hand on her thigh, casual, possessive, supportive.

He cleared his throat. And then: "Yeah. I do. Frankly. He has more to lose than any of us. He wants desperately to be a part of this group. I believe he does not actually want harm to come to us ... but I think he was willing to play along with Mephisto because it gave him what he most wanted: adulation and power. Something he doesn't actually get from us so much, does he?"

"Nor will he ever," someone said ... had to be Gaia, with her distinct accent.

"Has he given you any proof?" someone asked. It sounded like Karen.

Nash's head jerked in the direction of the voice, as if he was coming alert again. "Yes. He has given proof ... I have followed his tracers ... A computer scientist with Thorne and O'Leary's organization has worked with me the last few days ... He appears to be doing as he claims. As a scientist, I would never say anything was absolute ... but ... if we look strictly at what he states, all indications are that he is telling the truth."

"Okay then, say he is. Say the only bug in the ointment now is Danny Caulfield who knows who we are but has no proof? That right?" Jeff asked. "Then I don't see why we need to run."

More murmurs around the room. Ralph looked down at Ann's hands, on her thighs, as if bracing herself. He put a hand atop one of hers. She looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever security it takes," he whispered to her, "we will do. Okay?"

She nodded. What could she say? She hadn't even taken it all in ... her mind still having the deadening tendency to wander and let words from others bounce off rather than absorbing them.

"We have a few ideas for general security measures," Terry said, holding up his hands to calm the room. "We are going to start planning them straight away. But until they are ready, we should continue to be very vigilant and cautious as we have been since this started. However, I do think it just may prove to be that this was the one event that could set us free from the threat that Mephisto represents."

"This is a material change in all our lives. No more taking our secrets for granted. No more ignoring the need for caution," Dino added.

"A safe future, then," Jack said. "Let us pledge ourselves to it."

4 a.m. Dawn. Uma sat in the window seat, watching it approach. The first rays broke the grey of the fog than crept low to the land that was so far from where she called home.

She remembered the first sight of him, the first touch.

Turning her head, she watched as light shifted into the window and played upon the contours of Andy's bare chest. He was restless; probably missed her being next to him in these close-to-wakefulness moments. If they were at home, he'd be rising before long to head to the restaurant. So much work was done in the morning ... the mundane necessities ... she saw him in the restaurant's back room, overseeing the delivery of produce and ... and ...

What would she do now to stop this?

Could she do it on her own?

If she lost him ... as Ann had lost Maximus ... she didn't think life could go on for her ... even if she was, somewhere inside her, envisioning the devastation and how it would be to be going on without him ...

Something very clear was leading her to one conclusion: she had to stay close to the child that carried Max in his bloodstream. At least until they had a resolution to this crisis. Until they knew what they would do to be safe again ... she needed to be with Max's son ... there was a feeling she got when she was near Ann, near the child inside her ... not as strong as what she felt with Max ... but there was a connection she knew she needed for the good of the entire group, who now really needed her more than ever.

It would be what she could do for them.

Sliding back between the sheets, she measured her smaller body against his warm bulk. He moaned softly as her cold skin touched his but still made room for her, adjusting until she was in his arms, spooned against her. His hand flopped sleepily over her belly and lay to rest there. Over her womb. Men always do that, she thought to herself. She had never given it much thought before.

Her mind drifted to Ann, lying alone in their bed. Her womb was ripe with life, swollen and alive, that little child growing every day unawares that its father was dead and its mother was drowning in a sea of grief. What cruel god had decreed that her man could not lie around her, resting his hands on her fertile body all night long? It was such a simple act of intimacy, one we all take for granted, and yet denied to the one person who needed it most. Somehow that image of loss broke through where everything else failed. Tears welled up and she let them come, sobbing and shaking in Andy's warm and loving embrace.

Her distress must have woken him; she felt him move closer, tighten his grip, whisper soft gentling words, kiss her neck. "He can never hold her again. He can never feel his little baby move in her womb..." she gasped.

"Let it all out...you need to cry..."

"She needs to cry more than I do. Today I was with her. I touched her tummy. It's hard not to do that to a pregnant woman, isn't it? Even for me, someone who isn't clucky about babies...I still like to feel that miracle of life...I touched her. I felt him. Like when I touched him back there in France... That baby is Maximus. Part of Maximus, at least. The last remaining part of him.  I need to be near that child...I have to do what I can for her and the baby...for them...for Maximus..."

"Sure...I know that...we all do..."

"No...not just help out. I mean more than that.  I have to stay near the child. It's important that I do. I'm going to try and bring her back with us to Oz...Terry has asked us to take over the portal there...establish a new restaurant on the premises to protect it...it can be our escape..."

"I know...he already broached it to me...yesterday..."

"He did?" Uma smiled. Terry had always been one step ahead, of course he had.

 She was proud he had gone to Andy first. It was right that he should be given that respect now. "And?"

"I agree. About Ann. About the restaurant. Gonna be bloody hard work though...but I'm warning you...you make time for me...and I make time for you...I want to get plenty of practice in before we start making babies for real..." he muttered huskily in his early morning voice, his lips buried at the nape of her neck.

"I love you..."

"You better... Now get some sleep. And your feet are cold..."

Fog comes to this land only twice a year ... the late fall, in what is normally winter for most of the country but is mild here, and the very leading edges of the spring, when life waiting inside the earth can't wait for the normal routine but must burst forth at its own pace, never mind the danger that a late frost may wipe it out.

That's the thing about life ... it takes chances and is rarely sensible.

Ann walked with Buck to Neva's grave through low-clinging rolls of fog in the dawn. Had it all started with this explosion in their lives ... surely this was not all there was supposed to be of this?

How was she to go on, she thought to herself, if it was. What did she know about staying and fighting when all her life, she had abandoned a place when life there proved there was nothing for her anymore. Her father's home, her job, the city where she'd met Max ... it was a definite pattern. Even now, if she gave in to her own instinct, she would run far away from the farm and the pub ... and everyone she knew in that life. For all it represented to her were the absolute terms of the loss of the man she was to love forever. The only man with whom she'd ever share real love, genuine partnership, absolute joy.

She had entertained wild schemes for doing just that kind of running away as she'd sat, immobile, on the plane ride home. She should not have taken that plane ride if she'd been really looking out for her health. That was the point, wasn't it, she asked herself. You wanted to run from what had happened, run from Max's death, run and keep running forever.

There was something else, though. Something no one knew ... she was convinced it had been Max's spirit that had come to her when she was alone, cold and so scared in the trunk of Levon's car, leaving Mephisto. She had figured out that this presence she'd felt that comforted her and then left, that it had to be Max ... that even in death, he'd come searching for her ... that he'd used his last will to touch her, help her, guide her. No one ever loved her like Max did ... no one ever watched over her like him. If only she had been there, to throw herself in front of the bullet or at least to cradle him as he lay there bleeding ... to think she'd not been there in the one moment he most needed her ... how it ate at her. For all he'd done for her, she felt she'd let him down.

Without him, life was a void for her. It was impossible to even conceive that this man, this mountain of a man, had been killed ... he had always seemed so powerful, so invincible. Ironic that once again, it was a coward who found the way to deliver the death blow. She could not think of Maximus in death, truth be told. He had filled everything around her while alive ... now what?

If it had only been her she had to worry about, she would have acted already to leave this existence so she could be with him, join him in Elysium. But she was convinced that, as it turned out, that would not have exactly accomplished what she would have been seeking.

"It's a good thing I have you," she whispered softly to her son, safe inside her womb. "You made me stay. There has to be a reason why ..."

Buck gazed up at her, placid yet still unwilling to drop his guard over her. She remembered when he used to do this ... when she was alone ... when it was only Buck and her to face life in the teeth. And here he stood with her again. A sentinel.

"You didn't even like Max in the beginning," she chided him, grinning now, remembering how affronted Buck was when another Alpha male challenged his place in the household. And all the memories of their early times washed over her, sending her reeling, stumbling back until she sat on the bench under the oak tree. Stop it, stop it, stop it, she chanted to herself. She wasn't ready to remember those times because there was so much then she regretted ... that she'd wasted precious time when she could have been with Max.

Instead, she purposely turned those painful memories aside and brought into the forefront another memory ... of that night they'd danced alone in the living room ... her challenge to him ... a bet he'd lost ... he'd had to slow dance with her to cover his bet. How he'd turned it on her ... pretending to need a refresher course and then taking over ... his mouth against her neck, his hand slipping down her backside, the way she trembled as he held her tighter to him ... the deep rumble of his voice as he whispered sensuous inducements in her ear ...

Suddenly, Ann gasped and pulled herself from the memory.

She turned in the direction of a noise her mind had registered even while her heart was elsewhere ... Ralph was walking toward her, fog wisps at his ankles as he came.

"You ready?" he asked, easy and soft.

"Yes. Absolutely. Thanks for coming along," she responded, rising now with his hand pulling up on her elbow for support.

"Tell me again why we're doing this?"

"I don't know why ... I just know I want to."

"Dirt?"

"From where he wanted to plant his vineyard ... you remember?"

"Yes. But ... I don't think I get this ..."

"I just want to bring some with me. In the baggie. I want to leave it there ... kind of a spiritual connection to the land here. I just like the way it feels to me to think of it being there. I can't give him anything else, I guess. Anything valuable I put there, someone will steal. But this ... they will never even notice dirt."

Ralph didn't like the idea, not really. But at the same time, it was harmless enough, he figured. And if it helped her say goodbye to Max, then it was a good thing by his way of thinking.

In the early morning's low light and heavy fog, they set off. She leaned on him because the ground over which they walked was not so much a path as it was a way through brambles and brush. Buck paced, roaming before them and then coming back to check on them. Before long, they stepped into a clearing that sloped gracefully toward the river's edges below.

He helped her kneel, there in the middle of this land. He handed her a small garden spade and then stooped over, holding out a small plastic baggie, into which she placed a few scoops of the rich, red black earth that was under the covering wild grass that had grown there since before Ralph's time on the farm.

By the time they got back to the house, Andy was in the kitchen, drinking tea and munching on toast covered in jam. He had intended on cooking up a breakfast, but they had tried hard to get rid of all perishables by that morning. Most were over in Ralph's fridge in his place above the stable.

There would be no one staying in the house after that day ... at least for the foreseeable future. Uma had convinced Ann to come stay with them, in Australia, at least through the baby's birth. To Ann, it felt like an acceptable version of running away again ... maybe no one else would realize it for what it was, she hoped.

The idea suited them all, truth be told.

Terry most of all, as it turned out. He was convinced that the farm had become some sort of vortex and that if anyone ever did come looking for them again, it would be the farm that would be the logical place they'd concentrate. He'd wanted Ralph gone from there as well ... but Ralph was not going to budge.

Everything was too unsettled at the moment and no one really knew the answer. But it did appear that Melbourne was going to be a place of safety.

Terry had other ideas in that regard ... and he'd talked to Uma and Andy ... they'd begin making inquiries when they got back ... a solution may have been the group's just for the right price.

But this morning, they had things to do before they left.

Ralph was driving Ann, Uma and Andy to Rosie's ... when he left them there, they'd go into the pub. But once there, it was Ann and Uma who would go on alone ... out of the pub and into Uma's old stomping grounds ... to England. When they were finished, then they'd return to the pub and head for Melbourne.

"Promise me this isn't final," Ralph whispered to Ann, pulling her back just before she got in the car, holding her to him. "I have to believe you and Buck will be back some day ... and the baby."

"I don't know, Ralph. I just don't know. But I won't sell this farm ... that much I know for sure," Ann said. "Let's see what else the future holds, eh, before we do anything too permanent?"

It was much colder than Ann had expected. Even swaddled in borrowed winter clothes, it was brisk for her. But noticing the cold was over in a moment ... she was too focused on other matters.

Before long, they were riding in a taxi. Uma jabbed Ann's arm not 15 minutes later ... Deva Roman Experience Interactive Museum, read a sedate sign. It's where Uma had been taking her class on a field trip that fateful day. As they drove past, Ann's heart raced; Uma's insides felt like jelly. Uma led the way once they got out of the taxi. It was not a long walk and took them along the Roman wall and through the historic streets of Medieval Chester. And at last they reached the place they sought. Nestled in the middle of a roundabout, the arena was only partially excavated and the walls were far shorter than Ann had imagined.

"This is disappointing," she said to Uma, stopping to gaze around her. "It's just ... littler than I thought it would be ... rather underwhelming ..."

"The excavation work is below this ... this way," Uma told her, already heading toward a fenced off area.

Down some stone stairs ... following corridors that Uma seemed to take instinctively, the stone walls and cleared paving stones shone under Uma's flashlight. Ann trudged behind her, a canvas bag over her shoulder that held dirt from Max's dreamed vineyard and an urn with his ashes.

Uma stopped sharply after they had passed a bend in the narrow corridor.

"This is it?" Ann asked, sure now that this had been right.

"Yes. He was right there ..." Uma shown the light over toward the wall. In her mind, she saw him there, in a fetal position, nude, bruised, streaked in blood ... grey and haunted. How different he looked as time had marched on ... and she remembered how it had felt, being with him ... swept up into something beyond comprehension.

"Can I borrow the flashlight?" Ann asked her, already handing Uma her canvas bag and smoothing the flashlight from Uma's gloved hand. As she began moving closer to the wall, shining the light over it, Ann said, "I just want to see if there was ever any sign of him ..."

"A sign?" Uma asked, beginning to realize she was a little uncertain while Ann seemed obviously intent on something specific.

"Do you ever think about how it is that Bud and Hando came to the pub a second time?"

Uma cleared her throat at the new conversational direction. Where was this leading? Ann turned to look at her, threw the flashlight's beam across Uma's face. With a hand up to shield her eyes, she said hesitantly, "I did for a while. But they seemed ..."

"They were so obviously not the same men as who first came ... they are so obviously different incarnations. Do you suppose that is how it happens? One of them leaves and then another comes to us? A different person ... with no memories of us ..."

"It seems ... a good thing ... but, yes, confusing."

"Do you want to know what I think? Because I've actually thought on this quite a lot since what happened to Maximus."

"Maybe it isn't so good for you to be thinking about such things, Ann."

"I'm concerned, is what it is, Uma. Very concerned."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want another Maximus coming here as if whatever is behind this can just toss these different incarnations over to us, as if they are interchangeable. It offends me when it comes to Max. It truly does. He is not interchangeable and I will not accept another Maximus taking his place." She paused after an unmistakable break in her voice. "Imagine a Maximus who does not know me? I won't. I just won't."

The light beam left her face ... Uma had the oddest impression she'd been under Ann's scrutiny. She blinked and watched as Ann continued examining the wall, now using her hand to glide over its roughened surface.

"What are you looking for?" Uma asked her.

"A sign. Anything. I think this is an important place for the Max who came to you here."

"You've been giving this a lot of thought, I can see, but I think that ..."

"That I'm wrong? I'm not." Ann stopped, stood and looked at Uma. "It's why we're here, you see."

"Ann ... you are in grief ... I know it's hard for you to accept ... but Max is gone. Truly gone. Maybe you should just spread his ashes and then we should go ..."

"Oh, yeah, I am in grief. But I'm not crazy. I'm not."

"You have to let him go, Ann."

"No. I don't believe that."

"Okay, let's just examine this. Logically, shall we? You asked about Bud and Hando ... and if I'd thought about the same thing could happen with Maximus? Yes, I did wonder at first but I don't think it's the same thing. Because Maximus died, so it's different, isn't it?"

"It is different. He didn't go of his own will."

"What I mean is that it's different because death is final. I think it's more likely no new Maximus will ever come through now."

"You're lying, Uma. I can tell."

Uma turned her face away. In truth, she was lying. She was not nearly so certain as she would have liked to have Ann believe. The truth was that it haunted her ... the realization that another Maximus may appear ... and how this would harm her friend ... how it would make it impossible for Ann ... she could imagine little worse than that. The Maximus whom Ann had loved was lost to her no matter what might happen. Another Maximus coming to them would be worse for Ann than bereavement ... and how would she protect Ann from the inevitable hurt?

"It doesn't matter. Lie all you want to me. I know you think it's for my own good," Ann said softly. "All I really need is you to help me get him back. Or for me to go to him ... through whatever void or portal he came through."

"What?" Uma jerked to attention. "What do you suppose? That I'm a witch and can now wave a wand to open a door to Elysium so he can come back here or you can just sashay through to get to him in there?"

"No. I don't think that. But I do think you are the key ... you were what drew him here, and now ... I think if you concentrate, really hard, you can open whatever opens when they come through to us. I think there's a way through here ... you know he had to come through here ... I was thinking he came through the wall."

"Through the wall?"

"How else would he appear like that?" Ann continued down a short way and then shown the flashlight back along the wall toward where Uma stood. "Maybe it won't do anything until you touch it. Maybe that's it ... like you have some connection or something ... will you do this for me? Just run your hands along the wall, see if you feel anything ... please, Uma."

"Ann ... I simply do not believe ..."

"What possible harm can it do? Please ... please, Uma!"

And so Uma found herself feeling along the wall, following the beam of light as Ann shown along the surface. Uma tried to actually feel inside herself, as Maximus had told her ... to let go of everything else and trust herself, her instincts ... she touched a section of the wall and suddenly stopped ... a long ago impression of Maximus floated across to her. It was just like when she'd touched the marble fireplace after Jack had in France ... the vestiges of his thoughts had come through to her. Maximus ... cold, alone, vulnerable.

"Dino said that his last words to me were that he'd be waiting."

Uma sighed and moved her hands away, stroking down other sections of the wall as she continued slowly, doing this to mollify Ann but expecting nothing. "I remember. You said he hadn't reported them accurately. That Ralph ..."

"Ralph said the exact words were ... 'it's dark ... I cannot see ... tell Anna, tell her I am waiting.' You see?"

"No. What am I supposed to see?"

"Dino was interpreting things ... he thought when Max said it was dark that it was him losing consciousness ... but it wasn't ... was it?"

Uma thought about this. What was she going to say or do to get Ann off whatever obsession she was into? How to get her away from here ... it was like being here had taken the calm person she'd been for days and ... then she wondered, maybe it was better that Ann face this ... have this breakdown ... see for herself this led nowhere? Then maybe she could move on.

"Think, Uma! When Max was dying in the arena, what do we know he saw? Not darkness ... but Elysium ... the walls, the door ... his family ... his farm ... all of it was in shades of sunlight, not darkness. You see?"

"I'm ... not ..." Uma shook her head. What was it that this pricked at her memory? Why did Max use those words? "No ... you're right ... he would have seen Elysium ... but you never know what he might have meant ..."

"I do. I think I do. I think most of all that he wanted me to know what he saw because he knew that above everyone, I'd understand that he was not entering Elysium ... that he was being sent somewhere else ... somewhere he was not familiar with and didn't understand ... but he figured something out in that last moment. He was trying to get a message to me ... that he's waiting, somewhere ... and he needs me to help you find him. You see?"

"Oh, Ann," Uma sighed, coming near her friend, putting her gloved hand along Ann's cheek. "They were the words of a dying man ... he loved you ... he wanted you to know he was thinking of you ... that ..."

"You think he was trying to say he'd be waiting for me on the other side? In Elysium? Jesus, Uma! We're talking Maximus here! Of course I knew he'd be there, waiting on me to join him! He didn't have to say that ... he knew I knew it already."

"I think you are making a lot out of a few words uttered by a man losing consciousness. That is what I think."

"Bullshit. I knew him. I know him. He's waiting on us to help him. On you, Uma. You can bring him back here ... You have to help me!"

"This is not a good idea," Uma said, her voice edgy with unease. A thought flashed in her mind ... what would put Ann off the idea? "Say he comes here again ... because of me. Say he fancies me?"

Ann chuckled. "You're thinking he'll come back without his memories of us? That's not the point ..."

"But what if that is what happens?"

"It won't. Trust me."

"Ann ... think about this logically ... if it was going to happen ... if me being here was going to draw him ... wouldn't he be here already?"

Her words at first made no import ... but then they sunk into Ann. She turned to look at the wall, shone the light there, flickered it about ... searching. "You felt nothing?"

"Nothing," Uma lied, certain that feeling Max's long ago thoughts had nothing to do with him coming back here.

"But ... this is where he came ..."

"Ann ... he's dead."

"No. He's waiting."

"He has no connection to this place. He died in an arena and came back in a different arena. But this time, he died somewhere else. Why would he return here?"

The hand holding the flashlight wavered and then trembled. Ann turned slowly, in a circle, as if lost. "I was so sure. I was so sure what he was trying to tell me ..."

"If he was going to come back, it would be somewhere he wanted to be ... and I know that if he could, he would try, Ann. He would. He would try to come back to you ... not to me ... and he would try so hard ..."

"I can't breathe ..."

"... harder than anyone ever tried ... but say he is not allowed. He has had his second chance and his purpose for returning has been achieved. He saved us all."

"No ... I can't let him go like this ... that can't be all ... I can go to him if he can't come to me!"

"And he left you his child, Ann. There is a future there. Take comfort as it is from that."

For long moments, Ann tried to catch her breath as Uma waited, not wanting to touch her for fear it would stop the journey she had to take ... to acceptance that the loss was final. When it came, it was expressed in a voice so wounded it could barely form the words. "Max ... oh, Max ... I need you ... don't leave me ..."

All the days and days of holding in the grief ... of denying her loss to anyone but herself ... and holding out on this one hope that some miscarriage of fate had taken him before his time was done ... it spilled out there, in that cold place where Maximus had first come and where she had believed so firmly that he could return if she could make the circumstances right. Ann pressed herself into the stone wall, as if she could will herself through to somewhere she could find him ... and let out the agony that had been kept neatly inside a space that had filled her to overflowing ...

Uma wrapped her arms around Ann's shoulders from behind, holding her as she wept and gave in to the despair of grief. She sagged in Uma's hold when at last she grew silent. For long, black moments they hung together like that.

Lost inside their own grief but there, sharing together in the loss of a man who'd meant so much to each of them. The child inside her kicked out, turned over ... Ann's hands went to cradle her load and she tried to tell herself to remember this was always Max's greatest gift to her. But it was hollow inside her heart now ... and she realized that she didn't believe anything anymore.

Uma's hand slipped down at the movement, to feel the child kick under her hand. She chuckled, worn out from sadness, surprised to feel light-headed at this touch. Her other hand braced against the wall ... she suddenly thought to herself that if she had any power at all to communicate with Maximus, it would be to promise him she'd always stay close to his son ... that she would watch over him forever.

Slowly, Ann pushed away from the wall. Uma dropped her hold as Ann turned to look at her. "I know this wasn't easy on you ... but I will always be grateful you were with me. I just ... I honestly don't know how to go on ... but I know I will. I don't know if I want to, but I know I have to. Right?"

"Yes. Right. I will be here for you ... we all will, Ann."

"Well, maybe we should do what I said we came here for ... I mean, I really do want to spread his ashes ... and some dirt from where he wanted so much to plant grapes some day."

"Then let's do it ... is it here, in the bag?"

Ann pulled the plastic baggie out and opened it. The dirt was still damp. She sniffed inside the bag and ... it smelled like home to her. She pictured Max, bending to touch, examine and smell the earth in important moments of his life when he was taking a stand. And then stepping near the wall, where Max had been that first time, she upended the baggie of dirt, letting it fall and spread it all around. Uma held the flashlight on the area so they could see the dirt's darkness in stark contrast to the lighter flooring.

Next to come out of the bag was the golden urn. It was heavy in her hands.

The moment she had waited on was there for Ann. Her hand began unscrewing the cap. She looked at the wall, where Uma's flashlight still lingered. She pictured him there, crouching, hurt, alone ... and the life she had led since she met him sped like a zooming movie reel inside her eyes.

"Should we say something, do you suppose? Like the memorial?" Uma asked her.

"I never believed in any man before I met him," she told Uma. "I never believed in love ... not the kind that people gush about ... I always thought it was a huge lie when it came to me. But he made me believe. In all of it. In him, most of all. I loved him. And I'll never forget him. But I cannot believe that this was all that it would come to ... that something would take him from me like this ... and that, in the end, the one thing that would be true that he taught me was that the love we felt for each other would last forever. It is so unfair ..."

"Some people never know love like that ... with that kind of power."

"This is all so fucking wrong. So wrong! How can this happen! His son ... he wanted him so much ... he loved him so much already ... it is so unfair to both of them ... that they don't get to know each other ..."

Uma heard the rage building up in Ann's words, in her tone. It made her uncomfortable ... what could she do to help? Nothing but listen ... and let her vent.

Inside Ann, frustration and anger boiled up until it was all she saw, all she felt. Her son fidgeted and she could have sworn he was just as angry as she felt. Her hands gripped into the golden urn.

"Turn your head, Uma. I'm going to lob this son of a bitch urn against the wall and let it smash open. Move away ... I don't want the ashes getting on you."

Uma turned and took a few steps away. Ann peered toward the wall, now largely a dark blob of an area without the flashlight shining in.

And then she cocked her arm and threw the urn as hard as she could ... with the lid loosened, she figured it would smack into the wall and ashes would fly out, scattered there in a satisfying display.

As she threw the urn, she turned away to keep from getting his ashes sailing back at her face ...

They both tensed, waiting on the sound of heavy metal on solid stone ... expecting it ... waiting ...

But they heard nothing.

Slowly it dawned on them both and they looked at each other.

They had not heard the urn hit the wall.

As they turned to look, to see where the urn had landed so noiselessly, Uma shown the light over the wall and the floor. Nothing was there but the dirt from the farm.

Nothing.

No urn.

No ashes.

Advancing on the spot, they held hands, looking about wherever Uma shined the flashlight. There was simply nothing there.

"You don't suppose ..." Uma said, her voice hushed.

"Oh my god," Ann breathed out. "It must have gone through some kind of void."

Without a word, they both began touching the wall, searching for the hole or opening through which the urn must have gone. Long, long minutes went by ... but they found nothing. Uma tried to find the spot where she'd picked up Max's memories but ... could not.

"What are we going to do?" Ann asked. "We can't just leave ... can we?"

"I don't know ... he isn't here and ... whatever has happened ... it's not letting us through."

"Maybe it only let the ashes through because they are him. You know? Maybe only he can go through."

"That may be it."

"Let's wait."

"I don't know what to think ..."

They were immobilized. There was little reason to stay ... it did not appear anything was happening. But if they left ... what then? How would they explain this?

So they stayed ... until the light grew so dim they knew it was now night outside. They were both chilled to the bone, teeth chattering, lips blue. And nothing happened. Eventually, they agreed that they were going to have to admit that in essence, Ann had simply returned Maximus to wherever he'd come into their world from.

They were both cold and disheartened. The experience had taken everything out of them both. It took a long time for a taxi to pick them up and they barely saw anything on the ride back to where the pub outlet was in Chester. It was a lonely pub ... with hard-drinking working people who barely noticed them walk in and down the hall only to disappear as they stepped into the kitchen area.

The next thing they knew, they were walking into the Come On Inn.

Andy and Paul were waiting on them in the kitchen of the pub. They saw the hollow eyes and empty spirits ... and knew the details were unimportant but that they had expended a well of grief during their visit. Andy ushered them through the pub, brimming with activity ... past everyone, they went and when they exited, they were in the Down Under Inn ... in Australia.

He had the car parked down the alley. He'd already taken Ann's bags and her dog to their place. All that was left was to get the two women home. They said little on the drive in. Uma held his hand. He did not like the drawn looks, the emptiness he felt in the car.

At their place, Andy heated up soup for them. Neither ate much ... Ann drank two glasses of milk and declared herself too wiped out for anything but sleep.

After getting her settled, Uma returned to the living room ... finding Andy standing at the window, sipping wine, looking off. He held his arm out to her and she went to him, letting him tuck her into his body so she could cling to him for comfort.

"What is it you believe you can teach me, spirit?" Maximus asked. "What possible good can it do to keep me here ...? Either let me proceed to Elysium or show yourself and let me send you there."

The voice laughed. It was warm. Tingly. "Warrior, you are incapable of sending me to Elysium. Do you know why?"

"Come. Show yourself. Let me convince you otherwise."

"Here then ... I'll send some of my friends to keep you company ... You're still not asking me the right questions ... You have learned so little."

Maximus tensed. His right hand flexed around the shaft of the sword he held. His left hand formed into a fist and then slowly relaxed. He began prowling about, waiting for the next onslaught, ready for the strike.

Slowly, shadows morphed into well-defined figures. He found himself surrounded. They weaved about, murmuring ominously, growing bolder in creeping closer as he assumed his fighting stance and eyed them without fear, without remorse.

"We who are about to die ... Warrior ... what say you?" the voice asked him, floating above the scene of impending war.

"Is this then a place in between life and death?" Maximus asked, grimly, focused on the shadows but unable to not ask the question that came to him. "Am I not yet truly dead, then?"

"Now we are getting to the heart of it, Warrior."

"Is it to be my choosing then? Life ... or Elysium?"

"Are you riding in green pastures yet, Warrior? Is the sun upon your cheeks? Is it time to look death in the face and smile?"

Maximus opened his mouth to answer but before he could ... a streak of wild, honeyed gold arced past him. The shadows muttered, confused. Maximus followed the streaking gold with one eye, wary that this distraction would be fatal ... that the unseen real enemy had sent the arc to divert his attention from the coming attack of the shadow men.

"Pay no mind, Warrior ..." the voice said, suddenly hushed. "Your final lesson ..."

"What was it?" Maximus asked, now twisting to look in the direction from which it came. He could see no details for he was not tall enough to see past the shadow men. But he could see ... something ... light ... a glow ... faint, yet it was there. Light, he thought to himself.

But before it was no more than a fractured idea, he was engaged in battle. They came on ... and before him, they were shattered ... wisps that inflicted scratches and cuts and bruises on him while he plowed through them, feeling the cut of his sword into solid muscle and bone ... and watched as the shadows dissolved into millions of points of blacker black ... only to have another shadow man take up the hunt for his life.

He roared and he sliced ... he grunted in pain when a shadow connected with him ... but on he charged, never willing to be on the defensive unless it was for his own advantage.

Now, rather than blind fighting, Maximus had a goal ... and toward that goal, he clawed his way through an army unlike any he'd ever fought.

He aimed for the light ... for the glow that never faded and never varied.

When he once lived in this country, it had seemed worth leaving behind. Now, he stood, looking about as people rushed toward trendy shops set side by side with dodgy old mom and pop eateries ... and he could not for the life of him remember himself at that age when he'd made that decision that his future would be elsewhere.

Had he really known what he was doing then? No ... maybe it was blind luck ... or maybe he had been meant to stay here. And if he had ... what else about him would be different?

Terry ducked inside the shop in front of him. As he entered, a bell over the door didn't just tinkle to let the shop owner know a customer was there ... it played a lullaby. Terry grumbled under his breath.

"Oi. Princess. Let's shake a leg, shall we? You said five minutes," he called out, not seeing the slightest evidence of the woman who'd dodged inside under the pretense of seeing something in the window that would be perfect for him to buy for an expectant mother he happened to know.

"Oh, keep it in your trousers, will ya, Tio?" Uma called back, kneeling down, out of sight, before a baby carriage that she'd just found out was the Lexus of prams. "Except your charge card, lovie ... you can whip that out. I found just what you want."

He followed the sound of her voice and stood looking down at her, hands on his hips, lips pressed into the infamous Queen Victoria look of his. "You did not see that in the window," he charged.

"You're going to be an uncle ... how can you carp at a time like this over a little expense ... doesn't your nephew deserve this?" Uma asked him, smiling to herself, her back to him.

He licked his lips, shifted about. "C'mon then. I should have known better than to let you have rule over my charge account ... you always did know how to spend."

"It is nice," she said, now standing and turning toward him, rolling the pram his way, showing off its features. "You know how Ann is about all this safety rating mash ... this will make her so happy ... she will think you truly like her."

"Annie knows how I feel about her," Terry said, his voice now soft, his eyes darting away. "I suppose you think I'm going to carry the box, do you?"

"No, no. It's all put together already. We'll just take it with us."

He handed his charge card to the clerk and looked at Uma over his shoulder. "What? You daft, woman? You think I'm pushing a pram into that bar?"

"If you're not man enough ..."

"For Christ's sake, Uma ..."

"What do you care what they think of you?"

He rolled his eyes. 

Uma ended up pushing the stroller ... until they arrived at the pub in question ... and then Terry opened the door for her, picked up the stroller and pulled it in behind him.

It's likely that they would have been stared at rudely by the denizens of the pub no matter what, being strangers and not at all dressed like anyone else in there, but bringing the stroller in ... that must have been what brought the choking laughter and coughing fits up and down the pub's brass rail.

Terry gave them the eye ... and before long, they turned back to their ales and ryes.

No more than ten minutes later, the real estate man arrived to show them about the premises of the Down Under Inn.

If it could be said that someone kicked the tires and checked the oil on real estate, it would be said of Terry's examination of the Down Under Inn. Uma and Andy had already had their own tour of the facilities. They had liked it so much that they had begun drawing up their plans for renovations and improvements. This wall would go ... that one would be moved ... the kitchen would be expanded ... fake paneling that had been around for maybe 50 years would be discarded and replaced with plaster that would be finished with frescoes that Heather had agreed to create to give the foundation of the ambience they craved.

That Terry was giving all indications of being reluctant to be involved in the Down Under Inn was a shallow shell of fakery. It had been his idea, after all. Especially after his people investigated the ownership of the facility back as far as records could go ... and found ... exactly ... nothing. No ghosts. No ties to any of them. Nothing spooky. Nothing unworldly.

It had been built turn of the century. It had once been part of a Masonic Temple complex but used only as offices until someone got the bright idea to turn it into a catering center for the main temple.

Uma had been the one who took some convincing in the beginning. 

Terry had had the idea that if there was to be a new safe haven and a new level of discretion among the people associated with the Come On Inn, then it made sense to make the entrance a double blind. They believed that like all the entries to that original pub, the entry to this one was certain to be available to them each in some place near where they would each need to enter it. And if ever the Come On Inn were invaded, they could escape to the Down Under Inn.

Although it would no longer be the Down Under Inn, would it?

No.

It would not even be a pub.

Not once Andy and Uma were through with the renovations.

It would become the restaurant Andy had dreamed of ... and that Uma wanted to make a reality for the man who stood by her through everything life threw at them.

The renovations might take months.

And there was still the lingering feeling of vulnerability they all labored under. Although Mephisto had been dismantled in the federal investigation and it appeared that all records of their existence had been wiped clean ... there was always that odd chance that something would be found.

And there was always Danny Caulfield ... who was out there, free but in hiding, and despite their best efforts, they had been unable to pick up more than dead ends. They would keep hunting. They would never feel safe until he was located and neutralized.

There were others out there who knew ... of course there were. But none had enough information to really harm them. And those who might have been able to interfere were under watch ... and knew they were. And then there was Dr. Loriebat, babbling away between his doses of narcotics and mood depressants ... his words no longer even able to incite his fellow patients in the mental hospital where he remained delusional about this time traveling race of men.

Precisely these unanswerable concerns were what drove Terry's attitude in this investigation. He asked the real estate man to give him time alone to poke around ... muttering something about being sure there was dry rot.

Uma smiled at the real estate man and then drew him into the pub's public area, offering to buy him a drink while they left Terry to his silly neurosis.

They sat at the lone table. It was set up front, under smoky quartz-colored glass that had turned brownish grey after years of nothing but desultory dusting by a succession of bartenders.

More than an hour later, Terry strode briskly through the kitchen doors toward the table. Uma was so glad to see him. She'd run out of chatter to fill the empty space at the table ... but if she'd let the real estate man talk too much, he'd have had her looking at houses with picket fences that were perfect for raising children.

She had told him the stroller was for a pregnant friend. He had smiled indulgently at her and asked if cigarette smoke was bad for her at this point.

Terry had checked every inch he could reach of the facility. He'd crawled in and out of spaces he'd like to forget. He'd inspected the kitchen area, which in this pub was not much more than a place to wash glasses and have a smoke away from customers. He'd pried through the back office and it would require two showers to get the smell of old cigar smoke out of his hair. He'd searched in and out of every room upstairs and had even run his hands over every board that made up the hallway and the stairwell.

And he'd found ... exactly ... nothing. Nothing that should not be here. Nothing he could not explain. Nothing illogical. Well, except for that little entry into the Come On Inn that Uma had first found upon entering this building's front door.

At the end of it all, he felt one thing about this place: it was safe for them.

That's why his Queen Victoria, pressed-lip frown was not quite able to suppress a certain satisfied smile that Uma saw lingering on the edges.

They had agreed to let Terry negotiate the price. It was what he did, after all ... negotiate. And if the negotiating got bogged down, then Dino would step in. And if he botched it, then Heather would close the deal.

And they'd all feel satisfied with the outcome.

So Terry sent the opening salvo to the real estate agent, who frowned very hard at the written offer but agreed to take it to the owner ... a corporation based in Sydney that invested in numerous such buildings and even built a few new ones. The corporation, of course, had been well-vetted by TOL's operatives.

One week later, Uma and Andy were owners of a new location. TOL was their top investor. And a week after that, work had begun on the renovations to the extent that workmen were crawling all over the place, ripping out what had to go. An architect had drawn the plans ... and made requested changes ... including moving the wall twice ... and had delivered the final specs just in time for Jeff to put his wrecking crew to work. Jeff was working as the general contractor. Speed was a driving factor as many in the group around the Come On Inn believed they could not discount continuing danger and the need for a less-known gathering spot was essential ... a place no one associated with Mephisto would ever know about.

Ann was watching over the details for Jeff and it had been a blessing for her to find an activity that engaged her mind and taught her new skills. Not that she was enthusiastic nor was she all there yet. But it was a reason to get out of bed every morning. And it wore her out just enough to allow her to lie down at night and close her eyes. And it did, eventually, make her begin to think beyond her own blackness.

She knew she could not stay here forever, though, and had already begun to hint that it was time for her to go home, to the farm. There was so much that needed doing ... she'd not even officially made notifications of Max's death to change over everything from his name to hers. The thought of all that had to be done meant she was looking to the future, and had begun to see the need for a plan.

Telling his boss had been the hardest thing she'd done so far. They had been very kind ... and were waiting for her to come back so they could help her close out his accounts, file for his life insurance and myriad other things she never had thought about.

Uma and Andy wanted her to stay. Uma in particular felt the need to be close by ... the connection she had once had with Maximus seemed to be triggered with his unborn son's proximity. Others in the group urged her to stay ... Terry and Dino had both spoken with her frankly about their concern that she could become a target of the remaining Mephisto geek and staying in another country seemed to them a more secure place for her until they had a firm belief all threats were neutralized. She listened politely but honestly, she didn't say much in return. Her own thoughts were held close inside and this was how she coped during a time that felt nothing so much as sluggish to her.

Ralph was still at the farm but since they'd begun renovating the Down Under Inn, he'd made the trip to see her many times, using the entry from the Come On Inn. Besides just visiting with her, he also came to take her to doctor's appointments; it was the only way she seemed able to face returning to Folsom and even then, there was never a visit to the farm itself.

Some nights when she lay waiting for sleep to blank her mind out, she thought about going back to live at the farm and knew it was never going to happen. And yet, she could not stay here with Uma and Andy forever. She wanted to have their child there, at the hospital near Folsom that they had picked out together using the doctor she trusted.

Other times, she thought she could imagine understanding what Ralph meant when he said the connection to Max at the place they had shared would come to mean everything to her ability to face the future.

Max had died a month earlier.

It still was impossible for her to absorb. And the passage of time seemed obscene to her. How could the world go on revolving and people just go about their lives like they were? Why didn't everything stop and acknowledge the loss of this great man?

Yet it marched on. Time and the world. People even sang Christmas carols and were buying gifts, like this was just an ordinary holiday to be celebrated.

They kept on with all that life demanded, the people of the Come On Inn. Like they were on speed and she was slogging through a pit of tar ... they seemed to go so fast while she was left further and further behind. She tried her best to fake how little she remembered of what had happened since the death. If she gave them a smile and a nod, they thought she was with them.

She was not.

Not most of the time.

And yet time kept passing ... and she was no closer to knowing what to do with the emptiness inside her soul ... and she loved their son so absolutely but she was afraid, so afraid, of the birth and now Max was not going to be here to make it all right for her.

Nothing was ever going to be right for her again. Not without him.

"Beer, please..."

Paul looked up from the newspaper he was reading, sitting at the bar over a mug of hot tea. "Any preference? Lager, bitter, mild, continental, real ale, Australian, Japanese, American, low alcohol...bottled, draught, canned..."

"Just beer...in a glass...You want to see ID? How old you got to be to get a beer in this country?"

Paul laughed. "'bout twelve...this is England, kid...we're a lot less puritanical... Beer, it is..." He pulled a half of Carlsberg and set it down before the young man.

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, mate, you're a gentleman," Paul quipped dryly as he threw the ten pence coin into the tips box. 

"You worked here long?"

"Coupla months..." Paul answered, eying up the newcomer. "Why, you looking for someone?"

"Could be. Pay well? This job, I mean?"

Paul snorted. "You joking? Slave labour, mate..."

"Why you doing it then?"

"What's it to you?" Paul asked him.

The guy shrugged. "Just making conversation."

"You looking for a job?"

The young man grinned. "Behind a bar? Not me. You don't look the type...for this kind of work..."

Paul shrugged. "I'm not, if it's any of your business. I work in computers. Freelance. But me and the girlfriend, we're saving for a house...so the extra hours here help..."

"Must be a struggle..."

Paul whistled. "You seen the house prices round here? It's hard to get started...we're both working two jobs. Never see each other. Crazy life...I shouldn't complain. Some people got no job. I got two..."

"You work in computers? You any good...?"

"Yeah, I'm good...but guys like me are ten a penny these days. Everyone's a hack...no future in it unless you can get a break. Mostly it's just repair and salvage stuff..."

"This may be your lucky day....what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Paul...and who might you be?"

"Danny...Caulfield...Metamorphosis Inc..." He pulled out a card and handed it across.

Paul gave it a cursory glance. "This supposed to impress me?"

Danny smiled slyly. "If I told you I could offer you a job making ten times what you're earning now with half the hours, would that impress you?"

"What is it? Porn films? My girl would kill me..."

Danny laughed. "No...nothing illegal. Just computers...simple stuff...executive post..."

Paul looked sceptical. "I'm supposed to believe you stop here for a glass of beer and offer the barman mega bucks just on sight for running a department in your tech company....? I wasn't born yesterday...what's your game, mate?"

A triumphant look came over Danny's bland face. The barman was biting. Everything comes down to greed in the end. "It wouldn't be payment for your technical skills, however impressive they are. It would be for some information..."

"Yeah? What information?" Paul raised an eyebrow.

"Some people who drink here...they come and go...seems there is something a little odd about this place....care to fill me in...?"

"We talking serious money?" Paul dropped his voice and looked about him furtively. "I'm not saying anything without some contract...how do I know you'll honour your promise after I give it up?"

Danny raised his hands. "That's a good point, Paul. You got an online PC on the premises? I'll print out a company contract here and now, you can sign it and we are in business..."

"In the back...there's an office...I'll show you...you gotta be quick though...my boss will be back any time..." He lifted up the hatch at the end of the bar and let Danny through. Opening the door on his left, it was a simple matter to let the man step through, to pull out his trusty baseball bat and knock him out. Caulfield crumpled into the store cupboard, out cold. Paul deftly turned the key in the lock and pulled out his cell phone.

"That you? Got a lead for you...one scrawny geek...usual place, hey? I'm sure you can fill in the rest..."

Entering the office, he sat at the PC and called up Sid. "We've got your boyfriend...so you did what you were told for once. Smart. Now I've got something else I want you to do...you've got two hours to remove every last trace of even a whisper about this place or any of its inhabitants from the web. I want every hard drive wiped, emails searched and deleted, phone records expunged, messages left on cells...everything. Wipe it off the face of the earth. And you can do it, Sid. You know you can..."

"Why should I? Caulfield was the deal, boy toy..."

"Don't even try it, wankjob. Why should you? Because if you don't, then I'll send a friend of mine after you. And this is the friend you really don't want to meet. He's got a taste for evil...he just swallows it up....the Angel of Death, you might say. He'll be your worst freaking nightmare..."

There was a silence at the end of the line and then: "It's already done. Call your dog off...Jeepers creepers, do you have to be so Gothic? We're on the same side, Paulie baby...we always were. I just operate a little differently from the rest of the pack...by the way, how's lil' orphan Annie now Daddio kicked the proverbial bucket...?"

"Have some respect, you dick..."

"I meant it...how is she coping?"

"How does anyone? One day at a time, I guess..."

"Tell her I was asking..."

"Tell her yourself...you ever heard of electronic mail...?"

Paul closed down, lay back in the large leather swivel chair and swung around. Not a bad morning's work. Almost all the loose ends tied up neatly. His head ached dully. Being a Guardian was more stressful than it appeared. But it was neat to throw out a few thunderbolts here and there and have wackjobs like Sid sitting up and taking notice of his edicts.

There was still so much to learn and even more to do. He hadn't discussed this with anyone yet but he knew that already some sixth sense was telling them all that Paul was more than just the supplier of cold beer, warm food and hot gossip. It was obvious when you thought about it. It's always the barman. No one ever really looks at him. Yet he sees everything...

Once he thought he'd known where he was. Once he thought he'd known the spirit behind the voice.

There came a time in the battle when he saw the tide of power shift. He felt it inside, in his chest that heaved with the exertion. But it was his experienced mind, razor sharp, that saw the tell-tale signs. Then his wide eyes scanned the area around him and he realized that he could see details more prominently.

He was closer to the source of the light, he muttered to himself. And the light was guiding him in its own way ... but it was also more true than anything that he had been fighting with all his might to reach the source of the light.

With a startling split in his vision, he was no longer looking through a dark void toward a diffuse glow of light ... it was as if he traveled through the void, so swiftly he could not keep up ... but it headed onward, toward that diffuse glow, and through it ... and then the speed of travel stopped ... and he was able to look around where the vision seemed to have dropped him back in the modern world he'd left ...

He found himself looking at a scene of disarray and heard workmen hammering. He was in a place he did not recognize. The view shifted to a room filled with sheets of board over sawhorses ... and paper spread out there before a solitary figure. A woman. He stumbled slightly when her face suddenly filled his mind's eyes ... she was alive! He whispered her name ... her head jerked to the side, as if she'd heard ... She was crying and now her breath caught. A look of fear crossed her features. Her hand covered her mouth or she would have cried out. Cara, he thought, the sight of her tears dropping him to his knees. The sword clattered from his hand and he reached for her but it was only a vision. She was not with him. And he was not with her.

She has survived but now is left to mourn me, he thought. It is written on her features ... pain that will never leave her.

Of course, he was familiar with this sort of loss ... he'd faced it himself ... death had been delivered far more cruelly to his first wife and son ... but nonetheless, he knew better than most that the death of your life's partner was bone-deep pain that made one more weary than should be borne.

As quickly as the vision had overtaken him, it fled.

Leaving him cold and alone ... and desperately impotent, because all that he could do was struggle in his own dungeon while his woman faced life without him.

"Spirit!" he roared. "I demand to know why you showed me that! Answer me! Am I being given a choice on my fate?"

There was a distinct lull about him ... shadow forces seemed to ebb away ever so slightly. This had become a signal to him that soon the voice would resound ... because the voice wanted his attention, obviously the shadow men were held back from direct assault on him during these times.

Maximus took full advantage of this opportunity. He made an instinctive leap in logic and then acted upon it.

Grabbing the sword up again, he charged toward the light, hacking those few shadow men who made half-hearted lunges toward him. He had a sudden realization that just a bit closer and he could more clearly see the exact direction of the light's most concentrated rays ... around a bend slightly obscured by blacker rolling fog banks ... almost there ...

"Warrior!" the voice called out, stern and lashing. "Do not think it will ever be in your hands to decide your own fate."

"The gods have done their worst to me in that regard ... I could do no worse."

"You know very well that this is not how it happens. Man does not suddenly decide and the gods then obey him. Surely you are not so foolish as to believe this?"

Pausing, choosing to use this respite to catch his breath and gather his strength, Maximus looked about, his eyes searching above, in the direction of where he perceived the voice to be emanating. Perhaps he could pick out a detail, thrown into bas relief by the ever increasing quality of the light?

"What I know, Spirit, and what I believe are that man must act ... he must leave it to the gods to play their games."

"Is this what you think is happening to you, Warrior? The gods ... your gods ... are playing games with you?"

"The gods always play games. It is their way."

"Are you not worried about offending your gods?"

Maximus laughed. Full out and filled with an ironic edge to the deep chuckles that filled the space around him. 

"I shall take that as a 'no,'" the voice said. "Interesting reaction, Warrior."

"Why do you hide, Spirit? What fear keeps you from facing me?" Maximus asked, his deep voice pitched soft and low across the expanse.

"We all have our roles, Warrior."

"Spirit, you already know that I am going to reach the light. Let us call this a draw, shall we? I wish no more war with you ... if you retreat, then I shall be merciful and not come in search of you ... instead, I shall ... I shall ..."

"You shall what, Warrior?" the voice said when Maximus hesitated. "You are only now realizing something, are you not? You were about to say that you would advance into the light ... and why is it that you would not finish that sentence?"

"Spirit, I have been taunted by tyrants and monsters much worse than you ... do not think to trick me in this manner."

"Think, Warrior. Why will you not say aloud that you are going into the light?"

Maximus turned back and faced in the direction of the light. It still glowed softly but he also saw it was sharper now in its interior sections ... and he knew whatever crack or crevice the light shone through, it was not long before he would find it ... and then he would have a decision ... did he go through? And if he went through the light ... what memory did this trigger?

He searched inside himself ... he remembered suddenly that conversation he'd had with Uma ... when she felt something was wrong but could not quite reach outside herself for why she felt this way ... and he had told her then:

"You speak of an idea, of some knowledge just outside your consciousness that you can't quite reach. Find a way through that door and the answer may be there. Listen again. What does your heart tell you that you must do?"

With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and entered the place inside himself where the essence of his Stoic beliefs resided. He walled off everything that may divert his attention to this exercise and in doing this, allowed a part of his awareness to remain alert for sounds of danger approaching.

What impulse would drive this search of his memories for the answer he sought? And then he understood ... he listened again to a conversation with Anna he'd had once ... about her Christian belief that as a person closed in on death, a light shown ... a bright, warm, welcoming light ... and the person walked into the light ... into death's embrace ... into the Christian eternity.

This is what had stopped him voicing those words that he would advance into the light. It was the memory of what that concept meant to Anna, he realized. And with that first full thought of her, she flooded his mind, heart and soul ... memories of their time together, of love she gave him ... of love they made ... of the child they created ... of the peace he felt in his life with their union's progress. And then something cold and painful stabbed into his chest ... and he remembered fully his death ... and the blood ... and how his last thought had been of her, of the message he sought to give her ...

His eyes flashed open.

He looked into the light and hesitated ... he was not in Elysium and he knew not where he was. It was not something he'd heard his people describe ... this half-existence, half-death ... what if he had slipped into something that led to the afterlife of his wife's spiritual beliefs?

What if stepping into the light meant he was walking into death? Into a Christian heaven?

Was this his fate, he wondered, turning back to look into the dark.