Phobia

by DowneasterJack

Years ago, a terrible loss left Professor Gryffen with agoraphobia. If he can't overcome his phobia now, he may suffer another devastating loss.

Note: I am back, with a new pen name. I don't normally write this fandom because I'm not all that familiar with it. Please forgive any errors as a greenhorn thing. This is just something that popped into my head while I was watching the dvd and I needed to shake it out so I can get back to my schoolwork. (It's just impossible to study when there's a plot bunny hopping in your head). I have not yet seen all the episodes (I'm 2/3 through the series), and I am openly taking liberties, especially with the technology, especially the dog whistle and the car. You've been warned. It's best if you regard this as AU. I know this fandom is not all that large, and I know this is not my best story by a long shot, but I sincerely hope someone out there enjoys it.

Ratings/Warnings: PG. Mild swearing (mostly British swear words). Mild peril. No pairings in this one except implied one-sided D/J. Mostly Gryffen P.O.V. Heavily inspired by the episodes "Oroborus" and "Fall of the House of Gryffen". There will be spoilers.

Disclaimer: I don't own the series or the characters and I wouldn't think of taking money for it. My dvd box says Park Television Productions owns it. If that's wrong, well, they need to label their packaging more clearly. Similarities to any person, place, thing, event, story, etc, is ENTIRELY coincidental.

K9

"Phobia"

By DowneasterJack

They had an expression across the pond, something to the effect that life's only certainties were death and taxes.

Professor Alastair Gryffen subscribed to a different philosophy: Sod's Law-as in, whatever sodding thing could go wrong in the course of his work inevitably would. In the case of his life, the only certainties were alien invasions, ridiculously bad lightning storms…and complete, utter disaster whenever he attempted a new experiment with his time-space portal.

The machine was a piece of alien technology, found in the wreckage of an alien spaced crafted the government dubbed a "Fallen Angel", salvaged, and plunked into Gryffen's hands. He'd been tasked with analyzing the machine and getting back into working order. In the mansion that was Gryffen's home, workplace, and- thanks to his crippling agoraphobia-his prison, he supposed, the device took up two stories. The portal itself was suspended on metal tracks that crisscrossed the upper levels of the main entrance. The control panel was below, connected to the sphere by endless wires and tubing.

"The Department"-Earth's appointed gatekeepers against enemies from other planets-provided funding for Gryffen's work and home, foolishly thinking that the scientist was driven by similar motives. In truth, this device had only one purpose to the professor: To find a way to bend space and time to his will, turn back the clock, and restore the family he'd lost years ago—Eleanor, his wife, and his children, Jacob and Mina.

To that end, Gryffen was at his portal again, trying to harness the electrical energy in the latest of London's devastating freak storms to try out his latest modifications to the time stream (never mind the fact that such attempts in the past had led to nothing bus disaster). He'd raced the storm as it rolled in that day, trying to lay wires and connect delicate pieces of the device to prepare it for the massive influx of energy it would receive.

It was very late now, but the only meaning time had in Gryffen's world was as a barrier that must be breached in order to get his family back. His whole being was dedicated to that purpose, willing the experiment to work this time, damn it! Give him back his family, for real, not homicidal alien apparitions masquerading as his loved ones. Thus far, the device had only managed to serve as an entrance to Earth for any alien that happened to pass too near its matter stream.

One such 'alien' was the automaton dog who now monitored the professor's work. "K9" (a rather blatant name for a mechanical dog as far as Gryffen was concerned) was the rare exception to the rule that nothing good ever came through the time-space rifts spawned by the scientist's machine. Gryffen did not know much of the little robot's origins, largely due to the fact that K9's memory files had been lost during his traumatic arrival on Earth. What memories remained showed that the robot had been built for the purpose of traversing the universe and perhaps time itself, and it included invaluable knowledge of some of the alien species that had found their way to Gryffen's lab.

The other usual occupants of the mansion were otherwise occupied at the moment. Gryffen's thousandth effort to finally make the portal function properly were no down becoming commonplace and uninteresting to the three teenagers who frequently assisted his work.

His officially hired lab assistant, Darius, was wise enough not to wander out in such weather and had stayed home (wherever home was that particular day).

Gryffen's unofficial assistant and border had wandered home a few hours ago. Starkey was usually quite fascinated to help with these experiments, and in fact was getting to be nearly as skilled with the machine as Gryffen himself. However, he had declined to help that night, disappeared into his room, and never came back down.

Their young friend, Jorjie, was undoubtedly home, riding out the storm with her mother. These 'superstorms' as the teenagers now called them, made the girl a bit squirrely, since the last one had brought the roof of her bedroom crashing down upon her.

That left only Gryffen and K9 to man the control panel…which had promptly overloaded the moment the energy from the lightning outside had been fed through the tangle of new wires into its circuits. The time vortex generated by the portal responded by promptly destabilizing…the opposite of what Gryffen had hoped.

K9 monitored the power spike. "Power levels are critical. I calculate twenty seconds to complete destabilization of the matter stream. Fifteen seconds to cascade failure of the portal's circuits…"

"Ten seconds is all I need. Come on, work!" Gryffen's hands flew over the controls.

"Ten seconds until-" the robot counted down.

It was at that moment that the control panel sparked, blazing a shower of excess energy that snapped along the circuitry from the panel to the portal generator overhead. The controls caught fire.

K9 reacted at once: "Initiating containment measures." He activated the overhead fire suppression system that Starkey had insisted that Gryffen install after the seemingly twentieth time a failed experiment such as this had nearly set the house on fire.

Gryffen was more concerned with watching the circuits on the control panel fry and melt, one-by-one. The matter stream gave one last flare of light and winked out of existence. He slammed his palm against the smoking machine in frustration. Another spectacular failure in his efforts to bring his family home. Each time, a little more of Gryffen's hope dies.

"Well, that's that," he grumbled.

"Cascade failure. Shall I analyze the cause?"

Gryffen removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, snapping: "I am painfully aware of the cause, K9!"

The automaton's only response was a twitch of its large, mechanical ears. The professor winced inwardly, aware that-despite technically being a machine-the robot dog was capable of fear, worry, had some capacity for humor, and most assuredly could be insulted.

He apologized almost instantly: "Sorry, I didn't mean to take it out on you. No, K9, I think all that's left to do is scan the mansion and make sure nothing came through that portal during our test." Gryffen's portal seemed to be the favored passage to Earth for any alien species to use whenever it suited them. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with one of them, especially with his machine well and truly broken for the foreseeable future.

As if to dole out the final insult of the night, the power finally flickered and went out completely, leaving the man and the robot dog bathed in the glow of K9's red eye. Gryffen sighed. Could there be just one of these wretched storms that didn't shut down the entire grid? He fumbled for the computer pad tucked into his pocket. One check of the device told him it wasn't just the power grid; communications were out as well. No phone, no internet, and no point in attempting to repair the portal until the storm had passed.

"Perfect. K9-?"

The dog replied at once: "My scans of the emergency channels indicate that the storm is causing massive localized flooding of the power plant and relay stations for the communications grid. Repairs will not be possible until the flood levels recede. However, we should be quite safe at this distance from the river, and we have a sufficient supply of food to sustain two average humans for ten-point-five days…or in your case one average human and one average teenaged boy for six-point-four days."

Right, flooding. The weather forecasts had called for flooding along the Thames. Darius had gone shopping that morning to make sure that his employer was stocked with food before heading home to ride out the storm (wherever "home" was at the moment-hopefully with his father or family and not in the sewers this particular week). Safe behind the walls of the mansion (and the walls that surrounded the mansion) and preoccupied with his latest experiment, the professor hadn't given the inclement weather any thought beyond properly grounding the equipment against power surges and stray lightning strikes. He would have to remember to thank the teenager for his foresight once the storm and floods had passed.

Speaking of teenagers… "'Average', perhaps. How about one 'average' teenaged Starkey?" The mansion's other occupant was an eating machine, but he never gained a single pound. There was a scientific paradox Gryffen would never solve.

As the professor fumbled to find the emergency lanterns by the light emitted by K9, it dawned on him that Starkey had not come back downstairs since declining dinner (going rather green at the proffered kidney pie and mumbling something about uploading digital files to his pirate 'Stark Reality' network). If the sounds of Gryffen's machine blowing itself to useless bits hadn't brought the boy running, and it usually did, he should have been shouting loud complaints about the sudden communications blackout and calling for his mechanical dog to somehow resolve the problem.

The first niggling fear formed in the back of the professor's mind.

It was pushed out of his mind by K9's reply: "Recalculating: Food supplies will last four-point-nine days for one adult human male and one human teenaged Starkey." The robot dog's ears continued to maneuver back and forth as it processed the data it had collected. "Scans for presence of alien life forms negative."

K9 stopped short of declaring the grounds 'secure', for there was more to the safety of the mansion than the absence of an alien life form (corporeal or incorporeal). Automatically, he focused his scans on the two humans within the house, checking them for the presence of alien parasites or any abnormalities that might indicate infection or influence or adverse effects from the portal's meltdown. The robot had long ago adjusted his scanners so that Starkey's altered blood chemistry did not register as an 'alien' presence during such checks.

The robotic ears stopped their movements when his scans caught something.

Gryffen finally found a lantern. He switched it on just in time to observe K9 abandoning his chair to glide towards the staircase. "What?" he asked, following the machine.

"My scan is showing that Starkey's core body temperature has risen to an unhealthy level...one hundred-two point five degrees to be exact."

That nagging worry flared anew, until Gryffen's scientific mind kicked in, reminding him to analyze the situation rather than immediately panicking. "Don't worry. It's probably just a cold from this damp weather. I'll check on him."

K9 heard, but when it came to the health of his 'young master', the robot dog must always see for himself that the teenager is safe and well. The robot was halfway to the boy's room before Gryffen finished his sentence. The professor followed.

The spare bedroom was still-half filled with his family's belongings-Jacob's tricycle, a wardrobe, a dusty bed, suitcases, books, shelves, and even Eleanor's odd watercolor paintings of skulls and skeletons. She had been fascinated with anthropology and developed a particular interest in festivals relating to the dead. She had preserved sugar skulls and marigolds from the Dia de los Muertos festivals, kites from Guatemala, candles, coins, and other items collected during her travels. Alastair had found the hobby unsettling at best, more so since she…

In any case, he couldn't bring himself to part with the artifacts, but neither could he see them without the resulting wave of grief nearly drowning him. So, the paintings had been relegated to the room that now belonged to Gryffen's young charge. Other than some of Starkey's clothing, the boy's books, and the bed that had been moved in for his use, the room hadn't changed much at all.

More precisely, Starkey hadn't changed anything about the room…there was nothing in the way of personal mementoes and few belongings simply because the teenager had no mementos or belongings. Gryffen knew that, growing up on the streets since the presumed deaths of his parents, Starkey had never stayed in one place long enough to worry about such things as collecting baubles or interior decorating. The whole of his possessions fit into his duffel, so much the better to pick up and run should The Department, the CCPC, or anyone else come searching.

Keen and mature though he might be, it was no kind of life for a teenager. Not for the first time, Gryffen's stomach knotted with suppressed fury towards people he'd never met-parents who could put their experiments before the welfare of their child…who experimented on their child. Their. Child. Regardless of whether their intention was to protect Starkey from alien infection, there were lines that an ethical scientist simply did not cross.

As he stepped into the room, Gryffen took a deep breath and exhaled, releasing that knot of outrage and collecting himself before he faced the teenager.

The instant he saw the off-colour , trembling, sweating figure lying on the mattress, he knew that he'd been wrong…whatever was wrong with Starkey was more than a simple cold.

K9 opted to settle himself on the empty side of the mattress between Starkey's unmoving form and the wall instead of his usual place on the bench beside the bed. The robot only did that when he was worried (whether K9 admitted it or not, his young master, with his knack for putting himself squarely at the center of trouble, was a frequent source of worry for the robot dog). K9 always stayed with Starkey in the overnight hours when the boy slept, almost as if sitting guard. The robot himself didn't 'sleep', but he had coordinated his system maintenance cycles to coincide with human sleep cycles, as close a thing to sleeping as the machine could manage.

Gryffen sat down on the bench seat. Their arrival had not caused the teenager to so much as twitch. He lay on his side, lines of pain creasing a face flushed from fever, and shaking despite the wool blanket that was pulled all the way up to his chin. He had curled into a ball. Gryffen could see that, beneath the covers, Starkey had both arms wrapped around his abdomen.

Not wanting to startle him, the professor tried to rouse the boy first by quietly calling: "Starkey?"

The teenager did not respond. Gryffen reached over and carefully laid his palm against the boy's forehead, checking for fever…not that he couldn't take K9's word for it. He schooled his features not to wince at the heat pouring from Starkey's feverish skin.

At the touch of Gryffen's palm, Starkey's eyes open. Instinctively, he tried to push himself up and off the bed, a flight instinct honed from years of evading the CCPC. Gently, the professor caught the boy by the shoulders and pushed him back to the mattress, tucking the covers back beneath his chin.

"It's all right, it's only us," Gryffen included K9 with a jut of his chin in the dog's direction. Starkey blinked blearily at them with fever-bright eyes. "I might have known something was wrong when you missed the portal test…not that there was much to miss other than another spectacular failure of temporal mechanics and a rather impressive fire."

"Told you the extinguishers would come in handy." Starkey attempted a grin, but it was more a grimace as his efforts to make himself comfortable on the mattress were obviously causing him pain...pain he was doing his best to hide from the professor and K9.

Gryffen nodded. "Indeed. But, that's not important right now." The professor ducked out of the room only long enough to fetch a washcloth and a basin filled with cold water. He didn't bother with a thermometer; K9's scans of Starkey's vital signs were entirely reliable. Gryffen dampened the cloth with the cold water and laid it across Starkey's forehead and asked straight out: "How long has this been going on?"

Starkey opened his mouth as if to deny it, but misery won out over pride or concerns about inconveniencing the professor. K9 would have spotted a fib quicker than any lie detector The Department could construct. He tried to recollect with his fever-muddled mind-when had all this come on?

He hadn't slept well the night before, his upset stomach rousing him each time he managed to drift to sleep. Powered-down for his maintenance cycle, K9 hadn't noticed the trips to the loo. Starkey expected the sour stomach to pass; however, by morning it had escalated to full-on nausea, the first twinges of pain in his abdomen, and the too-warm feeling of an oncoming fever.

He was sick. There was no point in denying it…and he had no time to be slowed down by a silly stomach bug. Starkey had a mission that morning. The network of spies, hackers, and paranoid snoops had tipped him that the fresh batch of videos from The Department were due to hit the public video billboards that morning…and were loaded with subliminal messages meant to program the population to stampede like lemmings over a cliff to their nearest vid-com dealers, there to purchase The Eye.

The eyepiece, which was meant to replace vid-coms and data pads by directly linking the user's optic and auditory systems into the World Net, had been greeted with a firestorm of controversy from the scientific community and human rights organizations, who presumed (correctly) that the device could have more sinister applications in the wrong hand, including mind control. Being Director Thorne's design and conception, his bid to once again bring his kind of "order" to the nation, he was not about to let his wicked creation be shelved…thus his plan to blast the public with subliminal mind control messages urging them to rush out to purchase the device that would bombard them with further mind control messages.

It could only be a hackneyed plan of Thorne's, Starkey had shaken his head at it. Nevertheless, it was Starkey's responsibility as the insurgent 'Stark Reality' to put a halt to it (and hopefully shine a spotlight on Thorne and once again publicly humiliate The Department in the process). He could handle a sour stomach until he'd accomplished that task…as long as K9 and Gryffen didn't find out that Starkey was sick.

So, ignoring the occasional stabs of pain in his gut, Starkey had been up before the dawn-and, more importantly, up before the mechanical dog and the professor realized he was gone. He had left a note for them, knowing full well that the automaton would be put out with him when he returned. Gryffen would be preoccupied with his latest experiment; Starkey might be back before the older man even realized he was gone.

Starkey had wrapped himself up in his task, denying to himself that the twinges of pain were escalating into what he imagined felt like a knife jabbed into his stomach and ignoring the rumbling thunder and first torrents of rain (it wasn't as if being out in the rain was going to hurt him when he was already sick) until his mission was complete. With satisfaction, he watched as the floating billboards broadcast the most recent Department public announcements-the subliminal messages replacing the innocuous notices meant to camouflage them. Starkey trudged his way back to the mansion, basking in the outraged shouts from the people on the street as they heard the offensive broadcasts.

Only then did the teenager become seriously concerned that he might not make it back to the house, not because The Department might catch on to him, but because the pain in his abdomen was nearly crippling and he was drenched in sweat and if he'd bothered to eat that day, he would surely be heaving his guts into the nearest trash cans. Starkey stuck to the back alleys, having to stop several times to wait out a wave of pain, letting the cold rain cool his burning skin, until he'd miserably stumbled into the comforting security of the closest thing he had to a home.

Gryffen and K9 were bent over the control panel of the portal; the machine was going full power and Starkey could already see that the first few warning lights were blinking for the professor's attention. Gryffen had called a greeting over his shoulder to the boy and said something about kidney pie on the table. Starkey mumbled what he hoped were actual words in response and managed to get up the staircase to his room without falling. He'd been unconscious before his head hit the pillow, waking once to shed his coat when he thought he might actually burst into flame from the heat ravaging his body, then again to fumble his way beneath the covers when he was suddenly overcome with cold worse than the time he'd gone to the Arctic with K9.

Still, he downplayed it for the professor's sake and K9, not wanting to worry them or distract them over a bout of the flu when they had a machine to repair. "A few hours maybe…it's nothing. A bit of bad pizza from Moe's. I'll be sorted out by tomorrow."

The professor arched an eyebrow, not believing a word of it but humoring the boy. "I expect so-"

K9 disagreed: "Negative."

Gryffen looked at the automaton. "What?"

K9 felt no compulsion to blunt his reply. The robot had made the same observations as the professor-obvious physical discomfort, high fever, loss of appetite undoubtedly accompanied by nausea and vomiting. His young master-his friend-was in danger and required medical assistance. There was no time for what the humans' oddly called 'beating around the bush' or 'dilly-dallying'. "My scans of Starkey's vital signs and the indications of abdominal pain are indicative of an inflammation and potential rupture of-"

Gryffen finished the sentence. "Appendicitis." K9's ears twitched in affirmation. The professor nodded agreement, having reached the same conclusion. Starkey's eyes, however, widened with sudden fear; sick and miserable, he hadn't pieced together his symptoms.

"Starkey…begging your pardon…" Gryffen gently pulled the boy's arms away from his abdomen. He needed to check to confirm their suspicions, regretting that it was going to cause him another shock of pain. Gryffen used his fingers to press on a few spots on Starkey's abdomen. "I need you to tell me if you have any pa-"

The teenager immediately yelped at the pressure from Gryffen's fingers on his stomach. He instinctively batted away the man's hands and tried to roll onto his side, away from another such examination.

Gryffen mentally kicked himself for not catching on that Starkey was getting sick. Had it really come on this quickly, had Starkey been hiding it that well, or had Gryffen just been too wrapped up in his most recent experiment to notice the warning signs? The boy had left the house without K9 that morning-that was flatly abnormal and the professor hadn't given it a second thought. But why? Why had Starkey felt compelled to hide his illness in the first place?

They could debate Starkey's reasoning later. "Well spotted, K9. I'm afraid it's a trip to the hospital for you, my boy."

The teenager had looked scared before, but the word 'hospital' nearly sent him into a full panic. Starkey was the bravest kid—correction, the bravest person of any age-that Gryffen knew. It was easy to forget that Starkey was still just a very young teenager when he took on the Department and alien invaders as courageously and with insight as keen as any adult. That also, no doubt, owed to being forced to grow up quickly while living on the streets.

The teenager protested, "Prof, it's just a sour stomach. I'll be fine in-"

Gryffen patted his arm, trying to be reassuring. "I'm sure you're right, but we'll be taking no chances. There's nothing to be frightened about."

They both knew full well that wasn't true. Starkey was particularly scared of hospitals since he found out how his parents had altered his blood, afraid the doctors would discover it and report him to The Department. He'd been thrown into the special hellish prisons that the secret organization had for aliens once and barely escaped with his life. Starkey and Gryffen knew that if Thorne found out about the special antibodies in the teenager's blood and its potential as a defensive weapon against the frequent alien invasions, Starkey would disappear into another such facility never to be seen again.

Gryffen automatically reached for his vid-com until he remembered the device was currently out of commission along with most of the city's communication network.

"I'm just not keen on hospitals. Or needles. Or doctors. No offense," Starkey complained weakly. He had squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on breathing around the pain tearing through him.

"None taken." Gryffen tried and again failed to get a signal on his vid-com. "You'll be fine, Starkey. I'll call Director Turner and Jo to meet you at the hospital…K9, we need to get a bloody signal on this vid-com!"

K9 reminded him: "The relay stations are currently flooded. However, my communication systems do not rely on any power grid or human technology. I will attempt to contact emergency personnel." The movement of the robot's ears and the lowering of his mechanical head signaled that he was already doing so.

Starkey stared at Gryffen, wide-eyed and, if possible, more frightened. "Y-you're not coming with me?"

The teenager knew that Gryffen was agoraphobic, and he ordinarily would never expect him to leave the mansion. But, these were not ordinary circumstances. He wasn't bothering to hide the pain, not since Gryffen and K9 caught on, nor was he trying to put on his usual brave face. With the pain and fever, he was not thinking rationally. He was a scared child needing reassurance.

Not just reassurance…he was a scared child who needed a parent there with him, to feel protected and taken care of, to know that everything would be all right. Gryffen frowned. He deserved that…a parent, a family, someone besides an agoraphobic professor to wrapped up in his own problems to spot a life-threatening illness…

Gryffen forced another smile of calm that he did not feel. "Not to worry. June will make sure you have excellent care, and K9 will be there."

"Affirmative," K9 confirmed, as if there were ever a doubt.

Usually, just having K9 there with him would be more than enough for the teenager to face down any monster or other danger. So, Gryffen was surprised when, after he gave Starkey a comforting pat, the teenager reached a shaky hand from under the blankets and seized hold of the professor's wrist in a death grip.

Gryffen made no attempt to pull free. Quietly, he urged: "K9?"

K9 lifted his head, meeting the professor's questioning gaze. "Emergency personnel are not responding to my signal."

Starkey glanced from the man to the robot and back. "Wait-we can't call for bloody help?!"

"Stay calm and rest," Gryffen ordered him gently. "K9, try contacting Jorjie on the dog whistle. Director Turner will be with her. She may be able to contact help from where she is."

"I am relaying the information now," K9 answered. K9 had given the 'dog whistle' to Starkey not long after they'd met, and eventually given duplicate devices to Darius and their friend, Jorjie. The three teenagers used the device as an emergency beacon, to call each other or the robot dog for help if they were in danger. It was a simple matter for K9 to alter the emergency beacon to transmit in something akin to old Morse Code. Jorjie might not know the code, but her mother, June Turner, was a director at The Department. Having been required to translate alien dialects if the need arose, it would be well within her capacity to decipher Morse Code.

Sure enough, there was a pause of only seconds before the robot uttered a cryptic: "Oh."

"W-what? What's 'oh'?" Starkey gasped out.

"Director Turner is able to meet Starkey at St. Mary's hospital. The flood has not affected the facility. However, I'm afraid that with the storm and the flooding, it will not be possible for medical personnel to reach our location."

Gryffen had considered that already. "Not the ambulances, but the CCPC has hoover-craft I'm sure can-"

"All air transportation has been grounded until the storm has passed due to extreme wind conditions," K9 informed him. "We will have to get Starkey to the hospital on our own."

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room (as if Gryffen needed dramatic underscoring of the situation from the weather).

Gryffen fell silent, turning over the options in his mind. They had to get Starkey to the hospital, but he had no idea how they were going to do it. The boy needed medical help. While Gryffen had medical training enough that he was comfortable running blood work or cataloging alien DNA samples, he was in no way foolish enough to fancy himself a surgeon, much less attempt a medical procedure in his mansion with only the contents of his lab and first aid kit for medical equipment.

He could try to go for help on foot…

…but that would be impossible. Gryffen knew that he'd make it no further than the front porch before the first waves of panic would start him hyperventilating. A step off the porch would have him seeing spots and his vision swimming. Another step and his heart would likely come crashing out of his chest. Still another step and…

Gryffen dismissed the notion, unclenching his fingers, which had curled into a fist tightly grasping the bed sheets. He rubbed a drop of sweat from his brow. Intellectually knowing the source of his fear was one thing…being able to push past the fear was something else entirely.

If he could not leave the house, there was the option of Darius' car. His lab assistant would never forgive Gryffen for borrowing 'Mariah'; a life-or-death situation would be no excuse to risk taking his prized possession out into the elements. Darius was as obsessed with his 'baby' as Gryffen was with his dimensional portal and Starkey was with his anti-Department crusade.

Darius had modified the car so that it could drive itself, connect to satellites to navigate on its own, and had been programmed with a feminine artificial intelligence not unlike K9s (with a lesser degree of sophistication)...but there was no way to know how long it would take Mariah to bypass the flooded sections of the city. Worse, if the car encountered trouble, if it crashed or became stuck in rising flood waters, K9 would not be able to extricate Starkey. Plus, the idea of bundling a sick child into a robot car alone to take his chances in the storm…

No, Gryffen would not do that unless he had no other options.

He could perhaps reprogram the time-space portal to act as a localized teleporter…if he had power to the portal and a week to work on it. Starkey let out another grunt of pain and squeezed Gryffen's wrist harder, reminding the older man that they didn't have a week; they might not have even an hour before the boy's appendix ruptured.

Gryffen laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, "It's all right; we'll figure this out."

K9 had calculated all options within a nanosecond-eliminating the possibility of help from the outside, factoring all forms of available transportation within the mansion, and including the variables such as power loss and violent weather. Within two seconds, the robot put in: "I believe I have a solution, Professor."

The scientist was well aware of the same assets, liabilities, and variables as the machine, even if his organic mind was somewhat slower in mulling their options. "If you're thinking about Darius' car, I've already considered that and it's too dangerous…"

"Negative. I am speaking of the device that you and Starkey inappropriately call the 'dog whistle'."

Okay, so there was one option the professor hadn't considered, beyond its usefulness is contacting June and Jorjie Turner. "It's a communicator. How will that help us?"

K9 explained: "The 'whistle' has the capacity to function as a single-use matter re-locator."

Gryffen blinked, comprehension slowly dawning. "You mean it's also teleporter? Why haven't you said so before?"

"The device locks onto a signal from a homing beacon built into my hardware and teleports the whistle and its bearer to my location. Because it only contains enough power for one such trip, it was not my intention to use if for that purpose unless it was an emergency."

He palmed the 'whistle' that hung in its ever-present place around Starkey's neck. He remembered what K9 said when he gave the 'whistle' to Starkey months ago: "Wherever you are, this will call you to my side." Starkey and Gryffen had assumed that the mechanical dog was making a play on words, reversing the traditional master/pet relationship that way. Gryffen had scanned the object, discerning that it had a self-contained power source not unlike K9's and identifying only a few of its various components. Some pieces were of a design the scientist could not identify despite his considerable experience with alien technology.

They'd assumed (correctly, as it turned out) that K9 could use the 'dog whistle' as a homing beacon in case of an emergency to locate Starkey, Darius, or Jorjie. They had learned that one whistle could send a distress call to another. But, it never occurred to any of them that the device could literally, physically bring someone to K9's side.

Gryffen would take K9's word for it. Certainly, he didn't have a better idea at the moment. "This is absolutely an emergency…but there's one problem: You're six inches away from Starkey. He needs to be teleported to a hospital."

K9 finished for him: "Correct. Therefore, I need to be at a hospital…preferably St. Mary's hospital where Director Turner is waiting. I have the capacity to reach St. Mary's if I fly."

Another timely clap of thunder accompanied Gryffen's argument. "K9, in case you've forgotten, there's a severe electrical storm out there, and you are made of metal-"

"Titanium alloy," the robot countered.

"Yes, yes, you're sturdy, K9-but even you cannot withstand one million volts of lightning." Gryffen said.

He could see the idea of his beloved canine risking his mechanical life out in the storm was causing Starkey to become all the more agitated. When K9 levitated off the bed and glided towards the window, the teenager weakly fumbled, trying unsuccessfully to stop him. With another cry of pain, he fell back against the mattress.

Starkey turned beseeching eyes to the older man, resuming his grip on Gryffen's wrist. "N-no! K9! Prof…don't let him..."

K9 insisted, "I calculate the odds of my successfully navigating the storm to be sufficient to warrant the attempt…and far superior to the odds of Starkey surviving should his appendix rupture in the absence of medical help." When Gryffen didn't answer, K9 reminded him, "It is my risk to take, Professor, for my friend."

Gryffen still had one hundred arguments on the tip of his tongue, but they died there. The simple truth was that Starkey was getting weaker and his pain was obviously intensifying. Their time and options were running short. "He's right, Starkey, this is our best chance. K9, keep a channel open to my vid com. Signal me when you get there."

Their course of action decided, Gryffen gently pulled out of the boy's grasp and moved to open the window for K9. The blast of icy cold wind tore the breath from his lungs and nearly knocked him off his feet. The gale caused the robot only the slightest bob in his flight as K9 sailed outside, intent upon his mission.

Gryffen turned back to the bed and the glazed, accusing glare from the teenager. Ignoring the stare, he retrieved the washcloth, which had fallen to the floor when Starkey had sat up to grab K9. He re-dampened the cloth with the cold water and placed it back on Starkey's feverish brow.

"You'll have help soon, my boy. It won't be long…" Minutes really did seem to last for hours. The wait was already interminable.

Starkey's eyes had drifted shut for a few moments, but now he opened them to stare at the older man. He had heard something in the man's voice: "You're scared, Prof."

'Scared' was a healthy understatement. Gryffen had been a father. He had sat up nights nursing away his children's colds and flus, chicken pox and measles, and colic. Naturally, he had worried like any parent, but he had the calm that came with knowing what to do, how to do it, and that his precious children would come through it well enough.

But this, this was so much worse. This was like watching his family disappear into that beam of light all over again, powerless to prevent it. The older man felt foolish and frustrated. Despite all his scientific expertise, he could do nothing to soothe his young friend's pain other than wipe away sweat and mutter inane reassurances. The helplessness was the most awful feeling in the world.

K9 will make it to the hospital. Gryffen recited the mantra in his mind, willing himself to believe it. K9 has never failed Starkey. He will get to the hospital, and he'll see to it that Starkey gets there as well. The boy would be fine.

He would be fine.

Gryffen answered carefully, maintaining his outwardly calm mannerisms to keep the boy at ease. He could see Starkey bit his lip, trying to mask the pain a bit so as not to frighten the professor any more. Gryffen didn't want Starkey wasting his strength trying to be brave for his sake. "I'm concerned, Starkey. You should have told me how badly you were hurting."

"Didn't want to….bother you…experiment…"

Those eyes were closing again. Gryffen tapped at Starkey's shoulder until the teenager was looked up at him. "Let's be clear about one thing: You are never a bother to me, Starkey. You're my-my friend, and I'm your friend, and you must never, ever think that any experiment is more important to me than your well-being."

That seemed to satisfy the boy, for that scowl of pain momentarily lifted into the ghost of a smile before he drifted back into semi-consciousness. If he'd heard the hesitation, that lapse where the professor caught himself before saying something else, Starkey said nothing about it.

Gryffen frowned. What had he almost said?

'Friend' was an inadequate word, the wrong word. Gryffen knew it, had known it for quite a few months. It was Jorjie who observed what Starkey and the professor had both failed to notice: At some point, Starkey had changed from the homeless, orphaned street urchin who resided in the spare bedroom to becoming a surrogate son.

It wasn't that Gryffen had set about finding a new family, not after the devastating loss of his wife and children. No, he had put up walls to protect himself-physical walls. This house. Then physical barriers had become mental barriers…agoraphobia being the most obvious manifestation of his hidden demons. Outside the mansion, there was pain and death and your life could be ripped from you without warning from something as innocuous as taking a holiday with your family. Inside was safe. Gryffen could control who entered his world. He could keep people from getting close. He could keep from being hurt again or grieving again.

There was Darius, yes, but Darius was an employee, an assistant, eventually a friend. Gryffen had needed someone to handle the tasks he could not…like going to the store or acquiring parts for the machines that he preferred The Department and the CCPC not know he had. Darius respected the professor's need for privacy and space. He had been there before Gryffen's horrendous loss, understood his friend's grief and shared it. He was the first to chip at the emotional barriers Gryffen had put in place. He was a valued friend, but at the end of the day he did not need the professor. He went back to his own family, his own life while Gryffen stayed in his home/prison and tilted at the windmill that was his experiment in time-space displacement, searching for the family he'd lost.

Then K9 and Starkey had stumbled into Gryffen's life and effectively turned his protected world on its ear. Before Gryffen knew what had happened, there was a border in his spare bedroom, another mouth to feed, another friend to help him with the tasks he could not face with his crippling phobia, and-as much as the very independent Starkey would bristle and deny it-someone who depended on Gryffen in a way no one had since the loss of Eleanor, Jacob, and Mina-

-someone who understood Gryffen's grief because he had survived a painfully similar loss.

"Prof-!"

The scientist had been lost in his musings until Starkey let out the cry, this time curling in on himself in pain, still not letting go of Gryffen's wrist.

"Starkey, hang on—" Gryffen checked the clock on the nightstand. Fifteen minutes had passed. Damn it, where was K9? At top flight, he could cross the city in two minutes easily. Allowing for bombardment from the winds and rain and dodging the strikes of lightning, the robot still should have reached the hospital by now. What if something had happened and K9 hadn't made it? What if the gale-force winds had brought him crashing down or a stray both of lightning fried his circuit? How would they ever know? What the hell was Gryffen going to do if K9 had failed?

He was never so thankful for anything as the crackle of a broken signal over his vid-com and a garbled computer-generated voice: "Professor?"

"K9! Thank God!"

K9 patched into the vid-com so that Gryffen could see not only the hospital, it's dull florescent lights indicating electricity a beautiful sight to the scientist at that moment, but Director Turner and her daughter there as well, both looking worried.

A bob of blonde-hair moved into the frame and Darius' face suddenly filled Gryffen's screen. "Yeah, we're here, too, Prof. Thanks for noticing."

"Darius? How'd you get there?"

He shrugged. "You called the Director, she told Jorjie, and Jorjie called me. There's no flooding on this end of town."

That was more than a bit of a lie: Darius had stumbled into the emergency rain after threading his way through flooding streets and pouring rain, nearly being bowled over twice by the winds and almost losing his footing and falling into the overflowing Thames another time. He'd paid little heed to the weather, more worried what he'd find when he got to St. Mary's.

It was true, appendicitis wasn't usually fatal…but then again, it would be perfectly in keeping with Starkey's luck to survive laser blasts, Jixen warriors, the Department's detention center, Dauntless Prison, being marooned an alien planet with Thorne, and whatever the hell other perils he'd come across during his time as a 'cyberspace guerilla' living on the streets, just to succumb to appendicitis because he had the rotten luck of contracting it during this stonking, pain-in-the-arse storm!

Finding out that they couldn't even get Starkey to the bloody hospital wasn't doing much for restoring Darius' optimism that his friend was going to survive this.

Jorjie impatiently pushed Darius' head out of the way so that she could see the screen. Her eyes were wide and frightened. She could barely see Gryffen on the screen, shrouded in the blackness on his side of town, much less catch a glimpse of her friend. "Professor, how's Starkey?"

Gryffen's mouth set into a grim line. "In need of help. K9, how do I work the dog whistle?" Grateful to, at last, have something useful to do, he checked to make sure the device was still in its proper place, hanging from the cord around Starkey's neck.

K9 instructed, "Starkey must hold down the button at the top of the device."

"Starkey, did you hear that?"

Gryffen shook the boy's shoulder until Starkey finally opened his eyes, looking doubtful. The teenager nodded, gripping the device weakly with one hand, but still clinging to the older man with the other. "Starkey, you need to let go of me so that K9 can bring you to the hospital. Darius and Jorjie are waiting for you there."

The grip on his hand did not slacken at all. Guilt bit into the older man a second time. It would be such a simple thing…a press of a button, no need to set a foot out of doors. Two seconds and they would be there inside the corridors of the hospital. Not much different from home. He could be there to see for himself that the boy would be alright, and Starkey would calm down to have someone passingly like a father there with him. Yet, the very notion made Gryffen's heart constrict in terror.

It would be a simple thing to anyone besides him.

"Starkey, let go…I promise everything will be all right," he coaxed, but he finally had to pull free of the flailing hand.

Eyes that had been clouded with suffering became clear. An unreadable expression flashed across the teenager's face for just an instant. Gryffen recognized that look. He had seen it once before, when he'd believed for one misguided moment that Starkey had sabotaged the portal generator. It was the defenses that Starkey had honed during years on the streets settling back into place when trust in others failed him. Anger-no, more than anger: Disappointment.

Starkey pressed the button and disappeared in a wink of light. For a moment, Gryffen had a horrible déjà vu of the day his family disappeared without warning into a similar beam of light. When he found his voice, he nearly shouted into the vid-com. "K9? K9! Do you have him?"

Darius answered instead. "We've got him, Professor."

The vid-screen showed a buzz of activity. Medical personnel were there, scurrying under the commands that Director Turner barked at them. They had already bundled Starkey onto a gurney, working around Jorjie and Darius, who hovered nervously, trying to squeeze between doctors and nurses to reach their friend's side, anxious to know what was happening with him. K9 floated on the perimeter of the activity, determined to guard his young master.

June added: "Alastair, don't worry. We'll take care of him."

Gryffen had expected to feel relieved, but he did not. "June, wait! There's something you need to know. Starkey's parents…a long time ago, when he was just a baby, they tried to immunize him against alien infections. They did an experiment that altered his blood. If the hospital takes samples, they're going to notice the alien antibodies."

The Director raised an eyebrow at him. She appreciated his confidence, if not his timing. "Well, now is a fine time to let me in on that! I'll make sure his lab work disappears...and that nobody notices anything odd."

He would not ask how she planned to do that, fairly certain that he didn't want to know the answer. She was, by far, more ethical than Department directors like Thorne, but still, she had not earned the title without the capability of enforcing the keeping of important secrets—by whatever means necessary.

He settled for simply saying: "Thank you."

Darius stepped away from the gurney long enough to interrupt them. "Prof, we've got to go. They're taking him in now."

In the background, the gurney was being ushered towards the doors to the surgical ward. A woman in green scrubs was trying to prevent K9 from following, and the robot dog's growl of warning was audible over the poor connection to Gryffen's vid-com. Jorjie was warning the medical personnel: "I wouldn't get in K9's way." One of them said something about the automaton's electronics interfering with the medical equipment. June moved to intervene, assuring the medical professionals that K9 wouldn't cause any trouble. An orderly attempted to guide Jorjie out of the way, and Darius moved to guide the orderly's hand off the girl's arm.

"Yes, yes…keep me posted," Gryffen asked. He wasn't sure if Darius had even heard him before the screen went black.

Then, Gryffen was left alone with nothing but a big, dark, silent, empty house and the roar of the storm outside. He had never realized just how empty the place was when it was just him there.

The image of Starkey's terrified eyes, glazed with pain, and that hand desperately flailing for Gryffen's was burned into the scientist's memory. He couldn't help but feel like he's failed the boy again, just as surely as the time with alien Oroborus. Starkey had given him another chance after that…gave him forgiveness…and now Gryffen has let his fear keep him from being at the boy's side when Starkey truly needed him.

Gryffen felt awful. Worse than awful. Ashamed.

"Prof? Hello?! Can you hear me?"

Gryffen had been distracting himself from his worry and self-reproach for nearly an hour. He started packing a bag for Starkey, figuring Darius could take it to the hospital after the storm. That task took all of five minutes, since the teenager barely owned enough items to fill a duffel.

The professor had watched the storm for a time, the fall of rain perfectly suiting his dark mood. The lack of activity was allowing his mind to wander from worry to guilt to imagining everything that could possibly go wrong with a routine surgery (certainly, nothing so far in Gryffen or Starkey's lives ever went 'routinely'). After several minutes of this, he decided that driving himself insane would accomplish nothing.

Without any conscious decision to do so, he found himself returning to his portal generator and setting about removing its destroyed components.

Forty minutes had elapsed since K9 teleported Starkey to the hospital before the vid-com beeped for his attention. The first thing that struck Gryffen was that Darius sounded…afraid.

Gryffen snatched up the device. "Darius?"

The teen-ager's voice was garbled, cutting in and out when it had been clear the last time they'd spoken. The vid-screen showed only static. Darius must be using the regular com channels rather than K9's. The robot dog was undoubtedly still guarding his master in the surgical ward.

"Prof-something's going on here-code-not telling us-you should-in case."

"Darius, I can't understand what you're saying. Do you hear me?" Gryffen shouted into the communicator.

Static and silence answered. The signal was lost.

His meaning was crystal clear: Something was wrong, and Darius thought that the scientist should be there but knew better than to ask. Gryffen stifled a curse. He'd known something was wrong. Leave it to Starkey to complicate a routine surgery...

No, Gryffen stopped himself. It's not fair to take this out on the boy. The one that you're upset with is you. Darius is entirely correct. You absolutely should be there.

He waited for Darius to attempt contact again, but the vid-com remained silent.

Gryffen paced.

The storm has backed off a bit, but not completely Bloody, wretched weather. Gryffen went to the front door to watch it. He still could not get his feet to carry him farther than the porch, as much as he wanted to. The fear was too paralyzing; he could barely breathe and felt his entire body trembling not from the cold, damp rain.

He quickly shut himself back inside the mansion, taking deep breaths until his panic abated. He scrambled for rationalizations: Fear is perfectly reasonable. Anyone with half a brain would be wary. The streets are flooded. Going outside in this weather is dangerous. If the authorities couldn't navigate their way in the storm with the benefit of their all-terrain vehicles and hovercraft, how could Gryffen? It simply was not possible. He didn't have a dog whistle...

His traitorous mind called up Mariah once again. Really now, whose side was his brain on? One minute it's reminding him that journeying out in a flood is a quick way to die; the next minute, it's choosing a vehicle for the trip.

Gryffen definitely was not going to walk down to the garage where Darius stored Mariah. He was not going to stare at the vehicle that so obsessed his lab assistant. He would not stand there and estimate that the odds of negotiating the storm were slightly improved with a car programmed to drive itself and fitted with a navigation system that, like K9's, was not dependent upon the city's communication network or the main power grid. Regardless of whether Mariah could get real-time updates on the weather and the road conditions and plan safe alternate routes, there was no chance Gryffen he would set foot into that death trap.

…and curtains. Darius even put in curtains and tucked pillows into the back seat. Don't tell me he's living in the damned thing now…

Gryffen stared at the car, feeling as if his feet were rooted into the flooring.

Very well, old boy, think of it this way: The car is in the garage. The garage is attached to the house. So, it's not that big a deal to sit in the back seat. You don't need to leave the house to do it.

His mind might be making a sound argument, but his every instinct rallied against it. Somehow, Gryffen made his feet move to the car and his hand reach out and open the door. It took another minute to will his body to sit on the back seat. His heart was certainly hammering in his ears, but it somehow managed to keep beating.

See? Still alive. Safe at home. Draw the curtain and you'll barely believe that you're not in your cozy room upstairs. Just reach out and punch a few buttons, program a destination. Nothing to it. Gryffen could program any sort of electronic gadget from a interstellar-interdimensional portal generator to an alarm clock (although he still couldn't set the ruddy clock on his antique "DVD" player, but that was a useless piece of technology no one uses anymore so who cared?).

There! Destination: St. Mary's Hospital. Done. Now, lie back on the seat and relax. Close your eyes. Very comfortable. He could understand if Darius was sleeping here sometimes. That teenager's obsession with his car skirted the unhealthy, but who was the portal-obsessed Gryffen to point fingers? For that matter, where the hell does Darius stay when he isn't at the house or sleeping in the car? Gryffen hoped that Darius' "home sweet home" comment about the sewers had been a joke.

The slight shudder of the vehicle and accompanying rumble of the engine nearly caused Gryffen to bolt from the car. He stopped himself by digging his fingers firmly into the upholstery and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. So much the better to convince himself that he was in the mansion's sitting room or his bedroom, and not in this car. His every muscle tensed with the desire to flee, and his already pounding heart somehow managed to beat faster.

There now, stead does it. That's not the engine starting, preparing to carry you out the door to certain death, it's just…a gust of wind beneath the garage door. Or perhaps another earthquake from whatever alien is invading this week. Yes, that's all it is…

Gryffen's voice sounded an octave too high and strange, like it was someone else who had mumbled the word: "Mariah?"

The car's artificial voice responded with a pleasant: "Yes, Professor Gryffen?"

Gryffen's jaw clenched, refusing to allow him to speak. The car would not go anywhere, despite the programmed destination, unless it was verbally ordered by an authorized voice. Darius had added this as a precaution against it being stolen. Not even Starkey or Jorjie had been authorized by the overprotective Darius. Gryffen's voice was the only other approved to program Mariah, and that was only so that the professor could rescue Darius' beloved machine if the mansion should catch fire.

Mariah was waiting for confirmation of her destination, but Gryffen couldn't open his mouth. Just one words, spit it out. He rolled his eyes. Yes, it's just that bleeding simple. He was sure that his fingers must be ripping holes into the upholstery at this point.

"Professor Gryffen, do you wish to proceed to destination?" Mariah asked.

"Af-affirm-"

The car repeated: "Professor Gryffen, do you wish to proceed to destination?"

Gryffen nearly screamed in frustration. Come on, you ruddy nut-job…the boy needs you. You will never forgive yourself if something happens to him and you aren't there.

He forced the words out. "Just go, Mariah." Gryffen braced himself for the moment when the car would comply and carry him out of the mansion into God-knew-what awaited outside…

The car did not move. "Calculating route. Warning: Flood conditions do not permit travel to that destination."

The scientist was ready to scream. Didn't the car realize how difficult it had been to say the words the first time!? He'd never get the words out again. "Find a way, Mariah!" he yelled.

The car was incapable of taking offense at his harsh tone. "Warning: Alternative routes are under flood advisory. Do you wish to override safety protocols?"

Absurdly, he nearly laughed at the question, thinking that he had overridden his personal 'safety protocols' when he sat in the car. Couldn't Mariah quit arguing before he changed his mind? Or before his panic attacks rendered him insensate?

"Professor, do you-"

"JUST SODDING GO, MARIAH!"

The car obligingly shifted into gear. This time, Gryffen knew his fingers had ripped into the upholstery. Darius was going to kill him. Gryffen heard the grinding of the automatic garage door opening, and then the sound of rain on the windshield and the rumble of thunder. Rain…it didn't rain inside the mansion…all right, yes, there was that one time when the Holgakors came through the portal…rain…it rained outside…

Gryffen's eyes snapped open. He would have been fine if he'd kept his eyes on the curtains and hadn't turned his head just enough to see buildings roll past outside the car.

Outside. The. Car.

Then his vision whited out.

Gryffen shut it all out: The motion of the car, the crash of thunder, some harrowing moments when he feels the vehicle losing traction, and warning alarms from the car's dashboard that repeatedly heralded his imminent demise.

He only concentrated on breathing: One breath. Then another. He tried imagining he was lounging in his sitting room…but every time he fooled himself into feeling as if he were still safely at home, the vehicle would shudder and spoil the illusion. Okay, it's not the car-it's just an earthquake. Admittedly, an earthquake was only slightly preferable to hurtling through flooded streets in a self-driven motorcar.

Five minutes into the journey, he asked Mariah to turn on classical music channel, hoping to drown out the noises that belied his self-delusions.

One breath, then another. One breath, then another.

"Alastair?"

Auditory hallucination. June Turner was not in the car with him, obviously. Ignore it. Just breathe.

"Alastair!"

A fairly persistent auditory hallucination…vivid enough to shake him so hard that his glasses were nearly dislodged.

And the car has stopped.

Gryffen hesitated.

"Professor?" This time, Jorjie called his name. Her tone was equal parts surprise and concern. Someone had taken him by the shoulder and was shaking him…so, perhaps it wasn't a hallucination. Maybe he had dreamed this harrowing excursion, and he really was back in his house…

Gryffen dared to open his eyes, maintaining his white-knuckled grip on the seat.

Definitely not the house…

He saw the back seat of the car and the curtains. June and Jorjie Turner were leaning through the opened door, staring at him. Darius stood, looking over their shoulders to see for himself, his face a mask of incredulity. "Well, I'll be buggered…"

June shooed the two teenagers back. "Give him some space, he's a bit shocky."

Actually, Gryffen preferred they stayed put-while the trio was crowded into the door, they blocked his view of the outside. As soon as they moved, he could see that he was in the ambulance bay of St. Mary's Hospital.

Outside. He was outside.

'A bit shocky'? That didn't begin to cover it. Gryffen opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Rather his mouth open and closed mutely. His eyes desperately sought a door, any entrance into the building. Anyplace inside. Failing that, they should consider getting out of his way before he either graduated to full-blown hysteria or attempted to run all the way home.

June saw all this in the man's rounded eyes, which glanced every which way in fear. She took him gently by the arm and helped Gryffen stand on unsteady legs. She urged him into the building, in the general direction of the waiting room. Orderlies stood a short distance away, watching him as if one outburst from him would have them going for a straightjacket.

Darius was inspecting his prized possession, noticing the fresh scratches on the car and the water damage to the interior. His hands flailed as if tempted to either strangle the professor or tear his own hair out. "He's not the only one a bit shocky! What were you thinking taking Mariah out in this weather? On those roads?" he scolded the older man.

Jorjie pinched his arm. "Darius!"

Gryffen was still struggling to make his mouth work. He's a genius, he should be able to form a coherent sentence… "I'm…"

June led the way to a row of chairs and guided him into a seat there. Gryffen almost instantly scrambled out of the chair she'd picked, which afforded a lovely view of the street, and moved to another where he could stare at the wall instead.

The Director kept her hand on his shoulder. "You're all right. Breathe in. There you go. Darius is right, though, Alastair. What were you thinking? You could have been killed."

For the life of him, Gryffen couldn't think of an answer.

K9 floated to the waiting room, drawn away from his vigil at the doors to the surgical wing by the ruckus that accompanies Gryffen's arrival. He analyzed the situation, did a scan of the scientist's vital signs, and diagnosed mild catatonia induced by a panic attack. "A mild electroshock might snap him out of-"

"No electroshocks, K9!" June answered. At least, she hoped it wouldn't come to that. She glanced at her daughter. "Jorjie, get the professor some water or tea."

Jorjie nodded and disappeared down the hallway. She returned almost immediately with a cup of very bitter and watery. Despite his shaking hands, Gryffen managed to drink without spilling it on himself. Now that he was at least indoors, if not entirely comfortable in the strange setting, Gryffen's heart gradually slowed and his breath started coming in more even intervals than ragged, rapid panting.

"Whatever possessed you to try something so foolish…?" June rephrased her previous question.

Gryffen blinked at her. Important…it was something so, so important… "I was-I-" Then, his wits and his memory returned in a rush of panic that had nothing to do with his agoraphobia. "Starkey! What's happening with Starkey?!"

He jumped from his chair, but June caught his arm. She tried, and failed, to guide him back down. "Calm down, Alastair! He's fine. He's still in surgery. They'll send word when he's out." She crossed her arms, giving him a stern look. "That's why you came rushing out in the flood? I told you I would keep you posted. Come on, sit back down." June pushed him gently back into his seat.

Gryffen gave Darius an accusing glare. "You said there were complications with the surgery…?"

June turned her stern glower on the blonde teenager. "You did what?!"

Darius held up his hands defensively. "I did no such thing…I said that they weren't telling us anything and…"

June perked her eyebrow.

The teenager admitted: "…he should be here just in case."

Gryffen accused: "Code. I heard you say there was a code…"

"Er…yeah…well, I'm sure there was someone coding somewhere in this place…"

Gryffen uttered a cry of half-exasperation and half-relief. June gaped at Darius in disbelief. "He could have been killed, Darius! What were you thinking?"

Admittedly, all Darius had been thinking, at the time, that one of a very few people he counted as a true mate was in a hospital having surgery, and there wasn't a sodding thing he could do to help him…except get Gryffen there. The doctors and nurses had bundled Starkey off to the surgery ward so quickly that Darius, Jorjie, and June barely caught a glimpse of their friend, but Darius had clearly heard his friend groggily asking for the scientist.

Jorjie had folded her arms across her chest, staring sadly at the doors to the surgery ward. "The professor ought to be here," she had said. Darius had decided quickly that she was right.

He knew the Prof could be a bit of a mug. Under normal circumstances, Darius considered it his job, as the Prof's assistant, to keep people from taking advantage of him. That was one of the reasons Darius had tried to chase off Starkey when the homeless teenager first showed up on Gryffen's doorstep, believing him to be a troublemaker. However, tonight was not a normal night; and Darius knew just how to get the scientist's arse out of his safe mansion and to the hospital where he was needed. A few carefully chosen words during Darius' call to Gryffen, and some convenient interference with the signal during their conversation, and that was that.

"I was thinking he'd use the dog whistle, not steal my bloody car!" he retorted.

"I don't have a dog whistle-"

"And you agreed that the Prof should have been here. I got him here, didn't I?" Darius directed that accusation at Jorjie.

Jorjie's cheeks colored slightly. "I didn't say to trick him or put him in danger! It was merely an observation…"

Gryffen sighed. "No, you are absolutely right, Darius. You both are. I should have been here…sooner, I mean."

The trio lapsed into silence until June finally gave up the argument. June glanced back at Gryffen, who sat in his chair nervously picking at the paper cup and looking quite despondent. She hid a sympathetic smile from the traumatized scientist, knowing full well that if it had been Jorjie in that surgical bay, June would have taken the same risk without hesitation.

"Darius, Jorjie, could you give the professor and I a moment, please?" the director asked. "And, Darius, go get Mariah out of the ambulance zone before she's towed."

Alarmed at that thought, the teenager hurried away in the direction of the ambulance bay. Jorjie and K9 returned to their previous place at the entrance to the surgical ward.

June settled into the chair next to Gryffen's. "Regardless of how it happened, I am glad that you're here now. Starkey will be, too."

Gryffen would have laughed outright if he weren't so miserable. "I rather doubt that. You weren't there, you didn't see his face before K9 teleported him. He was cross with me for sending him off alone, and rightfully so. He's a child, June. A brave child, and extraordinary child, but still a child. He was scared, he was in pain, and he needed someone-" Gryffen corrected himself. "-needed me to be there for him. I let him down. Again. I sent him out here alone, passed the whole emergency off on you. He's not your responsibility, he's my-"

Gryffen stopped himself before he blurted out something more foolish.

"Your-?" June prompted, suspecting she knew what he'd been about to say. Gryffen didn't finish his thought, so she reminded him: "You did what you had to do. You got him help…in the middle of a massive flood and a power failure, I might add."

"That was more K9's doing than mine."

"You are determined to sulk about this, aren't you? You're right, Alastair, he might have been disappointed. We do let down peo-our children sometimes. It happens. We're allowed to be human, Alastair, and that includes human frailties." She reached over and gave his free hand a squeeze. "It also includes the capacity for forgiveness…starting with forgiving yourself for your moment of weakness. I'm quite certain Starkey already has."

"However, in case Starkey is still holding a grudge, you could resort to bribing him." She pulled her data pad from her briefcase and silently thumbed through the files until she found what she wanted. There was something she had been meaning to discuss with the professor for several months, since Jorjie had told her about the incident with the alien "ghosts" who had impersonated Gryffen's lost family.

Gryffen rolled his eyes. "With money? I hardly think-"

June nearly thumped him over the head with the data pad, wondering how someone so keen could be so bloody thick. No, not thick-just making bad jokes out of nervousness.

She handed the device to Gryffen, keying up the file she wanted. "Not money. A gift. Something he's wanted for a very long time."

Gryffen read the page, and his startled expression showed his comprehension. He recognized this file. He ought to-he was the one who had written it. It was supposed to be securely stored on his computer at the mansion. He gave her a glare, rather indignant at this violation of his privacy. "Where did you get this?"

"K9 found it while he was helping retrieve your back-up files after the Aeolin storms damaged the mansion's computers. The better question is, why did you never let Starkey see this?"

"Human frailty again," Gryffen admitted. It was fear, pure and simple. He'd written it shortly after those ghost aliens had deceived him, but then stored it away, afraid if he approached Starkey with this, the self-reliant teenager would run off and never return. Then, that misunderstanding with the Oroborus had made a mess of things. Afterwards, when Gryffen found the identities of the people he suspected were Starkey's real parents…missing, presumed dead but not confirmed dead…well, the scientist thought it best to let the whole matter drop and forgot about this file altogether.

"Before you let your 'frailties' talk you out of this again, why don't you let him decide?" June suggested.

K9 returned from his post at the surgical wing, mechanical ears twitching up and down. "Professor, Director Turner, the doctor is returning."

A woman in scrubs emerged from the surgical wing. Her gaze swept the waiting room until she saw Gryffen and June anxiously stand up. K9 she remembered from the melee the robot had caused when they'd forbid him to follow his master into surgery. She also recalled Darius and Jorjie, who were just returning from the parking lot. Spying the doctor, they hurried inside to hear her news.

"Starkey's family, I presume? I'm Doctor Jones. I performed the surgery." She was looking over his chart, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Starkey has no last name listed here. Which one of you would be his legal guardian?"

June elbowed Gryffen, who stepped forward, hand half-raised. It wasn't exactly true, but the only ones who knew better certainly weren't going to say anything. "Me. I am. How's Starkey?"

She found herself surrounded by worried faces and decided that the spectacled man could wait a bit longer to finish up the paperwork. "Yes, well, I'm not sure how you got Starkey here under these conditions, but he's very lucky you did. I'm not sure he had much time before his appendix would have ruptured. However, the surgery went very well. I believe he will make a full recovery. He'll need to stay with us a day or two before you take him home. Right now, he's in recovery. As soon as we get him settled into a room, you can visit him."

Paying her no heed at all, K9 glided away in the direction of Recovery.

Dr. Jones sighed, not particularly wanting another scrape with the automaton for the sake of maintaining peace and quiet in her hospital. "Um…all right, then, I suppose there's no harm if one of you goes now with the…um…dog." Initially, the medical staff had been worried about having K9 in the hospital, worried his electronics would interfere with equipment vital to the care of their patients. June had convinced them there was no such danger.

No one moved. Jorjie wrung her hands, albeit subtly, eager to see her friend. Darius hung back a bit, masking his own anxiousness with a few muttered words about his poor, beaten car. June excused herself to head off in the direction of the lab with a promise to return soon. By unspoken consensus (given the effort it had taken to get him there) the others stepped aside so that Gryffen could be the first to visit Starkey.

Gryffen was nervous in a way that had nothing to do with agoraphobia as he made his way down the hall to the recovery room. He was not at all certain, despite June's reassurance, that Starkey would be at all happy to see him.

He spotted Starkey's bed easily enough because K9 was hovering protectively beside it. Automatically, Gryffen checked the readings on the medical equipment, confirming that the boy's vital signs were indeed strong and steady. Good. For the first time since the crisis had started, he breathed his first genuine sigh of relief.

Finally, he dared look at the sleeping teenager and was grateful to see that Starkey's face had some color again and was no longer pinched with pain and fear. Asleep, he looked all the younger and more vulnerable. It was hard to believe in a couple of weeks he'd be back to driving the Department to distraction with his subversive pranks and chasing off whatever alien invaders crawled through the portal generator.

He frowned at that idea. This was no kind of life for a teenager-risking his life against alien menaces and government agents with totalitarian agendas. As long as he stayed in the mansion, that would be his life, the only life Gryffen could offer.

Gryffen should have sent Starkey on his way a long time ago for his own good, or better still paid the teenager's way into a boarding school someplace far away from this madness. The boy had inherited his parents' intelligence, already learning the complex circuitries of the portal generator and other scientific equipment under the professor's tutelage. He would thrive with a proper education…

…and he would run away the minute the headmasters turned their backs, Gryffen knew. Starkey wasn't worried about a formal education. He had his crusade. He would be right back on the streets, bedeviling Thorne, with no one to watch out for him.

June was correct: Starkey had to make up his own mind about his future.

Gryffen pulled a chair over to the bed. Carefully, mindful of the I.V. tube and the few wires connected to the boy, he laid a hand on Starkey's arm and settled in to wait.

He was lying on something itchy and uncomfortable, and for some reason he was cold. Neither situation was pleasant, but Starkey couldn't rouse the energy to do anything about it for what seemed like an eternity. His body simply did not respond to his desire to move off this itchy surface, nor would his eyes open, though he wished very much that they would so that he could see where he was and determine why it was so cold.

Starkey lay there in the cold, itchy blackness and rested, gathering his strength for another attempt to open his eyes or move. His body was no more interested in moving this time than during his previous attempt, but really the discomfort was quickly moving to the intolerable. Trying to show his body who was boss by sitting up, his body countered with a spectacular spray of pain that shot from his abdomen straight up to his teeth. He definitely wouldn't be trying that again for a while.

Moving was out of the question, it seemed, so he concentrated on opening his heavy eyelids.

He was rewarded by light burning his unfocused vision. Starkey squinted against the glare and saw a figure in white scrubs adjusting some kind of lamp. The lamp was pointed squarely at the teenager, bathing him in waves of warmth that mercifully made his leaden arms feel less like ice cubes. He would have thanked the figure in white if he could have got his mouth working.

When the figure in white moved aside, Starkey could see various monitors, tubing...and I.V. bag hanging near him, its tube snaking down to a needle that was inserted in the teenager's left hand. A hospital, his sluggish mind provided. Why was he in a hospital? It probably had something to do with the pain in his abdomen, which had backed off to a dull ache since he was making no further attempt to sit up.

His memory returned slowly and in fragments. There had been a storm, a particularly wicked one at that. Through the window in his room, he could see sunshine now. The storm was over. How long had he been in the hospital?

Starkey had been sick, and then he'd started having stomach pain. He hadn't wanted to bother the prof with it. He was used to dealing with such things on his own. He figured it would pass…which must have been the fever clouding his judgment now that Starkey thought about it. The Prof always dropped what he's doing when Starkey needed his help before (or at least paused what he was doing). He had also been afraid, if he was sick, that Gryffen and K9 would have stopped him from his task of sabotaging Thorne's latest ridiculous scheme.

His memory was more murky after his return to the mansion. K9 had been there, of course. So had Gryffen. The professor was looking very worried. Starkey hated making him worry, plus, if Gryffen was concerned, that scared the teenager because it meant that Starkey was as bad off as he feared.

He remembered an odd light…then more lights…a hospital. There were people in scrubs leaning over him, asking him questions when all Starkey wanted to do was scream in frustration at them to do something about the sodding pain and save the questions for when he wasn't feeling as if his guts were being torn out of him.

Where was the Prof? Hadn't he been there just a moment ago? No…that was at the mansion…the Prof couldn't leave the mansion…

Jorjie and Director Turner were at the hospital. They looked worried, too…that made him more nervous. It didn't occur to Starkey to wonder how they'd known he was there; he was only grateful that the Director was issuing commands that made the medical people work faster.

Then, Darius was suddenly there, leaning over the gurney, and teasing Starkey with a smirk about being a drama queen…which would have made Starkey feel better if Darius hadn't also looked scared despite the teasing. The doctors and nurses asking him more ridiculous questions, passed charts back and forth, someone put a mask on his face and told him to count backwards from one hundred. He didn't remember counting…only waking up in this room.

He turned his head, searching for K9 and Gryffen. The mechanical dog would make these idiots do something more helpful. He relaxed a bit when he spotted K9 hovering at the foot of the gurney (but when exactly had he found his way onto a gurney?) and growling when the orderlies tried to shoo him away. That made Starkey smile a bit despite the pain…

Starkey turned his head, searching his new room in the hospital for signs of his dog. K9 had settled himself in a chair to the left of the bed, the rolling of his ears letting the teenager know that his mechanical best friend was in full guard dog mode.

"K9?" Starkey barely recognized the soft, raspy voice as his own.

K9 was off the chair in an instant with a jubilant greeting: "Young master!"

A familiar voice chimed in: "Sheesh, what a ruckus you can cause, mate!"

That was when Starkey noticed that Darius and Jorjie were crowded together on a small bench in the corner of the room. Both had dozed off.

Darius was rubbing sleep out of his eyes, but grinning and ready to crack wise at his bed-ridden friend. He didn't get up because Jorjie was snoring into his shoulder, and he rather liked having Jorjie sleeping on his shoulder. She'd be awake and back to fussing over Starkey soon enough, Darius mused sourly. "Though, I rather like the using the dog whistle as a teleporter. It saved me having to carry your sorry, unconscious hide halfway across the city again. Don't expect any 'Get Well' presents on what the Prof pays me."

Jorjie woke in time to overhear that last bit. "Darius!" she scolded, pinching his arm again. He let out a yelp and pinched her back this time.

"What? Starkey's fine now. If I'm all weepy and nice to him, he'll think he's dying or something!" Darius answered.

That was true, Starkey silently agreed.

Darius still sulked a bit when Jorjie stood up and made her way over to give Starkey a careful hug, mindful of the tubes and wires still attached to him and the bandage over his abdomen that protected his incision.

"What Darius means is he's glad you're all right," Jorjie translated. "You gave us all a scare."

Darius also stood, making a show of stretching his cramped muscles. "What I mean is I've got a crick in my back from sitting here all night waiting on Sleeping Beauty there to wake up! And I've got a car that's waiting on me to go dry her out, thank you very much."

Jorjie rolled her eyes. Starkey and K9, Darius and Mariah, the Prof and his portal generator. Why were men so obsessed with their technological toys?

There was a pitcher of water and a cup with a straw on the table beside the bed. She poured a cup of water and helped Starkey drink from the straw. The water soothed his throat, making his voice sound less like nails in a blender. "How long?" he asked her.

"Your…unique…blood chemistry caused the anesthetic to take a bit longer to wear off than usual." Starkey hadn't noticed Professor Gryffen occupying the chair to the right of the bed until the older man answered his question.

He stared at the scientist, stunned. The Prof is here? The Prof, who never, never, ever left the house no matter if there was an alien invasion or cataclysmic weather or the Rapture, was sitting next to Starkey's bed in the hospital? Maybe K9 should run a scan to make sure this was the real Professor Alastair Gryffen or check if hell had indeed frozen over…

"Prof?" Starkey gaped.

Gryffen pretended not to notice the boy's incredulous stare. "If all goes well, we should be able to take you home in a day or so."

K9 was pleased with that prognosis. "That would be acceptable."

"I'll make sure things go well. Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm going to make sure Starkey's blood work disappears from the lab before Thorne or Drake gets hold of it."

The promise came from Director Turner, who stood in the doorway. Until she heard the voices in the room, she had been sitting in the hallway outside the door, working on making sure all of Starkey's files were altered to show normal blood chemistry, in case Thornee or Drake got it into their minds to steal from the hospital computers.

She had stolen a look at the analysis of Starkey's blood sample and quickly saw why Alastair had been so appalled at what the boy's parents had done to their son. It was both a brilliant feat of immunology and an unforgivable violation of their child. There were those in the Department who would indeed have loved to get their hands on this information. June herself would have been interested to study it, but she dared not preserve any records, for the teenager's sake.

Starkey had only been awake a couple of minutes, but June could see that he was still in no way strong enough for a prolonged visit. Plus, she knew it was only a matter of time before agoraphobia or doubt sent the Professor back to his house without having the conversation he needed to with his young friend…which would not happen with this lot underfoot. "Come along, Jorjie, he needs to rest a bit longer, and I have some loose ends that need tying up."

Director Turner still needed to make a personal visit to the lab technicians who had done Starkey's blood work. The Department had various chemicals that could induce selective memory loss. It would never occur to the technicians that their lost hours of memory owed to someone tampering with their coffee and that they had finished their routine analysis at some point during that time. They would believe they had simply dozed off on the job and never dare say a word about the matter.

June ushered Jorjie towards the door, and particularly away from Gryffen's lab assistant, who had been giving her daughter a little too much attentive 'comforting' to be just friendly intentions during their stay in the emergency room…honestly, wasn't it enough to give her poor mum grey hairs that her daughter was still harboring a crush on that cyberspace criminal in the hospital bed, now she had to worry about this Darius boy's attentions toward Jorjie. Didn't Jorjie have any girl friends she could spend time with so her mother wouldn't have to fret quite so much? She offered a bit of a glare in the blonde's direction when he began to follow them out of the room.

Jorjie paused in the doorway long enough to promise Starkey: "I'll look in on you after school."

Darius gave him a smirk. "And I'll bring you the bill for drying out my car." He bobbed out of the way when Jorjie tried to pinch him a third time.

"It's your own fault your car was out in the storm like that, you and your theatrics," Jorjie scolded.

"Again-it worked, didn't it?" Darius defended his actions.

June ushered the teenagers out of the room as they quarreled all the way down the hall.

K9 maneuvered so that he was hovering directly above the foot of his young master's bed. "You will be pleased to know that your surgery went without complication and all your systems are functioning within acceptable parameters."

Starkey smiled, knowing K9 means to be comforting. "Thanks, K9, but I'd be pleased to get out of here before they try to force their awful hospital food on me."

Gryffen stood up and circled to stand beside the automaton dog. "We'll see what we can do, but apprehensions about the food aside, how are you feeling?"

"Like an organ just exploded in my gut." Starkey stared at the older man, still not quite believing the professor was there, in person. "Prof…I though you couldn't-?"

"Be outside the mansion?" Gryffen finished the sentence. The teenager nodded.

Gryffen ran a hand through his thinning hair, as he sometimes did when he was puzzling out the solution to a mystery. It was true that he'd had to briefly leave his vigil with his young friend in order to procure some mild medications to take some of the edge off the worst of his phobia. There was still a telltale tremor in his hands, so he folded his arms to hide the twitch from Starkey. "Ordinarily, no…but some things are too important to let my fears stand in the way." He seated himself on the edge of the bed, wearing that same remorseful expression he'd had when apologizing for past misunderstandings. "I'm sorry I didn't come straightaway when you asked. And don't say 'it's okay'."

Starkey abruptly swallowed the words, since that was precisely what he'd been about to say. Whatever fever-induced resentment he'd felt the night before had faded. Even in the worst throws of his delirium, some part of his mind had known he had been asking the impossible of the man. It wasn't as if Gryffen chose to be agoraphobic or could turn it off with simple will-power because his young border demanded it. He could easily see that right now, the Professor barely had a grip on the panic despite his efforts to hide it from the boy.

He thumbed the frayed edges of his itchy blanket. "Well, I should have told you when I knew something was wrong. I was too wrapped up with those bloody billboards…"

Gryffen wracked his brain. He vaguely recalled the teenager mentioning new public service announcements and subliminal messages. "And I was too wrapped up with my experiment." He sighed. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Starkey offered: "I'll be fine if you need to go back to the house-"

"Nonsense. I won't be going anywhere." At least, Gryffen was determined to do his best to keep that promise, whether by deluding himself that he was still at home, keeping on the medications, or chaining his foot to the chair. "K9, can you please let Dr. Jones know that Starkey is awake?"

They were both aware that Director Turner would already have handled that task. Nevertheless, K9 was aware that such requests were often masking the wish for privacy, so he humored the man. "Certainly."

Still, the robot dog wouldn't leave his young master for very long, Gryffen knew. If he intended to say what he needed to say without an audience (and before his courage failed him again), he only had a few minutes.

"Jorjie is right. You did give us a good scare, my boy." Gryffen retrieved the data pad June had left with him, already nervous. He had the mettle and wits for a scrap against an alien invader or sussing out the great mysteries of the universe, but plunk him into these sorts of serious conversations and he turned to a nesh wimp. He adjusted his glasses, all the while chiding himself for stalling. "I realize that I sometimes get so wrapped up in trying to retrieve the past that…well I don't always remember to stop and appreciate the life I have now. Not until something like this happens. You keep giving me second chances when I muck things up, my boy, and I'm grateful for that."

Again, the boy opened his mouth to say something forgiving, but Gryffen shook his head. "No, please don't interrupt; let me finish what I have to say. It's been a long time since I lost my family. I miss them every day. Having you and K9 in the house is the first time in a very long while that it's felt like a home and not a place for me to hide from the world." Gyffen thumbed the screen of the data pad. "There's something I've meant to discuss with you for some time now, but, honestly I've let my fears get in the way of this, too. Yesterday reminded me that I was letting my fear foul me up again, that there might not be time later for the things that we put off. In any case…"

The boy was staring at him in complete confusion. Screwing up his courage, Gryffen handed Starkey the pad so the teenager could see the file displayed on its screen.

Starkey blinked, attempting to clear a bit of the anesthesia-hangover from his brain to sort out what he was reading. It was some kind of legal paperwork; that was obvious. "It's a legal file…what is it?"

"It's a petition for legal guardianship," Gryffen explained.

Now, Starkey looked shocked. It was impossible for Gryffen to deduce what the boy was thinking-good or bad. He hastened to add: "I first started pulling this together shortly after our incorporeal alien visitors deceived me into thinking they were my family."

Starkey remembered that-like he could forget any of the aliens that had tried to kill them in the past year-but specifically, he remembered Jorjie telling him that he was the only one who could save Gryffen from the aliens' control because he was like the professor's son. Certainly, it caused him to look at his friendship with the scientist in a different light afterwards. Starkey hadn't been so sure at the time, even less so after the misunderstanding with the Oroborus.

Apparently, she had been right.

Gryffen seemed to read his mind. "Then, that Oroborus came along and…after I'd made such a mess of things, I questioned whether I would make such a good guardian. June pointed out that I wasn't being fair, not giving you the chance to decide that for yourself."

"Adoption?"

"Guardianship would be the first step in that process, yes."

Gryffen knew Starkey's uncertain heritage-and the inevitable interference from people like Thorne and Drake-would complicate that process. The teenager had no birth record. Gryffen had guessed Starkey's parentage, but without a way to do a DNA test, it could never be verified. Even if he had proof, the professor could never dare reveal the boy's bloodline to anyone. Director Turner could help with the process, and the need for discretion, if adoption was what the boy wanted.

With these issues, Gryffen had asked himself whether the legal process was necessary and decided it merited the risks. Starkey had been abandoned and betrayed too many times in such a short lifetime. He needed something better than verbal assurances that could be broken; he needed something solid, irrefutable proof that this promise would not be broken.

"You don't have to decide straightaway, but please, do at least think about it…"

Starkey cut him off: "What do I do with this? I mean, how do I sign it?"

The immediate answer surprised Gryffen. He pointed to a spot on the screen. "Thumb print…right there."

The teenager did think about it-for all of three seconds, before he thumbed his approval of the idea. The document automatically uploaded to the proper authorities. Gryffen nodded. Simple as that. Less than thirty seconds and they are officially, legally, a family. Well, there would be a protracted legal process, and even if June managed to hide some details of Starkey's past from the Department, there was still little doubt that Thorne or Drake would try to muck up the proceedings just for their own amusement…

The quartet stood, unnoticed, just outside the doorway, silently observing the proceedings. It was the mechanical dog who hovered in front of the group that said the word that Darius, Jorjie, and June were thinking: "Finally."