A/N: I had to redo the story so I had to delete it and replace it, losing everyones reviews! I'm SOO sorry, don't think I did it because I didn't like them. They feed me. I got one tonight (thanks hun) and finally had the drive to post the next chapter. I have the next two wrote, just need to tweek and you are going to LOVE them.

P.s. Baby is ok, no broke bones..just a sore nose and a bright smile. :) ! Enjoy

Chapter 4

Cast me gently, Into morning
For the night has been unkind
Take me to a place so holy
That I can wash this from my mind
The memory of choosing not to fight

Answer by Sarah McLachlan

The sun rose over the pale horizon in the cool crisp autumn air. It's gentle grace a sight of relive as the daylight chased away the night, and with it the lonely shadows. Rose watched the light filter in from unrested eyes as she lay there bare and ashamed. Curled in a ball, dangling close to the edge, she found her prayers of morning finally being filled.

He was never very soft with her; her skin ablaze with his scent, and all she could think about was washing away the feeling. It was act she could barely stomach, yet it was an art to her for she had mastered the ability to drift away in her mind, and when he would press her body into the sheets she would free herself.. She would replace his calced hands with memories of her past, and slip into the fantasy that someday a knight would come to rescue; A knight with well dinted armor, and finished in yellow.

Though he was quick and most of the nights just rolled away, she was thankful for old age. It was taking it's effect on the once great soldier and he would never last very long. Yet some nights she was forced to find a single spot on the wall and use it to keep her sanity, and when the alarm clock would sound she would rise form a slumber that never came.

She rose somehow feeling rested, but it was mostly because she looked forward to his leaving, and

as she moved down the stairs towards the kitchen, the smooth silk of her night gown would brush chills over her flesh. It's cold surface a reminder of solid steel and with that the memory of much kinder hands.

Within a few minutes plates were placed on the table and Brian moved from the staircase. He would be showered and dressed yet still somehow be so disgusting to her, for when he was near she always felt so dirty.

"You know," He would start, "You would think after 7 years you would know I would want my eggs friend not scrambled" He had not been awake 15 minutes before starting in on her; his nose scrunched at the sight of a perfectly cooked meal.

She released a sigh and finished the place setting.

"Dear, I just worry for your health the Dr. wants you to try and cut back on greasy foods." She spoke quietly, though knowing if it were up to her she'd inject bacon grease straight into his veins. She then placed a fork at his side only to have her wrist surrounded by an oversized hand. He jerked her back, causing her to stumble to one knee, and her chin hitting the top of the table.

"I said I wanted fried!" He snarled, his eyes burning into her own with hatred and disgust. This was the sight that haunted her very being, and forced her greatest fears out. She would cry out and in the back of her mind scream for help, but lips never parted. He would never get the pleasure of hearing her cries of weakness.

At that moment their android service moved into the room, his silver hands holding a digital mail package.

"A letter sir, from your cousin." The bot spoke, his stare blank and empty.

Brian released her hand to sit back in his chair waiting for the droid to continue as Rose moved to the stove. The bot's chest opened to expose the image of his oldest cousin, Oliver. Who, had been away from the family for quiet some time, and it did surprise Brian to see his face, but still he would show no interest. .

"Dearest cousin, I know my face must come to a surprise, really I wonder how I found the time to send this, but I need a favor."

The man on the other side started as he rubbed a hairless chin, and Rose lifted her gaze to catch sight of the image, and the world around him. For a moment she let her mind slip beyond him as she studied the arctic terrain, and she swore she saw the man's image flicker, but her eyes could not focus that fast. When Brian turned his head to catch her watching she quickly changed the direction of her gaze.

"I need you to gather your families information, and send it this address."

A paper slip printed from the droids arm, the address not of a street but to a computer; another change in the futuristic world. Coordinates of a digital address assigned to every home would be the means of communication on paper. Electronic mail forwarded into cyberspace was one more way to make people feel safe.

"It's a present for my mother, so please don't speak to her about it. I want it to be a surprise, she often longs to hear from you."

The video ended leaving Brian annoyed, and like he did most everything else shrugged it off and passed it for Rose to do. Though this task was a break from her daily routine she didn't look forward to it. She hated his family, every last one of them; all of them so full of hatred. Yet, something about Oliver made her watch the video over and over. Pausing it in certain places she looked for clues, and anything that looked unnatural.

Deep inside her something sparked, a ray of hope filtered into the cracks as she swore his eyes turned a vibrant blue for only a second. Yet, she knew it to only be the reflection of the sky and suddenly felt very much the fool. Still after all these years she hung on to hope, dangling it on a thread unable to bring herself to release it, but this was too much.

She sank to her knees in a last effort to push away the weakness, and as tears filled her eyes she pressed her face into her hands. She had been so strong for so long, but now she felt so alone and it amazed her even still she had come this far.

Forced into this life, she tried to hold it out Trying so hard to just hang on, and telling herself that the moment was not right. She knew it would soon take her, one way or another it would all be over. This life was an agony she could not bare much longer, and now she felt very much the fool for believing that her knight would come. He probably didn't even remember her, or was so hurt by her disappearance, wouldn't care.

"Would you like to reply ma'am?" The droid buzzed, lifting his hand with the slip attached between fiberoptic fingers. She felt the fool again, here she was a sobbing mess when there were chores to be done.

Raising her eyes, she wiped away the tears and took a deep breath before taking the paper. She wanted to just toss it aside, but as she went about reading it she was caught by his signature stamp. The initials O.P. were embedded into the crest followed by the Latin words: Optimus, Rector, Primoris., and how swiftly it spread the warmth of hope washed over her. The spiders of her mind spinning a web to re-thread the prayers, and the will to carry on.

A few blocks away...

The movement of the fiberglass body over the road was like a ribbon in the water. It skimming above the surface in a fluid graceful motion. The aerodynamics of the car flawless, and the black of the paint a seamless mirror; reflecting the open sky and drawing in the Sun's rays. This was a man's perfect dream, and Brian so selfishly lived it. He had it all, yet so blindly he knew it would never falter. Yet, in his mind a seed was planted and his ungrateful ways were soon at an end.

Doubt would spread like wildfire in his dull arrogant mind. The morning did not sit right, for it had been years since had seen his cousin, and he knew him not to be so careless. It was not like him to have a bare face, he was known for a thick beard. It was not like him to be so exposed, he was always so secretive. His features were free from behind the mask of hair and his identity open. Oliver, would never do that.

Today, that little seed would move him against the wind and take him in a direction he would rather never tread. So often he would tell Rose he was going to work, and by work he meant spending his afternoon with a whore, but today he placed his plans on hold. Today, he moved down a empty road towards a place very few tread.

The engine purred to a stop before a gated entrance, and the holographic attendant gave him a blank stare.

"I need to speak with Arc, tell him it's Brian, and it's about Rose." The gate jumped just at the mention of her name, it's large arm raising to let the man pass.

Moving in the direction of what seemed to be a factory, he would pass through the holographic cloak; a cleaver disguise fo an entirely different world. This was a military base of the most dangerous sorts, and the busy complex never did anything less then overwhelm Even with his hardened heart he felt the wave of fear. It was a stone castle with the gothic design lost in the pipes and steel. The structure towards up, spiraling into the sky, like a staircase from heaven to hell, it seemed endless. Brian often found himself getting lost in the overwhelming sensation of pure hate and would forget how urgent nature of his mission was.

Towers of smoke billowed from the burning stacks, polluting the sky with a thick haze. Fuel was burnt so carelessly to heat and power the complex, even with the world suffering so badly. Large wooden doors were used to keep out the unwanted. It's pure maple frame like large drums as he knocked, the sound billowing a rumble that was carried itself swiftly down the hall.

As Brian announced his arrival he could not help but feel the pinch of his nerves; his fears getting the best of him. He felt the panic rise to his throat, and the pace of his heart quicken as before him an image poured through the cracks like sand through fingers. Black cloudless smoke poured through the doors. It's shape filling the space before him and choking out the very air deep in his lungs.

This man was what great evil, the poster boy of hatred, and the very essence of nightmares. Each second Brian felt his heart beat harder and the need to run pressed his mind, but when the man finally took shape he could only stand there–frozen in his steps. Solid black eyes bore into Brian's searching for lies and deceit; a trait the man looked for, and a trait Brian was known for.

For a moment Brian forgot why he was there; silenced by the man's deadly appearance. Yet, as he started to speak he watched the man's eyes lips curl into a frown. He told him of Rose's nightmares and the letter from his cousin, and the concern of her views of the war. When he fell silent again he could almost see the wheels turn in the others eyes and a moment passed before the other man rose a deathly cold hand to Brian's shoulder.

"My friend," He said in a whisper that sounded like steam rising, "I fear the time has come to end this charade and you to know the truth of your lovely little wife."

Arc's voice slipped from his lips like smoke-- stale old smoke that moved through your veins like a poison, and as the two men then walked down the long hall the future grew darker. The grieving whisper of murder and treason was one more pawn in the game of life, and a withered scaly hand moved the piece across the board; the rook moved before the king placing him in check.