Chapter 10

While Galen reconciled with his father in the living room, Alan Virdon examined his junior officer to determine the extent of his physical injuries. Pete was fading in and out of awareness, but Alan kept up a running patter to reassure him. "Don't worry, Pete, a few days in the luxury spa Chez Yalu here, and you'll feel like a million bucks." He noted the various bruises and lacerations, on both face and torso. Especially the oversized one shaped like a hand that stood out on lividly against the pale skin of his neck. Burke still had filthy strips of cloth from his own shirt tying together the last two fingers on his left hand. Virdon removed them gingerly, feeling along the length of the bones to make sure the finger was healing straight and strong. Yeah, Burke always was a pretty good field medic, even on himself. He carefully rewrapped the same two fingers with clean bandages, and tended to the abraded skin around both wrists as well, evidence of long hours spent in harsh restraints.

Alan sucked air in through his teeth as he lifted the other man's shirt. Pete's torso was just a mottled mess of overlapping bruises, in such various states of healing that just about every color of the rainbow as present. But luckily none of his ribs seemed to be broken. His face actually wasn't too bad off—the telltale dark ring around one eye of a healing shiner, and his mouth and lips were so cracked and chapped, it was hard to tell, but it looked like it was still slightly swollen on one side. Alan flashed back onto his nightmare of a few days ago, and the image of Pete's unnaturally bent leg, and even though he had just seen Pete walk a couple of miles, he ran hands over both legs to make sure there was no damage there. More red circles of abused flesh around both ankles, but not as bad as the wrists, and probably would heal faster left unbandaged. "Oh, Pete, what in the world did they do to you?" he wondered out loud. Running his fingers through his blond hair, Alan let out an explosive sigh, trying to damp down his rage at Urko and Zaius.

Urko was gone, and not likely to return. Yalu had enough sway in the High Council that they should be safe here for a few days until Pete was well enough to travel. It looked like his physical injuries should heal pretty quickly, nothing life-threatening there, although he had lost weight that his already lean frame could not really afford to lose. 'A few days of Ann's cooking should fix that', he thought with a smirk. 'Maybe Galen can take some cooking lessons from her while we are here. I've had bag-nasty chow that was better than some of the stuff he concocts.' His own cooking was mildly better; he spent enough time away from Sally that he'd had to learn to put together a few meals on his own. But Pete, the consummate bachelor, was the best cook among the three. He claimed he learned to cook because it was a sure-fire way to impress the ladies.

"The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach, Alan-me-boy," Pete had pontificated one day during their early training together, "but cook a woman a fine meal with your own two hands, and she will fall over herself trying to find the bedroom."

No, it wasn't Burke's physical injuries that worried him, but his mental state. It was obvious as soon as they saw Pete outside the Crystal Cave that the apes had discovered a way to mess with his mind. The way Pete fought Alan when they arrived, and again when Ann came in to help, just screamed to Alan's instincts that Pete was in serious trouble. The younger man seemed to be sleeping now, although fitfully, with small twitches and moans.

Alan pulled a chair over next to the bed, and practically collapsed into it. He was bone weary, the constant anxiety of the last few days taking even more of a toll than the physical exertion of traveling here, the midnight raids on the prison and Zaius's office, not that he was getting much sleep anyway. He leaned his head back in the chair, but unable to find any escape in sleep. Too many troublesome thoughts still chased each other through his mind, not the least of which was, would his best friend recognize him when he woke?

Alan must have dozed a little bit, because when he was startled by Galen's soft footfalls, the room was filled with shadows. The blond man scrubbed a hand across his eyes and straightened himself in the chair. "How are your parents holding up, Galen?" Their survival was now dependent on Yalu and Ann's goodwill.

Galen lowered himself into the pile of blankets still on the floor where he had slept the night before, issuing a deep sigh. "They are apes of surprising resilience." He tilted his head to one side, a look he often got when considering a philosophical issue. "I've heard it said that the older one gets, the more set in their ways they become. I learned today that perhaps my father is not as old as I thought he was." A smirk crossed his simian lips, then faded as he looked at their prone friend. "But Alan, how is Pete? How bad are his injuries?"

"Physically, nothing that won't heal with a few days rest and some good meals. I'm trying not to think about what that surgeon would have done to him had we been fifteen minutes later." Alan shook his head as if to banish the image, and Galen gave a small shudder. "Mentally… well, I'm worried. He seems so… dazed, unfocused. I swear, when we first got here, he didn't remember who I was, Galen. He was talking when we left the hospital, and then during the walk here, he just seemed to fold in on himself. Like he's retreating into his own mind."

"Well, once he's feeling better, physically, I mean, he'll be able to tell us what's bothering him, right?"

Sometimes Galen still had an oversimplified view of the human psyche. "I don't know, Galen. In our time, they had people who were specially trained to listen to other people talk about their problems. They were called psychiatrists."

"How odd. Why didn't they just talk to their friends about their problems?"

Alan chuckled wryly. "Because it isn't always that simple, Galen. Sometimes the root of the problem can be deeply buried in a person's mind. Sometimes reaching even back to childhood, or infancy, and the person doesn't even consciously remember why they feel the way they do. They gave us some training in psychology when we went through officer training, but I don't know if whatever is going on with Pete is going to be within my abilities to help."

Galen laid a sympathetic hand on Alan's arm. "Of course you'll be able to help, you're his best friend."

Pete was back on that damned spinning table. Wanda was relentless, not letting him rest, not letting him even think, just asking her questions over and over again. Who helped you? I want names! Had he given her names? In the end, the torment had stopped. Had he told her what she wanted to know, is that why she had no more use for him? Damn it, why couldn't he remember!

Everything was light and shadow. Bright lights flashing across his eyes, shadows trailing behind everything else, making it hard to see clearly. And now, everything was growing darker and darker. The lights faded to blurry-edged blobs of brightness, undulating and turning back on themselves, like some primordial creatures moving across his vision. Then, slowly, the after-images also faded, leaving only deep and thick gloom. It took a moment before Pete realized his eyes were open, and he was seeing his surroundings. He blinked rapidly, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, details of the room came into focus.

The bedroom was small, and he occupied the only narrow bed. Not the spinning table. And this wasn't a cave; he was in a house. Awareness of his own body brought with it a myriad of aches and pains, but they also were faded from the sharp agonies in his memory. He raised a hand, a little surprised that he could move freely, and waved it in front of his face to verify that he was actually seeing in the here and now. A curtain fluttered in front of the one window, letting in a warm breeze and filtering the moonlight that was the only real illumination. Everything was painted in shades of gray in the low light.

Raising himself on one elbow, he slowly looked around the room, and his eyes came to rest on two figures slumped on the floor, one human, one chimpanzee. A shout of happiness at seeing his friends again froze on his lips as he realized that the blond head was bent at an unnatural angle, and blood glistened in the fur of the male chimp. At that moment, he knew deep in his soul that his friends were dead, and that he had somehow been responsible. Urko had said they would try to come for him, and when they did, he would be waiting for them. Sudden fury pushed aside the anguish that threatened to engulf him. Wanda! Wanda was ultimately responsible for this. She was the one who had made him betray not only his friends, but all the other hapless souls who had helped them over the last months. Well, she wasn't going to get away with it.

Pete knew he would only have one chance to find Wanda. He pushed himself up off the bed, holding on to the wall for a moment while sudden vertigo made his head swim. Once that passed, he silently tested the latch on the door, hoping against hope that the guards had somehow left it unlocked. The door opened easily, creaking only slightly on its hinges; Pete grimaced at the noise. 'Gotta be quiet, gotta move fast,' he told himself. After checking to make sure no gorillas waited outside the door, he carefully eased through the narrow gap, into what appeared to be common living quarters. Where the hell was he?

He ghosted past the table, glancing quizzically at the vase of cut flowers in the middle of it, and the hearth with its banked embers. He stopped briefly to look at the cooking utensils to see if there was anything there he could use as a weapon. Metal cauldrons and wooden spoons weren't going to be any good against guns.

Continuing deeper into what looked like a food preparation area, he struck pay dirt. Lying next to a sink was a large knife. He snatched it up, tested an edge with a fingernail. Nice and sharp. Satisfied, he turned to go in search of Wanda, only to come face to face with the female chimp. She let out one small startled cry before he grabbed her arm with his free hand, and spun her around to trap her against his own body, pressing the knife to her throat.

"Don't make another sound, Wanda, or I'll slit your throat," he growled in her ear. The female whimpered slightly, but didn't try to summon help. He could feel the soft fabric of her nightgown beneath his other arm, where it crossed over her chest and held her in place. Her own hands reflexively came up to grip his arm, but she didn't try to struggle.

"Why did you have to kill them, bitch?" The female's trembling only made him angrier, fueling his desire to be as cruel to her as she had been to him. The edge of the knife dimpled the soft skin of her neck. It wouldn't take too much more pressure to start the blood flowing. "It wasn't enough for you to torture me, huh? You had to kill my best friends." His voice gave a little hitch, which he covered by shaking his captive. "When's it going to be fucking enough already?"

"Pete! What are you doing!"

Burke's head snapped up to see Alan standing in front of him, hands held out in a placating gesture. Behind him, Galen, was trying to squeeze into the narrow space, agitated.

"Alan?" his voice squeaked. "I thought you were dead…" Suddenly, everything was getting very confusing again. Images of Alan and Galen with blood running down their faces, the rictus of an agonizing death frozen on their features, overlapped the scene in front of him with Alan and Galen alive and well, albeit wide-eyed and frightened, like looking at double-exposed photograph.

"No, Pete, I'm fine." Alan tried to keep his voice calm and soothing, despite the pounding of his heart in his chest. The knife that his friend held at Ann's neck was dangerously close to doing some serious damage. He could see a small bubble of blood beginning to well up from a nick in the vulnerable flesh. Galen was making distressed noises behind him, but he hoped the chimp would have enough sense to let him try to diffuse the situation. Alan moved one arm behind him to keep Galen from rushing forward.

Pete shook his head once as his eyes glazed over again. "No. No, she's trying to trick me again. I'm not going to let her trick me anymore."

Alan slid a few inches closer. "Who, Pete? Who's trying to trick you?"

"This bitch-ape, Wanda."

"This isn't Wanda, Pete. This is Ann, Galen's mother. She's not going to trick you. And you know I wouldn't trick you. I just want to help you." Alan swallowed dryly. "Give me the knife, Pete," he gestured with the hand he still held out in front of him.

"No." But Burke's voice wavered uncertainly. "We need to get away, Alan."

Virdon had one final gambit. He put on what he called his "Colonel face" and let a tone of command slip into his voice. "Major. Give. Me. That. Knife.—Now."

Luckily, the same military reflexes ingrained deep enough to help Burke resist Wanda's torture also cut through the fog swaddling his brain, when faced with his commanding officer giving him a direct order. Clarity flooded back into the brown eyes, along with a dawning sense of horror at what he was about to do. The knife slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered loudly on the stone floor.

"Oh, god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Ann pushed out of Burke's grasp and straight into Virdon's arms. As Pete began to slump to the floor, still murmuring apologies, Virdon handed her off to Galen and rushed to keep his friend from falling flat on his face. Half sprawled on the floor supporting a boneless Pete, Alan looked back at Ann. "Are you all right?"

Galen snorted, his lips thin with fury. "No thanks to him." He jerked his head in Pete's direction. "He could have killed her."

"Galen—" Alan began, about to make excuses for the younger man, who was now curled up in a fugue state, rocking back and forth. But Ann interrupted him.

"Galen! Can't you see that Burke had no idea what he was doing?" She put a hand to her neck. "He mistook me for this Wanda, who tortured him. Tortured, poor thing! And he thought she had killed you and Virdon. Can you blame him for wanting to kill her?"

"But, Mother—" Galen sputtered, then just shook his head and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. Just when he thought he had his parents figured out, they went and did something he didn't expect. Alan's respect for Ann ratcheted up another notch or two; he had expected to have to do some very fast talking, indeed, to keep them from being thrown out in the street.

"Virdon, can you get him back into the bedroom, or do you need Galen to help?" Ann was back in control of the situation, and Alan was surprised to find himself happy to allow her to take command.

"No, Ma'am. I think I can manage."

"Good. I need to have a little talk with my son."

Alan was able to get Pete onto his feet, barely. The younger astronaut clutched at his friend, but walked where he was led. Once back in the bedroom, he collapsed on the bed in an exhausted heap. After pulling some covers over him, Alan settled into the chair again. He had best stay awake for a while, and make sure Pete didn't wander in the night again.

'Tortured' Ann had said. And who in the world was Wanda? Obviously, if Pete had mistaken Ann for her, she must have been a female chimpanzee. But what connection did she have to Urko and Zaius?

After a few more minutes, Galen came tiptoeing into the room, looking very abashed. But definitely calmer. He started to make his way to the pile of blankets on the floor, but Alan grabbed his arm and gave it an understanding squeeze.

"Is Ann really okay, Galen?" the blond man whispered, probably unnecessarily, since Pete seemed to be sleeping soundly.

"Oh yes," Galen replied, sounding very contrite. "And in rare form. She… how do you and Pete put it? Ripped me a new one? For not being more understanding of Pete's condition." Alan put a hand over his mouth to cover his smirk, and prevent the bray of laughter that was trying to escape.

"Really?" Alan couldn't keep some of the laughter out of his voice.

Galen flashed him a frosty look. "Yes. I'm sorry I reacted the way I did, Alan. I wasn't really angry at Pete, just worried for Mother." He settled down onto the floor with a sigh. "My real anger is at the apes who did this to Pete. Urko. Zaius. And this Wanda female."

Alan nodded his understanding. "I'm glad the commotion didn't wake your father. Your mother may be sympathetic, but Yalu—"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about him," Galen interrupted. "He was called away for an emergency Council meeting, probably about us, I would imagine. That's why she got up in the first place; she heard Pete and thought Father was returning home. And Mother swore me to secrecy, not to breath a word of what happened to Father."

"Yeah, Yalu would have a cow if he knew."

Galen's jaw dropped, and he made a noise of disgust. "How could he—," the chimp began, but then took a deep breath and shook his head ruefully instead. "Oh, never mind. I don't want to know. I'm going to sleep. Wake me in a couple hours and I'll take over watching Pete."

"Sure." Alan smiled at his friend. "And thanks, Galen."

Galen dismissively waved his hand at the human, then rolled over and was soon snoring softly.

Next thing Alan knew, a hairy hand was on his shoulder, shaking him awake. "Virdon," Ann called. "Wake up, it's morning."

The chair creaked beneath him as Alan stretched and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. Ugh, was he sore. He had forgotten how uncomfortable sleeping in a chair could be. He turned to look at Ann, who was wearing a high collared tunic today, presumable to cover the small cut she received at Burke's hands, and hide it from her husband.

"Thanks, Ann. How are you doing this morning?"

Ann favored him with a smile. "I'm fine. I must admit that I had trouble getting back to sleep last night after our little… adventure." She moved past him to where her son was still asleep on the floor. She knelt down and gently caressed his face. "Galen, wake up, son."

Galen must have been having some interesting dreams. "I don't want to go to school this morning," he muttered, burrowing more deeply into the nest of blankets.

Ann and Virdon exchanged a look and both burst out laughing. Galen flailed about, suddenly awake. "What? What did I miss?"

"It's morning, dear," Ann told him. "Come have some breakfast. You, too, Virdon."

Galen was still looking about groggily. He squinted at the bright sunshine coming in the window.

"Yes, ma'am," came the reply in chorus.

Ann waited until both of them had left the room. Then she turned back to the still form on the bed. "You should come, too, Burke, you need to eat."

Pete slowly rolled onto his back and looked up at her. This morning, his brown eyes were lucid, but filled with remorse.

"How did you know I was awake?" he asked sheepishly, pushing himself to a sitting position.

"I raised one very sly young ape. You think Galen never pretended to be asleep to get out of going to school? Now come on. You were fit enough last night to go wandering around, I think you can come sit at a table and eat like a civilized being."

She started toward the door, but Pete reached out and put a hand gently on her arm. She stopped and looked at him again. "I'm—" he began, but his voice cracked. "I'm sorry about last night…Ann, is it?" She nodded, and covered his hand with her own.

"I know. For Galen and Virdon to care so much for you, you must be a good man. I'm looking forward to meeting that man, when you are well again."

She gave his hand one last pat and was out the door, leaving him to collect himself.

When Pete shuffled out to the living area a few minutes later, he was suddenly ravenous, tantalized by the smell of the food. Alan started to get up to help him, but he waved him away and took a seat. Ann put a bowl of broth and a chunk of freshly baked bread on the table in front of him, then turned to pour him a glass of juice.

"You should start slow. I have a feeling it's been a while since you had a good meal," Ann said gently.

"Yes, ma'am, it sure has," he replied around a mouthful of bread.

"Galen, your father sent over a messenger, he is going to be busy in Council for the entire day." She clucked her tongue as she sat down to her own breakfast, and gave Galen a knowing look. "But perhaps that is for the best for now. After breakfast, I think I'll retire to the garden for a while. It's such a nice day out, and my roses are in desperate need of pruning. Galen, your turn to do the dishes, dear. Virdon did them last time."

With Ann's masterful withdraw outside, the three friends were able to talk freely when the meal was done.

"Pete," Alan began cautiously, leaning forward to rest his clasped hand on the table, "who is Wanda? What happened in that cave?" Galen came back from clearing the dishes, and took a seat on the other side of Virdon.

Pete leaned back in the chair and hugged his arms around his torso, a subconsciously protective move. "Some of it's not real clear, Alan, at least after the first day or so. Wanda is a female chimp—that you probably already guessed. I think she's a scientist of some sort, she kept talking about her experiment, like I was a damned lab rat. She had this old book she carried with her everywhere, and kept flipping through it, like she was reading stereo instructions. I—I think it was a human book about torture techniques, about how to brainwash someone. I overheard her using that word with Urko. Oh yeah, he was there, too, big, bad, and ugly." Pete answered Alan's unvoiced question.

"She was using some pretty sophisticated techniques, Alan—sensory overload, sleep depravation, flashing lights, continuous loud noises. There was this spinning table, that was the worst." Burke swallowed noisily, and took another drink of fruit juice. His throat was raw; he wasn't entirely sure, but at some point, he thought there was screaming… his screaming.

"And the whole time, she kept asking me questions. Who had helped us; she wanted the names of humans who had helped us."

Names! Places! Times!

I want their NAMES!

Pete's face took on a slack look for a moment that frightened Alan. He reached over and grasped Pete's shoulder, startling him out of some reverie. Galen started to open his mouth, but a harsh look from Alan made him snap it shut, his question and Alan's unasked. Had Pete given her any names?

Burke reached up and pushed his uninjured hand through his tangled dark curls. 'I need a haircut,' he thought with vague sense that he was echoing someone else, but unable to put his finger on it. He looked back at his commanding officer again, and even he was aware of what Virdon wanted to know.

"I don't know, Alan. I don't think I told her anything. But things went seriously pear-shaped there for a while. There are big chunks of time that I just don't remember at all." With that last admission, he seemed to deflate. He was terrified, frankly, that he had failed in the primary mission every soldier was charge with if captured by an enemy—resist.

Yalu was able to find out more about Wanda and her failed experiment. Once Zaius tried to blame Urko for allowing the fugitives to escape the hospital with Burke, Urko wasted no time pointing fingers back at Zaius and at Wanda. The gorilla general told the Council all about the secrets that the old orangutan had kept from them; Wanda's experiment never had the backing of the High Council. Zaius was reprimanded by a unanimous vote of the Council, but allowed to remain in charge of it. However, his future activities would be more closely monitored by a Council representative, and more oversight and checks on his power were put into place. Wanda's career in science, at least in Central City, was most definitely over.

And more importantly to Pete's peace of mind, Yalu learned that Wanda's "experiment" was a total and complete failure, at least in the objectives that mattered to Urko. No humans were revealed as accomplices to the three fugitives; no raiding parties were sent out to exterminate humans who had been "contaminated" by their renegade ideas. Burke never told Wanda anything useful; the people who had helped them would be safe.

Over the next couple of days, Pete continued to heal and get his strength back. Although he didn't have any more hallucinatory episodes, at least, none that turned violent, he sometimes woke in the night with a scream, flailing as if trying to ward off blows, soaked in a cold sweat.

Ann talked Alan into letting her help with Pete's convalescence; she convinced him that Burke needed to have a positive experience with a female chimpanzee if his memories of Wanda were going to be purged from his psyche. She convinced Burke that she needed his help in her garden, which was in terrible disrepair from the scorching heat of the summer. Pete tried to pull his "concrete born and bred, brown thumb will wilt anything it touches" routine. Ann, of course, was having none of it. When the fugitives all protested that any one of Urko's soldiers walking by would recognize Burke, Ann pulled her straw sunhat off its hook and shoved it onto the dark-haired head. The brim flopped down in front, completely obscuring his face. In the gales of laughter that followed, no one failed to notice that Ann had, again, gotten her way.

Working in the garden put some color back into Burke's pale skin, and helped build back up muscles that had been abused and neglected during his captivity. But more importantly, while they pulled weeds, aerated soil, and pruned plants, Ann and Burke talked. Despite his initial hallucination-fueled reaction to Ann, Burke found talking to her oddly comforting. To her, he was a blank slate. She listened without judging, but drew him out of his shell with gentle but insistent prodding. And when he tried to dissemble, divert, distract, she called him on it.

One day, they were sitting in the shade, sipping cool mango juice, when Ann turned to him with a particularly penetrating look. "Burke, what do you dream about, when you have nightmares?"

Taken aback, Pete paused with his glass halfway to his mouth. He set it down on the table, and cleared his throat. "Well, you certainly don't pussy-foot around, do you? How do you know about that?"

"I hear you, sometimes, cry out in the night. I merely deduced the cause." Ann tilted her head to the side. 'Now I know where Galen gets that expression,' Pete thought. She pitched her voice into that determined tone that Pete was coming to know all too well. "What do you dream about? And don't you dare lie to me, because I'll know."

Yeah, I bet you would.

Pete cleared his throat again, and pushed his sweat-soaked bangs out off his forehead with one hand. "I, uh, I dream about the deaths of the humans who've helped us. I dream that I betrayed them to Wanda, and that they were killed for it."

Ann's brow furrowed. "But Yalu told you that didn't happen."

"I know, but I was so afraid of it for so long, I think it's just taking a while to sink in."

"All right," Ann confirmed, although her voice was tinged with skepticism. "What else?" she pressed.

"You just don't give up, do you?" Burke's tone was turning harsh, but Ann was not dissuaded in the least.

"No, I don't. And neither do you. But you do push people away. Let me in, Burke. Nothing you can say will make me think less of you. Nothing that happened to you is your fault. Please tell me what about your dreams makes you so afraid?" Hazel eyes locked with brown, and he felt like a drowning man being thrown a life preserver.

"I—" Pete's voiced broke, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "My, uh, my father left—left my mother before I was even born. She raised me all by herself. You remind me of her a lot, actually. She was strong, didn't take crap from anyone." A ghost of a smirk flashed across his face and was gone.

"But back then, it was hard being a woman, alone, with a kid. Even in Jersey. She wanted me to have role models, guys who she thought could teach me how to be a good man. She had a few boyfriends on and off when I was growing up. When I was a teenager, there was this guy she had been with for a while, it was pretty serious. And he was a cop… a, uh, policeman, who in our time were supposed to be the good guys, protecting the weak and all that. Well, this one turned out to be a bully." Pete hugged his arms to his chest, and took a sudden interest in examining his feet.

"He… abused me for a long time, but I didn't tell my mom, because she really seemed happy, y'know? But then I did something stupid, and he flipped out. Anyway, he ended up hurting my mom, really badly." His breath hitched a little, and his voice dropped to a husky whisper. "And—and I couldn't stop him. He hurt her, hurts us both, and I couldn't stop it."

Burke raised his face to look into Ann's eyes again, which glistened with unshed tears. His own eyes stung, but he refused to give even one more victory over to that painful time. "Sometimes, I dream about that. And sometimes, in the dreams, I'm the one hurting her. I was so afraid that when I was a man, I'd turn into a bully, like… like… Frank." Then his voice gave out, and he couldn't say any more.

Ann knelt in front of this human she had grown so fond of, and took his hands in hers. "Burke, you are not a bully, you could never be a bully. The good man that I have come to know stands between the bully and the victim, as you did with your mother, as you do for your friends. As you did for all the humans who helped you, and you protected from Wanda with your own pain and blood. What happened all those years ago wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, I know, I was just a kid; kids do stupid things."

"No. I mean it was never your fault. None of it. Not your father leaving, not your mother's hardship, not this man hurting you or hurting her. It wasn't your fault that you couldn't stop it. It wasn't your fault that you and Alan crashed here. It wasn't your fault that Galen decided that living morally was more important than living comfortably. It wasn't your fault that Wanda tortured you and tried to turn you against your friends. And it wasn't your fault that in your confusion, you threatened me."

"None of it, Pete," she shook his hands, forcefully, as if to drive home her point, "do you understand me?"

"But—" he began.

"No. It's time to let go of all that guilt, my dear boy. You've carried it long enough. Time to lay it down," she crooned, reaching up to stroke the side of his face, much like a mother would do to comfort an injured child.

Inside Galen's old bedroom, listening at the window that overlooked the garden, Alan Virdon wiped the back of one hand over his stinging eyes.