Morgoths Bane

Morgoths Bane

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is just that: writing based on the characters and settings of copyrighted works for entertainment purposes. I own nothing. Star Wars belongs to Lucasarts and 20th Century Fox

Summary: Wherein Cal makes an unusual appearance; Rocko makes a disgruntled visit, and Nitz and Jesse shop for rented costumes. A party unfolds; garments are temporarily disheveled and disasters are averted… for now. Also, Star Wars gets taken way too seriously over at Tekerson… as usual

A/N: All right people, this is where things take a turn for the Mature in the ratings department, and I take the precaution soley for the sake of some blunt talk about that most intimate of intimates. However, there will be no explicit scenes in this story, seeing as the authorhas no first-hand experience and hates the thought of copying (which might also explain the weakness in the stuff leading to the main Plot Complication). Plus, it's not that essential to the story so I might as well leave it out and focus on the wheeling and dealing of fate and fortunes.

P.S: In case anyone asks, I do tend towards the melodramatic.

Dunmore Hall, October 27 (a Saturday), 2001

Nitz fixed his cap onto his head and once more studied himself in the mirror. Outright preening was not his common grooming ritual, but today him and Jesse were going to a small costume rental-shop on the east side of campus in order to pick up costumes for Wednesdays party. Jonah had gone out this morning for something or other, and since Nitz figured that anything that Jonah kept hush about didn't concern humans, he consciously decided not to go looking for him. He hoped for the rest of the day to be relatively peaceful and free of distractions.

Of course, when one is a close friend of Romeo "Rocko" Gambiani, one should never expect a peaceful and distraction-free day.

The door swung open, where in burst Rocko, a paper grocery held under his left arm while he grumbled, occasionally aloud. "Stupid Craig. Stupid 'responsibilities', Stupid groceries!" Rocko began to raise the bag up as if to smash it upon the floor, but then thought better of it.

"Hello to you too." Replied Nitz, knowing full well that Rocko had not been referring to him. He turned to face his large friend. "The frat duties getting to you already? What's it been, two weeks?"

"12 days… It's my second trip." Complained Rocko. "And they had to put me on Saturday duty. It's Saturday for crissakes!"

"Only one day a week? That seems a bit… well, light to be complaining about anything." Nitz knew that Rocko had been extremely unreceptive to any sort of work that did not involve either booze or debauchery, but this did seem a little extreme even for that. "Was there anything else?"

Rocko, seeing an opportunity to vent, did so. "Of course there is. I was prepared to do the damn shopping: fill the fridge, restock the first aid supplies or do condom runs if someone asked. Perfectly in line with what a frat embodies" He paused for breath. "But then, just this morning, that wimp Craig said that I'll have to shovel snow this winter, and not just on the sidewalk either. I'll have to go up on that crappy roof and scrape off layers of snow feet deep because 'the rafters aren't as strong as they used to be' or some crap like that. And then they'll have me clipping hedges and mowing grass in the spring!" As if to make a point, Rocko pulled a brand new pair or hedge clippers, still tied on their cardboard backing, and held the end two inches from Nitzs' nose. "Not to mention all of this 'community service' bull that they tried to get me to do last year!"

Nitz, unique in the modern age as having survived the Black Breath of a Morgul Wraith and having recovered from it with no lasting damage, nevertheless did not appreciate sharp metal objects being waved at his face (safety ties and cardboard notwithstanding). "Rocko, have you ever considered that fraternities are not just about hazing, alcohol, and animal abuse involving goats?"

"Nitz, I respect you as a friend and as a… a guy that does the thinking, but that's just crazy talk." Rocko's brow furrowed for a moment, as if wondering about something. "And what are you taking about with the goats?"

"Don't you know?" Asked Nitz.

"I thought they were for pranks, like putting in car driver seats or in deans' offices. Or possibly for cooking."

So Nitz told him. The whole sordid fraternity stereotype.

"What the hell? People are desperate enough to force themselves on innocent livestock? Please tell me that it only applies to complete losers unable to get any human tail." For the first time in their aquaintance, Nitz thought that Rocko actually looked appalled at something.

"Actually, it's portrayed as a pretty widespread stereotype for fraternity members. You'd know that if you actually watched any fraternity films above the PG-13 rating."

Rocko made a move to say something in his defense, but at that moment they heard a familiar voice outside the dorm room window. And seeing as they were four levels up, something odd was definitely going on. Nitz walked over to the window, peered out and became very surprised indeed when Cal Evans, resident RA, friend, ladies man and nincompoop, repelled down the exterior wall to face him.

"Hey Nitz guy. Hey best friend Rocko guy." Cal greeted them in his usual manner. He was wearing a climbing harness complete with pads and helmet.

"Cal… what are you doing?" Nitz asked warily, having never seen anything quite like this before.

"It turns out RA's aren't allowed to have ladies in their rooms," Cal slurped. "So instead we're going rock climbing."

"We?" Queried Nitz. He opened the window and leaned out, before turning his head to the right to see several attractive women in rock climbing equipment were also employed in this sport. "Your girlfriends?" He asked his blonde associate.

"Yeah." A watch beeped on Cal's person and he glanced at it. "Oh, sorry Nitz guy, but me and the nice ladies have to go now. Bye." Cal continued repelling down the exterior wall, Nitz looking after him.

"Do you think he knows that that rule was rescinded in 1987?" Nitz turned back towards Rocko, who was removing the backing from the hedge shears. He only knew this because he had agreed to help Cal with some studying for the informal entry test, and had picked up some small knowledge while leafing through the book one idle day.

"They probably told him that to get rid of him." Rocko came to the window, wielding the shears, and made to place several of Cal's safety lines between the blades. Preparing to sever the lines, Rocko did still turn to Nitz, as if to gain his approval. "Cut?" he asked.

Nitz sighed. No Rocko, no 'Cut'." Grudgingly, Rocko withdrew from the window and Nitz closed it. "By the way, your vocal skills are improving. I guess it helps when you actually interact with people that aren't drunk, your friends or familiar enough with you to not like you."

"Yeah, whatever." Rocko mumbled, proving that this improved vocabulary was not a constant thing. "So, are you doing anything?"

"Yes actually. Jesse and I are going to rent our costumes for the History Students Association Halloween party, so unless you want to go and have the dollar admission, this trip isn't for you." Nitz answered as he slipped his coat on.

"You know, you were a lot more fun when you were chasing that hippy chick." Commented Rocko as he put the shears away.

"I thought I wasn't any fun at all, from the way you guys went on."

"You weren't, and your obsessing was pretty pathetic. But at least you weren't always running off to be with an actual girlfriend, one that actually liked you." Rocko shrugged as he followed Nitz out the door. "We always assumed that we could find you after you got discouraged with Kimmy."

"Things change, Rocko. And it's not always to ways that are necessarily convenient." Nitz locked the door, and then walked away, leaving Rocko literally holding the bag.

"Well… yeah. And I think I'll go to that party. And I hope there's at least a little booze there!" This was the last Nitz heard of his friend as he went out.

20 minutes later, Bodkin Street, 10 blocks from the State U Quad

Jesse trudged behind Nitz through the stiff autumn gale that had set upon the town just after they had set out, the wind at their backs. They had first taken the campus bus to the nearest stop, but it was still two blocks to the costume shop they sought, so they had to walk the rest of the way.

There were other stores, of course, but only this one had a good chance of having the costumes they desired.

A sudden gust suddenly changed direction and hit them in their faces, blowing Jesse's hood back and nearly taking Nitzs' hat off of his head (1). When Jesse stopped to adjust her hood, she noticed just which shop they had halted before.

The display window was filled with all the material paraphernalia of infants and the accompanying parenthood. From cribs and mobiles to strollers, car seats and highchairs, this was the kind of display specifically designed to make a woman's biological clock get up and… well, tick louder, one would suppose. And when that sort of cynical marketing ploy is mixed into a hotbed of young adult hormones, prophecy, and supernatural forces pulling at ones brain… it can cause one to really think.

Jesse just looked at the window for a minute; her imagination beginning to wander back to that long ago spring morning… before Nitz broke her out of it. He was standing beside her, and, just for a second, he too looked at the store window.

But for some reason, he shook it off almost immediately. "Come on, the place isn't very far away." He turned started walking on their original course. "The Shop is closing in about two hours, so if we want the most time to make our choices, we should get moving."

Jesse, her eyes lingering for another instant on the window, followed him.

The "Ye Olde Anachronistic Costume Shoppe" was the only place in the college-town of Yewtown that catered to the costume needs of those wanting to travel back to before Queen Victoria croaked. From Greco-roman togas and reproduction lorica segmenta armour to pith helmets, various uniforms and buckled shoes, the selection was massive. The drawback was that their rental prices were often termed 'excessive', with their buyout prices being called 'highway robbery', but this was perhaps justified when one considered that these were top quality costumes, and that it was expensive to create, repair and replace them.

For the HSA Halloween costume party, for example, a set of costumes from the 18th and 19th centuries were what they sought and, after one and a half hours of searching, they found what they had been looking for.

Skinner Studio (overlooking Rowing Canal #2), October 31st, 6 PM.

The History Student Association's Halloween Costume Party had been, for the last 20 or so years, one of the premiere social events of the late autumn, just behind the famous 'Exposed Expo' of the winter's first snowfall.

As such, it wasn't anything that Rocko (not Romeo, not even to his friends) would usually attend. It had no kegs of beer, no porn, and not much other alcohol besides some fancy wines at the refreshment table. On the plus side, it afforded him an opportunity to wear his favourite costume of all time: A giant papier-mâché replica of his own head. And also fists for his hands.

But although it certainly made an impression, he thought as his papier-mâché forehead dented against a low joist, it did make maneuvring a little difficult.

Soon, he found himself at the edge of the dance floor. Behind him, a female voice chuckled, almost drowned out by the band performing its "Hail Columbia" set. "Well, I always thought you had a big head, but this is just ridiculous." Impeded by the large construction on his shoulders, he slowly turned around until he saw who commented on his costume, although he already knew who it was. It was, in fact, Jesse dressed in a 19th century nurse get up, like that Nightingale chick on the History Channel.

"You know, that get up may be bulky as hell, but it still shows you off pretty nice." He had always, in his own lecherous and carnal way, appreciated Jesse, or at least her mortal coil. But as something pointy nudged the space between his shoulder blades, he began thinking that he should not have phrased that last sentence quite that way.

"Aye, it does. An' if ye ken what's good fer ye, ye'll keep yer een tae yerself." Said an oddly familiar voice, one being modulated in an accent the voice obviously wasn't very used to. The point withdrew and a hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around, revealing the person to be one other than Nitz himself. He was unshaven, his hair was shaggy and it looked as if someone had applied a fake wart to the left side of his nose. His dress was of an archaic style: a ratty brown overcoat, worn over a brown vest and a linen shirt that was accented by a red handkerchief. On his legs was a pair of knee britches above red and white striped stockings and a pair of worn, buckled, leather shoes. In effect, Nitz had been turned into a sailor of the early 18th century… or a pirate from similar.

"Nitz? It that you?" Rocko was astonished. This did not look at all like the reserved, well-trimmed Nitz Walsh that he had come to know and grudgingly respect. Instead, this was the image of a pirate that had been living out of taverns for the past twenty years, drowning his liver and boring the patrons. The make-up to give his skin a sallow sheen to it only highlighted the effect.

"Aye… and by that, I mean yes, it's me." Nitzs' voice changed back to normal as he sheathed his replica cutlass. "I assume you paid the admission?"

"Of course. Though I gotta' say, this party isn't the best value for a dollar I've ever been to." He looked down at the sword that had so recently prodded him. "Revenge for the hedge clippers?"

"Not really… I just know a rake when I see one." He strolled over to Jesse and took her by the arm. "Shall we head tae the dance, bonnie lassie?" He asked Jessie courteously.

"Only if you drop the cheesy accent." Jesse said sternly as she looked Nitz in the eye.

There was a pause.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Nitz asked, clearly out of his depth.

Jesses' stony face suddenly flickered into a joking smile. "Almost." She began chuckling. "Come on. I hear a party I'm not at and that doesn't sit right with me at all." She led Nitz onto the crowded dance floor; Nitz looked back and offered his friend a conciliatory smile. Rocko could only shake his head as he followed them. Romance… he was glad that he was never going to fall for that crap.

The party was, at the moment, more 'party' than any form of dancing. The parade songs they were playing were not anything that anyone could even remotely dance to, so the crowd was generally milling about. People were eating, drinking, excusing themselves to flush the final products of food and drink, and also excusing themselves (often in pairs) to do things in no way related to food at all. And of course, many people were just talking on various subjects.

And, as usual when it came to History Student Association functions held this year, 'Professor White' was right in the middle of it. He was wearing the armour of a Crusades-Era knight, mail coif and hauberk with plate-mail covering the feet, shins, forearms and hands. Atop that, his tabard was a deep blue with a strange pattern of two trees intertwined, one in gold thread and the other in silver. By his side hung a sheathed arming sword, on his back was a heraldically shaped shield and under his right arm a cylindrical Great-Helm. As such, it was only a costume that someone with a deep interest in the medieval period would apply, most of the commercial costumes being the full plate suits and visored helms from late in the period. Suffice it to say, he knew his stuff.

After making their introductions and doing some mandatory socializing, the pair reconvened at the punch bowl, where they quickly discovered that no one had taken it upon themselves to perform the traditional spiking. Some years people used rum, others had found it enjoyable to use vodka so that no one would taste the difference until people started throwing up and falling down. And then there had been that one year when the punch had been spiked with something so strong that, at one sip, the poor bastard who had drunk it had began talking gibberish, with his eyes rolling around in his head and steam coming out of his ears. Needless to say, they'd called the bomb squad on that one.

"Nitz?" Asked Jesse casually, holding one of the humorous second-hand punch cups in both hands.

"Yeah?" Replied Nitz, who was watching the door for Jonah's and Brodies alleged big entrance.

"I've been thinking about something... kind of weird." She drained her cup and put it down on the table.

"What do you mean weird?" Asked Nitz interestedly, thinking that anything she'd consider weird with her family must be truly bizarre.

"The thing is, Nitz, that Mithrandir said there was something inside your head for the last few years. Some sort of strange, ethereal, mind-altering parasite. And that it possessed me too... which would explain that monster headache I had that day you did that big spiel with the tux." She was approaching the subject cautiously... a bit too cautiously compared to her public demeanour.

"Well, that's what he tells me. With all that I've seen, I don't quite know what's real and what isn't anymore. Why do you ask?" Nitz was getting one of those feelings of his; the ones that he got right before a "posterity moment" happened. So far, these had either been moments of great discovery or of great danger where he had been almost shot, rendered insane or ripped into little pieces. Given that, his level of worry was slowly rising.

"Nitz... I don't know how you're going to answer this, so I'm preparing myself for anything. What I want to know is what you believe would have happened last year had we not been possessed by some strange, eldritch thingy from the depths of the Void. What would have happened... between us?"

Of all the questions Jesse may have put forth, especially given the recent fevered dreams Nitz had been experiencing, none of them could have been more awkward in the answering than this one. "Well... I believe that, firstly, Kimmy wouldn't have preoccupied me nearly as much as she did. There would have been the occasional wistful fantasy, maybe, throughout high-school. Maybe I would have had the idea of her as some sort of unattainable prize. But…" Nitz paused, gathering his inner resolve. "Probably, from the moment I found you rummaging around in my and Cal's stuff, I would have probably paid a lot more attention to you. No stupid obsessing over Kimmy, no blowing you off constantly to be around her and certainly no shirking my friends... for Kimmy, I mean. For you I might have. And then there's the time we were both buck naked at the expo and I, well... didn't react to you, or anyone for that matter. In the sense that I... uh..." Now it was getting awkward again.

"You would've needed your hat to cover your bits, huh?" Jesse grinned, the relaxed attitudes and wryness she had adopted for her campus life surfacing again.

"Well... yeah." Yep, this was awkward. "Um... well, there's a few more things concerning those possible happenings that I would like to discuss... but I believe they would be better described... in private."

"Sure." Replied Jesse as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "Where do you want to go?"

Nitz cast several glances around the dance floor, eventually locating a stairway up into one of the old private lofts that were once used by the more controversial or less scrupulous artists. "How about up there?" He pointed to the relevant flight of stairs.

"Looks good." Confirmed Jesse. At that moment, the music switched to the Blues Brothers version of the Peter Gunn theme. As if on cue on the first horn movement, the doors to the outside opened and in walked Brodie and Jonah. Both were wearing the same essential costume: black suit jacket, black suit pants, black shoes, white dress shirt, back necktie, black hats, and black sunglasses. With the briefcase and the pair of handcuffs holding the case onto Jonahs wrist, the pair was, in actuality, a pretty good match for the fictional Jake and Elwood Blues, stature wise.

"And I think we should go right now." Nitzs' voice was uncharacteristically rushed as he took Jesse's hand and hurried toward said staircase.

This was not unnoticed by Jonah, although he chose not to do anything about it. He merely leaned against the wall, got comfy and checked his pocket for the device he was relying on tonight. He just hoped those tags he attached to their clothes would hold.

Brodie... now, he was a real character. He was the one who'd thought up this act for tonight. Besides his sister, he was the first real friend or acquaintance he'd had in this place. He'd have to thank Jesse one day for introducing him to her 'crew' because, freaks and geeks that they were, they were extremely interesting people. Brodie shared his interest in movies, if not quite knowing when to stop talking about them. Krueger was probably the foulest mouth on campus, but sometimes he did have an insight, or at least a point. And Dan was just Dan, as there was simply no other way to describe him.

And if Eldamar Technologies' newest movie-inspired device didn't work as it was supposed to, he didn't know how the twins would react, but they'd almost certainly try to do something to young Mr. Walsh. He honestly worried about them… meaning both Nitz and Jesse. Not only were Elladan and Elrohir getting a bit... itchy about Nitz being in such close proximity to their kings' daughter, but something had the man and woman on their hit-list, something that not only had access significant resources both monetary and arms-wise, but was also in the service of/served by supernatural and possibly evil forces.

'Well, here's to Noldorin technology.' thought Jonah as he slugged back the punch from the cup Brodie had just handed him. Outloud, he only said "Thanks." in a blunt, concise, 'Elwood-y' manner.

Meanwhile...

The loft was... let this author put it like this: During the era when this was a working studio, many kinds of art had been studied and attempted here. There were professional portraits, nature scenes of the campus, and still-lifes of bowls of fruit and the like. And then there was a special type of still life that involved men and women not wearing their drawers. Some people say that the human body was an artistic treasure onto itself, but some people took the appreciation of such to obscene levels; pillaging for instance.

The scandal that had led to cancellation of the art program... or at least the part that required people to take off their clothes, had involved an art teacher taking advantage of the authority he held over several females in his class some 50 years ago. Some acts had been voluntary... some, not so. At the time, there was some debate whether the closure was an overreaction to a single incident, perhaps a concession to easily offended social conservatives... but that is neither here nor there in relation to the present scene.

Jesse was perched on the edge of a set-piece bed, watching Nitz pace back and forth, hands grasped behind his back. She was getting a little agitated by his also agitated behaviour. "Nitz, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor! Will you just sit down, stop jittering and say what you came up here to say?!"

Nitz complied, though it was not easy. Ever since the eldritch presence of his parasite had fled him, he had found it difficult to discuss subjects related to the intimate. In his first year of post-secondary education, he had fantasized about such things at will, and sometimes spoken glibly about the prospect of decidedly sexual encounters with Ms. Burton. But now, he was now reduced to the but the quivering puddle he had been during the three days co-habitation with Jesse. And what he was about to discuss was decidedly intimate: thoughts, dreams, desires, fears... not to mention passions.

"So.. " Jesse began slowly. "you were talking about last year's Expo. About your reaction, or lack thereof... to me?" She would not have normally blushed talking of such things, but then, she had always spoken in the abstract.

"Yeah... it was weird. Cold or not, something should have happened, or even when we went back inside." It was strange, or not, depending on how one looked at it. On one hand, the natural reaction of a red-blooded American male (even if he wasn't Rocko) would have been for his reproductive protuberance to be at full mast. From that, such a lack of response to such a specimen of near-human womanhood as Jesse would usually point to outside intervention, either that of the ghoul that had twisted his desires, or of something important having been cut off. On the other hand, it was cold.

"And... if it had?" Asked Jesse.

"Well... that was what I wanted to talk about." he let out a deep breath and inhaled again in preparation. "I've been having dreams. They're not just any dreams mind you... they're always repeats of certain parts of my first year at this place. And they're always different from what actually happened." To say that he was bashful... nervous... afraid that she would slap him and leave when he told her of what he had dreamed, would be perfectly accurate at this point.

"Well... the first dream sort of... picks up from when you and me met up at the Expo. I.. ah... well, I reacted. And then..." He stopped.

"Go on." Goaded Jesse.

"I guess that... we... meaning you and me... retreated to a small jag between two of the buttresses on the auditorium. And then..." 'I have to be a man about this' thought Nitz. " I remember the feel of cold grass, dirt and snow around my feet, the feeling of my hand pressing against cold brick... and my other arm..." He gulped "around you. And then there was breathing and whispers and then.. well, it felt like the back of my head blew out."

"So... we had sex?" Jesse ventured, returning to a more blunt manner of speaking.

"I guess.. yeah." Nitz admitted, felling a little better now that the first part was over with..

"You gotta admit though, it is a bit dumb." Jesse chuckled a little

Nitz became disheartened, thinking that she was referring to the general theme of the discussion. "Oh." He said weakly.

Realizing the misunderstanding, Jesse hurried to explain. "Nitz, I didn't mean that your entire dream-fantasy thing was dumb, it's just that... that kind of activity makes you awfully sweaty. And considering how cold it was, with me going for pizza just to get in a warm building, doing that sort of thing outside would have probably got us pneumonia. If we had done that, we probably should have gone back to my place."

Thinking about it, Nitz probably realized that that one aspect of the dream was probably pure fantasy. But the next one was invariably more likely... he thought.

"There are others, you know." Nitz said, subconsciously moving closer to Jesse.

"Such as?" Jesse was looking as comfortable as he was feeling nervous.

"Like... remember that time I was staying in your dorm, I came back with the groceries, you dropped your towel in surprise and I got a full look at you in the... natural?

Jesse held up her hand. "Let me guess: we immediately jumped each other and began doing the nasty on Charitys' bed?" At least she was amused. Nitz thought, rather than disgusted.

"Actually, it was a lot more complicated than that. You still had to leave for your Bio lab... but I did manage to squeeze out a request for a date that night. We went to that Argentine place on the corner of Bodkin and Keel... more beef and white bread than I have ever seen in my life. Then we got a few sodas, seeing as I couldn't get past a bouncer if my life depended on it. We went back to the dorm... we talked... and after I said that, without exception, you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen... we, well... yeah, we had sex."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Jesse gently teased him. Nitz really had become too cautious and stunted in his romantic endeavors... well, that's not entirely true, considered Jesse. The light stuff he was fine with: hand holding, kissing, hugging, the occasional unconscious contact or footsies: mainly acceptable courting or only mildly scandalous... by Victorian standards. Hell, he could even work his way up to first base with only a mild case of the shivers. But after that... he seemed hopeless sometimes. It was almost as if he had reverted to a grade-school attitude about sex.

"No... it wasn't." Nitz, for his part, was rather relieved that it was going so well. He couldn't very well mess this up by going into what was arguably the mushiest, most sentimental of the dreams.

"Wanna hear about the last one?" He was much more relaxed now, thinking that this description, being more potentially "romantic", wouldn't be so "freakish".

"Might as well. I've already heard two and knowing you, it can't be that different." Answered Jesse.

"Actually... this one is... kinda different." Nitz gestured with his hand for affect.

"Kinda? Nitz, I think I know you well enough that what I'm about to suggest is pure crap, but this doesn't involve anything... weird, does it?" Asked Jesse with mild concern.

"Um, no, I don't think so. It's just that, in this dream, I began feeling guilty about ignoring you at that last party. I left before all the screaming began, I went back to the dorm, I opened the door... and there you were with a table, food, candles, soft music and... wierdest of all... you were wearing a dress." Parker, knowing her dress habits almost exclusively from her campus persona, had considered this a very strange thing for her to do.

Jesse's eyes opened wide in shock at what he had described. Trying to remain calm, she asked the next question slowly "What kind of dress?"

"Um..." Nitz began getting nervous again, hoping that nothing would ruin 'the moment'. "It wasn't anything really remarkable, certainly not anything really revealing. It was blue... a light blue. It was sort of like a cocktail dress or one of the original Chanels from the 20's. Skirt cut at the knee, sleeves to about the mid-point of the forearm, big flat collar-thing across the upper chest... though for some reason you weren't wearing any shoes or socks."

Jesse just sat there, staring at him. He had, in almost perfect detail, just described the one dress of hers that did not immediately cause her to cringe in embarressment. It was the dress she had worn on her 17th and 18th birthday celebrations, the one she had worn to more to more than a few social functions... and the dress in which she had waited for him on the last night of Screw Week.

"What? Was that part at all... weird?" Asked Nitz.

"Um... no." Jesse finally replied. "It's just..." She lowered her voice to a near whisper. "You just described precisely what was in my dorm: me, the food, the dress, everything. Did Jonah tell you any of that?"

"I swear he didn't. But are you telling me that you were actually waiting for me? I thought that we were just going to finish packing your stuff." If this meant what he thought it meant, then...

"Nitz, I finished all my packing in the afternoon. I'd been working myself up all day trying to think how to tell you how I felt about you. Then I prepared that romantic thing; I was going to tell you everything... about the town, my folks, my neighbours... that I liked you." Jesse sighed before continuing. " I was going to ask... no, confront you about why you were always chasing the redhead, why she always took precedence over someone you actually did things with and what she had that I didn't?" She looked up from where her face had been looking down. "Any of it familiar?"

"Yeah... it is. But... how?" Nitz had never really payed much thought to any notion of a higher power. Actually, despite being nominally Episcopalian on his fathers side and semi-observant Presbyterian on Anne's, church had always been the domain of weddings, funerals and social events far too large for the local halls (except for that 'virgin' trip he'd been on that time). And right now, those higher powers were extremely thankful for that lack of thought.

It was probably a very good thing that Irmo had set a short-term self destruct on the memory engrams encoded into the dreams he had sent into Parker's head. Nitz still had the romantic feelings towards Jesse in his subconscious, and that was the goal. What he lacked was the disturbing feeling that someone or something had again been meddling with his desires the way the ghoul had been; the horrible, gut-wretching thought that his love for this beautiful woman was just another supernatural powerplay and somehow less genuine; less real. It was real though, just a bit... hastened.

"I don't know. And with my family and circle of friends, you probably just got a dose of our congential weirdness. But unless you want to end this right now, you'll tell me what you dreamt we did. Understood?"

Nitz snapped out of the thoughtful daze he'd been in. "Oh.. yeah... well, we ate, of course. We listened to some of that chambre music stuff that Cal's mom likes so much. We talked... you basically said all that stuff about why would I go after a woman who barely knew I was alive, and why I couldn't see what was right in front of me. And I guess... I realized I had been a bit of a twit." He decided that he might as well get on with it. "We also, kinda, did have sex afterwords, being Screw Week and all."

"Of course." Jesse agreed.

"But it wasn't nearly as frantic or chaotic-seeming as the other times. I don't know if this sounds stupid or not, but it wasn't so much sex as... well, the term is 'making love'." Boy, did Nitz feel like a sap, and that's sap as in Grade-A, 100 Canadian Maple Syrup.

"That's really... nice." Jesse leaned over to him, even though the exercise was seemingly pointless given their proximity.

On a completely unrelated note, the (relative) heaviness of their costumes combined with the heating systems in the Studio and the body heat from the main floor was raising the temperature, so to speak.

Nitz, suddenly feeling a lot warmer than when he had first sat down, tugged at his collar with one finger. "Yeah... nice." It seemed that, in the process of talking, they'd gone from sitting a reasonable and respectable distance from eachother to being practically conjoined. "Um... Jesse. Is it just me or are you hot... I mean warm, temperature wise?" Well, of course Jesse was hot, as in extremely attractive, possessing an exotic beauty not only in her non-euro-american background, but something, if just a sliver, from her non-human side. But she also was getting a bit warm, judging from the beads of sweat on her face.

"Yeah. And I thought these costumes were a good idea with how cool it was getting." She took off her archaic nurse-cap and began fanning herself with it. Right now Nitz's libido was getting hammered by an image out of any young mans' casual fantasies. Her tan skin, dark eyes, the sweat... it was all leading his thoughts to one precise zenith.

"Jesse?" asked Nitz in a shallow, breathy voice.

"Yeah?" Jesse leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose.

"Would it be... weird of me to ask if we could just... take off our outer layers... just to cool down?" It may not have been the best pick-up line in all of creation, and in many other situations, it would have been met with either derisive laughter or threats of violent bodily harm, but it was the boldest thing that Nitz had ever attempted on a girl without his libido being driven by some void-spawn birthed in the blackest dreams of men.

And, in a move that was completely and totally unexpected... Jesse actually agreed.

"Not at all." Jesse smiled at Nitz and pulled her face away as she sat upright. She laid her cap on the bed ands began unfastening the broach that held her cape on (2).

Nitz shuffed off the heavy overcoat, but that did little to diffuse the radiant heat he was feeling.

"Any cooler? Jesse asked, turning to him again.

"Ah..." Nitz didn't quite know if he actually was, for his attention was increasingly focused on the woman before him. "No, I don't think so." Now Jesse had leaned towards him again.

"Well, talking about stuff like this can make someone a little hot under the collar." Jesse and Nitz's faces were no more than two inches from each other. Most situations like this would normally, in a narrative-consistent fashion, lead to the achievement of first base or further. And as Jesse coyly plucked the fake wart off of Nitz's nose and they both, simultaneously, moved into a kiss that could turn into something serious, the moment promised to be a fateful one.

Sometimes, however, fate can have a cruel sense of timing.

The door opened and in stepped Jonah in full costume, shades down, briefcase in hand and his face a carefully blank slate. This didn't flinch when he witnessed his sister and her boyfriend laying on the bed, lips suctioning together and their hands acting as if they were independently intelligent life-forms. "Am I interupting something?" He asked innocently

Not surprisingly, both Nitz and Jesse stood straight up at the sound of a human voice, their clothes disheveled and faces flushed. As both of them began to try to put themselves back in order, Jesse answered quite abruptly in the positive. "Actually, you were. Is there a reason why you came in here, or are you acting as the Twin's long arm again?" In the background Nitz was trying to figure out how to reattach the wart, but finally gave up.

"Actually, there is. Me and Broadie are about to do the schtick. I just figured my sister and her significant other would like to see it." Jonah said before gesturing for Jesse and Nitz to proceed down the stairs. Lagging behind them for a moment, Jonah paused to take a small handheld-device out of his pocket. It was a small touch-screen within a golden frame, with a small dial below the screen and on the screen itself, the words "Virgin Alarm" blinking in white against a blue background.

Thank you, Mr. Brooks.

As the group reached the dance floor, Jesse asked Jonah something that had been troubling her for days. "Bro, I don't doubt that if you and Broadie plan something it'll have a lot of effort put into it; the amount of work he puts into his scripting projects probably means that he's been staying up nights worrying about choreography. But Rhythm & Blues karaoke? You know as well as I do that karaoke doesn't draw much interest out here, and doing it with Blues Brothers songs? I just hope you have an escape route planned."

"Sis, sis, sis, you worry far too much... of course I have an escape route planned!" Jonah smiled at his sister, and then began loping towards the backstage. Eventually, the houselights dimmed, the spotlight came on, the DJ did his Cab Calloway impression, and Broadie and Jonah made their appearance. Jonah had even cut his normally long hair to get into character.

It was Jonah who broke character for a moment to shout something out over the mike. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my sis and her boyfriend. Because, when you get right down to it... Everybody needs Somebody to Love."

Tekerson Technical Institute, Parking Lot B, 10PM

Tabitha shivered through the rough woolen robe she wore. When she envisioned a first meeting with the ever elusive G-Prime, she didn't think she'd be out past tricker-treating hours on Halloween in a cold parking lot with hundreds of other socially ineffectual Web junkies wearing what amounted to articacts from the Jedi Purge. In fact, she was pretty sure this thing still had the original blaster holes and lightsaber slashes.

But there she was; standing beside an alter/slab/cremation plinth in front of a veritable mass of people in similar dark brown robes. Personally, she thought this was all a bit much.

Sure, the new novels in the Star Wars continuity were taking on a tone of prolonged conflict where the heroes were doing poorly. Sure, two major characters had already gone down in blazes of 'Glory': one the beloved and ever present sidekick of the Original Trilogy, Chewbacca; the other the youngest and more enigmatic son of Han and Leia, Anakin Solo of the Expanded Universe. Both had died, more or less, heroically and in grand fashion. But there were some fans that were taking these events as a sign that new publishers were screwing with traditional and well loved formulas in the name of boosting sales, introducing a gritty "realism" to the franchise and moving the canon away from Space Fantasy to a "hard sci-fi" direction.

In short, they didn't like it at all. They disliked the idea so much, in fact, that they were now holding a cremation ceremony for the "Spirit of Star Wars" here in the parking lot, which apparently involved chanting a funeral dirge version of the "Force Theme" while standing around on a cold night wearing jedi garb.

This was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing thing she'd ever been involved in.

But, as Gimpy and a few of his closest associates carried the pall up the aisle, she began considering that maybe a bit of catharsis was good for these guys.

The "Spirit", basically a dummy built from rags and twigs, was placed upon the plinth and the crowd fell silent.

Gimpy turned to the assembled. "We gather here to remember days of glory and deeds great! We gather here to remember heroism and villainy as two sides of a coin, but never confused!" He pulled back his hood to reveal that his normally spastic face was grim and stony. "But we also gather to remember what once was, and may never be again! A time when hope was the lifeblood of a Galaxy Far Far Away. When heroes actually stood a chance!" For the first time in a very long while, Gimpy began looking depressed. "And that time, my comrades, has already passed. Now, all that can be done is to say goodbye... and to do so in a fitting manner!"

And thus the effigy, symbolic of all that was once loved about the Star Wars franchise, was set alight in the manner of a Jedi cremation. As the flames rose and embers floated into the dark sky, the students of the technical college (3) stood in awe of the spectacle. As she watched Tabitha, a young woman increasingly at odds over just who or what she was, thought that perhaps, just perhaps, peoples' thought and emotions were important in their own right, and not just in the grand scheme of things.

And for that, she was really beginning to grate at the attitudes of her coworkers.

Footnotes:

1. It might be said that it was his only one left, after Cal had used his others for door prizes during last years Screw Week

2. In truth, the costume wasn't actually an original Florence Nightingale. Florence had worn a much longer headdress and a more utilitarian apron over dark blue, whereas Jesse's costume was a hybrid with a 20th century design, including red and navy cape, modern cap and a lighter construction to compliment under-clothing that wasn't 10 layers of linen and wool

3. As well as the Yewtown Fire Department

A\N: Well, that was longer than usual, but exposition will do that. Still the next chapter will contain major property damage, so the action factor might increase somewhat.