So, for those of you who were going to die on Monday, here's the conclusion of that nasty cliffhanger. This chapter ends more peacefully. There's a bit of delving into Hadji's backstory, and I've left it largely consistent with original JQ mythology – nothing that will surprise or shock anybody, I don't think.

Next week on Thursday I'll put up the last chapter of Arc 2 and we'll be onto Arc 3!

Enjoy!

When Hadji's heart at last slowed to the point of stopping, Jonny couldn't help the scream that broke from him. Out in the forest, the tawny eagle faded away into the smoke that was all that remained of the forest fire.

"Now Sentinel!" commanded Ndovu's voice in his mind.

Jonny threw himself into his powers with utter abandon.

-==OOO==-

The savannah was blue just as it had been the first time. Jonny looked around him, shaking his head.

"This is too strange for school," he said aloud, making himself smile at the quote that so annoyed his father, which was, of course, why he had adopted it as an occasional catchphrase. The other one, "Too tall for TV" mostly made Jessie and Hadji gang up on him with their literal senses of humor – which was also why he used it.

But thinking of Hadji reminded Jonny not to waste time. His brother was dying right this minute.

"Okay Ndovu. Now what?" Jonny called into the empty plains.

He felt an odd pulling sensation and suddenly the red fox sat before him, watching him.

"Come on! Give me a hint!" Jonny pleaded. "I'm not good at this stuff. Hadji's the one who…" He gulped. "What do I do?" he asked the fox.

The fox's ears swiveled upwards and Jonny followed them with his eyes, finally sighting a bird flying high above.

"That's Hadji!" he cried, knowing it was true by sheer instinct. "Hadji! Hadji!"

But the eagle continued to soar. To Jonny's horror, he realized it was heading upward into that strange vibrant blue. A blue that Jonny feared would never release him.

"Don't!" he shouted, running as if it would bring him closer to the bird. "Don't go that way! Please, Hadji!"

The fox was racing at Jonny's side, making a strange, almost-wailing keening noise. Jonny turned to it in a panic.

"Why doesn't he come back?"

"I can't."

Jonny actually ran through a ghostly image of Hadji before his feet caught up to his surprise. He spun. His brother stood there – sort of. He looked as he always had, except he did not wear a turban here. His black hair, thick and bushy, spilled down his back freely, moving strangely in a world with no wind.

"I am sorry, my friend," Hadji said. "The guardian was too much for us, and even my psychic abilities could not protect us both from it for much longer. I had only one choice."

"To kill yourself?" Jonny demanded roughly.

"To save as many lives as possible," Hadji replied sadly. "Including yours, Jonny."

"You should have let it take me instead!"

"Never." The ferocity of his word actually seemed to darken the very sky for a moment. "Never, Jonny. You have known since we were children that I would give my life for yours. It is the fairest and most just outcome."

"How do you figure that?"

"You gave me a life, Jonny," Hadji's voice had returned to its gentle tones. "Even now, do you not understand? Let me show you."

"Hadji, wait!" Jonny tried, but the savannah was gone and Jonny felt himself drawn into a power that could only be his wonderful, powerful, foolish Guide.

Jonny found himself looking at a tiny Indian boy, his arms so thin they looked like the limbs of an insect against his strangely puffy torso. His poor feet were bare and bore dark, bleeding blisters. He was wrapped only in a part of a rag to try to cover himself and his hair was matted and wild. The boy was sitting dejectedly on a step, staring straight ahead with a blank, empty expression. He couldn't have been more than four years old.

When Jonny saw his eyes, saw Hadji's eyes overflowing with such despair it had killed every spark of his personality, he felt as if his own heart had stopped.

"Hey! Get away from there!" bellowed an angry, deep voice. And then suddenly Hadji was lying on the ground with blood spilling from his cheek where he'd been struck by a man wearing a heavy ring. "Vermin! If I ever see you again, I'll set the dogs on you!"

Child-Hadji crawled unsteadily to his feet and stumbled away, too lost in himself to even cry at his ill treatment.

"Before Pasha," came the voice Jonny knew so well, "this was my life. And this was one of the good days."

"The good days?" Jonny felt sick.

"Do not fear, my friend," Hadji's voice soothed.

The space around Jonny shifted and Hadji looked two or three years older. He had lost the strange puffiness and was now all stick-thin and gangly. He wore little more than a tiny turban and the simple waist-wrap, but his body was not so dangerously malnourished and his posture was not so defeated and desperate. He was standing next to a stall in a vibrant marketplace.

"How'd you do today, kiddo?" asked a jovial voice. Pasha the Peddler appeared and leaned on his table of items for sale.

"Very well," the young Hadji replied. Jonny now could see that he carried a small reed flute. Hadji dug into his turban and drew out a handful of coins. He held them out.

"Not bad! Not bad!" Pasha approved. To Jonny's surprise, he only took two from the boy's hand, leaving the vast majority for Hadji. "Come on in. There's lunch for you back here."

"Pasha was very kind," the grown Hadji's voice said. "He taught me the simple illusions I was able to ply on the streets of Calcutta. He never wanted a child underfoot, but he fed me when no one else would, and in lean times he gave me a place to sleep as well. He also taught me English as well as whatever else he knew, including how to defend myself."

"Yeah, but you're still out there begging!" Jonny protested. "Why didn't he take care of you?"

"In his way, he did, and for that I shall always be grateful," Hadji answered. "But what he had to give was not what either of us wanted for me."

The scene shifted again. This time, Jonny instantly recognized what he was seeing – it was the first time he'd ever met Hadji. He watched himself, much younger, fail to notice the assassin throwing a knife at his father and Hadji's quick reflexes saving Doctor Quest's life. He cringed as his younger self drew the wrong conclusion from the knife in Hadji's hand and pounced on Hadji, and cringed again when his poor technique was easily outdone and he landed in the dirt.

"You have always been rather impulsive," Hadji commented lightly.

"That was the first time I underestimated you," Jonny said fondly. "And the last, I hope."

"I think so," Hadji affirmed. "But now there is something you need to see."

The scene froze where Hadji was laughing at Jonny and the boys were moving to shake hands as friends. Hadji's face was split with amusement and his outstretched hand was open.

"Look closely, my brother," Hadji said.

Jonny peered at the face of the boy he had met that day and reeled back in surprise.

"Your eyes," he managed.

The ten-year-old Jonny would never have known his new twelve-year-old friend well enough to see it, but a seventeen-year-old Jonny knew Hadji's every look and expression. And there, buried in the dark eyes of that child holding out his hand was the same despairing sorrow he'd seen in Hadji at age four. It was like looking into a well so deep there was no bottom, except the water here was sorrow and hopelessness and unspeakable loneliness.

"Hadj…" Jonny trailed off. He suddenly wanted his brother here in corporeal form so he could grab his arms or hug him or something.

"You were not the first American to smile at me and shake my hand, Jonny Quest," Hadji said softly. "Not even the first family to take me as a guide into the mountains. I was grateful for your kindness, but I expected more of the same. I expected a payment and an abrupt farewell."

His voice went soft. "I expected to be left behind again."

"But you weren't!" Jonny insisted.

"I know."

Jonny expected the scene to change to another moment of Hadji's life, but it didn't. Instead, it faded until there was nothing but a swirl of color and motion. And yet within it Jonny could read the disbelief, the joy, the sheer vulnerability of Hadji's emotions connected to the memory associated with that simple fact. As long as he lived, Jonny knew he would never again see such unrestrained wonder and rejoicing anywhere in the world as Hadji showed him from when his father had put a hand on Hadji's shoulder and asked him to become a Quest. Jonny knew Hadji had never ever forgotten that feeling. That it was, perhaps, the defining moment of Hadji's lifetime.

"So you understand," Hadji's emotions swirled one last time before they vanished into the savannah and he was again a ghostly presence amidst the still grasses.

"Understand what?" Jonny was momentarily disoriented, and only the urgent head-butt of his fox brought his thoughts back to clarity.

"It is you who have given me this gift. When the choice was between you or I, I cannot allow you to come to harm, Jonny. I cannot."

"Oh, god, Hadji!" Jonny exclaimed. "Sometimes you are the stupidest person I know!"

That actually made the insubstantial Hadji flicker for a moment. When he stabilized, his face was more animated than before. "What do you mean?"

"Hadji, it's over! The fire is gone! You did it!" Jonny took a few steps closer. "I get that you wanted to sacrifice yourself rather than let me die in the guardian. And we can argue about it later. But the point is that you can go ahead and stop dying now!"

Far, far above an eagle's cry sounded.

Jonny looked up and saw the tawny eagle, its glorious feathers somehow golden in spite of the strange blue cast to everything else in this place. It began to dive down towards the ground.

"Jonny," Hadji spoke, and for the first time he sounded unsure. "What happens now?"

"We…um…" Jonny lost his certainty. "You have a choice, I guess. You can die if you want to."

"Or?"

"Or," Jonny's voice was very small. "Or you can bond with me and I'll bring you back."

"A bond such as this is not a simple thing," Hadji said, oddly serene even as his hawk was racing towards the ground. "It lasts beyond even one lifetime, if your beliefs permit such a thing. If you carry me back to life as our friend Jim did for Blair, your eternal soul will be twined with mine for all the endless time a soul may live."

"I know," Jonny said, and he looked away. "It's up to you, Hadj. It's okay, whatever you decide."

To his horror, Jonny started to cry.

"Jonny…" Hadji sounded near to tears himself. "Do you…not want me anymore?"

"No!" Jonny bellowed with all the ache from his stomach. "But I can't ask you to give up your…immortal soul or whatever. Not for me."

"I am not the only foolish one here, my friend," Hadji said gently, warmly. And suddenly he was substantial enough that he could reach between them and touch the tears tracking down Jonny's face.

"Hadj?"

"I am losing nothing if I accept this bond with you, my brother. My Sentinel. For it gains me the only thing I have ever selfishly wanted for myself."

Jonny met Hadji's eyes with sudden hope. "And what's that?"

"This," Hadji said, stretching forward. He entwined one hand with Jonny's and dropped his head on his brother's shoulder, tucking his forehead against Jonny's neck. "This, for the rest of all my lives. If you will have me, Jonny Quest."

"Definitely," Jonny said almost sighing with overwhelming relief and joy. This is how Hadji felt when he became a Quest, he realized. Just like this. He wrapped his free arm around Hadji's shoulders and pulled him close, tightening the grip of the hand that held Hadji's. "Without a doubt."

There was another cry as the tawny eagle reached them. Without separating, Hadji lifted his head enough to watch.

The fox yipped joyfully before bounding into the air. At the apogee of its leap, the eagle swept down from the sky and they met in a rush of light.

-==OOO==-

It took Simon two hours to extricate himself from Joel and actually get all the way up to the lodge. The fire crews had arrived in time to confirm that there wasn't much of a blaze left to put out, and Simon was able to name Joel as the person in charge of the pair of crime scenes while he went to "get reports" from his other field teams.

Joel saw right through it, of course, but he was too polite to call out his captain's manipulations in front of others.

Simon pulled up to the gate and found to his surprise that there was no secondary security check – the outer gate swung open and he had a clear shot in. Concerned, he hit the gas and sped down the bumpy road. Simon had been told that Jonny, Hadji, and Ngama were alone at the lodge, but he knew there should still be some kind of automated check for codewords. The inner gate should not have been standing open.

At the lodge itself, Simon sprinted from his car towards the front door, only to almost pitch into the water fountain at the brightly-called "Hi Captain Banks!"

"What in the…?" he looked up, shading his eyes against the sun.

"Up here!"

Sitting on one of the balconies that overlooked the area were the three young men, all in a line on the edge of the balcony, their legs sticking through the railings and dangling freely.

"What are you doing? Why is the gate open? What was that…Never mind!" Simon yelled. "Stay there. I'll be right up."

"Door's open!" Jonny called with overly bright cheer.

Simon was sure he'd never sprinted up so many flights of stairs so fast. Indeed, the door to the room that belonged to Jonny and Hadji stood open and he moved straight through it to the balcony. Bandit barked in greeting before again leaning against his boy.

"Is everything all right?" Hadji asked first. "We have heard from the others, but…"

"Yes, it's all fine," Simon groused. "Why's the gate unlocked?"

"We have been monitoring it from here," Ngama said quietly. "And we did not wish to reengage the systems as it would offer an unnecessary delay for those who would undoubtedly be in a great hurry to reach us."

"There's something wrong in your logic, but I'm too damn tired to figure it out." Simon looked again at the three and made a snap decision. "I'm not having the rest of this conversation without a beer. Be right back."

Thankfully, his own room just down the hall had a well-stocked kitchen and he'd been there recently enough that the refrigerator's contents weren't spoiled. He grabbed a bottle and returned. Eyeing the way the boys were sitting, Simon instead opted for one of the porch chairs.

"Now, which of you wants to tell me why I had to try to explain a giant eagle like some kind of movie monster to Captain Taggart?"

"I will volunteer," Ngama offered. Simon scowled at the jubilant air that surrounded the three.

Ngama briefly outlined his own people's history and their legendary guardian. When he got to the part about Hadji's suggestion that they invoke the being, he coughed on his beer.

"You wanted to do what?"

"It was the most prudent of our options," Hadji said primly. "After all, fate aids the courageous."

"You Quests are going to give me ulcers on my ulcers," Simon grumbled.

"That is physically impossible," Ngama pointed out. "An ulcer is a hole. You cannot grow a hole inside a hole."

Simon made a noise between a sigh and a grumble and waved his hands for the story to continue.

But Ngama faltered. "So…we did it. And you saw the results of it."

"No offense, Ngama, but you're a terrible liar," Simon said. "Tell me the rest."

It was Hadji who spoke up. "The guardian proved to be dangerously draining to Jonny and myself, and it was necessary for me to make a strategic decision in order to ensure the greatest good."

Simon's stomach went cold. "Why do I have a feeling you're lucky to be alive, Hadji?"

The three exchanged guilty looks.

Simon let out a breath. "It's a Sentinel thing, isn't it?"

"We…bonded," Jonny said softly. "I brought him back."

Simon almost dropped his bottle. "You…he was dead and you…"

"Yes," Hadji affirmed.

Shaken, Simon set the beer down and passed a hand over his face. "My God."

The two Sentinels suddenly became aware of the smell of salt.

"I was there," Simon said after a few moments of quiet. "When Jim pulled Blair out of the fountain." He took a steadying breath, but he didn't look up. "He was dead. Dead and blue and cold. He hadn't been in the water long enough to bloat, but he was dead."

Jonny shifted to lean his shoulder against Hadji's hard enough to bruise. It was either that or fling his arms around him. Again.

"I'd never…I've lost friends before. Comes with the territory when you're a cop. But nothing, nothing could have prepared me for that." Simon still didn't look up, as though he were no longer talking to the three young men before him. "And Jim. My God, I thought for sure we were about to lose him, too. I thought for sure he would follow Blair into death as surely as he'd followed him around in life."

At last Simon opened his eyes. "All my life, I will remember his pain. I can't imagine it. If I lost Daryl, maybe it would be like that."

"It would be," Jonny said quietly. "For you it would be. It would be like your heart torn out of your body along with everything you'd ever wanted or liked or felt good about. It would be like the whole world had died and the only one left behind was you."

"Yeah," Simon nodded, recalling that Jonny lived with a widower parent. "You're probably right."

"It will not happen to them again," Hadji spoke up suddenly. All eyes turned to him but he turned to face the horizon instead. "To Jim and Blair. Or to us," he nudged the shoulder still half-embedded in his own.

"What do you mean?" Ngama asked.

"What we have joined, even death cannot put asunder now," Hadji said slowly. "We cannot pass into death without the other, nor will we be spared it singly. If one dies, both must die. That is the blessing and the price of our bond."

"How do you know?" Simon asked.

Hadji smiled a little sadly. "My gifts have always carried with them a deep understanding of that which the literal-minded members of my family would call magic or mysticism. Name it what you will, I have walked the paths between the stars, the spaces where electrons go when they go into non-being. There is a way of Knowing that comes of that. So this I Know."

"God," Simon said with some mix of wonder and denial. Then, "But you're all right now?"

"Yes," Jonny said. "We both are. And we're going to be great."

"Good," Simon said. Then he pushed himself from his chair long enough to crouch beside the three. He put out one long arm to drape it across Jonny's and Hadji's shoulders, the other wrapping around Ngama. "I'm going to leave any yelling at you or asking of complicated metaphysical questions for the others."

He gave a pull so that he could very nearly hug all three of them.

"I don't ever want to see any of you like I saw Blair that day. No parent should outlive his children, and if I understand how all this Sentinel stuff works, we're some kind of tribe now, right?"

"Yes," Hadji affirmed.

"So I'm telling you now as one of your tribal elders, none of you is ever allowed to die on my watch," Simon said fiercely. "I can't say it to Blair because then he'd think he can get under my skin more than he already does. But you three…just…remember that. Okay?"

"We understand, Captain Banks," Jonny said sincerely.

"Good." Simon released them and returned to his chair. "And this is the only time I'm going to say this, Quest: call me Simon. When it's just us, anyway. In the station, you calling me Simon will mean all manner of chaos and insubordination though."

Jonny grinned. "Yes, sir!"

-==OOO==-

"So," Doctor Quest said later that evening. "How does it feel?"

Blair looked up from his seat under a young apple tree. It seemed like it had taken forever for everyone to explain their actions in the day's chaos. Jonny and Hadji were being somewhat recalcitrant about the whole Hadji-died-and-they-bonded-and-brought-him-back part of things, but Blair understood that part. Even as open to sharing as he was, there were some things you just couldn't really express to someone who hadn't been through it themselves. All else considered, Benton and Race and Jessie had taken it fairly well to learn how close they'd been to losing their young Guide, but there had been a lot of dire looks that screamed "we'll talk about this later," too.

But now Benton was with Blair, not his sons, while the others did whatever was needed to work the strain of the last few days out of their systems. So Jim, Race, Jessie, and Simon were all out playing basketball. Hadji was in his room meditating, and Jonny had opted to stay nearby. Benton had been talking to Ngama, but now Blair spotted the youngest Sentinel climbing to the top of the small windmill where he could see for miles. Hard to remember sometimes that he's only seventeen, same as Jonny, Blair thought to himself. He's so much more than that somehow. They both are.

"How does which part feel?" Blair asked.

Benton sat on the bench and stretched out his long legs. "Whichever part you're thinking about. SELF. The Soviet Sentinels. Acting for the DHS. Accepting your bond with your Sentinel. Pick one."

Blair blinked. "I didn't say anything to anybody about our bond."

"You didn't have to," Benton said. "Don't forget that I am a scientist just like you. I know how to observe."

"Yeah, so what did you observe, Doctor?" Blair smiled.

"First, I have never seen you and Jim so comfortable with one another," Benton held up his fingers as he ticked off the points. "Second, you clearly gained a certain kind of enlightenment when you helped guide Jonny to recovering his senses, which signifies some form of shift in your own understanding of your role as Guide. Thirdly, there was not so much of a twitch of discomfort from either you or Jim when you described your own experiences on the mountain today. And finally, you both smiled when Jonny and Hadji told about their own bond, whereas previously neither of you were so open about that particular topic. Simple, really."

"Glad you think so," Blair said. He leaned back against the strong tree. "I feel…okay. A little weird, but who doesn't feel weird today?" he smiled.

"True," Benton nodded. Then, with a sharp glance, "You didn't mind accepting the DHS authority today?"

"Mind? No, not really. I mean, it wasn't what I ever thought I'd be doing. I bet my mom would freak if she knew I was part of The Man and The Pigs at the same time, you know? But…it gave me a chance to help. We would never have known where to find the two bombs we did diffuse if we hadn't located him so fast. And we couldn't have done that without the federal warrant."

Blair sighed. "Not too fond of threatening the guy, though. He was just…he needed help and I scared him."

"He confessed to Detectives Brown and Rafe that he was angry about all the young people who he believes wronged him. Mainly, it seems, by simply existing. A barista at the coffee shop corrected him when he paid incorrectly. There was something about someone at the department store talking down to him or some such. And a recent graduate right out of Rainier was given a position he had coveted." Benton shook his head. "I guess he lost his brother a few weeks ago to a road accident and that set off this chain of psychological behaviors."

"Yeah, he needed help. He was a guy on the edge, you know? And I threatened him into confessing."

"You saved countless lives that way," Benton reminded him. "Including possibly our own and that of your Sentinel."

"Yeah, I know." Blair kicked the dirt. "Still feels gross."

"I'm glad."

"You're…what?" he looked up, frowning in confusion.

Benton smiled at him. "If you'd enjoyed threatening the man with unconstitutional procedures, I would have been very concerned. But I knew you would never take the power of SELF or its connections lightly, nor would you ever misuse it."

"No way, man."

"But I can tell something more troubles you."

"Using that psych degree again?" Blair teased.

"No," Benton shook his head. "Call it a father's instinct."

Blair felt his heart thump oddly. "Well, yeah. It's…yeah. Hard to explain."

"Don't explain," Benton advised. "Just speak it."

"It's just…Hadji's been a Guide for a matter of months and he already seems to know more about some of this weird mystical stuff than I do, and I've been at it for years. What kind of Guide am I to Jim if I'm getting schooled by a kid not even in college yet?"

"You are a fine Guide to Jim and any Sentinel who turns to you," Benton said.

"But Incacha – Jim's shaman – he passed the way of the shaman to me. And…I'm really not rocking the title, you know?"

"Blair, what is the purpose of a Guide?" Benton asked. "Besides as companion to a Sentinel, I mean."

"I guess…a Guide is one who carries the great spiritual powers of the shaman, then, who can pass this knowledge and wisdom down to the tribe that the Sentinel protects to nurture and support them. Like Ivan. She is a Guide for the Sentinels, so she's been guarding and teaching the knowledge of the Sentinels' history and looking out for them. Sort of helping shape their future."

"Is it perhaps true that not all Guides may be all things for all people?" Benton pressed. "Hadji may have the deeper spiritual powers, but it is not in his nature to actually attempt to correct the actions of others. He will advise, but never actively lead."

"Yeah, I can see that," Blair admitted.

"And you are one of the finest teachers I have ever known," Benton said. At Blair's astonishment, he nodded solemnly. "Yes, you, Blair Sandburg. If there is a voice that will pass wisdom onto those who need it, it is you who will bring understanding and passion to the minds you open."

Blair gulped at the unexpected wash of emotion that swept over him. "Thank you, Benton. That…really means a lot."

To his surprise, Benton put an arm over his shoulders to give him a half-hug. "You're just what those kids need, Blair. Don't ever doubt it. Not just at Rainier, but right here." He rose to go.

But he paused long enough to say lightly, "I'm proud of you, Blair. No friend or father could be prouder."

Blair's heart hammered in his chest with pleased happiness, but only for a moment. Then something came together with something else in his mind and forged a connection. While Benton moved to the increasingly rowdy basketball game, Blair bounced to his feet and headed to the windmill.

"Ngama?" he called.

Ngama glanced down before descending a few yards so he would not have to shout to be heard by a non-Sentinel. "Yes, Doctor Sandburg?"

"I know we've been over that 'doctor' stuff between friends, man," Blair complained as the young Sentinel continued his climb to meet him on the ground. Then, more seriously, "You came to Cascade to find me, right?"

"Yes, sir," Ngama said, lifting his head.

"To study at Rainier?"

"Yes, sir."

"And do you still want that?"

Ngama swallowed thickly. "More than ever. I…feel I belong here."

"How so?" Blair asked.

"The wind here…it sings to me. The earth feels quiet and warm under my feet. At home, I may track the movements of animals or the coming weather, but it is shallow, empty. This place, it is music." Ngama might have squirmed except it was not in his character. "If that sounds strange, I apologize."

"No," Blair rushed to assure him. "Not to me, anyway. Hadji always says we are where we are meant to be. And I think that means you are meant to be here."

"I hope so. But my father, he will not…" Ngama trailed off.

"Not be supportive? Not help you? Not pay for school?"

"Not even remotely, any of them," he said with a grim smile.

"Well, that's okay," Blair said with a real smile. "See, there's this whole new Foundation pouring money into a couple of scholarship funds, and since it's a deciding committee of one, me, and I don't have a lot of applicants, I think we can find a way…"

-==OOO==-

Above, Jonny ducked back into the room. "Yeah, everybody's okay. Blair's even talking to Ngama about getting him into Rainier next year with one of dad's SELF scholarships."

"That is good to hear," Hadji said without opening his eyes from his seated spot on the meditation rugs before their wall of windows.

Jonny coughed awkwardly. "Um, Hadji?"

"Yes?"

"You're...you're really okay, right?"

At this Hadji looked up. "Yes, Jonny. Thanks to you, I am fine."

"Because Jim told me that Blair got sick after they bonded," Jonny said all in a rush, "and I don't want you to get sick just because we weren't paying attention."

"Blair had also been dead in a quantity of unsanitary water for several hours before his Sentinel came to call him from the void," Hadji pointed out gently.

"Is that why it was different for us?" Jonny asked.

"Different?"

"There seemed to be a lot...more to it." Jonny gestured vaguely, hoping Hadji could interpret his meaning.

"Ah." At that, his Guide smiled. "You must recall, not only was I still at the peak of my strength, having, in fact, not been dead for several hours, but in addition, I am quite comfortable with that particular plane of existence. You should not be surprised that manipulating it came easily to me even past the point of life. I only hope you are not troubled that I took what I believed to be my last opportunity to 'show off,' you might say, to ensure there was an important truth shared with you before it was too late."

"No, I'm not," Jonny said softly. He shifted from one foot to the other before plopping down on the carpet beside Hadji. "Just...do me a favor, okay?"

"Anything." The word was warm and sincere and they both heard the promise in it.

"Don't ever die on me again. Okay? Seriously." Jonny leaned his head on his brother's shoulder and let out a shaky breath.

"You have my word," Hadji answered gently. "As I said, it no longer matters. Neither of us may pass beyond this world without the other now. We are one."

"So you're mine, Hadj?" Jonny looked at his brother as if he'd never seen him before.

"I think, Jonny, it has always been so. We were merely ignorant of it until now."

"Huh." Jonny's hearing slipped a little from his control and fixed itself on Hadji's heartbeat. Something about that even, steady pulse made all the harsh edges of the world around him soften a little. "Works for me."