Disclaimer: Do we really need to go through the concept of FANfiction?

A/N: Alright, so I decided to repost this again. I've done a bit of editing and re-working so I thought, hey. Why not? Hopefully the third time's the charm! I actually have a lot of fun with this one. Basically, its a time-travel thing and...you know what, just read it.

Anyways, please, please, please review.

The Future.

Oslo felt smug as he walked down the dark hallway that was illuminated solely by the gloomy florescent light-bulbs in the ceiling. The metal walls and floors made is footsteps echo in a way that he found satisfying, mainly because it unnerved those trapped within this only slightly modernized dungeon. But then again, this was a very special visit. This was the first time he had visited her in quite a while and he pondered what tactic to make.

The past few years had been good to him. It was very ironic, one might even say laughable to think of the victorious position the rebels had been in so very long ago just after that disastrous defeat at Karzem. Well, they'd had their moments of glory and had no doubt enjoyed them.

Then Oslo had made his move: a series of moves as a matter of fact. And now the rebellion had been well and truly crushed. There were still a few small gangs of punk anarchists, but they were beyond insignificant. They couldn't even manage to raid anything more than the most crippled of small water shipments, barely enough to survive on, forget make a statement. No, Skyland was now his!

Except for one tiny little detail.

Two of that central rebel crew had eluded capture somehow. It would be the most insignificant little blip if it weren't for the identities of the elusive duo. By all rights an old man and a teenaged girl shouldn't be able to evade him so well with such large bounties, both legitimate and shady, on their heads.

He mulled this over as he entered the room. It was dark, of course. All the cells were kept dark regardless of whether or not it was a seijin occupant. It was just another of the many tactics utilized to try and erode their spirits. It was also rather useful when it came time for an interrogation. Prisoners would be locked in a lightless room for days on end and then brought into another room with a bright light shining directly in their eyes. It did nothing for their sight of course, but that wasn't something the Sphere particularly cared about, after all, it was meant to make them more…cooperative when it came to answering questions.

When Oslo strolled in he made his choice on how to proceed. The prisoner looked terrible, of course. They would have to fix her up again soon. She was sitting in a chair with restraints attaching her wrists and feet to the legs and armrests of her seat, but clearly she had only been transferred there recently judging by slight red glisten on the chains and manacles swaying from the ceiling. The fact that what he could see of her wrists were chafed raw and bloody only strengthened this suspicion.

The woman was sagged against the chair, unconscious—or at least only semi-conscious, her now shoulder-length hair falling over her eyes and clinging to her clammy scalp. Her wrists were blistered and bleeding from her time suspended by them and she had bruises along her face that almost made her captor wince. Almost. Perhaps he should have left the warden with more specific instructions pertaining to the methods in which they were permitted to interrogate her. Then again, she could always have kept it from getting this far. Besides, it could have been worse. This time she didn't have any broken bones even if a few of her fingers did look a little swollen. She shivered a little and stirred as he approached. Kneeling by her chair he gently pushed the hair out of her eyes, causing a groan to escape her dry, cracked lips.

He would use the 'kind' approach today. It was not always his favourite, but sometimes it certainly had its uses. If nothing else, it would often throw the prisoner off balance. He pondered the benefits of carefully calculated courtesy as he brought some water to him with his powers and poured it into a cup which he carefully put to her lips. She coughed and gagged at the first few drops but then drank thirstily. After she had swallowed half of it he beckoned gently for her to wake up. When she took a while to comply he turned towards the door.

"Has she been drugged?" he inquired. The Guard at the door nodded. It was another common place occurrence. Various cocktails could often loosen stubborn tongues or confuse the mind enough that essential details might slip without the informant realizing it, or sometimes they worked to intensify alertness and therefore pain.

"Did she say anything?" was his next question. This time the guard shook his head. Typical. But, then again, he knew first hand of her stubbornness. At that point the prisoner seemed to come round enough to recognize him. She went rigid and pressed herself against the back of the chair as much as she could to create a little more distance between the two of them, not an overly effective move but it sent the message it was intended to.

"What…are you…doing here?" she croaked, her tone venomous.

"I'm here to take you to the infirmary. You can have-"

"What? A…nice, hot meal and a bath?" she said with a small struggle, her tongue stumbling over the words due to the drugs in her system. In spite of this the sarcasm still came through very clear. "I kn-know why you're really here… and you're…wasting your time." The seijin stiffened and leaned back on his heels slightly, his demeanor changing immediately. Fine. If she refused to accept his kindness, he wouldn't offer any mercy.

"Where is your daughter?" he snarled

"To the point." She coughed in approval, her eyes opening a little more. They glared at him in the dark, filled with hate and determination. He stood and began to circle her

"You know, I hate to see you like this." He remarked.

"Bullshit." She spat, her voice gaining strength "If anyone knows of your ruthlessness it's me. Don't pretend you care whether or not I live, or suffer for that matter."

"Oh, on the contrary. I care very much. And I don't like to see you like this, or rather, I would hate for Lena to see her mother like this." He watched in satisfaction as the Prisoner stiffened.

"You're bluffing." She accused, scrambling to re-possess her wits "You haven't got her. If you did, you wouldn't be bothering with me!" The fear and desperation were evident in her tone, despite the remaining traces of defiance. Oslo smiled sardonically. She was reaching her breaking point and he knew it, and was enjoying it.

"Perhaps." He conceded with a dark glee "But you know where she is, and you will tell me."

"You've been in that light chamber a few times too many!" She retorted "It's affected more then just what was left of your moral compass. I don't know where my daughter is, I've been here for who knows how long, and if I did know I'd never tell you! She's smart, she'll keep out of your clutches, she has too much of her father in her!"

The jibe was well placed, and they both knew it. Oslo's upper lip curled.

"Very well then." He snarled, coming round to stand in front of her, towering over her in the restrained chair "We'll do this the hard way."

His assault on her mind was anything but gentle. He battered at the mental walls formed by sheer will power to try and gain access to her thoughts and memories. Her jaw clenched as she met his pale gaze furiously, her jaw clenching and her heart rate rising. Sweat formed on his brow and his muscles tensed as he struggled. This was infuriating! He was the most powerful seijin in all of skyland! (Well except for maybe one who was just an angry teenager) Yet, he couldn't get past this woman's mental barriers! They weren't like her daughter's of course, but all things considered, they were still pretty impressive.

"I learned long ago that seijin power doesn't make you invincible, or all-powerful!" Lena's mother growled through clenched teeth "It doesn't even take another seijinn to drive you out and make you stay out! Remember that, do you? We rebels certainly do!"

Neither knew how long they remained locked in that battle of wills. Every time he thought he might have found a crack that he might use to trace that one stray thought that could betray her, he encountered her mental resistance as well. She was, though, tiring. He could see and sense that. Unfortunately she was also so dammed stubborn…

Finally with a strangled cry her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she went limp again as she lost consciousness. Oslo sighed and shook his head. He'd never get anything now; she wasn't dreaming and therefore her subconscious wasn't going to be all that helpful. Frustrated, the Seijin stood and turned on his heel to stalk out of the cell. As he closed the door behind him he turned, almost as an afterthought, to the Guard.

"Have her taken to the infirmary, under 24- hour guard. Only the best are to tend to her, I want that woman to be presentable within a fortnight!" he ordered. The Guard gave a curt nod.

"Oh, and one more thing," Oslo added "Make sure that the incident with the rebellion insurgent is made common knowledge."

"Sir?" The Soldier asked, a confused frown furrowing his brow

"Surely you recall the terrorist who broke in here disguised as a guard? The…disturbed individual who attempted to kill their captured former-comrade to prevent her from telling us her daughter's whereabouts so that we might…rescue her." He finished slyly, his tone making it clear that this was not a suggestion. The buffed man at the door nodded jerkily

"Understood sir."

Year 2252

"Man, this is boring." Mahad groaned as he leaned on the railing overlooking the docking-bay where the St. Nazaire was parked, his chin in his hand.

"You know, there is still a shipment of supplies to be unloaded from the St. Nazaire, you could always help." Dahlia pointed out as she walked past carrying a crate.

"Help?" he asked, turning slightly and straightening

"I know, a foreign concept, right?" The Blonde Pirate replied sarcastically

"Uh…actually, I-er-I think I hear Lena calling!" he said

"No you didn't." his sister said from behind him, "You said you wanted some help with the unloading?"

"Suck up." Mahad muttered

"It's called being helpful Bro, and Mom and the Vector are waiting for something in the shipment. He asked me to pick it up for them." She informed her brother, "You know, they got some parts in too. You might be able to find something for the Hyperion Mark II."

The young rebel thought about this for a moment before replying,

"Well…I guess I could help you out a little bit, since you insist."

The two girls exchanged winks as the young man headed towards the ship.

"Hey, Wayan!" He called, hopping down the rickety metal stairwell "Need a hand?"

"Yeah, but since when do you offer your services for such menial tasks?" the dark-skinned man inquired, putting a crate down on a pile, "Ah, let me guess. You want to get into the parts shipment."

"What? Can't someone offer a little bit of friendly assistance once in a while?" Mahad demanded, feigning hurt feelings. At Wayan's raised eyebrow he shrugged

"Okay, maybe the new parts might have something to do with it…anything good this time round?"

"Well I think so. But I'll make you a deal. Help with the unloading and deliveries and I'll take you through them myself."

"Hmm…I guess that sounds fair to me." Mahad said, shaking his hand and taking the crate Wayan had put down on the top of the pile. He staggered under the weight. "Man! What's in this thing? Rocks?"

"Bricks actually. We're going to build a wall along that alleyway by Brook Street, you know, to keep from having another Cedric-and-Natalie incident. Could you bring those to the town square?" He said, referring to the time when Sanskin's two children had nearly fallen off the block while playing catch with some other kids. The edge of Puerto Angel unfortunately ran along the end of said alley, and it was a sudden drop. Cedric and Natalie had been fortunate that Celia had been there to levitate them to safety.

Mahad groaned and muttered something under his breath about 'slave labor' as he strained under the weight and began dragging himself towards the village.

"Ah! Lena!" Wayan exclaimed as the young girl approached, "The Vector told me he'd be sending you to pick up his package, here you go, Oh! I also have a parcel for him from Nigxia, it's from Hae-Long Zae-Lo, there's apparently something for 'Little Pheonix' as well." He said, giving her a cloth bag filled with equipment and charts and a paper parcel wrapped in string.

"Thanks." Lena replied, taking the items and heading for the lighthouse. On her way there she passed her brother struggling with his load.

"Little help here squirt?" He gasped. She rolled her eyes and then frowned at the box. It glowed blue ever so slightly and suddenly became several pounds lighter.

"Phew! Thanks!" Mahad gasped

"Come on, let's hurry up and get this stuff over to the square so that I can give the Vector his packages." She said. Her brother rolled his eyes this time and they walked around to the Square, ignoring Pratucci's snide remarks about 'strays' as they passed by. They ignored him and started the trek up the hill to the lighthouse.

The place was a mess. It seemed that the Vecter had been raiding his stores, or cleaning out his basement or something: one of the two. Their mother was there with bandanna keeping her dark hair out of her face and a broom in her hands, which made them think it was probably a combination of the two; something which had started as the old man looking for something and continued with Mila as a thorough clean out.

"Wow." Lena said as they looked around at the piles of crates.

"Ah! Lena, Mahad!" The Vector greeted enthusiastically. "Is that my package?"

"I think so." Lena replied. Just then something caught Mahad's eye.

"Hey, what's that?" he asked, pointing to where his mother had put something aside. Mila glanced over her shoulder and saw what he was looking at. She smiled and walked over to where she had hung it on the banister. The seijinn picked it up and shook out a long trench coat fondly.

"This," she said as she walked back over to her children "Was your father's. It was what he liked to wear if when he was going out or wasn't wearing his pilot's jacket. He had his initials stitched in on the back, see?"

"M.F." Mahad read as he looked at the spot she showed him on the inside of the collar. He smiled, reveling as he often did in his father's heroic identity "Marcus Farrell."

"Yes." Mila smiled as she put a hand on her son's shoulder, eyes shining with a fierce pride. She looked down at the garment again and held it up. "You know, I think it might fit you quite well, now. I think he'd want you to have it, anyway."

With that she held it out and her son shrugged it on. The Vector's eyebrows rose. In the coat Mahad looked more like his father than ever: the spitting image of Marcus Farrell. Mahad grinned and twisted around to look at it, remarking how cool it was. Lena teased him about being a girl over clothes, jibes he dismissed as jealousy which in turn made her giggle and the adults shake their heads in fond exasperation. Just at that moment, however, Mahad's communicator started buzzing.

"Aw man! What does Cortez want now?" the boy moaned as he took it out, apologizing to his mother as he did so.

"Mahad?" Cortez's voice asked from the other end

"Yeah?" the pilot grunted, putting down the crate of bricks

"We need you and Lena back at the Saint Nazaire as soon as possible."

"We'll be right there." Lena replied for them both. She skipped over and gave her mother a quick hug "See you later, mom."

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