I own Jani-Ca and crew, the Constable(s), and quasi-anonymous characters. Everyone else belongs to Archie, Sega, et cetera.
One of the sections was (slightly) revised to account for a later change in Jani-Ca's role and the addition of canon wife Kali-Ka (as mentioned in my newer one-shot Nightmare Spectre. The plot remains as is-I just threw in a minor reference to allow Kali to speak a line I'd previously given to one of Jani-Ca's dingoes.
A similar, and similarly minor, change occurs in the short fic Uneasy Alliances.
The Constable sent his deputies off to learn what they could of Joshua and his dealings. Meanwhile, he investigated the activities of those very deputies.
There was still the possibility that the chameleon was lying, or was simply mistaken. But he couldn't take that chance. Something was going on, and he had to know if his own people really were involved.
The reports he sent to Jani-Ca were sporadic. Sometimes she'd hear back every day, sometimes it was a week later.
He noted that Spectre was never around when he came. The Guardian's absence was certainly useful; there were still too many things they could not tell him, and more such details piled up every day. But it bothered him when Jani-Ca said that Spectre was almost never around anymore.
The reports gave her what the Constable had managed to dig up, which was never much; even if he wasn't concerned about being overheard, there was simply very little to report. He didn't dare let on to his deputies that he even was investigating them, nor let that investigation take priority over his normal work.
Nearly three months went by before she received another note, one suggesting he had found something of interest.
And three days later, one of his deputies reported him dead.
Murdered, but without a mark to show how. His death left even the chameleons mystified.
But the fire ants detected an aura of chaos energy around his body. And the deputies had heard reports of a cloaked figure lurking around.
They were determined that the information should not leak until it could be properly investigated. And the crew tried to protect Jani-Ca and Spectre from this new development.
But in spite of their caution, the rumors began to fly.
—
Jani-Ca paced back and forth, shooting Deo an angry glare every so often. She pointedly ignored the Brotherhood.
Hawking cleared his throat. "Jani-Ca, we have to consider—"
"No!" she snarled, whirling to face him. "The Constable was our friend. Spectre would never have hurt him!"
Any sane man would want to strangle him for taking advantage of you, Deo replied. Any one of the Brotherhood would have done it, if you'd have let me tell them.
How many times do I have to tell you, he did not take advantage of me! The interest was mutual. Listen to the rumors, once in a while; I'm supposed to be a seductress, remember? If anything, I took advantage of him!
But the fire ant clearly still refused to believe her. Of course, no sane man would have given him permission in the first place, he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted.
The Brotherhood continued to look around uncomfortably, completely unaware of the repeated argument. Hawking flicked his gaze to Spectre, but the young Guardian stared off into empty space with an intent look on his face.
Hawking tried to hide a shudder. His grandson wasn't looking at anything; he was simply trying to ignore them, that was all.
Spectre wasn't looking at anything in that empty space, just like he hadn't been spooked by nothing at odd moments over the last few years, hadn't been talking to nonexistent voices, hadn't been...
Hawking shuddered again. "Jani-Ca, we know he's going mad. And if we let our discomfort get in the way, if we don't put an effort into seeing just how bad things have gotten, all we'll do is let them become worse."
She snorted. "Sorry. I've already heard that line from Deo."
"And you'll keep hearing it," Deo said, "until it sinks in."
"I don't believe that Spectre would have done it, either," Harlan added. He avoided meeting her eyes when he said it. "But how do you think it will look if we don't try to investigate?" He put his hands on her shoulders, casting a nervous glance at Spectre as he did so, and forced her to face him. "The city is calling for his blood again. Do you want them to believe that we are only covering up for him?"
She jerked free. "Awful funny you should be talking about cover-ups," she snarled.
"Why's that?" Spectre asked, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived. The various members of the Brotherhood jumped. "What's so funny about a cover-up?"
"I was just thinking, every time something bad happens to you, every time something happens that could look bad, only a few people knew about it, right?"
"I don't follow—" Harlan began.
She waved him into silence. "Like Spectre's power during the fire." Spectre eyed her for a moment, then turned his attention back to empty space. "Or the accident before Sojourner was born. Or this." She looked around at the Brotherhood, catching each one's gaze before moving on to the next. "Every time, only a handful of people knew what had happened, even suspect what happened. And those handfuls swore never to utter one syllable of what they knew, not even to the rest of the Brotherhood, because...why?"
"Because we didn't understand what had happened," Rembrandt snapped. "We didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea before we could investigate."
She lifted an eyebrow at him, and waited.
He blinked twice. Then his eyes widened, and his mouth formed an "o."
She nodded. "And yet, not too long after, rumors start spreading. Rumors that maybe don't quite match what happened. Different enough that we could assume the people don't really know." She folded her arms and stared at them. "A coincidence, maybe...if it happened once or twice. But these rumors sound awfully similar to the truth, don't you think? And so many rumors? About so many things? And all of them just happen to do their damnedest to make Spectre look bad?"
She scowled at their reactions; judging from the way they looked at each other, the Brotherhood had never even considered this angle. Even Spectre appeared surprised.
How could such intelligent people as the Brotherhood be so dense?
Comes from being treated near like royalty, she decided. And being cooped up in Haven so much. Distant watchers, that's what they are. Maybe they know how stupid people are in mobs, and they can figure out the tyrants pretty well. But they're not used to the weaker individuals, the smarter villains. They're not used to the ones with the pretty speeches, or the ones that hide behind the mob.
She shivered. She had lost good people over the years to that sort, to greedy people, people who only wanted power. People with all the charisma of a good leader and none of the morals, or those who "accidentally" let slip just the right details...or the wrong ones.
People who knew exactly how to get what they wanted, and keep their hands clean while they were at it. Oh, yes, she had enjoyed helping the EST figure out that sort.
One of her greatest fears had always been that her crew would be accused of being that sort. But if such rumors had spread, word had never reached her.
And that only worried her more.
"Spectre's illness is a serious medical problem," she admitted, pushing that fear to the side for now, "so I'll not stand in your way of that. But if you really want to help him, I'd suggest you stop reacting to these rumors, and start looking for where they're coming from."
—
There was still bad feeling in the city, and even the new Constable made no secret of his dislike for Spectre.
The dissenters quieted down, at least towards the other Guardians, and there was little fear of riots, but Spectre did not dare to walk the streets again. He confined himself to the Floating Island, not even visiting the city or Haven to help train his son.
Not that he could train Sojourner, not with the power affecting him the way it did.
They could not rely on Tobor for the task, and the rest of the Brotherhood was growing too old.
So the Fire Ants took it upon themselves to train the new Guardian, just as they had done long ago with Steppenwolf, while Spectre and Jani-Ca kept a close eye on them, hoping for something, anything that might present a solution.
This continued until Sojourner was eight, and might have continued longer.
Until the Dark Legion appeared.
—
"Daddy, please don't go!" Sojourner cried.
Spectre crouched down to face his son. "I have to," he said. "I have to help the others fight."
"But...but I don't want you to become mean, like Grandpa," Sojourner said. He clung to his father, buried his face in Spectre's chest, trying to hide his tears.
Jani-Ca's eyebrows shot up.
Spectre blinked. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Grandpa changed," Sojourner explained. "Deo said he changed after he fought the Legion. I don't want you to change like he did! He's mean to you! Daddy, please! I don't want you to be like him!"
Spectre's mouth hung open; he could not think of any way to respond. He's mistaken; he doesn't know what I've done, who I've hurt, he only knows Father's anger. He's too young to understand how much I deserve that anger, and worse.
But self-pity would not solve this problem. "Son," he whispered, forcing Sojourner to look at him, "that will never happen. I will not...become like him." He wiped at the boy's tears.
Sojourner sniffed. "P—promise?"
Spectre hesitated; did he dare promise that? When nobody could tell him why it happened in the first place?
You know perfectly well why it happened, Steppenwolf snapped. We've only told you about four thousand times in the last three weeks!
You won't let it happen again, Moonwatcher snarled.
And neither will we, the child, Aaron, added more gently.
Spectre flinched, and forced himself not to turn around to face them. He didn't need this, not now, not in front of his son! The voices, the images, that had whispered into his mind since the fire, all of them Guardians that had passed; they had barely gave him a moment's peace since he'd become infected.
And the things they kept saying, about him, about his father. That name they kept repeating. Moritori Rex. Why couldn't they just be silent?
Steppenwolf groaned and rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off a migraine. Spectre had been trying his patience with this hallucination nonsense, every day since the fire, and the elder desperately wanted to pound some sense into him. He wouldn't be surprised if Spectre would feel it, either, but he knew it wouldn't make anyone feel better but himself.
And given the young Guardian's more recent condition, it might make things a lot worse. No, no sense adding to the lad's suffering, not when it could only help that imposter.
"Spectre?" Deo said, warily. "Spectre, is everything all right?" The young Guardian had refused to breathe a word of this, for fear of how his elders might react. But they had come to recognize that expression, just the same.
Spectre was hearing voices again, or seeing things that weren't there. It wasn't the chameleons, either; the fire ants had grown accustomed to their presence, and Kancho had taught them long ago how to detect when one was about, just as the clan had been teaching each Constable in his or her turn.
Spectre was always spooked when these hallucinations happened. And when he was spooked, his behavior could be...unpredictable. More unpredictable.
"Our son just asked you a question," Jani-Ca said, placing a hand on Spectre's shoulder, and making Deo even more nervous. "Were you going to answer him?"
Spectre blinked, and looked at them, only now becoming aware that he was frightening them. "I—I'm sorry. I'll be fine." He cupped Sojourner's chin and forced the child to look at him again. "I promise."
He tried to give the boy to Jani-Ca, but Sojourner only tightened his grip.
"Hey," Jani-Ca said, putting her other hand on Sojourner's shoulder. "You know that game you and Fidelis came up with? I bet daddy would really love to see it when he's back." Spectre nodded.
"O—okay," Sojourner whispered, before releasing his father and letting Jani-Ca take him back.
—
Tobor tapped his foot, watching through the forest and snarling. The Legion was not attacking like they should; they were taking only small bites, forcing the opposition to its knees, and pulling back before they could claim victory.
And they'd been moving like that for eight days.
Why?
What was Luger waiting for?
Tobor didn't dare find out; though the rest of the Brotherhood thought to give him space to "recover," that spook seemed unnaturally suspicious of late. And it would be just his luck that someone would catch him while watching the spook.
He growled.
"What could they be waiting for?" Jordan said when the Brotherhood gathered again. "Not that I mind the breathing room, but it doesn't seem natural. Like they're planning something, far worse than simple defeat."
Harlan nodded. "It isn't as though we could defeat them now, not with two of our number..." He glanced around the room, then snapped his mouth shut on the thought.
Tobor was fuming, and Spectre had that odd expression that suggested he was seeing things again.
"What if they are not planning something...else?" Spectre said, his eyes continuing to stare at nothing while Aaron whispered into his mind. "What if something has simply weakened them? Something that they could never have arranged for in the Twilight Zone. Something that prevents them from pressing their advantage."
"Like what?" Rembrandt asked. "The Floating Island may be dangerous to the unprepared, but I hardly think it would present that much of a problem—"
Spectre shook his head. How could he tell them what the voices said, about the woman's sickness, without revealing where this information came from?
"I'm not certain," he finally replied, settling on something that might be close enough. "I was only thinking—when I confined myself to the Island, even though I had been there before, I found myself assailed by illnesses that I had never been exposed to. Illnesses that plagued me, or Jani-Ca, though my son found them merely inconvenient." He shrugged. "Granted, my health is not what it should be, so it would be far easier for me to catch sick than most others, but..."
Rembrandt nodded. "They had never been long in our zone since Menniker's time, and they had been confined to the Twilight Zone for a long time since then. They haven't had the exposure to the Island that we have."
"Do you honestly believe they would hold back because they were sick?" Tobor asked mildly. Inside he was enraged. Damn that spook! All his preparations, and that was one thing Tobor had had no control over.
But the Brotherhood hadn't suspected then, and they shouldn't suspect now. No matter that the spook watched him so closely; the Brotherhood saw him for a madman. Surely they would not wonder about it now, not when Tobor had been so badly injured after his "encounter" with the Legion. Surely that would be reason enough...?
Hawking leaned back and frowned. "I would think you and Spectre would both understand how devastating a sickness could be."
"The better question, I would think," Mathias said, "is how do we find out? And how do we use that if that is the case?"
—
Spectre walked up to the podium. He stared at the crowd, more nervous than he cared to admit. It was the first time he'd been to the city in what seemed like ages. And the people still did not trust him.
But there were more important things than his fear. Jani-Ca's crew had been busy since the Legion invaded three weeks ago. She had been helping care for those who could not fight, and was famous for her ability to charm the people, to pull even the most despairing back into hopefulness.
And now...
Now, it was only appropriate that her husband should support her on one of the most important days of her life.
He opened his mouth to address the people.
"It is my conviction that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself—nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert defeat into victory."
He scanned the crowd, willing his voice to hold the very hope, the very belief they needed.
"In every dark hour of our society, a leadership of frankness and vigor has met with that understanding and support of the people themselves which is essential in achieving the desired goal. I am convinced that you will again give that support to the leadership in these critical days."
He paused, waiting their reaction. He tried to tell himself he was not afraid. Even with everything that had happened, surely not everyone feared the Guardians! Not now, not when they had a real enemy to face.
He needn't have worried. There were many who still questioned the Guardians, and even the new Constable still distrusted him. But not one person, echidna, dingo, or otherwise, was unaffected; the crowd broke into cheers and applause.
He smiled. "And now, citizens of Echidnaopolis," he said, finishing up, "let me present to you, your new High Councilor!" He sat down, and gestured for his wife to take the podium.
"Thank you," Jani-Ca said, though she gave him an odd look before she stepped up to the microphone. "Well, how do you like that? I had rehearsed a speech to give you on my inauguration, I had finally worked myself up to it—and since public speaking was never my strong suit, you know that's a miracle by itself." But the people had come to know her well too well to buy that line, and she heard snickering from among her crew.
She turned to give Spectre that look again. "And my husband shows me up."
Nervous chuckles scattered throughout the crowd.
Jani-Ca sighed. "It was such a lovely speech, too. Okay, I wrote it, so maybe I'm a little biased, but I thought it was one of the best speeches in the history of public speaking." She grinned, and more startled chuckles sounded from the gathering. She took on a dramatic pose. "I was all prepared to talk about working together, and struggling in the face of adversity, and—oh! so many things. It was meant to be uplifting, moving, tear-jerking, inspiring—"
The crew had to struggle harder to keep from laughing.
"What do you expect?" one of her newer strays shouted. "You married a Guardian!" The whole crowd broke out laughing.
Spectre sat up just a little straighter. Jani-Ca flicked her eyes to him, then back to the crowd. His reaction hadn't been much-it would've been nothing had it been anyone else-but it was an encouraging change from his normally somber nature.
Jani-Ca grinned, and waited for the laughter to die down before she spoke again. "Exactly," she replied. She scanned the crowd for the woman who'd spoken, and met Kali-Ka's gaze only briefly. "You do understand. You can hardly expect me to follow that act, now, can you? None of us 'mere mortals' can. So what say we skip the pretty speeches, and I'll tell you just what I'd like you to do..."
—
Sojourner crept around in the forest, keeping an eye out for watchers. He was not worried about the Legion catching him. But he was absolutely terrified that his parents would find out.
They'd ground me until my grandchildren were old and gone if they knew I was out here.
He nudged his power into his room, checking up on his project.
Perfect. The plants he'd been studying back home thrived quite well on his energy. He shouldn't even need those emerald shards Mother had given him anymore; the plants should be enough to convince anyone he was still there.
He suppressed the rest of his power, leaving only enough to let him sense his surroundings. It was risky; the fire ants were the ones to teach him that, and they might sense that their lesson was in use. And even the Legion might be able to detect it.
But he'd have to take the chance. It was either that, or give them the chance to hurt his father, change him like they'd changed grandfather.
He curled his lip at what he felt; the cybernetics didn't bother him, and some of the Legionnaires had quite pleasant minds, but the minds of some of the others... He suppressed a shudder.
He crept a little closer to the camp, and frowned. Something felt...wrong. Not wrong like their minds. Wrong like his own parents, like the sicknesses even he had to deal with now and again.
Perfectly normal for most people, but out of place in the Legion. Their cybernetics enhanced them, enhanced even their health. And this sickness...
Was doing far more damage than it should have.
He cast out his power in search of the wrongness. Sure enough, one of them was sick. Maybe about his mother's age, recently strong, but fading fast.
But is that good for us, or bad? he wondered.
He crept into the camp to find out.
—
Marin-Da woke from a fevered sleep to see someone leaning over her. Just another dream, she decided.
But the figure had seen her open her eyes, and he clapped a hand over her mouth before she could make a sound.
A startled squeak escaped before she recognized that she was fully awake. "What do you want?" she managed past the intruder's hand.
He held up a hand for silence, and closed his eyes.
She frowned, trying to examine him from her position. He sat next to her bed, and nothing more; other than covering her mouth, he hadn't moved since she'd awakened. What...?
She blinked, then realized that the intruder was quite small. A child?
She felt something brush against her mind, and then the intruder opened his eyes and looked at her.
He removed his hand so she could sit up. "How long have you been ill?" he whispered.
What business is that of yours? she thought. She opened her mouth to reply—
Plenty business, he thought back, startling another squeak out of her. If you hope to get better.
She stared at him. How did he...? He got up to look outside the tent. When he sat back down again, she saw it. The collar ring. "You're a Guardian," she whispered.
It wasn't a question, but he nodded. "In training," he whispered back.
She took another look at him, and frowned. He was a child; he couldn't even be as old as her twins. What was he doing here? In his enemy's camp?
"A little over three weeks," she finally admitted.
"This sick?"
"Yes...no. No, just...tired at first." She blinked. Why was she telling him this? She shook her head. "The next morning, I started to feel...hot. Like I had a fever. And..." She shrugged.
"And you've told no one?" he asked, alarmed. "You've let it go this long without treatment?"
"The Legion has been...busy," she replied, feeling a wave of guilt. Busy fighting your people. "I didn't think it was bad enough to bother them. And I doubted any of the locals would be inclined to help out."
"Miss... I'm sorry, there's no nice way to say this, but...you're dying." He shook his head. "I don't know why; it shouldn't be that bad. I've seen people get this virus all the time; it isn't common, but it isn't dangerous, either! My friends have had it, and all they had to show for it was a couple of days laid up in bed. But it...it's killing you."
Her eyes widened. "Actually, that makes a lot of sense."
"It does?"
She nodded. "This virus...you'd probably been exposed to it as..." She shook her head. As a kid, she'd been about to say. "Your people had dealt with it for long enough," she said, neither of them aware that she echoed Spectre's own thoughts. "Your bodies have adapted over time to learn how to fight it, so it isn't dangerous. But the Legion has been holed up in that Zone for...well, it's only been about fifty years or so for us, but if the virus doesn't exist in our Zone, we wouldn't have had the chance to adapt to it like you had."
He stared at her for a long while, and she could see the pain flicker across his expression. She didn't know what to make of it, or what he made of what she'd said.
Finally, he made his decision. "I'll be back soon."
—
A few hours past midnight, Luger was watching his twins help with the patrol.
The radio buzzed in his pocket.
"Yes?"
"You are Luger?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
He frowned. "Yes, I am. Who is this?"
"Luger. The Grandmaster? Marin-Da's husband?"
"Yes," Luger growled. "Who are you? How did you get this frequency?"
"You need to come back to camp," the voice continued. "I need to talk to you."
"Damn it, I asked you—"
"Marin-Da is very ill. She is trying to be strong, so maybe you didn't know that. But I must ask, is this important to you?"
Luger's mouth hung open.
"Is this important to you? Do you want her to feel better? Do you want to see her again...alive?"
Luger's hand tightened around the radio; he couldn't decide whether to be angry or afraid.
"Come back to the camp, Luger." The voice seemed to hesitate. "Alone, please."
"I'll be there in half an hour," Luger snapped. "Simon! Keep an eye on them, could you? I have...other business to take care of."
He reached the camp in less than fifteen minutes. He inspected the communication pavilion first, hoping he could catch the speaker off guard.
But the only people in the tent were the Legionnaires on duty...all of them unconscious.
He pulled out his gun and tiptoed to the opening to his and Marin-Da's tent.
He reached slowly, carefully, for the flap and opened it—
"Put your hands on your head," he hissed, touching the gun to the back of the intruder's head. "And step away from my wife."
The intruder complied.
Marin-Da raised an eyebrow. "I told you he wouldn't like that 'see your wife alive' line."
"I wanted him to know it was urgent," the intruder replied. "And it got him here, didn't it?"
It was the same voice as was on the radio, but...
"You're a kid?" Luger said, astonished.
The intruder...the child...turned to face him. "She's dying, Luger. I don't know if you can save her, but I thought you might want the chance to try."
Luger blinked, too astonished to realize what the child had said. "You're a kid," he repeated. "Who...who are you? Do your parents know you're here?"
"No, they don't," the child replied, "and I'd like to keep it that way. My name's Sojourner."
Luger shook his head.
"Um..." Sojourner scratched his head. "You've probably heard of my father. Aurora knows Spectre's made a name for being vicious."
"Spectre—" Luger cleared his throat. "Guardian Spectre?" What was this child doing here? The Guardians wouldn't resort to using a child as a spy...would they? "You're with the Guardians?"
The child nodded.
"Wait—" Luger frowned. "Guardian Spectre...Tobor's son?"
Sojourner flinched, then nodded.
Ah, that Guardian. Still doesn't explain why the child's here.
Luger gestured to a chair, and folded his arms. "You were talking about Marin-Da's illness?"
Sojourner nodded, and took the invitation to sit down. He repeated the discussion he'd had with Marin-Da.
And Luger's eyes widened with every word. He looked at his wife. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you were busy," she said, "and I didn't know it was that bad." She flicked her gaze to the child, and the guilt flashed across her face again.
"Boy," Luger said. "Sojourner. You also said something about making her feel better?"
Sojourner pulled off his pack and dug out the bundle of plants he'd been working with. "These are all the mature ones I've got. I...I'd been experimenting with them to help my father. He'd been burned, you see, and his medicine... Well, it helps so he doesn't hurt much, but only for a little while, and he can't always think too clearly when he's on it."
Luger inspected the bundle of plants. "And this will help?"
"I was hoping it would. It should help him think clearly, at least. And after I checked Marin-Da's symptoms, I figured it'd do the same for her."
Luger frowned. Something about what the boy had said didn't sit easily in his mind. "You said your father was burned? Recently?"
Sojourner shook his head. "When he was a child. A little younger than me. Everyone says he should've healed by now, but he hasn't. Nobody knows why."
Luger and Marin-Da exchanged alarmed looks. "Your grandfather must be quite upset," he said in a neutral tone, "that his child is in such pain."
Sojourner shook his head. "My grandmother died in that fire; I think Tobor blames my father for it."
Luger grimaced.
"As...as a child?" Marin-Da whispered to Luger. "Tell me he didn't!"
"I wish I could," he whispered back. "But it does seem like the kind of thing he'd do."
Sojourner looked from one to the other, as he tried to figure out what they were talking about.
Luger shook his head. "These plants..." he prompted.
"They won't cure her. She's...um..." He frowned. "It's not that hot here, not to me, but it's hot enough to make it worse. She needs to be some place cold if she's to get better. And I can't even promise that. But those might be enough to make things easier for her." And that's all I can promise, he thought. You won't be able to cure her; she's been here too long.
"These are your mature plants?" Luger said, hoping to shift the topic to something the boy would find more comfortable. "So you have others? Young plants, or seeds, to experiment with?"
The pain in the boy's eyes was all the answer that he needed.
"I see," Luger said, closing his eyes to hide his reaction. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly before looking at the child again. "I am in your debt, young Guardian, and that is a position I have never expected to find myself in. I will try to find a way to repay that debt. But if you think of anything I can do, please let me know."
Sojourner nodded.
—
Marin-Da waited until the boy had left before turning to face her husband. "How could you accept those from him? His father needs them—"
"Not as much as you do," Luger replied. He stared at the bundle of plants.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because he wouldn't have given them to us, otherwise." One corner of his mouth twitched. "Someplace cold, huh? I guess...we're going back home, then."
—
Neither the Brotherhood nor city knew what to expect when they converged on the Legion's camp.
But it wasn't what they found.
The Legion fought to defend themselves, but did not press their advantage. Instead, Luger activated a device to open the portal, and the Legion marched through without the slightest sign of resistance.
Luger was the last to go through. He sought out Tobor's gaze, and simply watched him with a smoldering anger.
And the portal closed between them.
Well, Spectres of the Past is officially over with.
The Sequel, "Uneasy Alliances," takes place at least 30 years later.