Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins

Chapter: 02 – Monica's Story

Rating: T

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AN: Okay well, here we are again with this mess I call my favourite series of stories. I just thought I'd share them with you all. And my plea to you all still stands – please read my stories and let me know what you think. I can't improve as a writer if people don't tell me what I need to work on!

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Origins:

/\word/\ - Anna's speech

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Chapter 2

Thursday, July 17, 2008

Up with the sun, as was the norm for her, Monica Caning had been a bundle of nerves all morning. This was the day she would meet the Neldeb brothers face-to-face for the first time in more than four years.

God, has it really been that long?

She raised her cup to her lips and took another sip of her tea as she tried in vain to read the newspaper over her breakfast. Yeah, she mused sarcastically, just another exciting day in Goose Bay… She snorted at the realization that the paper in her hand might as well have been written in Russian for all the news she was retaining. It seemed she was just too distracted to think of anything but the impending visit.

Sighing, Monica set her cup down and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling. Well, can anyone blame me for being anxious? I mean, this wasn't exactly how I'd hoped to meet Zack after all these years. Closing her eyes, she thought back on the happier times before she'd taken off from home and everything familiar.

It hadn't been an easy decision—and looking back it seemed to have been more than a little senseless too—but it had still been a lot easier than she had expected.

She'd first met Zack when she'd transferred to his school after her family had moved from Moose Jaw. Her grades from back home had been nothing short of stellar so the people in Ottawa had put her through a series of placement exams to "assess" her academic standing. Monica figured that was just a politically correct way of saying they wanted to make sure Cochrane High hadn't been some kind of hick-town school where students would pass if they could tie their own ties.

As if Regina was anything like a hick-town.

Not for the first time—far from it, actually—Monica actually found herself resenting the arrogant intellectuals who thought national capital was some kind of lofty, untouchable peak for anyone from the Prairies.

When the dust had settled after Monica Caning's war with the placement tests, the administrators had been forced to relent and admit that perhaps the new girl might in fact be the second most intelligent student they'd enrolled in thirty years. She'd been registered into the eleventh grade that fall—a full year ahead of her peers. She had thought that first day would be a little awkward for her; the very idea of walking into a room filled with real eleventh-grade students had made her insides twist anxiously.

Of course, that had been before she'd ever heard the name of Zachary Neldeb.

It was before she had met the living wonder that he was.

There were some who had called Monica "gifted" back home in Moose Jaw and Regina, but if they had ever met Zack, they'd have been hard-pressed to find a word for him. If the tall redhead was gifted—if her mind amounted to a paper airplane, then Zachary Neldeb's mind was about the most advanced spacecraft that could ever be conceived; immense, powerful, terribly sophisticated, and easy enough to imagine or design on paper or computer…but impossible to ever truly understand.

Zack had been skipped four years across his elementary and high school years, and he'd just been pushed ahead for the fourth time when he had met Monica.

She had never told Zack how relieved she was that he had been there first because her reasons hadn't been the most honourable or flattering in the world. Her coming to Nepean High School had been something not unlike introducing a three-eyed tiger to a circus that already had a cow with udders for a face – strange and out of the ordinary, yes, but far from the strangest thing the audience had seen. Monica had never thought the idea that she too had looked at Zack as a bit of a freak – at least at first – would be the most encouraging or endearing of admissions.

Especially after a year-and-a-half, when she'd looked back on their time together and made her decision to turn her back on everyone she knew and everything that was familiar. They had grown so much closer than she could ever have predicted when she'd first walked into homeroom that day six years ago…

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(((Flashback)))

Rolling her shoulder uncomfortably under the right strap of her schoolbag, the fifteen year old redhead stared wide-eyed at the hardwood door like it was the very gateway into Hell.

The large hand on her other shoulder squeezed firmly – most likely an attempt to reassure her, but it still gave of the feeling of a prison warden escorting a convict to her doom rather than the friendly vice principal guiding the new student to homeroom.

"Don't worry, Ms Caning," the towering giant of a man smiled down at her from his intimidating height. "It's just like any other first day of school; there's nothing to be nervous about."

Monica swallowed uneasily as she continued her unending staring match with the classroom's door. Sure, she was smart enough to make it into grade eleven when she should still be a sophomore, but she could just imagine how much she'd stick out from her classmates. It was one thing to excel among her peers, but this – writing papers and exams a whole year ahead of herself… This was something else entirely, especially when everyone knew it.

She sighed under her breath, "That's easy for you to say – you're not going to be the youngest kid in that room."

Vice Principal McCroix chuckled good-naturedly at that, "Well, that's certainly true, young lady." He reached out to open the brown door in front of them. "But then again," he smiled widely, "neither are you."

Whatever he had meant by that last, almost cryptic comment Monica never had the chance to ask. As soon as she set foot in that classroom, her mind went numb and she became entrenched in her own thoughts. Thoughts of her life and friends from Moose Jaw – people whom her family had forced her to leave behind when they came to live here.

Before she knew it, she'd been introduced to the class of thirty-some-odd students and was now being invited to take her seat. There was only one left and it was in the back corner by the window, so Monica didn't have a clear view of her soon-to-be classmate.

Making her way between the neat, filled rows of desks, Monica abruptly realized that only a few people were paying any attention to her at all, much less gaping at her like she was some kind of freakish aberration, as had been her fear. Overall, there seemed to be a distinct lack of interest in her presence.

She found the reason for that sitting beside the one empty space in the room.

He was short, smaller than anyone in the classroom – probably no more than a metre-twenty. And he looked to be far beyond uninterested in what the professor was talking about at the front of the class.

"Hi," Monica settled down at her window-seat desk. "I'm Monica," she offered a hand.

He looked up at her from his distracted note-taking. Seeing the outstretched hand between them, he smiled after a moment and took it, shaking it just slightly up and down. He smiled quietly.

"Zachary Neldeb."

(((End Flashback)))

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He was twelve.

Twelve freaking years old.

Zachary Neldeb had been twelve years old when they met…in the eleventh grade. It still boggled her mind when she thought about it now, six years later.

Monica raised her tea to her lips once more and felt a smile come to her lips as she remembered the Calculus textbook that had been resting on the boy's desk that very first day. Pushed ahead four years and he was still going further. He easily had the marks and knowledge to get into College or University, but it was perfectly understandable if he didn't want to be a twelve year old University Graduate.

Monica chuckled softly as she then remembered the first time she had gone to Zack for tutoring in Chemistry. She'd thought it was normal for her to be struggling but she relished the challenge. She hadn't wanted to go to her other classmates for help because she suspected she would get the typically arrogant dismissal and disregard of the real eleventh graders. If you don't understand, why don't you go back down to where you belong, sophomore?

She didn't need that.

But oh, what a sight it was – to walk into the classroom where she thought she would be meeting Zack and see half the class already there, quietly taking notes as the school's resident twelve-year old junior stood up front lecturing on the class they'd had not two hours earlier. That had been a day to remember. As it so happened, Zack had started tutoring for a couple of his classmates in his first year and teaching courses in a better and more understandable way than the actual teachers. But then the faculty had gotten wind of his "extracurricular" activities. Since then, he had started tutoring for the school in a whole slew of subjects under a written agreement from the administration. As long as he continued tutoring and his marks stayed above ninety for every course while keeping an average of ninety-five, the school board would cover the costs of all his school fees and even grant him a generous bursary on top of that. It was a very good deal for Zack but thanks to his own intelligence, the school board had only needed to shell out money for two years instead of four.

Still, Zack graduated from Nepean High School with a good deal of rainy day money saved up.

But strange circumstances had conspired to drive Monica into fleeing from everything she knew. At the onset of her independence, she had called it a journey of self-discovery, a quest to find herself. She'd found herself all right, but then she hadn't been able to picture herself going back home without losing the self-reliance she'd fought so hard to earn.

Well, to be honest, there was only one real reason why she'd left and it had all centred around the sandy-haired boy three years her junior.

It was early spring of Senior year when it started; it was such a simple thing – a hug between friends. They had known each other for a year and a half by then and Zack had just been ushering her out of his house after a night of old, long since cancelled Sci-Fi shows. He hugged her as he always had when they parted ways, but in that instant, Monica's whole world had been transformed.

Visions had filled her head, blinding her mind's eye with their otherworldly feel, their inhuman clarity. Endless fields of flowing, roiling, frothing magma, towering spires and constructs of glass and steel…and a presence.

Monica felt the power and terrifying influence pass over her, like the gaze of some ancient, malevolent God. She had come very near to fainting dead away from its sheer intensity. She had seen claws that were sharp as the finest razor edge, wings as black as night, and eyes…eyes that glowed with an unsettling rage and possessiveness.

And she was there.

Monica had never seen herself in those visions, had never seen her own face, but she knew she was there—knew that these were more than the imaginings of an overactive mind. These were visions of a future…or some alternate reality or dimension at least. She couldn't explain how she knew what she had known back then—not even to herself—but she had never been so sure of anything in her life, not until the moment those visions had ended and she'd fled from Zack and his family as quickly as etiquette would allow.

And in just the same, unfathomable way that she knew she was seeing glimpses of what might be, Monica was wholly convinced that it was her increasingly growing friendship with Zack that was the cause for all of it. The very night she'd had those first visions, Monica had dreamt of a world beyond anything she'd ever imagined before. The details had faded after all these years, but she remembered the rush of adventure, the thrill of wondrous sights, and the pain and suffering of something worse…something dark and horrible that she had never truly seen or understood until that very night:

War.

A week later, Monica had started receiving acceptance letters from the Universities and Colleges to which she had applied. After a month, however, it became all too apparent that only one school wanted her to be there; all the others had rejected her applications for one reason or another.

Now Zack on the other hand, he'd had schools fighting and scrambling over each other for him, which came as no real surprise. Being one of the youngest high school graduates in the history of the province, if not the entire country, Zack's very presence at any school would be something they could brag about for years to come. Every school he had applied to had sent him acceptances and offers of admission, and even some to whom he'd never applied. Strangely enough, the University of British Columbia was the only school that held any of Zack's interest and, coincidentally and unknown to him, it was the only school that had sent Monica an offer at all.

That was the last straw for Monica.

She'd been having those dreams every night since the first one. Sometimes she remembered them, but oftentimes the memory would fade shortly after she woke. Every so often she would awaken in the middle of the night with a gasp and sleep would become an elusive thing, but she sometimes slept all the way through. The dreams weren't all bad, and Monica had come to appreciate those many that were actually exciting and kind of fun, but those were among the many that she could rarely remember.

So, knowing instinctively what her friendship with the boy genius had done to her previously peaceful and dream-free nights, and predicting what four more years would do to her sanity if she were attending the same University as him, Monica had made the most impulsive decision of her life the night of graduation.

She had fled.

It was rather simple really, the logic she'd used, quite childish in fact. If she could get away from the source of her nightmares, she would get away from them. Unfortunately, the nightmares had never stopped in the four years since she had left home. The dreams and nightmares still plagued her mercilessly. They didn't come every night without fail anymore, but no week had gone by in four years without at least one or two dreams interrupting her sleep. The nightmares were growing less frequent too, but no less frightening or disturbing…

And now he was back.

Monica wasn't sure exactly how she felt about it exactly, but one thing she did know was that it would do no harm to reconnect with a good friend – her best friend – to catch up on the past four years and, most importantly, to apologize for vanishing without a trace so long ago. Now that the day was finally here, Monica found she really had missed the young Einstein.

A sharp knocking woke Monica from her thoughts and she shot a startled glance over to the clock to see that she'd been sitting at her kitchen table lost in contemplation for three hours, and she hadn't done a single thing to prepare for this reunion other than to pour herself a cup of tea and down about a third of it.

She stood and looked down at herself; she was still wearing her pyjamas for God's sake!

Oh well, I guess I'll be meeting him with my morning self. She brushed a lock of her crimson hair out of her eyes and combed her fingers through the rest of it in a crude but effective attempt to tame it. Then, she glanced down to make sure her clothes were all in order, or as close to it as humanly possible. She was wearing a white tank-top with one of her black undershirts beneath it and a pair of pale blue flannel pyjama bottoms. Her white socks were a little worn through and she could feel the cold of the polished wood floors chilling through her feet.

She made a mental knot to drive out to the Wal-Mart some time later to get a few more throw rugs to lie out on her icy floor. Jogging the half-dozen or so steps to her front door – her only door actually – she slid the last few metres just as another loud bang sounded on the heavy barrier.

"I'm coming!" She called out. Man, Jim was still just as impatient as she remembered, never willing to wait those few extra seconds for anything to happen—especially the fun, exciting things like surprises. Monica stumbled over her own feet just before her entryway's steps, but caught herself with a hand on the wall.

Straightening up, she paused for a few moments before opening the door, listening to the voices on the other side. It's really him… She had known this day was coming for the past two weeks, but for it to finally be here…well, that was something else entirely.

Her heart was beating a thousand beats a second and she found that words died in her throat as she mentally prepared for this reunion. Sighing and stilling her trembling hands with a force of will, she finally reached out to open the door, pulling it back to greet the boys from her past.

The wide, toothy smile on Jim's face was no surprise, and neither was his unkempt, wild appearance. He was dressed neatly enough in a casual pair of khakis and a buttoned short-sleeved short; Monica attributed the fact that he looked almost like a mature, young man to the tall Asian girl behind him. She assumed this was Belinda from Jim's description of his current girlfriend. Although, she thought, "current might not be the best term to use. These two have been going out for a long time from what he's told me…almost two years now. That's one thing I can see has changed about him. I remember he used to be such a wild heart-breaker back then.

Monica finally let her gaze slide to the left and fall to Zack where he stood gaping at her in shock. A small, nervous smile appeared on her face as she realized these were going to be the first words spoken between them in the four-plus years they had been apart and Monica had no idea at all if they were going to be joyful or anger-ridden. She'd take the anger if there was any to be had because she'd earned it by letting her best friend think she'd died or vanished off the face of the Earth.

But, looking at him now as he stared at her in astonished, speechless shock, she had a feeling she wouldn't be getting those angry words.

Zack fell back into Belinda, whose arms had already been waiting to catch the boy as he fainted.

Not for a while at least.

"Aw, dammit all to Hell!" Jim threw his hands up in the air and promptly turned to start banging his head on Monica's doorjamb. "Why me?"

Monica took another second to take in the sight of Zack slumped against the black-haired girl behind him, and then she stepped back from the door and motioned for her guests to enter. Belinda stepped inside after offering her hostess a look of relieved gratitude. "I take it you owe me some money, Jim?" She grinned over at the scowling man. "You should have known better than to bet against your brother's best friend."

Jim snorted, "Of course; it figures that you would know him better than I do – even after four years." He stepped through the door and slipped off his own shoes. "I really need to learn my lesson about gambling; my luck just stinks."

"I don't know," the redhead laughed quietly and closed the door behind him. "I kind of like your luck; it's very good for me."

"Yeah," the taller of the brothers pulled his wallet from his pocket, "You and every other person in the world. I just lost eighty bucks in less than a minute."

Monica laughed at that, running one hand through her hair again and further taming her unruly blood-red tresses. "You bet against your girlfriend? What was it?"

Jim waved her off casually, "Bah, she just wanted to bet that Zack would faint." He slipped a handful of bills out of his wallet. "Here you go," he offered it to the redhead. "He figured it out before you opened the door, so here's sixty bucks."

Monica eagerly accepted the money and tucked it into her pocket. "I can't believe you actually accepted that bet."

"Yeah well," he shrugged. "I didn't really think he'd get it. I mean, I was so damn close – you should have seen it…we were standing in your driveway and he didn't have a clue." He scowled, "and then he had to start asking questions."

Monica smirked, "and let me guess, you couldn't keep your story straight."

"Yeah," He nodded as he took in her appearance for the first time. "Wow," he smiled, "I like this whole back-to-nature look you've got going – it's very, uh," he pretended to search for the right word, "Wild." He glanced around just in time to dodge a light slap from Belinda just as she was returning from depositing Zack on the couch. "Whoa, Bel—cool it!" Her response was a muttered string of words in Japanese. Jim made a face, "rude," he turned to Monica, "She thought I was hitting on you."

Monica waved him off. "Cad," she started walking deeper into her basement apartment, descending a few steps into a big, single room area that had been divided with light curtains into four or five different areas. "Welcome to Happy Valley – Jim, Belinda…Zack." She nodded to the still form on her white couch. "Make yourselves at home while I take a shower."

Grinning dangerously, Jim glanced surreptitiously at the only walled-in room in the apartment – her small but adequate bathroom. "You, uh…need any help?"

Monica was just reaching into her drawer for some clothes when she heard the slap behind her, accompanied by an increasingly familiar chain of Japanese phrases. "I guess some things don't change with time, Jim." She strode into the bathroom, "you're still an idiot."

She closed the door on him and his incensed girlfriend."

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By the time Monica emerged from the bathroom, Zack was sitting up on the couch with a steaming mug held in both hands. He was glancing around curiously at the cozy setup of furniture and shelves of books with a slight frown on his face. Belinda was leaned back against the end of the couch with her legs tucked under her and a similar mug cradled in her hands. Her eyes were closed lightly and she was muttering quietly to herself in Japanese, seemingly oblivious to anything outside her own body and mind.

Jim on the other hand had brought a little of his own personal brand of chaos into the otherwise peaceful scene. He was standing beside the small, oval dining table with an already half-eaten bagel in one hand and an unopened envelope in the other. He was showering crumbs all over the floor from the corner of his mouth as he read the address on the plain white envelope.

Monica wasted no time marching up to the taller boy and swatting him upside the head. "Why are you going through my mail, Jim?"

Jim's answer was to shoot a sharp look at the young woman. "Who's Wingnuts and why would they be sending mail to you?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she snatched the letter from his hand in a deft, swift motion, "but it's actually being sent to Wingnuts – it's my company." She slit the envelope open and tipped its contents into her hand.

"Your company, huh?" Jim swallowed the last of his bagel and sat down at the table. "What do you do?"

Monica set the letter aside so she could read it later. "Well, anything that involves needing a small plane to carry passengers or cargo."

Jim's eyes widened and he glanced pointedly at Zack. "You're a pilot?"

"Yeah," Monica followed his gaze to see the youngest brother drink down the last of his tea and place the mug down on the table. "I got my private licence a little over two years ago when I moved here. It started pretty small, but I don't have all that many expenses aside from my plane and the rent, so I feel I've been doing pretty well."

Zack gave a tiny, little smile at that. "You always were the best if you put your mind and heart into it."

Monica coughed nervously and looked away, "You were always a good step or two ahead of me, Zack. I don't think I ever came close to your pedestal."

The sandy-haired young man shook his head slowly, his smile unshaken. "No, you were beyond me – I had a little help." He focused his gaze on the ruby-haired girl beside him. "You got through Nepean all on your own."

"What?" Monica stared at him in disbelief. "I got tutoring from you – who did you need help from?"

He shrugged, "Nobody; I was just…born different." He grinned suddenly, "But you – I may have tutored you, but I didn't carry you through High School, and I sure as heck didn't carry you through the four years you've been making a life for yourself." He paused, looking around slowly, "I'm impressed."

Monica turned away again. "I had a good reason for leaving," she confessed. "At the time, it seemed so much like the right thing to do."

Zack nodded, his eyes showing a small amount of understanding. "I'm sure it did."

Jim cleared his throat quietly and reached over to nudge Belinda gently on her shoulder, waking her from her thoughtful daze. "That's our cue, Bel." He glanced between Zack and Monica. "We'll see you two crazies later on this afternoon."

The younger boy looked up at his brother, "later? It's been just as long since you've seen each other – why are you running off?"

Jim grinned lopsidedly, "Because, Theodore, I think you two need some time alone to sort yourselves out. Monica and me have been passing emails to each other for the better part of a year now, so Bel and I'll just head on over to drop the computers off." He looked over at Monica, "You're office still in the same place?" He smiled roguishly at the tall redhead.

Monica nodded once, "Yeah – just tell Brett that I sent you and he'll let you into the airport grounds."

Jim wrinkled his nose, "The airport's closed?"

"We're a small town, Jim." Monica rolled her eyes, "There are no flights scheduled in or out today, so they close the airport as much as they're allowed."

It was obvious Jim was biting his tongue to keep from blurting out a smart remark about small towns, but Belinda saved him by grabbing his arm and depositing her empty mug on the table. "We're leaving, James."

"But – okay," Jim found himself being pulled easily to the front door. "See you guys later," he called out, "it was nice seeing you Monica," Belinda opened the door and shoved her boyfriend through before following him out. "You're looking good!" He squeezed out before Belinda closed the door – cutting him off.

Well, Monica thought, now it's just you and I, Zack.

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For a few long, silent minutes, the two gifted graduates just remained where they were, frozen in place and lost in their own thoughts.

Monica moved slowly over to the abandoned teapot and poured herself a mug before returning to the couch and taking a seat beside her best friend. "You know," she finally broke the awkward but relaxed silence. "I must have started a thousand emails and letters to you since I left Ottawa."

Zack nodded slowly, numbly. "I think I can imagine how difficult that would have been." He glanced over at the redhead beside him as she cautiously sipped her tea. "You seem to have done well for yourself."

Monica smiled thinly, still unsure about the state of their friendship after all this time, "Yeah – it's been fun. I don't really see myself doing anything anywhere else for a long time." She took another slow sip, "It's quiet, the people are very nice…I could have crashed in a much worse place." She shrugged at Zack's curious half-smile, elaborating no further.

Zack nodded slowly and for a few minutes, neither he nor Monica could bring themselves to break the comfortable silence that fell over them. They were both content to navigate the labyrinth of their own thoughts and memories while taking occasional sips from their mugs.

But only for so long.

Zack's slow, contemplative voice shattered the peaceful bubble surrounding them, "Monica…why did you leave?"

The older girl snorted mirthlessly, "Would you believe it was because of you?"

His only initial response was a mildly surprised arching of his eyebrows, "Me—really? I'd need some kind of context to see what you mean."

The redhead smiled a little less glumly, "Yeah – I suppose you would." She took a breath to gather her thoughts together and realized once again how lame her reasons for leaving had been. "Well, the short story is that being your friend was making me have really weird dreams. I was losing a lot of sleep and they really shook me, so I decided I needed to get away." She chanced meeting her friend's brown-eyed gaze. "I'm sorry, Zack," she offered in a whisper. So lame…

He nodded slowly, taking in what little she had said, using his ninety-nine percentile mind to piece it all together. "It may have been an impulsive, irrational decision," he looked at her calmly and smiled at her, "but I understand. I might have done the same in your position."

Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Monica tilted her head to one side. "That's it? I disappear from your life for four years without so much as a phone call and all I get is you 'understand'?" She chuckled quietly, relaxing finally after all the tension she had been under since letting him into her home. "Of course it is," she smiled warmly at him. "I should have known I was working myself up over nothing; you're the most forgiving guy I know."

"What's to forgive?" Zack shrugged, "Okay, at first I admit I was really worried. I was actually waiting for your parents to report you missing or for your body to turn up somewhere." He responded to Monica's surprised giggle with a quiet snort, "Yeah – I know. Anyway, when you didn't show up anywhere, I figured something happened and you had to get away for a while." He tilted his own head and grew pensive, "Never in my wildest imaginings would I have thought it was because of me, though. And dreams…" He tapped a thumb on his chin. "I must admit, you've got me intrigued – would you care to share what your dreams were?"

Monica coughed nervously. "I owe you that much at the very least." She sat back, bringing her tea mug with her to be cradled in her hands. "They started in the spring of our graduation year and they haven't really stopped since. I just…dream."

"About what?" Zack sat forward, his interest more than obvious.

"What do I dream about?" Monica sighed. "Oh, what don't I dream about?" She shook her head and took a short sip from her tea. "Well," she looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I can't remember the details for more than a couple days, but I remember seeing places I've never been to, things I've never even seen in pictures but they were so vivid in my mind. The dreams have rarely been the same and they come in all kinds. I've had some that have woken me up in a cold sweat and scrambling for the lights, but there have been just as many that have left me floating on clouds and feeling so wonderful," she wrapped her free arm around herself, a small, fond smile lighting her features. But then her smile faded, "and there have also been a few that have woken me up in tears and mourning for friends and family I don't even know."

Zack sat back again, "Wow—that sounds…" His voice was quiet and distant as he stared off into space.

"What," Monica interrupted him as he trailed off, "Crazy—insane?"

Zack smiled, "I was going to say familiar, actually, but your explanation works too." He laughed at Monica's odd, confused look and elaborated a few seconds later. "I've had those dreams too—for as long as I can remember." He grinned eagerly at the redhead. "They seem so real, don't they?"

Monica snorted but felt a small smile touch her lips. "You're just mocking me."

"I would never," he denied confidently. "I promise it's true. I think it's possible that you were having similar dreams to the ones I've always had." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I don't know what my dreams would be doing in your head though, especially since they're still running around in mine. They're the very basis of a lot of my ideas, you know. Hey," he snapped his fingers, "Maybe I can sue you for invasion of privacy…"

Unable to keep the smile from her face, Monica considered pressing her argument, but then she realized how useless such a course would be. "Okay, I believe you," Zack was many things, but he wasn't a liar. She thought about it a little more and found herself just as interested in her best friend's dreams as he was in hers. But, I started this, so… "So when you say similar, do you mean you've dreamt of fields of flowing lava?"

Zack chuckled quietly at that one. "Yeah, I remember that one. First time I woke up from that dream, I just about drank our plumbing dry. My face felt like it had been on fire and I even thought I could smell the heat. My parents must have thought I'd lost my mind."

"It certainly wouldn't have helped you with them," she agreed, nodding her head slowly as she recalled her own dreams of that charred, barren landscape. "I didn't go for quite that much water, but I know what you mean; it was pretty intense."

Zack's quiet laughter eased and he gestured at the teapot with his mug. "May I?"

"Of course," Monica smiled quietly as he stood and walked over to the pot, filling his mug most of the way before coming up empty. "You can go ahead and put on another pot too, I think we're both going to want more." She added the last with a knowing grin at Zack's back.

When he turned to face her a moment later after setting the kettle, she was pleased to see a similar expression on his face. "Yes, I remember we did drink a lot of tea didn't we?"

Monica raised her half-full mug in salute, "And I still do love the stuff."

Zack chuckled, "'Down with coffee'?" He quoted a phrase she'd jokingly used quite often when they went out to a have a drink together back in High School. He shook his head, amused, "alright then," he came back with his tea in hand. "So, what do you want to talk about now? We have quite a bit of catching up to do."

"Yeah, we do." Monica took a slow sip of her tea. "Jim told me you graduated from Queens; congratulations."

"That was two years ago," Zack stared down into the swirling liquid in his mug. "I guess I wasn't quite finished advancing beyond my peers." He chuckled quietly.

Monica laughed too, the sound ringing in Zack's ears and bringing memories back to him in droves. "You graduated five years ahead of anyone your age?" She shook her head at his answering nod, "Only you could take overachieving to a whole new level." She sobered a little and regarded her friend seriously. "I always wondered, though, why Queens? You were all excited and ready to go out to B.C."

"Well," Zack set his mug down on the coffee table. "I don't know really. For a few months after you'd left, I just lost the will to motivate myself; I was ready to just confirm to any school, and Queens had offered me a pretty sweet deal."

"From what I remember, you never cared about deals." Monica frowned at the thought of what she had done to her best friend. "Besides, I think Algonquin College had offered you a better deal." She thought about the tremendous bursary offer that had come in the mail for Zack. She'd been shocked that he wouldn't take it. Algonquin had pretty much offered to set Zack up for life in terms of his…"extracurricular" hobbies. "So," she smirked knowingly, "Just a few months?"

"Okay, seven," Zack amended his previous claim. "I came within a hair's breadth of failing a course; I haven't done that since elementary school."

"Which was what," Monica grinned, "Three years ago?"

Zack chuckled along with her at that. "Ha, you're so funny…" He swirled his tea in his cup a little. "Besides, in the end I didn't quite see the point of moving all the way out west when I could do just as well back home." He glanced over at Monica, "I'm sure you and I would have made quite a team out there, though."

Monica sat back quickly, stricken by the off-hand, subtle accusation. "Oh—God Zack, I am so sorry…"

He waved it away. "Don't worry about it," he smiled warmly at her. "I did well enough at Queens."

The tall redhead copied his smile, breathing a relieved sigh, "Yeah—I'll bet you did; top of your class too I'll bet."

"Not by too much," He replied coolly, "Still," he took another sip of his tea. "I'd forgive you in a heartbeat if that's really what you need to hear."

"Thank you," Monica looked around quietly, searching for a way to change the subject. They drank their tea in silence for several minutes before her eyes fell on his large, grey messenger bag and her voice finally disturbed the easy silence hanging between them. "Say, do you still have that awesome gaming AI you built?"

"What, Anna?" He followed her gaze to the corner of his laptop, visible through the parted gap of his satchel's partially open zipper. "Yeah, she's still around; she's gone through a lot of changes since you last saw her."

Monica raised one thin eyebrow and regarded her friend seriously—surprised. "Did you just say 'Anna'? You gave it a name?"

Zack smiled and shrugged, "'It', uh, asked for a name, actually."

"Are you serious?" A smile split the redhead's face on one side. "I'll bet Jim was thrilled when he found out."

"No, he wasn't," Zack agreed, "He just about blew his brain stem. I'm sure he's waiting for an excuse to take an axe to my computer and get rid of her. I think he's afraid she's biding her time before she rises up and conquers the Internet or something."

Monica laughed quietly at that, "Oh, right—he's probably just sore because he lost a game to her."

Zack found her mood infectious and was soon laughing with her. "I should get her to play against him once—just to see how well he'd do. Who knows? With all the games he plays in his spare time, it might be a better test than challenging her skills on my own." He snorted once and turned to take a slow drink from his tea. "Speaking of losing though, how much money did you manage to get from him for this bet?"

Monica chuckled quietly, "I got sixty dollars for you figuring it out before I opened the door, but Belinda got twenty for saying you'd faint."

"What?" Zack glanced over at the door through which Jim and Belinda had departed. "Jim took a bet against his own girlfriend?" he thought about it for a moment before shrugging casually. "That's so very like him."

"I know," the redhead smiled thinly and stood to take care of preparing another pot of tea. "Does it—does she remember me?" She glanced over at the partially opened satchel lying across the room.

Zack followed her gaze to the resting place of his laptop and felt a smile spread across his face. "She asks about you every once in a while—if I've heard from you, do I have any theories about where you might have gone, do I think about you still…you get the idea."

Monica canted her head to one side, "Really? I didn't realize I'd left such an impression on her." She paused for a moment and then came back to sit at the couch. "Wow, your computer program's a 'she'…my goodness, Zack—do you have any idea what you've done, what kind of advance this means for the world's technology?"

Zack grinned, "Yeah I know what I've done; too bad it would take another ten years to repeat the success. I've tried to figure it out, I really have," he gestured to the idling laptop with a sweep of his hand. "I still don't know what it was I did right or wrong and nothing spectacular happened to cause her to start growing. She just…started growing—from the moment I first expanded her beyond gaming AI, she's always been something just a few millimetres beyond my understanding." He shook his head slowly. "I know what she is, I know who she is, and I know how she works, but I can't for the life of me understand why she works."

A slow smile appeared on Monica's face. "Has her gaming improved?"

Zack favoured her with a knowing grin, "Oh, you want to go a few rounds with her, do you?" He chuckled quietly. "She'll give you more of a challenge than you remember, that's for sure, but I'm sure you could still beat her."

"Does she have a new favourite game?"

Zack laughed again, "Hardly; you'd think after ten years a computer would be logical enough to deem that game obsolete, but that's just another one of her many quirks. It makes her seem almost nostalgic."

"Oh," Monica fell back against the couch cushions with a quiet sigh. "I haven't played Starcraft in years." She smiled almost wistfully, "I still remember some of the games we played against each other. You never made it easy to beat you."

Zack leaned forward and moved his gaze from his satchel to his best friend. "Well, it's about time we joined forces then, isn't it?" He turned to wink playfully at Monica, "What do you say—us against her?"

Monica laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "It'll be a challenge for her." She stood and stretched. "Oh, what the hey – you're on." She filled her mug once again and carried it over to the far corner of the room, sweeping back one of the hanging sheets and tying it up with a sash from the ceiling to reveal a simple, fold-away desk with a relatively new-looking desktop computer seated peacefully in its aluminium cradle. "Besides, I've got a strategy I've always wanted to try."

Zack raised his eyebrows, grinning widely as he pulled his laptop from his satchel. "Oh? Do tell." Setting it down on the coffee table, he opened up the message box and started typing, interrupting the storm of activity that had taken over his computer. "Anna—do you think you can multitask?"

The blur of motion in the background slowed to a virtual crawl, giving Zack the chance to actually see what his protégé was up to.

A half-assembled face dominated the centre of the window, one eye painted a shimmering hue of indigo and the other a calm, tranquil blue. A long slender nose was replaced before Zack's eyes with a shorter, cuter button nose. Currently, Anna had the blonde hair cut short with thick, dark chocolate streaks running through its wavy, wild length, but Zack was pretty sure that feature would change to something else before long.

Yes, I can multitask; what do you have in mind? The Blue words appeared all at once underneath the words Zack had typed only moments earlier.

"Hey Monica," Zack turned away from the still screen and spoke up to his hostess. "Should I tell her who you are? She'll be excited to meet you again after so long."

The redhead laughed lightly at that. "You think your computer gets excited?" She turned in her chair to smile her amusement at the younger man, "Like, it has actual feelings?"

Zack hesitated. "Well—I'm not sure really." He shrugged after a moment's thought, "she's still growing I think. It'll probably be a while before I can definitively say that she has any spark of life in her, but she seems to be having more frequent moments of humanity."

"That so?" She smiled thinly as the blond boy said that. "No, I think we should leave my identity a secret for now. Your computer will meet me again soon enough."

"Alright," Zack turned back to the laptop in front of him. "It turns out Jim's friend here is a real gaming fiend, and when they heard about you they wanted to play a game right away."

They want to play a game against me?

"Actually," he typed, "They want to play a game with me and against you."

That sounds like a good challenge.

"Hey Zack," Monica's voice came from behind him. "Exactly what did you mean when you said it's grown a lot since I last saw it?"

Zack suppressed a quiet sigh. It was amazing how quickly something as simple as a name changed his entire perception of his computer program. Monica hadn't been around to see the ongoing process that Anna had gone through. But, he was sure she would see his creation for what it was if she had as open a mind as she had back when they were going to school together. "Well, she's got her own hard drive now," he reached over and touched his fingers to the long, wide, enclosed component that he'd strapped to the side of his laptop, connected to the inner workings of his computer by two Universal Serial Bus Ports. "I've given her control over several different programs since we've seen each other. She's gotten the hang of reprogramming certain applications, like her own data compression software."

He heard his older friend clicking her mouse. "So, how much memory are we talking about here?"

Zack turned and smiled at Monica, feeling a twinge of pride for his protégé. "Her core memory and long-term files are taking up about eighty gigs." His smile only grew when he heard the redhead's choked-off gasp. "Plus, she's got an additional ten set aside for uncompressed data and files."

"Wow," Monica breathed, "You've been busy."

Zack smirked. "Well, it has been four years."

"Right," She laughed softly as the room descended into silence for a few long minutes. Finally, her voice carried over to Zack once again, "Okay, I'm online."

Zack didn't reply, "So," he typed instead. "Are you ready to play?"

Minimizing her project window, Anna's reply appeared in the text window. Jim's friend underestimates me.

"Do they now?" The genius glanced over his shoulder at Monica, whose back was turned to him as she finished setting herself up. "I think you might be surprised."

I very much doubt that.

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

"That was pretty fun Zack. Thanks."

"No problem." Zack could still see Anna's defences crumbling under the onslaught of their combined fleet of Carriers. Technically, they'd actually all belonged to Zack, but Monica had built them all.

Through Zack's use of his Race's readily available mind control units and an exorbitant amount of resources on Monica's part, they were able to overcome the already high unit cap of the game and assemble a veritable armada of over a hundred of some of the most devastating units in the game.

Anna's multiple bases had stood strong for quite a long time, but the sheer power involved in the two friends' assault could not be stopped by a few missile launchers. Even Anna's most powerful units could only slow the attack. The computer's last words before defeat had been an admission that yes, Jim's friend was indeed a more than competent gamer.

Of course, Zack hadn't been prepared for what he'd find when he closed the game down.

It seemed that Anna had found her face.

There, pacing along the system tray of his laptop's desktop display was a five-centimetre tall girl animated in two dimensions with her new software. She had long black hair to where her shoulder blades would be, with a long-sleeved blue sweater and a pair of blue jeans hanging loosely off her hips down to a set of plain white shoes. The new girl's face showed a moderate amount of youth – maybe twelve or fourteen years. It was a small, round oval of light rosy skin with a slight point to her chin and a set of thin, dark red lips. She had a tiny, cute nose that gave her the look of a pixie, which was bracketed on either side by a matching pair of green eyes that were quite unnaturally bright. They were the only thing that really classified the animated girl as anything other than human. Well, that and the fact she only had two dimensions.

"What the heck?" Zack felt the couch sink to his left as Monica took a seat beside him, staring astounded at the flat screen before her, "That's Anna?"

Zack glanced over, "Yeah. She's grown a lot in four years, hasn't she?"

Monica smiled tensely, "You're telling me." She studied her friend seriously. "Do you know what you're doing?"

The sandy-haired boy shrugged. "Not really; I'm just letting her grow at a gradual enough rate that she won't overload and become homicidal…I hope."

Bright blue eyes couldn't help but laugh at her friend. "Well, I'm sure you're doing your best, but if your gaming program brings about Armageddon I'll be just a little disappointed."

"And I'd hate to disappoint anyone," Zack smiled, moving the mouse over to open up Anna's message box. "Especially you." He didn't need to look over at his crimson haired friend to know she was wide-eyed with surprise at his remark. "So," he typed into the message box. "I can see you've made your decision, Anna."

The girl stopped pacing across his screen and turned to look at the open box as if she was reading Zack's words, but he was pretty sure it was only for show. I am as surprised as you that I completed my self-image so quickly.

Zack smiled and reached into his satchel, withdrawing yet another disk stuffed full with information. Setting it on the table, he returned one hand to the keyboard as he twirled the disk case between his free fingers. "Well, what do you think the reason for that is?"

I do not know. Anna's animation shrugged in what appeared to be a cautious way. Perhaps it was simply a coincidence and I happened upon the right combination of facial traits by accident. In any case, I am ready to begin cutting back my memory in order to return it to its original state. The young girl began to pace left and right across the system tray once again. I have no need for that much memory any longer.

"Very well," Zack continued typing, ever aware of the pair of blue eyes watching him curiously. "I'll check in on your memory consumption tomorrow. Until then, I'll trust you to clean it up yourself."

Thank you for the birthday gift.

Monica turned to speak to Zack, "'Birthday'?"

He smiled slightly, "Ten years, Monica."

She smiled too, "when?"

"Two days ago." He leaned back on the couch to think back through the drive up to Labrador. "She's been working since then to find a face for herself."

"Really?" Monica leaned back and looked from her friend to his artificial apprentice. "What keeps her from being able to change her face? Can she put on a mask?"

"I told her," Zack gestured to the computer with one hand, "the first complete, full-body, human image that she saved to her memory would embed itself in her primary code as a permanent self-image." A small, secretive grin grew into his face. "She'll learn about masks soon enough, either from me or on her own. Remember, Monica – baby steps."

"Wow," she stared up at the ceiling for a few heartbeats, "ten years. Has it really been six years that we've known each other?"

Zack nodded. "Do," he spoke after a few moments of that comfortable silence. "Do you want to talk to her?"

Monica smiled thinly. "Yeah, it's been a really long time; who knows? Maybe your program missed me…" She added this last part with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She motioned to the silent laptop with one hand, "May I?"

"Of course," Zack slid the computer over into her reach. "It'll do her some good to talk to someone else."

"Cool," she sat forward and set her fingers on the keyboard. "Hello, Anna – it's been a while."

There was a long pause before Anna's reply appeared. Who is this?

The redhead smiled quietly. "It's Monica."

The little girl's green eyes widened in shock and she shot the message box an astonished look. Monica Caning?

"Is there any other?" Monica's smile grew just a little as a wide, exaggerated and unnatural grin spread across Anna's face. She turned to Zack, "You're program needs to work on her facial expressions."

"She's only had a face for half-an-hour, Monica; give her a break." Zack laughed a little when his friend's response was to blow a raspberry at him, "Oh, real mature."

"Of course it is," she retorted. "Once you're my age, you'll understand."

The boy genius snorted, "Yeah—I can't wait."

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

"Well, how are you kids making out?"

Monica stepped out of the way as Jim swept into her basement apartment. Belinda followed quietly behind, the picture of a silent sentinel…always watching and ready to act. That was one thing the redhead had been able to see. Belinda spoke little, but Monica was beginning to see that the older girl spoke far louder with her actions than with her mouth.

"We're making out fine, Jim." Zack sat back from his laptop. "Monica and I were just sharing philosophy with Anna."

Jim made a small, thoughtful noise, "Oh? Plotting Ragnarok with our friend the fake brain?" He planted himself down on the couch beside his brother, rapping his fingers on the side of Zack's laptop. "She spilled the beans on her evil schemes yet?"

Zack stared at his brother, brown eyes twinkling with amusement. "My Jim, those are some big words you've learned. I'm impressed."

"Hey," Jim recoiled, embarrassed. "I watch Stargate, alright?"

Monica burst out laughing as she followed Belinda into the open-room basement. "Stargate? That show was so fake."

Jim nodded his head at the computer on the table, pointedly ignoring Monica's comment. "What's going on here?"

"What, that?" Zack pointed at the small grey ball attached to his laptop by a thin wire. "It's a microphone, Jim."

"Yeah," Monica giggled, "People usually talk into them."

Jim scowled from one friend to the other, "Smartasses, the both of you." He looked to Belinda for backup but only received a calm, indifferent stare from cool, dark brown eyes. "Traitor," he turned back to his smiling brother, "So…who're you talking to?"

The younger brother rolled his eyes. "Anna—weren't you listening?"

Jim shrugged sheepishly, tossing his far-too-long hair out of his eyes. "I thought you had to type to talk to it."

Zack returned the shrug. "It was a birthday gift…one of them anyway."

The brilliant green eyes of the girl in the lower right corner of the screen just lit up with what Monica assumed was supposed to be excitement. You mean there is more? The words appeared silently in the message window.

Jim's eyebrow quirked up at that.

"Now Anna, don't be greedy." Zack chided the program quietly. "You have to make sure that you're comfortable with one ability before you can try to master another."

I think I am ready.

"Then give it a couple more days, Anna. I left the disk at home, so you'll have to wait anyways." The smile on Zack's face was calm, relaxed. "You'll find out what it is in due time."

Very well. The animation went back to pacing along the system tray. You may keep your secrets.

"I don't get it," Jim scratched his head lightly. "You gave it the ability to hear, but why not the ability to speak?"

Zack shrugged and just gestured to a small, innocent looking icon in the lower right corner. "The only real means I have to shut her down if she becomes a danger to anyone is activated with a verbal command."

Jim followed Zack's finger to the curiously-shaped icon. It closely resembled a tiny little explosive remote detonator with the little handle-and-box setup. "So that's the only way you could stop it?"

Zack sat forward and started shutting down his computer while making sure to stay away from the innocuous little icon, "Short of physically removing her programming from my hard drive and wiping her from existence, yes. I can always talk to her too; see if I can convince her to stop whatever she's doing." He closed the laptop and slid it back into his satchel. "She can actually be quite reasonable, if a little flawed."

Jim snorted derisively, "of course it's flawed—it's a computer program. Ones and Zeros don't think." He stood and grinned down at his brother, "Well, it's been real," he glanced over to their hostess, "But we've really got to start heading back."

"Alright," Zack stood too and threw his bag's strap over his shoulder. "I'm ready to go."

Jim waved the younger blond off. "Sit back down, Zack. You're not going anywhere."

"What?" Zack lowered himself back to the couch and looked up at Jim, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. "What are you talking about? How am I supposed to get home? I have work next week."

"No you don't." Jim grinned. "I made a deal with Charlie. I was able to get you an extra week off for personal reasons."

"'Personal reasons'?" Zack stood once again and fixed a sceptical and suspicious look on the taller man. "Just what did you tell him?"

Jim's face became unconvincingly innocent, his eyes shining with mirth. "Oh, I just told him I was taking you to meet an old girlfriend you hadn't seen in four years." He stepped back quickly, raising his hands defensively. "He's the one who said to take the two weeks. I think he's got something planned for you when you get back."

"Girlfriend, huh?" Monica levelled an amused glare at her guests – Zack in particular. "Just what have you told everyone back home, Zack?"

The boy genius sighed, glaring ineffectually at his brother, "Nothing really. Home is Montreal, now, and all they know is I haven't seen my best friend in years."

"Oh." The subject of Zack's change of address hadn't come up until now. "When did you move?"

"A little under three months now," Zack winced a little as he thought about his cot back home. Belinda and Jim had been living together for the better part of three years now and they were still sharing separate bedrooms, limiting the space Zack had to live in. The way they had that apartment set up though…it really wasn't meant for three people. The cot was okay, but after two and a half months, Zack was starting to miss the bed he'd had in Ottawa.

Not that he missed the house in Ottawa.

"So, your parents finally let you out of the nest?" Monica took a seat in a chair nearby, motioning for Belinda to join them and abandon her post by the door.

"You could say that," Zack gave another sigh. "You could also say I was kind of thrown out of the nest."

"Oh no," Monica frowned sympathetically, "What happened?"

Zack laughed humourlessly, "I guess they got sick of having a slacker and a freak for sons."

"Freak?" Monica tilted her head to one side. "What does that mean? How are you a freak?"

"Hello? Sixteen-year-old university graduate here," Zack waved one hand, "plus there's that—other thing." He and Jim shared a peculiar look.

Monica looked between the two brothers curiously. "What is it?"

Jim pointed casually with his thumb. "Zack's a schizo."

"I am not," the younger boy slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm psychic."

"Yeah—you keep saying that, little brother." Jim rubbed his shoulder lightly, "Maybe someday someone will believe you, schizo."

Monica smiled at the brotherly bickering; leaning back to relax in her chair as she considered what had just been said. A psychic? It sounded crazy, it sounded weird…

But, considering the dreams she'd been having for the last five years of her life…

It also sounded possible.

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

"So, where were we?"

Monica looked over at Zack from the kitchen, setting the teapot down as her friend closed the door behind Jim and Belinda. "Well, you put Anna to sleep, so it's just you and me now." She picked up the tray and started carrying it towards the door where Zack stood. "Tell me, what else is new with your life?"

Zack took a few moments to reply, watching instead as the redhead swung a left when she reached him and moved to the stairs that led up from the basement into the house. "Where are you going?"

She paused at the top of the stairs to bump open the door with her hip. "I'm taking our tea out onto the back deck. Why?" She continued on through the door and higher up the stairs.

"The people you're renting from," he followed carefully behind. "Won't they mind that you're walking through their house?"

"Maybe," she replied, "But I doubt it. The Crosslings are very nice people. Fiona's invited me in for tea from time to time, and Mr Crossling helps me fix my car." Monica turned at the top of the stairs to walk through a carpeted living room with a fireplace. "They've opened their home to me whenever I needed help with something and they've been the most understanding landlords when I've been unable to pay my rent on time."

"They sound like great people," Zack followed quietly, "Where are they—work?"

"No," Monica walked through a kitchen larger and better equipped than hers to stop by the wide sliding glass door. "Honduras. They were meeting up with a group from a church close to Montreal to help rebuild in a small community down there."

"A mission?" Zack moved up to open the door. "That's cool."

"Yeah, they've been gone a week now, and I'm house-sitting for them until they get back." Monica took a seat in one of the chairs tucked around the beige, glass-topped patio table. Setting the tray down, she poured out two cups of the steaming drink, motioning for Zack to join her. "And while they're gone, my contract is suspended."

Zack paused with his cup halfway to his lips, "What?"

Monica smiled thinly, "This isn't the first time I've had to take care of their house, you know. They go out on missions about four times a year, almost always to Central America. And, whenever they're gone, I don't have to pay rent. All they ask is that I take care of things here and replace anything I use up."

"How long are they gone for?" Zack looked around the unfenced backyard.

Monica tested the temperature and strength of her tea with a tiny sip as she thought about it. "It'll be another…two weeks before they fly back." She nodded her satisfaction with the drink in her mug, "I'm hoping they'll have some good stories to tell."

"You're right," Zack set his cup down on the table. "They do sound like very reasonable people." He smiled ruefully, "of course, it probably helps that you're you."

Monica grinned, "And just what are you implying?"

Zack simply shrugged, "Nothing insulting, I assure you—I only meant that you're a loyal and honest person. You inspire the same in others and that's a very rare quality in this day and age."

The redhead blushed faintly and sipped her tea to try and hide it. "Thank you," she replied quietly before lapsing into a thoughtful silence.

They sat together like that for a long time, both wandering the pathways of their thoughts as they considered the years that had gone behind them, the way things now stood, and the vast unknown that lay before them, stretching inexorably onward to the future.

It was Monica's smooth and flowing voice that finally pierced the silence. "Zack? About what you said earlier…"

The blond boy looked up quickly, startled out of his thoughts, "yeah—what about it?"

"Are you," she paused, unsure that she really wanted to know the answer. "Are you really psychic?"

He sat back and studied her face seriously as his smile slowly melted away, "Well," he finally answered, "That all kind of depends."

Monica tilted her head to one side, "on what exactly?"

He shrugged as though stating the obvious, "on whether you believe my dreams are anything other than that." He smiled slightly at the curious little smirk on his old friend's face. "Sometimes I hear voices in my dreams, and I can at times actually sense a…a presence of some kind." He shook his head suddenly, "It's kind of hard to explain."

"Try me," Monica set her cup down. "So what – can you see the future?" A wide smile split her tanned, blue-eyed face.

"Oh, it's not like that, that's for sure. " The two reunited friends shared a quiet laugh at that before Zack grew serious once again. "There are certain degrees of psychic potential, but I'm reasonably certain I'm telepathic at the very least."

"Really?" Monica raised her eyebrows, intrigued, "so can you sense what I'm thinking?"

Zack laughed and shook his head, "no – I'm pretty sure my potential is severely limited at best. I think I'd need another Telepath who has more experience than me to focus my power. Good thing too – I wouldn't want to hear what the people around me are thinking."

"Oh, come on," Monica poured water from the kettle into the pot, "You can't tell me you're not the least bit curious. Not even for a day?"

Zack sighed quietly. "I've got enough going on in my own head," he tapped the side of his head lightly. "Why would I want to pull any outside chaos into it?" He shook his head slowly, smiling grimly, "Besides, would you really want to know that the people around you – who were supposed to be your friends – secretly resent you for something or other?"

"Knowing the truth is important," Monica countered, "How can you change yourself and grow as a person if you don't know your faults?" A tiny smile spread across her face. She had forgotten how much she missed this; just talking over any kind of subject with her best friend… God, those were the days… "Still, I guess you're right about that; knowing the truth is one thing, but stealing the truth is something else entirely."

Zack returned her smile, "We have to trust each other to be honest in all we do. How else can there someday be a world where we all exist in true harmony?" He sat back and stirred his spoon around in his tea contemplatively, "I remember some of my friends at Queen's said that telepathy could be the key to creating harmonious community, but I don't believe that's true. It's more likely that a nation of psychics would simply have their civil wars on a different battleground."

Monica nodded her assent, "because even psychics would be only human, and everyone knows how well we can get along," she took a slow sip from her tea. "Still," she leaned back so she could stare up at the sky, "it's a nice idea."

Zack nodded calmly, "Most ideas are. It's just too bad reality has a way of messing things up for everyone."

"Yeah," the redhead directed a quick glance to her best friend, "Too bad."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Zack decided to finally ask the question that had been on his mind for a few hours by now. "When you said there were worse places to crash, you meant that literally, didn't you?"

Monica slowly turned her gaze down from the sky to study her friend quietly. "What makes you think that?" Her voice was calm, steady…but she knew it wouldn't fool him. It never had before.

He gestured to her with his half-empty mug. "Your left arm is a touch thinner than your right and you're using it far less than you used to. As far as I remember, you were quite ambidextrous."

Monica chuckled as she glared down at her weaker arm like it had betrayed her. "There's nothing wrong with your memory, that's for sure."

He shrugged casually, making a thoughtful sound, "That's what happens when you've got a few kilograms over everyone else in the brain department."

"Really—that much?" Monica thought about that, "You never did tell me where you got all your mystical powers from," she smirked wryly at the light-haired man.

"Oh right," he scoffed good-naturedly, "Some powers. So I can remember everything I read or see – how would that help me do anything?"

Monica smiled confidently behind her cup of tea. "You're still working on your inventions, aren't you?"

Zack replied quickly, "Well – yeah, I'm inventing still." A strangely satisfied smile suddenly crossed his face. "I can't wait to see Jim's face when he realizes what I did to his truck."

"Oh no," Monica shook her head, picturing something awful. "What did you do?"

"Nothing bad," he paused, "I hope," he amended sheepishly. "I just needed a way to field test some things I designed. And I figured Jim could put my things through more rigorous testing than any lab; he's definitely cheaper too," the two old friends shared a quiet laugh at that before he sat back and studied the tabletop thoughtfully. "If it works, which it should, Jim's fuel efficiency will be boosted by about twenty percent."

Monica raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that's pretty good; I doubt he'll be angry if it works." She sat back more in her chair and studied the boy closely. "You know, it doesn't look like you've got more brains than anyone I know."

He chuckled, "Yeah, my parents thought so too, but my head's definitely heavier than yours is. I think the doctor they took me to said something about a watermelon in a can of peaches."

Monica winced slightly at the thought, "tight fit."

The boy shrugged, "it doesn't feel like it." He stood from his chair and moved around the table to lean back against the deck's railing. "But we were talking about you; did you still want to share?"

Monica sighed and brushed an errant lock of crimson hair behind her ear. "I was being pretty literal when I said that," she set her mug down on the table. "I can't remember if I ever told you, but it's been in my mind to see every corner of our country – to really see it, you know?" She smiled at the slow nod she received from her friend, "and not the whole, 'drive across Canada' thing, but to really see the unseen parts of the wilderness. I started out in Nova Scotia and went all the way west to Victoria Island; that took me a month and a half."

Zack grinned, "You took six weeks to drive eight thousand kilometres? It wouldn't have been that much slower to walk it."

Monica shrugged, "like I said, I wanted to see the Country I've called home for all my life." She took a thoughtful sip of her tea. "I passed this way through the Yukon, the Northwest Territories, Nunavut…I spent six months in Iqaluit learning to help out with some of the trappers up there. I've met a lot of nice people, some not so nice… I realized I had to learn to defend myself with more than just a call to the local authorities. Sometimes I haven't had the luxury of calling for help." She paused to draw in a slow, steadying breath as the memory of one incident in particular drifted through her mind.

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

(((Flashback)))

"God, I hope we catch something. McGregor'll have our hides if we can't bring him any hides…"

Monica rolled her eyes as the group of men around her dissolved into hysterics at the childish idiocy. It was strange to realize it sometimes hurt to be one of only two high school graduates for about a hundred kilometres

They were out on a two month tour, making their way around the North coast of Baffin Island, mostly on foot or sled. The Snowmobile was reserved for emergencies because fuel wasn't always available, which wasn't the most fun in the world since they had to drag the thing with them wherever they went. Still, it had a sled of its own and four Trappers could drag it for quite a while before growing tired. By now they had made it almost all the way to Cumberland sound, a little shy of eighty kilometres from Pangnirtung, an even smaller town than Iqaluit. It was Monica's first time out with the group, and it had taken the whole two weeks she'd known them to stop getting the weird looks from the all-male group.

"Hey, Red!" One of them called out to her. "Nice job making us work harder for our pay." That got a few more laughs from the group, but she noticed the dangerous gleam in the speaker's eyes.

Yeah, I guess I did mess up their catch, she thought.

It had been earlier that same day, overcast and dark – there wasn't much daylight at this time of year let alone sunlight. Jacob, their "pack leader", had been down with a cold so he'd opted out of the day's outing, taking instead the job of watching the camp with Enoch. The remaining group of eight had split up to check the traps they'd laid out for their three-day stay at this camp. It was the fifth in a trail they came through all the way up to Qikiqtarjuaq.

Monica had been saddled with Darren – as rude and misogynistic a man as she'd ever seen—as her partner for their long walk to check the traps northwest of the camp. It turned out their traps didn't have much luck, but on the way back into camp, Monica had seen a female Caribou sniffing at one of their traps from about a hundred metres away. She'd pointed it out to Darren and wasn't the least bit surprised to see him raise his hunting rifle to his shoulder.

She'd seen he and his partner-of-the-day haul a female or an infant carcass back to camp with a bullet wound in its head. There had almost always been trap marks on the animal as well, however, so Monica had written them off as mercy killings. But the few that had shown only the gunshot wounds…Monica was certain that they had come from only one person in their pack. Now she had her proof.

And she'd be damned before she let some Roughneck like Darren spoil the rules of the game like this.

So, she'd stepped in and swung the barrel of his rifle straight into the snow before he could fire. "Not this time, Darren." She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

He'd looked at her with a mixture of amusement and barely-contained fury. "What the Hell's the matter with you, Red?"

She didn't back down, glancing instead at the potential game still sniffing at the bait. "If she steps in that trap I'll let you fire, but until then you keep your gun down—understand?"

He'd snorted at the absurdity of the notion, wrenching his rifle out of the ground and taking aim again, "As if you could really stop me, girl."

It was obvious the career trapper had expected Monica to cower before his threatening glare—he was, after all easily three times her weight and could hold his own in a fight – so it must have really shocked him to have his rifle torn easily from his grip and thrown to the ground to be stomped into the snow by a size eight winter boot. The Manitoban native didn't have the strength to break her partner's rifle, but she made sure he couldn't fire it without giving it a thorough cleaning—certainly long enough to keep him from shooting the game that was even now just turning away from their trap disinterestedly, oblivious to the conflict happening a stone's throw downwind.

Monica could feel the man's smouldering glare on her back all the way to the camp.

Monica abruptly stood from her place and made to retreat into the cabin for the night. Jacob and Enoch had come out to join the rest of them around campfire so she instantly found herself alone in the large, warm building. There was a wood stove to keep the place warm enough to be tolerable, but the low supply of wood kept them from being able to really heat the place up. It was rough living at its finest and as she looked around, her dark blue eyes tracing along the dozen beds crammed into the wooden building, she found a strange thought entering into her head:

She could get used to this.

It wasn't that bad of a living, trekking around up here in the northern reaches of the country. Monica actually found her spirit soaring at the freedom she had up here, away from everything that had burdened her…at least while she was awake. She could run to the ends of the Earth and her dreams would still follow, so here was as good a place as any to settle down.

Just as she'd had that thought, the door behind her slammed open and her solitude was broken. "Hey Red…"

The low voice would have been warning enough, if Monica hadn't been able to see the murderous gleam in her partner's eyes all night over the top of his beer. It didn't take someone with Zack's IQ to realize that maybe coming into the cabin alone hadn't been such a good idea.

"What do you want, Darren?" Monica didn't turn to face him; her eyes remained closed and she stayed motionless in the centre of the single-room cabin, just a few paces away from the low-burning coals of the stove.

"You really think you're something, don't you?" The roughneck paced around her, stepping far into her space. "You think I'm gonna let you get away with what you did today?"

Monica opened her eyes and found herself eye-to-eye with a hundred fifty kilograms of angry, drunken trapper. "I'm sorry," she glared at him defiantly, "Were you under the impression that I'd just let you fire on an animal that wasn't trapped?"

Darren growled threateningly and Monica realized quite suddenly that she was alone with a man who could easily grind her into paste. "You'd better watch yourself, girl. There's no room up here for a bleeding heart like you."

"Oh right," she found the words spilling from her mouth before she could stop them. "I forgot putting a bullet through a caribou actually makes you more of a man."

One second later, Monica found her chest pressed up against the wall of the cabin and one of Darren's massive, leathery, calloused hands wrapped firmly around her throat. She was so shocked by the sudden change in position that she was only dimly aware of what the brute was saying as his grip tightened alarmingly fast.

"You had better watch yourself, little girl," he snarled into her ear, the reek of his breath causing her head to spin even more than the sudden impact with the wall had done. "You've got six more weeks before we're back in town, and I'll be watching your every move." The hand around her neck eased up just a little but Monica's eyes grew even wider as she felt his other hand sliding very high up on her leg. "And I'll teach you a lesson or two about surviving up here in the North."

Oh God…

Monica's heart clenched with horror as the realization of what was about to happen began to set in.

Then there was a tremendous crash and Monica's neck was almost torn off when her attacker was thrown away from her. Gasping for air, the redhead turned and huddled with her back to the wall to see Enoch's right cross blow through Darren's chin as easily as wind through the reeds.

Darren had stayed away from her for the rest of that trip.

The old Monica, the person she had been before she took off from home, would have endured the rest of that tour in silence and then fled as soon as they returned home to Iqaluit. Monica was different now, however, and it had taken some convincing to get Enoch and her fellow trappers to teach her how to defend herself against arrogant cads like Darren. He may have been the first man to assault her so obviously—if at all—but she knew he would probably be far from the last, and she intended to be able to stand on her own without having to depend on the people around her.

Just to prove her point, Monica had served through that tour, and signed on for two more immediately afterwards, both of which were with Darren, her favourite person. Enoch had led the second one, so Darren had kept his distance, seemingly content to just glower at her from across the campfire, but she was on her own for the third tour and their last encounter was all it took to convince him to stay away from her once and for all. It was amazing how much his attitude had been all talk and it took only one short fight for him to retreat like a terrified rabbit.

(((End Flashback)))

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

Monica kept her eyes closed for a moment as she made her way back to the here and now. That was all in the past, and she had learned what she could from it. She was a better person now, and where was Darren – still up in that small town killing helpless animals. He was probably doing well, considering the pay was good – extremely good actually. But he wouldn't be going anywhere, and he was likely to end up in jail someday just the same. While Monica had her own company, good friends… she couldn't dwell on the past – that pitiful excuse of a man didn't deserve a single thought from her head.

"I passed up along the northern coast of Quebec," she turned her attention back to her best friend, a better man by far as far as she was concerned. "I was actually almost here when it happened." She set her tea mug down and leaned back to stare up at the sky again. "It was pretty late at night and I was driving up the highway just a little north of here. I think it must have been," she paused before moving on more slowly, more thoughtfully as her mind drifted through the memories, "it must have been about three years ago, maybe a little more. Some supply plane pilot had gotten a little lost and run out of fuel so he tried to pull off an emergency landing on the highway. He landed almost right in front of me, and when I swerved to get out of the way, I ended up in the ditch." She closed her eyes lightly at the remembered pain – not of the accident, but of the recovery…

"It took me a long time to get back up on my feet after that," she looked around at the deck and the yard, as well as the woods that stood at the very back of the Crosslings' property. "But, I'm just happy to have walked away at all." She opened her eyes and gestured to her left arm. "I broke both my radius and my humerus, dislocated my shoulder, and broke a couple ribs."

Zack winced, "Okay, I could see the arm injuries, but you hid the ribs pretty well."

Monica chuckled, "I should hope so—I don't need anyone staring at my chest, thank you very much." She smiled even wider at the slight blush that flooded her friend's face. She breathed a soft sigh, "They healed pretty quickly, but the memory is always there." She stood up and walked over to stand beside Zack, looking out over the wild, unending forest that started a dozen metres away from the house. "I actually didn't even wake up until a week later."

Zack turned to lean against the railing and stare into the woods like Monica had been. "And the pilot—how was he?"

Monica snorted derisively, "Quite the opposite, really. He never lost consciousness. He was awake for the entire crash and I can only imagine how painful it would have been."

Zack glanced over slowly, worry in his expression. "Is he -?"

"Oh, God no," Monica laughed suddenly, "He helps me run Wingnuts; fastest typing speed I've ever seen—after you of course." She bumped his shoulder with hers.

Zack smiled, "Does he help you fly too?"

Monica's laughter died, "I suspect he would, but he can't. The crash left him paralysed from the waist down, but he helps me as much as he can. If he could fly he'd probably still be better than me."

"Oh, I very much doubt that." Zack sat back down at the table. "You didn't mention payroll as one of your expenses."

Monica shrugged, "That's because I don't have a payroll." She smirked at her friend's raised eyebrow before explaining, "Kin has another job—he's the chief dispatcher at the truck depot just on the edge of town. He helps me out as a volunteer."

"Well, this Kin sounds like a pretty decent guy," Zack reached out for his tea one more time. "I'd like to meet him someday."

"Oh, I'm sure you will if you come to visit me a little more often." Monica grinned as she drained the last of her tea. "Last call," she motioned to the teapot with her mug, laughing with Zack as they shared one more joke from their past. "I won't be brewing anymore after this."

"Sensible," Zack nodded but waved her offer away. "I've had enough for today." He leaned back in his chair. "Good tea and the company of my best friend, now there's something I have dearly missed."

Monica smiled peacefully as a light blush suffused her cheeks.

Yeah, me too…

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

Standing in the doorway of the Crossling's home, Monica watched as Jim's truck drove away, kicking up a little dust from the unpaved road. "I'll see you around, Zack."

She spoke the words to the empty house. It had been a great week for her and the Ottawa-born young man. They'd caught up on old times, shared the past four years of their lives with each other and just hung out for most of the week. Monica smiled.

Life was good.

Raising her tea to her lips, Monica's gaze fell to the clock just inside the door and she groaned softly, leaning her head against the doorjamb.

She had to get to work.

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

"So, what's this I hear you had a gentleman caller?"

Monica grinned at the man in the wheelchair as she stepped through the door and into the Wingnuts office. "And good morning to you too, Kin."

The man laughed jovially. "Of course it is, with the girl of my dreams finally coming in to do some work for a change. You spent the whole week away from the office, and I was so lonely…It's so dark and dreary around here without your dazzling smile." He grinned.

"Flatterer," Monica dropped her keys onto one of the office's two desks before lowering herself into her chair. "What can I say—we've hit a slow patch, haven't we?"

"True enough," Kin reached up to rub thoughtfully at the grey stubble on his chin. "Can't really say that I enjoy this time very much; I don't get to see as much of my favourite lady friend."

"Stop that," the younger pilot admonished lightly, her light-hearted smile putting the lie to her supposed ire. Kin Wing Tsui was a tad crude at times, but he was mostly harmless—very much like Jim in that respect. "You're married."

The ex-pilot was unfazed and simply smiled all the more brightly, "And happily so for many years now, my lovely business partner—but that doesn't mean I don't got eyes." He wheeled his way over to her desk, "or a heart," he added more seriously. "You're a damn fine woman, Monica, inside and out. And any man would be lucky to call you his own."

Blushing lightly, Monica sat up straighter in her seat and ran the fingers of one hand through her hair. "He's not my boyfriend Kin," she reached out to shuffle through the short stack of envelopes on her desk. "And the protective older brother thing is flattering," she stopped and lifted out one of the letters, "But unnecessary; I'm a big girl, you know."

"I know that, but it'd be a damn shame if you got hurt on account of my failing to keep you safe." He gave a deep laugh at his own words, "plus—you know—I bet Izzie wouldn't ever speak to me again if that ever happened. I think I'd be sleeping' on the couch for the rest of my life."

Monica smiled and slit open the envelope with a nearby dinner knife – her primitive letter opener. "You're sweet Kin." She sipped from her travel mug and tipped the contents of the envelope out onto her desk. "A little too old for me…but sweet." She smiled brightly to her partner.

The grey-haired man laughed again and just turned to wheel back over to his own desk, which had about four times as much paperwork on it than Monica's. The man's computer was almost buried in the piles. "Oh alright, you've had enough – I can take a hint."

Monica read the short letter over absently as she thought about a certain sandy-haired blond from her past. "We're more like friends who haven't seen one another in a long time." She turned to her computer and started booting up, the letter still held in one hand. "Hey," she looked over at her fellow Wing nut. "You'd better not tell Izzie, but Ashley Symms wants to do some work up here again."

Kin looked up sharply from the sheaf of papers in his hands. "Oh no…not Ashley Symms. Tell me you're joking. The magazine can't send someone else?"

"Apparently not," the redhead didn't look up from the letter. "It says here she's looking forward to working with Wingnuts again."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Kin groaned and dropped his papers onto the desk, scowling when the entire pile shifted to spill all over his lap and the floor. "Between you, Izzie, and that Devil Woman at National Geographic, it's a wonder that I'm still alive."

"Oh relax," Monica set the letter down and reached for another envelope. "You're hardly suffering from the attention; I think she's sweet—like you."

Kin grunted distractedly as he set about reassembling his nation of clutter, "I guess you would feel that way." He turned back to the girl across the room. "You, Izzie, Ashley Symms…crazy romantics, the lot of you."

Monica might have been offended if she couldn't hear the smile in her partner's voice. Instead, she turned her attention to the next letter in the pile.

"I'll send her an email."

Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0

A/N: Well, how's that for a second chapter? I'll be back…

A/N (again): This is for anyone reading "Four Years Later". If you can't tell by the description, NO – this Kin isn't the same Kin as made a cameo appearance in my other story. He's just…Kin.