Sylia locked the display on her computer, then stood and paced to the center of her apartment's living room.

She pulled a wand from a pocket in her jacket and examined it from all sides for a moment, just as she had done regularly for several weeks.

She shook her head, raised the wand, and after taking a deep breath she said the words.

Ribbons and light filled the room.

Sailor Pluto took another deep breath, and turned her hand just so and a key-like staff faded into view. Turning herself and the orb-topped staff just so, her apartment faded from view to have its place taken by the blank gray quiet of the space in front of the immense Time Gates.

She faced the gates, and this time considered her memories. They were a little fuzzier when she was… transformed like this, but still clear enough. And Sylia kept her attention on the gates while she did so.

This time, the gates reacted.


The meeting complete, Katherine Madigan bowed to the chairman.

The two of them were in Chairman Quincy's office high up in the Mega-Tokyo Genom tower—well above most other buildings in the city and with a spectacular view of the now nighttime skyline. The office itself had the lighting lowered just enough to let the view into the room, which the two occupants hardly noticed, focused as they were on the end of their meeting.

As always, the bow was shallow—perfect for their difference in rank—with Madigan's shoulders moving down just enough to be apparent.

But it wasn't perfect in execution. Madigan had paused a fraction longer than usual between the end of her meeting with the chairman and her bow to him. Still, it was a small variation, and likely more a concern to Madigan than to Quincy, whose attention to social perfection was more casual. By itself, it would have been a momentary irritation to Madigan, who would have noted the flaw and continued anyway.

Then, in the middle of her bow, she twitched, and caught herself frozen in that position for a fraction longer than usual. A noticeable fraction longer than usual. And she was slower than usual in straightening up again.

Quincy noticed. "Is there something else Ms. Madigan?"

Silence settled into the room. "No," Madigan said at last, her voice almost a whisper.

"You may go then, Ms. Madigan," Quincy reminded her, relaxed in some secret amusement as he almost always seemed to be.

Madigan almost bowed again, but checked it into a curt twitch of her head. And after two seconds turned and walked out the door. Moving all the while as a junior exec in her first meeting with the chairman.

The door had just closed behind Madigan when Quincy spoke again. "You may enter."

A door—one other than the one Madigan had used—opened to admit Dr. Andrew Pemberton—a short, pudgy man with gray-streaked hair. He was as well dressed as Madigan, though in a conservative suit-and-tie rather than her fashionable attire, and lacked her aura of perfection—to the point where he projected an air of being the mellow fatherly type.

"We're getting measurable results," Andrew said as he reached Quincy's desk. He casually stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"Good," stated the chairman. "I take it you can now give me some estimates on your progress."

Andrew continued as though Quincy hadn't spoken. "The pattern is screwy, but if it's fractal like I think it is, we should have it worked out in about eight to 10 months."

"And if it's not?"

Andrew shrugged. "There's a lot more uncertainty in the time frame. Call it up to 15 months total.

"Of course," he continued, "that assumes no accidents. And given the sorts of things we've seen lately, accidents are a matter of when, not if." He shrugged again. "And for those we're flying blind—they'll introduce unknown delays."

Quincy opened his mouth to speak, but Andrew continued. "Could be six months, could be 10 years, who knows?" Andrew shrugged again, dismissing it. "Anyway, my point is that you were right; we can do this."

Quincy waited a moment, then spoke. "Good. Since a tentative schedule can now be set, I want you to start planning based on that.

"Foremost, barring an accident introducing too much delay, you can plan on adding the layout modifications to conversion nanites. I expect them to be ready one year from now."

Andrew shook his head. "That's hardly viable; even if we finish on the early side, there's no way we'll have had time to find out—" the brows on Andrew's face knotted, and he continued more slowly "—what it does."

Quincy ignored Andrew and continued. "Also, I've considered your request, and you may use the nanites yourself—the enhanced ones, that is."

Andrew stared at the chairman for a moment. "My staff and I make poor test subjects," he growled.

"You'll hardly be test subjects, doctor. You'll need the treatment for your next project."

Again, Andrew stared at Quincy for a moment. "The current project. We're reverse engineering someone else's work, aren't we?"

" 'Recreating' might be a better term," Quincy confirmed.

"From a… mmm, broken copy?" Andrew asked slowly, getting a nod in response. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Wait, we'll need the results of this for our next project?"

Quincy nodded again. "There are special requirements."

"I'll say," Andrew snorted. "Though I don't see what could call for an… mmm, enhanced research team."

Quincy reached under his desk, and brought a small, black sphere into view.

Andrew sucked in his breath as he stared at the baseball sized object. The light in the room, already at a dim, night-time setting, faded into gloom. And Quincy's voice came at him from far, far away.

"The project will involve unsealing a container and accessing the contents."

"I see." Andrew's voice echoed distantly.

"Without, of course, allowing it to escape."

"I see." The room became silent as Andrew stared into the dark sphere, a dim highlight shining as a single eye in the darkness, staring out into the room with malevolent awareness.

"May I return to work now, Mr. Chairman?"

"You may." Quincy placed the black sphere under the desk.

Andrew remained motionless, all the color gone from his face.

"You may go, Dr. Pemberton," Quincy reminded him.

Andrew nodded slowly to the chairman, and walked stiffly from the room.


"There you are," a deep, booming voice noted.

"I was somewhere else?" a more mellow voice responded.

A third, boyish voice informed him, "You seemed distracted."

"Ah, that. Old friends arrived."

"Old friends? I was under the impression that all had gone on or begun again." The first again.

"Mmm, yes. Perhaps they're better described as new friends grown old."

"Ah," the boyish voice noted. "Her."

"And her husband," the second clarified.

"She waited for him then? I see." From the deep voice.

"And they've gone on." The second noted.

"Passing." From the third.

"Passing." The second agreed.

"Peace." The first concluded.

They paused timelessly.

"She's not the only visitor we've had." From the third.

"Nor the last." The first added.

"Oh?"

The first again. "The Gatekeeper, the new one, examines the Gate, looking to her dead past."

"Ah. And the old one?"

"Looks too far to futures unborn; the new one bears the scars of chaos," the third noted.

From the first. "And she is very subtle. Others stir as well. The Outer Warriors didn't do as thoroughly as needful."

"Nor did the Inner Warriors," the third added.

"Does this concern us?" wondered the second. "We are spent keeping chaos unmade."

"None remain." The first.

"I am disturbed," the second noted.

"I am sorry." From the third.

"The Gatekeeper stands by the open Gate, and we can not interfere with her," the first pressed.

"It must fall to him then," the second determined.

"Yes," agreed the first and third.

"We promised we would not, sans dire straits. Is there another?"

"We touch the infinite, yet we are still finite. Any other is still unknown to us." The first.

The second followed the implications. "And as far outside as we are, the unborn future inexorably becomes the dead past and leaves us too little to find another. Thus, that way is too chancy."

"Chaotic," agreed the third. "Dire straits, indeed."

"Then we shall have to Wake him, and call upon him to stop the Gatekeeper."

"Yes," agreed the first and third.

"Does he have sufficient time to Wake?" worried the second.

"I do not think so," the third offered.

"We shall have to make a rush job of it," decided the first.

The third warned, "He shall damn us doubly."

"Yes," agreed the first and second.

"If he survives," added the first.

"Triply if he dies," concluded the second.

"Will we be able to make it up to him?" wondered the third.

The first speculated. "Perhaps, perhaps not. We shall know better, as we begin."

"So mote it be." Offered the third.

"So mote it be." Grudged the second.

"So mote it be." Concluded the first.


Leon ran a hand across his face, and paused to rub his eyes.

Traffic was light, which was fortunate since sleep called and Leon was opposed to waiting. He hung his shades from the neck of his shirt and slipped into traffic. Pulling out onto the highway, the lights from the cars around him blurred into streams of red and white. Ghostly patterns refracted and reflected through the windows and danced in his peripheral vision.

Moving not much faster than he was, a car slowly passed in the other lane. The lidless gaze of the dessicated driver momentarily burned in his direction, then swept forward with the car as it coasted ahead.

Leon yawned, and tried to shift to a more alert posture.

The highway curved into a re-zoned area where derelict rubble still waited to be cleared, and the city lights dimmed with the change in scenery. Fortunately, the mountains of burning corpses more than compensated and visibility on the highway was better than usual.

Leon sped up to take advantage of the light while it lasted.

Traffic thinned as the evening progressed, and soon Leon was alone on the streets zipping around the ruins of Mega-Tokyo. The highway curved back closer to the core of the city and lighting was again reduced to the sickly glow from spotty street-lights.

Leon glanced into the rear-view mirror just as a rectangle of light from outside swept across the back seat of the car and the skeleton lounging there. He changed lanes to the exit ramp and wound through the city streets until he reached the parking garage by his apartment and pulled in. With the car parked, he opened the door, turned to put his feet on the ground, and bent double to put his head between his knees and let blood rush to his brain.

Pulse pounding in his ears, and still taking in gulps of oxygen, Leon cautiously stood up and looked around. Nothing in the garage caught his attention. It was barren—not sterile or dead—with scummy puddles and the faint odor of mildew and flowers in the air.

Leon rubbed a hand across his face. "I've got to get some sleep," he muttered, and locked the car.

The door is open.

Leon paused and checked the doors to make sure they were all locked and stared at the car for a moment longer. He turned toward the elevator.

The door is open.

He growled irritably and checked the trunk. Locked. He exhaled a deep breath noisily and headed up to his apartment.

When he got to the apartment door, he checked it. Locked. Fumbling with exhaustion, he retrieved his keys, opened the door and stumbled in. He locked and chained the door behind him.

Tossing his jacket on a chair, Leon made a quick search of the apartment, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He checked the lock on the door again. Still locked.

Leon stumbled into the bathroom and splashed some water from the sink on his face. Feeling a little refreshed he raised his head to the mirror and looked closely at his flesh-less skull. He shook his head, sighed again, and headed for the bedroom. He was still a few steps away from his bed when it hit again.

The door is open!

Leon was vaguely aware of impacting the mattress before everything went black.


Red eyes.

Red eyes glowing, the ruined head of Largo stared at him, face frozen in an open mouthed silent laugh.

A cold wind cut through his shirt, the tatters of his shirt, and goose-bumps rippled over his skin.

Mad silent laughter.

Still clouds hung oppressively over him, unresponsive to the rising icy wind, and cast grim direction-less daylight over the empty streets and buildings all around him.

Largo stepped into view through an open door.

Largo stepped into view through an open door.

Largo stepped into view through an open door.

The trio began dancing, a twisted mockery of human motion, dancing with phantom partners and each other. Fluid, graceful steps circled silently around him madly dismissive. Dancing briefly with partners now torn apart by the Hyper Bumas' terrible, beautiful strength in perfect steps that spun the ghastly remains into a growing pyramid.

The Knight Sabers joined the dance. Four and three in terrible perfection, and the blood, the blood, the blood that never touched Largo rained on the Knights and washed away their armor.

And the pyramid had grown too steep and swaying in the wind it bent and bent and bent and tipped and fell and rained over the four women who still danced with Largo.

"Priss!" Leon gasped hoarsely, the only sound in the silent city where even the wind was silent.

Priss shook herself, and crawled out of the fallen pyramid of bodies. She looked at Leon emptily for a moment, blood pouring from her clothes and hair. "I have to purify myself," she told him, and stepped to the river.

The drizzle of blood spat, smoked and hissed as it hit the surface of the river, creating a front of noxious fumes leading her march. Priss put her boot into the river, and upon contact, the leather boiled and steamed as the acid ate into and through it, thickening the cloud around her. Priss kept moving forward and down, and when she was waist deep in the river, she bent down and immersed herself, setting the area around her furiously a-boil.

Tormented suggestions shaped themselves in the churning miasma.

"Priss." Leon whispered.

The churning subsided, and the vapors thinned.

Priss straightened up in the river of acid. Now free of flesh and blood, her perfect metal surface gleamed in the cold, cloudy daylight. She turned around to face Leon. Lidless empty eyes glowing red, she focused on him and opened her mouth laser.

Leon didn't wait. He had already dived behind the remnants of a wall and was scampering for more cover when the first shot boomed next to him. Then a second, and a third, and the explosions settled into a rhythmic pounding.

A rhythmic tapping.

An a-rhythmic tapping.

Leon cracked open one eye. The knocking at his door continued. Muzzily, he shook his head and maneuvered upright off of his bed, nightmarish images already fading. Idly, he noted that he had fallen asleep in his clothes. And someone was still knocking at his door.

He unlocked and opened the door.

"Hi Leon!" the blond and tanned Lisa Vanette chirped cheerily. Then the smile slipped from her face as she looked at him seriously. "Are you okay? You don't look so good."

"I'm just tired. Long day." A thought skittered into his brain, though her name still hadn't. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm visiting my uncle Todo! He's getting out of the hospital this week and my aunt and I thought we'd invite lots of friends over to have a 'Welcome Home' party.… Are you sure you're okay?"

Leon nodded, finally recognizing her. "I'll just get some sleep and I'll be fine." Lisa looked at him suspiciously.

"Well, okay, if you're sure." She brightened again. "Do you want to help welcome uncle Todo home? I can just leave the details in your mailbox or something when everything's set."

Leon nodded. "Sure." He fumbled with his pockets for a second, and a hint of worry clouded Lisa's features. He found what he was looking for, and handed Lisa his card. "You can send it all by e-mail, or call, whatever."

"Okay!" She smiled sunnily at him. "I'm really sorry for waking you," she said in a softer voice.

"G'night Leon." She stepped back from the door and waved.

"Good night, Lisa." Leon closed the door.

Locked it.

He stumbled back toward his bed. This time, he managed to sit down on the side of it. He removed his shirt and tossed it at a chair.

As the shirt tumbled off the chair and onto the floor, Leon fell backwards onto the mattress.


"The door is open," a voice whispered.

"The door is open," another voice whispered.

Leon ran through the streets. The empty, silent streets. Faceless buildings loomed above him and cast long shadows, then longer as the sun dipped below the clouds and briefly painted the world red before plunging below the horizon and dragging darkness in its wake.

The buildings lit.

Thousands of squares of light, red and red and red, shone around him.

Leon ran, lungs burning in the cold, dead air. And he could see through the windows! He could see into the buildings! He could see into a thousand nightmares!

"None must pass." A woman's voice. Somewhere ahead (behind) him. Softly spoken, clearly heard.

And Leon was on his knees in a plaza looking up at the Tower (the mountain). "None must pass through that door," a woman told him softly. And she offered a hand to Leon to help him up.

And he was standing and she was sitting on the crescent moon and her silver hair was long and beautiful and her dress elegant and perfect. "You must climb the mountain," she told him and gestured up up up.

The prince stared up at the glacier capped Mount Olympus that towered above the kingdom (a small kingdom, but rich with wisdom), and turned to the woman. Behind him, nightmares oozed from the windows of the buildings and plopped quietly as rain into the streets.

"Climb the mountain and guard the door," she said sweetly. The feathers of her wings ruffled in a soft zephyr.

"What door?"

She shook her head and smiled, pointing up the mountain. Then she took a red, red rose and set it behind his ear.

The prince shook his head, the rose's aroma gently surrounding him and the thorns lightly pricking his skin.

"Climb," she whispered. Cool lips brushed his fevered brow.

The prince climbed.

And he was standing at the entrance to a cave (the cave) and another prince (a ghost) and another (a ghost) and another (a ghost) welcomed him and as one whispered. "The door is open."

And again the prince asked. "What door?"

Two of the others shook their heads, but the one in the middle gestured into the cave (where ghosts cannot enter), and as the prince stepped into the cave the middle ghost (from the Kingdom Between the Rivers, in the lands of ancient knowledge) whispered into his ear. "The door to the death of the past."

And the prince was alone in the cave walking on the sands (of time) that lined the floor to the gray place ahead of him. He stepped, and saw the woman (girl) kneeling in front of the door that he could only see from the side, and she was looking up (through the door) as a loving daughter looks at her father. And she moved, as if to get up and step through the door, the door, the door.

The prince stepped forward, into the terrible pull of the door.…

And the terrible pull of the door bent his soul and stretched half of him toward its abyssal void.

The prince—

Leon opened his mouth to shout a warning, but his lips moved so slowly and he—

—reached—

—down for his gun, but his hand moved so slow, so slow, so slow.…

—up for the rose by his ear and the soul of his hand plucked the rose and threw. Straight and true the rose flew across the girl's hand just as she reached toward the door (the door, the door!). And the terrible void now had the soul of the prince's hand and pulled and pulled and pulled.…


Sylia paused. A faint sensation tugged at the back of her hand, like the memory of a scratch, and the air tickled.… The memory of a scent?

Roses?

She lowered her hand and stepped back from the immense gates, again focusing on her father in his laboratory. For a timeless time, she stood there. Then she moved, as if to step forward.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Sylia shifted, the strange ornate staff-key brought in front of her in a defensive position.

A nearly identical Sailor Pluto stepped into view. With green-black hair trailing into the surrounding mist her sad red-brown eyes met Sylia's tense gaze. She leaned on a staff-key identical to the one held by Sylia.

"Setsuna Meiou," the newcomer identified herself. "Previous Sailor Pluto."


Fire. Blood.

Screams. Memory.

Pale wings filled the world and cool hands soothed his brow. He fell, and the screams receded into the distance. A terrible stench—burning blood and rotting roses—filled his nostrils and clung to him. Then it, too, faded.

A face in front of him, becoming clearer and wreathed with silver. Concern wavered onto her features, and a name welled up in his throat, held back by the shadow of the touch of her finger on his lips.

His fall slowed, stopped, and he was cushioned on something soft and warm and he remembered (the screams) and remembered (the screams) and a question welled up and floated through his lips.…

"That's very flattering Leon, but I'm afraid you're in no condition for that right now."

Silver became gold became red, and Leon opened his eyes to Daley's concerned face staring down at him. He blinked a few times and tried to shake away the blurriness.

"Daley," Leon rasped hoarsely, nightmarish fragments already faded to nothing. "What're you doing here?"

"I told you," a muffled female voice piped up. "He's sick."

"Hush Lisa." Daley helped Leon sit upright on the bed. Then he frowned and pulled out a handkerchief. "Could you get a bandage?" he said over his shoulder, then turned to face Leon again. "What did you do to your ear?" He attempted to dab at the side of Leon's head.

Leon waved him off and felt his ear. "My ear?" A smear of blood painted his hand.

Lisa returned with a pack of bandages, breathing through her sleeve. "Do you have any other air freshener?" She handed the bandages to Daley. "The one you're using now is terrible." Leon waved vaguely toward the bathroom and Lisa retreated.

Daley cleaned Leon's injury and put a small bandage on it. "It looked worse that it actually was. Did you cut yourself shaving?" He ignored Leon's snarl and continued to examine him. "Your temperature is normal, though you look awfully pale."

A hiss filled the air as Lisa re-entered the room with a can of industrial strength odor neutralizer. She sniffed tentatively. "Better," she announced.

"You need to eat," Daley declared. He paused for a second, then smirked and opened his mouth to continue.

Leon beat him. "Don't go there. I have a headache tonight."

Daley shook his head, still smiling. "I'm not about to take advantage of you, especially in your condition." He sighed theatrically. "Ah, it's so difficult having such high moral standards."

Leon shook his head and winced. "Yeah, food would be a good idea right about now."

"Come with us, it'll be my treat."

Leon shook his head again. "We'll go Dutch."

"Found it," Lisa announced as she zipped into the room. She handed Leon a glass of water and some pain reliever.

Leon broke into partially stifled laughter. Daley laughed outright. "So much for your headache."

"What?" Lisa demanded.

"Old joke," Leon said. He swallowed the pills and drank the water.


Nene started and twitched her hands away from the coffee mug. "Owie!"

Sylia met her eyes for a moment, a tiny crease hinted on her brow, and transferred the drink into a far more insulated cup.

"Careful, Nene. You don't want to injure yourself more, do you?" Linna sat up in the Jacuzzi across from Nene and frowned at her friend.

"You mean you don't want me to." Nene rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Sylia," she added as she took the extra insulated cup with her lightly bandaged hands.

Linna smiled impishly. "You're not getting out of our night on the town that easily, you know."

Nene stuck out her tongue at Linna and giggled. Sylia shook her head slightly and gazed upward for a moment.

Settling back in her chair next to the Jacuzzi, Sylia spoke. "A little delay might be for the best."

"If we get delayed until Mackie gets back it just won't be the same," Linna said. "Although I suppose we could stuff him into a dress for our girls night out."

Nene gasped, then sputtered in outrage as Linna broke into peals of laughter.

Sylia's eyes widened and she quickly put down her tea and coughed. "For shame, Linna," she said, although her lips were quirked up at the corners. "That was horribly timed."

"I thought it was perfect, myself," Linna managed as she wiped tears of mirth from her eyes.

If looks could kill, Linna would have been in for some serious injury from Nene's glare. The red-head relented after a moment and turned to the other woman. "Sylia, how long can we put this off? Do we have any jobs coming up?"

Sylia sighed and shook her head. "No, we have nothing for… quite some time. Certainly not until we have more information about that boomer networking system you ran into."

"I loaded a copy of the files I got on that into our computer system." Nene noted.

Sylia nodded. "That's good, although I'm afraid I won't be able to look at them any time soon."

Nene looked startled, Linna looked… resigned.

Sylia continued. "I'm afraid some business took an unexpected turn, and will be keeping me busy for a while. Nene? Would you please start the analysis when you're feeling better? You can get Mackie to work with you on it when he arrives, too."

Nene nodded.

Sylia's watch beeped softly and she glanced at it. "I'm sorry, it looks like I have some business that needs my attention." She smiled mildly. "Could you ladies excuse me?"

Nene and Linna consented and Sylia took her leave. Although, as she was walking away, Linna confided to Nene. "She was really on edge tonight." Nene nodded.

Sylia went to her private rooms, and as the door closed behind her, she raised her wand and said the words. The flare of ribbons and light faded, and Sylia, with staff-key in one hand and a purse matching her uniform over her shoulder, vanished from the room. Dutifully, the lights in her apartment remained on for a few more seconds, then switched themselves off.


In what might, or might not have been a place, by a gate that was and would be, two women met.

"Welcome, Sailor Pluto," Setsuna greeted Sylia.

A smile quirked across Sylia's lips as she reciprocated the greeting. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long," she added.

Setsuna shook her head. "Time has no meaning here."

Sylia slightly tilted her head. "I was under the impression that the time I spent in the mundane world did matter."

"I'm sorry," Setsuna apologized. "That's not strictly the case."

"I see," Sylia noted. She glanced around at the featureless gray around them and then at the quiescent gates. "Is there somewhere else we can talk? I don't find this… location helpful for a meeting or briefing. Though I can see how it would be the best place for certain types of training."

"Are you always so… analytical?"

"Frequently yes," admitted Sylia. "More so when I'm taking in a lot at once." She put a hand on the purse. "If security is an issue, I can easily provide a very secure suite."

Setsuna's brows rose. "I see. You have a position of some authority in your era then."

"Authority? No, not really. Wealth?…"

Nodding, Setsuna stated, "Authority in another sense then."

Shaking her head, Sylia turned to look a the quiescent gates. "Perhaps. Or perhaps not.

"My father," Sylia offered, "was a brilliant inventor."

"I see," Setsuna replied, frowning. "I— hmm, well, that's for later in more comfortable surroundings." She, too, looked around the featureless gray. "As it happens though, I did have a place prepared that we can use."

"In your era?"

Setsuna shook her head. "No. I have… another place in mind."


The latest J-Pop softly drifted from the computer's speakers and Andrew periodically hummed along with short snatches of it as he switched between working on the computer and looking through a microscope on the lab bench behind him.

He looked up from his work as a short-haired man walked up and put a folder on his desk. "Hello, Toshiya," he smiled at the newcomer.

"Hi, Andrew," Toshiya grinned back. "We've finished the dump of the LAN manager's neural net, the raw data is in the usual work directory."

Andrew's smile expanded a bit at his words. "Oh, thank you, Toshiya. Have you taken a glance at it?"

Toshiya nodded. "Yup, looks like we're on the right track, but Yōko's the expert on that model of neural net."

"Good, good." Andrew nodded in response, and waved a hand at the computer and the microscope. "Could you please tell Yōko to take a look at it whenever she finishes with her current project? I'm afraid I'm a little tied up."

"Sure, Doc, no problem."

"Thank you, Toshiya."

Toshiya nodded and took his leave, as Andrew turned back to humming along with the background music.


Yawning, Nene set down the pen she had been idly spinning and reached for her coffee. After taking a sip she made a face and dumped it out in the sink.

Now standing, she paced around her apartment for a bit, trying to tidy the clutter a little. When she had moved a few things into piles, she returned to her desk. Picking up the data cartridge Daley had given her, she regarded it dubiously. "May as well get started," she muttered and loaded it into her system.

A moment later she was shaking her head and grinning. "Daley, you're too paranoid." She leaned forward and started examining a file titled "Buma LAN Server Image."

Hours passed.

"This is nuts," Nene muttered, looking at the data analysis of the image of the server's buffer. One type of data filled the entire buffer: text. No embedded binary chunks, no encoded segments, just pure generic multi-lingual text. She started to shrug, and the shrug turned into a joint cracking stretch. "Gah," she muttered, and copied the buffer into a text viewer.

A few characters—Kanji, Greek, some symbols—appeared on the screen, drowning in a sea of place-holders for letters the system's fonts didn't cover.

Nene muttered a vile curse and spent a half-hour finding and installing enough fonts to cover everything. Then she turned back to the text viewer. Gibberish met her eyes. She stared at it for a while looking for a hint of a pattern, idly spinning her pen and sipping at her tea.

Gradually, her eyelids drooped, and her face tilted down to rest on the keyboard.

Nene woke to the chirp of the doorbell. She lifted her head and shook away the traces of her dream and a sense of being late. Rubbing her face as she stood, she headed for the door.

"Naoko?" Nene blinked as she glanced at the security monitor. She opened the door. "Naoko? What are you doing here?"

"Hi Nene!" Naoko sang, then started giggling.

Nene helped the madly giggling Naoko to a chair, half-starting to laugh herself. "What? What is it?"

Naoko managed to choke down the giggles just enough to tell her. "You have keyboard-face!" Then she was off again.

Nene blinked and went over to glance in a mirror. She stared at her reflection for a moment, then turned to face Naoko with a sheepish smile and her face as red as her hair. "Oops." She rubbed the back of her head with a lightly bandaged hand.

Still giggling, Naoko managed to stand. "Okay, that's it, no more computer games for you today!" She said, giving Nene an excuse while pointing a stern finger at her friend.

Smiling feebly, Nene nodded. She dropped her hand and asked, "So… what's up?"

"It's my lunch break."

Nene blinked and glanced at the clock. "It's lunch-time already?"

Now frowning, Naoko shook her head. "It's been lunch-time for a while." She took Nene by the arm and steered her out the door. "C'mon, and join me."

"Okay," Nene agreed weakly as they left the apartment. "Ah! My face!" She exclaimed just before the door closed. Naoko giggled as Nene rushed back in for a moment to rub away the marks on her face.


"Are you sure you should have that?" Naoko asked as she watched Nene lift a fork over a slice of cake.

Nene paused. "I've got a lot of healing up to do; that takes a lot of energy, you know." She set down the fork and matched Naoko in taking a sip of tea.

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and both women turned to glance through the café's window at the suddenly sunlit streets and city traffic.

"Yeah," Naoko said at last, and turned back to look at Nene again. "I'm glad you made it out of that; I was worried about you."

"I've had worse," Nene muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing!" Nene chirped.

Naoko shook her head. "Seriously, Nene. What ever possessed you to get you to jump in with front-line types like that?"

Nene gave her a sickly grin. "It seemed like a good idea at the time? Besides, it didn't start that way." Nene started to frown.

"Still.…" Naoko picked up a spoon and turned it over a few times before stirring her tea again.

Nene focused on the swirling tea. "Naoko.… We made it out, that's what counts." She straightened in her chair and picked up her own tea again, sipping as fast as the hot liquid would allow.

"What's wrong?" Naoko asked.

"Um," Nene said and stopped sipping. Her eyes unfocused for a second. "We'd better hurry so you're not late."

Naoko laughed.

"What?" Nene asked.

"I won't be," Naoko grinned slyly and toyed with her spoon again.

Nene tilted her head. "Huh?"

"Dave's covering for me." Naoko paused to take a sip of her tea.

"Okay," Nene drawled slowly, a tiny furrow creasing her brow.

Naoko set down her tea and straightened up primly, grinning at Nene.

The furrow deepened. "Hmm?"

A slender pair of arms suddenly wrapped around Nene from behind. "Hi! Nene!" Lisa's voice chirped all too loudly in Nene's ear, and the redhead jumped ineffectually in her seat, pinned by the weight on her back.

Naoko burst out laughing. "Hi, Lisa!" she gasped between laughs.

Nene took a couple of panicky gasps of air. "Gah! Lisa!" she puffed breathlessly.

The arms disappeared.

" 'Gah?' " Lisa stomped around to stand as close to in front of Nene as the table would allow. Nene turned to face her fully, and Lisa pouted, "That's all you can say?"

Nene opened and closed her mouth repeatedly as words failed.

Naoko slumped in her seat as a fit of giggles seized her.

Suddenly grinning again, Lisa gave Nene a hug. "It's so good to see you again, Nene!" The blond pulled back and held Nene at arms length. "You're looking a little pale though," she said dubiously.

The bandages registered and Lisa's expression fell. "Yikes—"

Nene shook herself. "Lisa!" she snapped, and glared over at Naoko, growling. "Naoko! You could have warned me."

"Where's the fun in that?" Naoko giggled. "Don't fret, Lisa, she's going to be just fine."

"But—"

"Weren't you just fussing over me?" Nene glowered at Naoko, a faint growl still edging her voice.

"I'd heard about the cast, not her mummified hands!" Lisa protested, also flashing a frown at Naoko, then she turned back to Nene. "Are you going to be all right? Do you need anything?"

Nene made a face. "Well, if you're going to treat me like I'm made of glass," she began, then drew herself up haughtily. "We would like!" she intoned, then switched back to her usual voice, "more tea, please!"

"Oh," Lisa said, getting into the act. "Of course, milady." She poured another cup as Naoko went into another short round of giggles.

When they settled down, and Lisa had gotten seated, Naoko turned to Nene again. "So, Nene, you're a princess now?"

"Of course!" Nene exclaimed, not missing a beat. "Couldn't you tell?"

"Oh, no. Not at all," Naoko shook her head. "Your disguise is very effective." She managed to look innocent.

"Mmph!" Lisa said, almost choking on the water she had grabbed. She hastily set it down and grabbed a napkin.

"Oh," Nene started to preen.

"You've managed to be completely unlike a princess," Naoko added before losing it again.

Nene's expression fell. "… And the peanut gallery strikes again," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at Naoko.

"Naoko," Lisa shook her head and waggled a finger at the brunette. "Don't be mean."

Settling down, Naoko apologized. "Sorry, Lisa, Nene."

"What's with you and all the joking lately?" Nene grumbled.

A touch a red burned Naoko's cheeks. "Well…" she drawled. "Things just haven't been the same since Leon and Daley got promoted off the floor; there just isn't anyone else that's such a floor show like those two were." Naoko toyed with her spoon, idly stirring the dregs of her tea. "And you're always investigating network stuff these days. I guess I'm just a little stressy. So, sorry, really." She shrugged.

Nene relented. "Okay—"

"Aren't you taking enough advantage of your concert chances?" Lisa interjected.

"Oooh!" Naoko exclaimed. "That reminds me, Lisa. I've got tickets for you," she dove into her purse. "For the first spring concert after Vision hits Mega-Tokyo." Naoko passed a pair of tickets to the blond.

"Woohoo!" Lisa cheered. "Backstage passes! Alright!"

"Have fun!" Naoko ordered, then added, "Oh, yeah! Do you keep copies of all the pictures you take?"

Still grinning about the tickets, Lisa looked up at Naoko. "Huh? Oh, usually, why?" She tucked the tickets into her purse.

"Oh.… It's just that the last time all three of us were together—" Naoko began, and Nene went wide-eyed and eeped "—you had some photos for Nene." Naoko started to grin, slyly. "I was wondering if you had any more, so I could see what she's gotten for a boyfriend." Naoko sighed theatrically. "She's still in denial."

"Well…" Lisa began, leaning back in the chair and lacing her hands behind her head. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, watching an increasingly red-faced Nene out of the corner of her eye. Naoko's eyes crinkled as she watched Nene quiver and work her mouth at Lisa, and only tiny, strangled squeaks escaped the red-head.

Lisa leaned forward before Nene could explode. "Sorry, Naoko, I don't have anything with me.…"

"Eeyah!" Nene finally exclaimed, shrilly, drawing gazes to their table. "Lisa!" she squeaked.

Lisa and Naoko winced, and Lisa made a show of rubbing her ear. "Ow! Watch the ears, Nene. My poor ears!" Lisa grumbled.

"Lisa! Don't you dare!"

"Nene!" Lisa shot back. "Don't worry, I can't show those pictures."

Naoko blinked. "Can't show those—" Naoko repeated. "Why? Was she dancing naked on the table again or something?"

"No, she—" Lisa began, then gave Naoko a double-take. "Wait. Nene dances naked?"

The subject of their discussion put her head down on the table and hid under her arms.

"Mmm hmm," Naoko nodded. "She's a regular wild child."

Nene whimpered. "Please, stop."

Lisa glanced at her, then looked back to Naoko. "Have we embarrassed her enough?" Lisa asked.

Naoko dismissed the idea. "Hardly! After what she went through the other day she should get as much blood-flow to her face as she can stand! After all, that's healthy for her skin, and a—"

"A girl's face is her fortune!" Lisa and Nene chorused, with Lisa following up with a chuckle and Nene with a wan smile.

Naoko sank in her seat. "Oh, you know that already," she said, weakly.

Lisa nodded. "I think we should stop now," she said, tilting her head and looking at Nene. "After all, her face is even more red than her hair right now. And that's got to be taking blood from her arms.…"

"Eep!" Naoko said, suddenly contrite. "I didn't think of that! I'm horribly sorry, Nene; I don't want to make things worse!"

"Eh, I'll live." Nene waved off the worry, then caught sight of her watch and bit her lip. "Naoko, are you sure you can take this much time?"

Naoko shook her head. "Nene! Stop fretting about the time! None of us are in a hurry today."

"Sorry! Sorry!" Nene sat back in her chair and shrank in on herself a little. "I'm just feeling guilty about taking so much of your time, today."

Lisa shook her head. "Well, don't be. If you don't let anyone look out for you and try to keep going non-stop you're going to wear yourself out and end up like Leon."

"Sorry!" Nene said again. "Wait, Leon?"

"Yeah," said Lisa, popping an ice cube in her mouth and chewing on it. Naoko grimaced at the sight. "Oh, I swung by last night reminding everybody about uncle Todo's welcome out of the hospital party—you remember about that from my message, right?"

Nene shook her head. "Er. No, I haven't checked lately.…"

Naoko carefully avoided looking at Lisa, though she still winced every time a little crunch came from the ice Lisa was chewing. "She was playing video games all morning!"

"I was not!" Nene objected hotly.

Naoko smiled weakly at Nene. "Then what were you doing?"

Putting a hand behind her head, Nene tried to return the smile, though it seemed more like a grimace. She forced a faint laugh.

Lisa finished off the ice, and Naoko relaxed back into her chair. "See?" Naoko faced Lisa again.

"Um, okaay?" Lisa drawled.

Nene growled. "What about Leon?"

"Oh. Right," began Lisa. "Well, when I stopped by to see Leon, he was really out of it. He said it was only because he needed sleep, but that didn't seem right to me. So I went back out and grabbed Daley—he was giving me a lift around to see everyone who didn't get the word—and we dragged Leon out to make sure he got something to eat, I mean, he was shaky and pale and looked like he'd been starving for days. He looked a lot better by the time Daley tucked him in, later."

Naoko started shaking her head while Lisa was explaining, then added "He came in just before I left for lunch. I think he's okay now, but I could see he's still a little pale." She faced Lisa. "I had no idea he was getting that bad."

Lisa nodded. "Yup. I think he really needs to have someone looking after him. Daley can't, I mean, with how their schedules don't line up and all."

Still glowering a little, Nene took a sip of her tea and dryly spoke. "Like maybe his girlfriend should look after him?"

Lisa's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and she turned to give Nene an aghast stare. "She's got the nurturing instincts of a Black Widow!"

"Oh, come on!" Nene protested, leaning back into her chair. "She's not quite that bad." Then she blinked and looked aside for a second, her brow creasing. "Did I just say that?" She mouthed silently.

Naoko leaned forward, waving her arms. "Wait! Wait! Leon has a girlfriend? For real?" She glanced back and forth between Lisa and Nene, who had turned to stare at her. "What?"

"How?" Lisa began in a strangled voice. "How could— I mean, you've got— urgh?"

Nene leaned over and lightly put her bandaged hand on Lisa's shoulder. "Always the last to know," she said, nodding sagely. "Always."

"Urgh," Lisa responded, folding her arms and sitting back heavily.

Naoko blinked at them. "What? I mean, this is Leon we're talking about? The same Leon who's made an art of asking for brush-offs?"

Nene tilted her head. "Naoko, when you get special Replicants tickets, you get to meet the band and roadies sometimes, don't you?"

"So he's going out with one of the roadies?" Naoko looked aside and tapped a finger against her lips. "Which one? I don't keep track of them all."

"Ohh no," Nene said, cutting a hand across the air and shaking her head. She gave Naoko a wicked grin. "You get to figure this out. I'll help you with the process of elimination though. Let's start from the top. Of the band."

"What? Priss herself? She's going out with.… No." Naoko's eyes went wide and she started shaking her head. "No no no no."

"What? Leon also known as Kai? That Leon? The one that Zhora keeps on a short leash because he out-drummers the drummers?" Nene put down her now empty teacup.

Lisa muttered, just loud enough to be heard, "It's got to be an act, it's got to be."

"But—" Naoko protested.

"Of course, they're messing with everyone on purpose. I mean, who would expect them to be leaving out the fact that there's more than one Leon? Of course, Priss does that to get some privacy."

Naoko shook her head at Nene. "Gah!" she protested.

Nodding sympathetically, Nene reached out to pat Naoko's hand. "Don't feel bad, Naoko. Even a lot of people in the office think our Leon is just being a fanboy when he mentions Priss." Nene offered a smile.

"This is just too weird," Naoko shook her head again. "Nene!" she glared at the red-head, who looked up from checking her watch and pulled her hands out of view. "Stop checking the time!"

"Sorry! Sorry!"

Naoko gave out and exasperated puff and turned to Lisa. "She's been obsessing over her watch all day," Naoko explained, getting a plastic smile and a nod in return.

"Er," said Lisa. "So, Nene," she turned to the red-head. "Are you going to be able to make it for uncle Todo's party? He should be a lot more lively now that his heart replacement is done."

"Eh, I should be able to.…"

"You're okay; Dave'll swap with you so you can make it." Naoko offered.

"Okay, that's—" Nene began, then glared at the brunette. "Naoko, we're not in the same section any more. He can't cover the network beat."

Naoko waved off her objections. "Details, details. I'll get something worked out. However it works, you'll be able to make it. Leon's orders," she cheerfully informed the red-head. "Oh," she added. "Leon's going to make it, too."

Nene grinned. "Do you think he'll get the chief all spun up?" she said, referring to Lisa's uncle by his old title.

"How could he not?" Naoko said in mock astonishment, then she grinned and joined Nene in a short fit of giggles.

"Ah, okay?" Lisa said.

"Office humor," Naoko said, her eyes still crinkling. "You'll see; it'll be grand."

Naoko's eyes fell on a bank's clock in the distance. "Well, I've probably heaped enough abuse on Dave's willingness to cover me," Naoko said, ignoring Nene checking her watch and making a childish face. "So I'll leave you two to catch up."

Making her goodbyes, Naoko grabbed the check and slipped out.

Nene took the opportunity to ham up checking her watch, getting a head-shake from Lisa. "Had to get that out of your system?"

Nodding, Nene replied. "Yup. Naoko thinks I'm turning into some kind of work-aholic." The red-head shuddered. "But what about you? How have you been?"

"Busy, busy!" Lisa leaned forward. "Mostly running around trying to make sure everyone's heard about uncle Todo. But I've also been applying around to see who needs a star reporter," she flashed Nene a brilliant grin and thumbed her ever-present camera strap. "That's looking pretty good, by the way.

"But I want to hear about what happened to you!" Lisa continued. "They said you went up against a whole building full of rampaging boomers! I want to know what really happened."

"You want the scoop?" Nene grinned.

Lisa rubbed the back of her head. "Eh," she shrugged, "I'm a reporter; it's a reflex." The blond leaned forward again, and spoke seriously. "And I worry about my friends when you get in stuff like this, you know?" She leaned back again. "Of course, a scoop won't hurt.…"

Nene laughed and shook her head at the quick reversals in Lisa's activity. "There's not much to tell; we went in, got surrounded, and when one shorted out it set off the sprinklers and shorted out the rest."

"That's it? Pfft," Lisa snorted. "You're just going to leave me in suspense about what happened to you hands and arm? And is that all that got injured?"

"Oh, if you're going to be morbid…" the red-head began, and filled in Lisa with more details, to which the blond listened avidly.

Although she was frowning by the end of it. "That still doesn't make any sense," Lisa complained, frowning.

Nene shrugged. "That's all I've got right now. Daley's really the one to see about making it make sense." She examined the tea, and found they had finished it off. Nene frowned into her empty cup.

Tilting her head for a moment, Lisa watched Nene fidget with the cup. "Well!" she brightened. "I should get back to my errands. I'll swing by your place later when I have more time and.…"

Nene grinned, relaxing. "And we'll chill and hang out?"

"Yes!" the blond declared, taking a moment to help Nene to her feet and walk her out to the sidewalk across the street from her apartment, making plans on the way.

"And I'll bring the ice-cream!" Lisa declared as they split up. "See you then!" the blond added and scurried off.

Nene waved her goodbyes, and blew out a deep breath. "That was close," she muttered, shuddering at the thought of Naoko finding out about Nene's other job, and went to cross the street.