This was just something that was bugging the stew out of me. Now that this is out of the way, I hope I can go work on Victorious Queen! Disclaimer: I don't own Hellboy or any other Dark Horse character.

The last few weeks had been quiet. That alone, really, should have been an indicator that something was coming. Since the Ireland Incident, as the team had dubbed it, the B. P. R. D. had been almost nonexistent in the outside world. Nothing was done; nothing was needed, because it seemed that the supernatural and paranormal worlds, within their own rights, had ceased all activity. And the only thing that the team could equate this inactivity to, was mourning.

As the loss of the last members of Elvin Royalty affected the entire world, even human to a point, the entire world would enter a seven year period of almost inactivity as matters were settled with the courts and the social hierarchy was rearranged. Humans even, a surely instinctual response, would, as a whole, experience the most peaceful time in their recorded history.

Though this would seem a blessing to most, there would be a few to view it as a problem.

"This is going to come back to bite you in the ass, you know that, Ro?"

"Oh, shut it, you spinly little gnat!"

The young woman slumped back against the bark of the tree trunk and looked down from her position on one of the highest branches in the 150 foot tree. The rest of the forest had gone unnaturally silent with her sudden outburst and she regretted disturbing the order of things. She sighed and looked back at the beautiful, albeit strange, creature, protruding from the bark of the tree.

"I'm sorry, Draighean, that was unfair. I know you're only trying to help. But I miss him."

"Rowyn, I know for certain, he misses you, too."

"Lords above, I hope you're right."

John T. Myers waited patiently for the elevator to still before hefting his rucksack back over his shoulder and exiting the metal box. When his foot first met the floor of the 51st basement level of the B. P. R. D, a sense of foreboding and homesickness washed over him. His steps towards Manning's office were slow and heavy and his shoulders hung as if the weight of the world pressed down on them. He made it almost halfway to the director's office before he had to stopp to catch his breath. He leaned against the wall briefly and pressed his forehead to the cool metal. He took a deep breath and straightened back up, taking a few steps down the hallway before hearing, "John?"

The agent turned back slowly and met the surprised brown eyes of Elizabeth Sherman. "Hey, Liz," he said quietly.

"John!" She rushed forward the last few steps and wrapped her arms around him. He dropped his bag and hugged her back. When she pulled away, she launched into a round of questions.

"How are you? How're you doing? How was Antarctica? Was it bad? You didn't get hurt, did you? Why are you back? Are you back for good?"

"Liz," he laughed, "I'm good. I've not been that well, but that's the past. Antarctica sucked; yes, it was bad. I'm not back for good, only for a few days."

"They're not sending you back, are they?" She asked, frowning.

"You mean to ask: is Hellboy sending me back?" he said a bit sharply.

Live closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, John. If I had known, I'd have stopped him. But once you were down there, they wouldn't bring you back."

"I don't blame you, Liz. But I've been down there for a year. I've let them burn me at the stake before I let them send me back."

Liz saw the sharpness in his eyes, the blue bruises underneath them, the way his shoulders hung and realized that John T. Myers had gone through hell and had brought the scars back with him.

Manning stared in silence at the agent sitting across from him on the opposite side of his desk. This was not the same John T. Myers that had been sent to Antarctica a year ago. This John T. Myers was tough, stubborn. Manning knew for a fact that, as soon as he had sat down, John T. Myers was going to leave with what he wanted or never come back. The director of the B. P. R. D sighed and sat forward.

"Why such a long vacation?"

"Leave of absence," John corrected, "and you know damn well why. You've only got two choices, Manning: okay my leave or take my resignation. Pick one."

Manning rubbed his four head, frustrated with knowing that John was right.

"You sure you want to be gone a year?" Manning asked.

"A year, at least. And yeah, I'm sure."

The older man nodded and signed off on the paperwork.

John walked slowly into the Great Library, searching for the things that had changed in his absence. He ran his fingertips over some of the books on the shelves before turning and surveying the room as a whole. The place was still beautiful. He took a few steps to cross the room, his boots making almost no noise, and knocked on the glass of Abe's tank. A blue humanoid figure shot up from the deep bottom of the tank and came to an almost rest just in front of the glass.

John raised a hand, "Hey, Abe."

John was sure that if the fish man had had eyebrows, they would have shot up into his nonexistent hairline.

"Agent Myers! How good to see you!"

John shook his head, "Just to John, Abe. Manning signed my leave of absence papers this morning. I'm only here until the papers are filed."

"Leave of absence? How long would you be gone?"

"A year, maybe more."

"But why - I'm sorry. It's rude of me to ask."

"It's fine, Abe. I just need a break, is all."

"You'll go home then?"

"Yeah. Home."

Abe opened his mouth to ask another question when the red alarm went off. John startled and his hand went to his belt as if to retrieve a gun, but one wasn't there. Abe grabbed the ladder hanging into his tank and pulled himself up onto the dry platform. He was pulling on his wetsuit when he asked, "John, I hate to ask, but will you-"

The former agent was already there, the fish man's breathing apparatus in his hands. John grinned, "I don't mind."

He had just finished closing the last class when the library door was flung open and a gruff, familiar voice shouted, "C'mon, Abe! We gotta - Myers?"

John didn't acknowledge the demon. Instead he finished with Abe, wished the fish man good luck and left the library. Hellboy stared after the pale man.

"Abe, how long's Myers been back?"

"He just arrived this morning. He's not staying, though. He's taking a leave of absence."

"What? Why don't he just stick around?"

"Red, if someone had shipped you off to Antarctica, would you want to "stick around" with them?"

Abe sighed and left the library. Hellboy followed slowly after.

"You know, just because you ignore them doesn't make them go away."

Rowyn pointedly did not look at the tree. She heard Draighean sigh and felt the Dryad's rough arms slip around her shoulders. Rowyn looked over at one of the tallest trees in the forest and the three claw like, almost scar marks that had appeared traveling down the trunk. Rowyn wrapped her arms around the tree girl and closed her eyes, trying to push from her mind the thoughts of her life-mate in pain.

John tried to stay awake long enough the Red Alert Team to return, but he soon found his exhaustion winning out. He leaned back in the fly recount you occupied a few hours earlier.

Only for a moment, he thought.

Manning was waiting in the back of the garbage truck for Hellboy and the others to return from the depths of the forest where some kind of woodland goblins had taken to nest in. He shifted, picked his nails and checked the camera monitors. He hadn't been still for a minute when he repeated the whole process. Suddenly, though, his cell phone was ringing and his hands fumbled, trying to accept the call, press the device to his head and talk all at once.

"Manning!" he stated sharply.

"Director Manning, it's Clay. We found John collapsed to the library. Don't know what's wrong with him yet; the doctors are still having a look."

Clay continued to prattle on, but then ignored him, brain working as fast as it could. Several things ran through his mind before remembering what he was trying to. That odd note in John's file. It was in Professor Broom's handwriting, that rolling scrawl he could barely read. But once he deciphered the words, the message had stuck in his mind: WHEN IN DANGER, PLACE UNDER UV LAMP. With that thought, he realized the agent on the other end of the phone had been yelling at him.

"Stop yelling," he snapped, "Listen to me carefully. The doctors are to give him nothing. No IV. No meds. You escort him, personally, to the greenhouse room, you lay him down somewhere and you turn on every UV lamp in that room and you don't touch him. You assign an agent to watch them until I get back; he's not to be alone until I get there."

"Yes sir."

Manning hung up the phone with a loud snap and smashed his hand into the side of the truck. He took a deep breath and flipped the switch for the team's communicators. He could instantly hear the chatter between the other agents.

"Shut up for a minute."

The agents, with the exception of Hellboy, quieted quickly.

"What do you want now, Manning?" Hellboy griped.

"I said shut up. HQ just called. Something's wrong with Agent Myers. Finish this up so we can head back."

"You got it," Hellboy said.

John felt the grass beneath his hands before he felt the sun on his face. He ran his fingers through the blades and sighed; he had missed that feeling. The man opened his eyes, slightly blinded by the warming rays. He could smell the plants on the table, alive and fresh and blooming, and he figured that he had to be in the B. P. R. D. Greenhouse room. John push himself halfway up, onto his side, and looked around. There was an agent by the door, but he wasn't paying attention to John; he looked dead on his feet.

"Hey," John tried to say. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt fuzzy. He cleared his throat and the agent by the door snapped his head around to look at John. The agent opened the door and poked his head out. Another agent came in and dismissed the first. John hazily recognized the new agent as Clay, his once-upon-a-time predecessor. The older agent walked over a kneeled beside Joan.

"How you feeling, Myers? You certainly look a bit better."

"Water," John wheezed.

Clay held up a bottle of water John hadn't seen in his hand. Clay unscrewed the lid and held up the younger's lips. John downed half the bottle in one pull. He eased himself back onto the grass and sighed.

"You need anything else?"

John smirked and made a request. Clay looked at him funny, as if he didn't know what to say.

"A chair would be nice, too," John said.

"Uh, you got it, boss," Clay said warily before standing to fulfill the request.

When Hellboy, Liz, Abe and Manning arrived at the B.P.R.D. greenhouse room, they didn't quite know what to say. John had been up for about an hour and a half by what Clay said and was currently sitting in a chair directly under UV lamp with his pants legs rolled up, and his feet planted in a 5 gallon bucket of what looked like watery mud. John raised a hand in greeting when no one said anything.

"Hey guys."

"John, what is going on?" Liz asked.

"I'd like to know that myself," Manning groused.

John frowned.

"You know damn well what's going on, Manning. You keep ignoring it and it's really starting to piss me off."

"I don't believe it!" Manning cried.

"Well get the hell over it!"

The other three in the room watch the exchange with surprise and curiosity: John had never talked back to Manning before.

"What is going on?" Hell boy shouted above the arguing pair.

Both stopped and looked at the tall demon. John sat back in the chair and said, "You tell them, Manning. I want to hear the words come out of your mouth."

Manning side and scrubbed his hands over his face.

"Say it," John commanded.

"Fine. Fine!" he pointed at John and spoke to Hellboy, Liz and Abe, "Take a good look at John Thaddeus Myers. He's not human."