Diane McPherson was having trouble believing her ears. The Homeland Security director stared down the television monitors, where network news crews were on an endless loop about the collapse of the Plaza and the mysterious cloud and spontaneous fires that had just appeared over Central Park. So if it wasn't for who was telling her what he was telling her..."Mr. President, you're telling me that the floor started to fall out from under you...and then it just stopped?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"You believe something stopped that floor long enough for you to evacuate?" The President nodded. "And do you believe that this...force is part of what's going on in Central Park right now?"

The President ran his hands through his hair, tilting his head back and letting out a slow, tired breath of air. "I honestly couldn't tell you, *Director*," he said, emphasizing the formal title of the woman he was talking to. "All I know is that when I go over last night's events, I'm convinced that I should be dead. And I'm not. And I have no idea why."

Diane looked around at the number of people who were listening in on their conversation. The number of men in military uniforms. And suits. With earpieces in their ears. Definitely not a safe place to have a conversation about the unexplainable...she thought with a sigh. "Gentlemen," Diane announced to the room, "can I have a moment alone with the President, please?"

As the wary crowd of men looked to their leader, the President carefully studied the face of his Homeland Security director. She seemed to be determined...but also sincere. "Guys," he asked the men who surrounding him, parroting the words of his advisor, "give us a moment. It's okay."

After the last man filed out of the room, Diane crossed the conference room to get within arm's length of the President. She pulled up a chair so that she could talk to the man at the level he was on. "Sir...this is *me* you're talking to here. You know me. You know the experiences I had in Cascade. You know I'll believe anything you have to tell me."

"Anything?" the President asked warily. When Diane nodded again, the President drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and let his guard down. "Okay...as we were all sitting down to dinner, there was this man. He...he stood up."

"When everyone else was sitting down?" asked Diane. The President nodded. "Sounds normal enough so far."

"Diane," the President breathed out, his words almost their own sigh of frustration. "You wouldn't say that if you had been there. That man, he...he was *terrified*. Before anyone had any reason to be."

The director fought to catch on to her boss' train of thought. "Do you think he was a psychic or a Sentinel of some kind? Maybe he sensed the bombs before they went off?"

"I've considered those possibilities, based on what you've told me about Cascade," the President replied. "The thing is, that doesn't fit with what happened to this man after the bombs went off."

"What happened?"

"He had a seizure. While standing up. Seemed like the seizure froze him to his spot, actually."

Diane suppressed her surprise quickly. "You're right, that is strange..."

The President's eyes widened as another unusual memory from that night rose to the front of his mind. "His date..."

"What about her?"

"She didn't try to help him. In fact, quite the opposite. She guarded him like a pit bull, ready to pepper spray anyone who got near him..." The President's face then drained of color as his mind pieced together the timing of the events of the previous night. "Wait a minute...that man didn't have that seizure as the bombs were going off."

"No?"

The President shook his head. "He had it when the floor stopped moving."

It quickly became Diane's turn for her face to drain of color. "You think he had something to do with the delay between when the bombs went off and the building collapsed?"

"Christ, Diane, how would I know?" the President exclaimed. "All I'm saying is that the timing of this 'seizure' can't possibly be a coincidence." It was then, out of corner of his eye, that the President saw it. "That's him!" he exclaimed. "That man...they just showed him on the news."

"Thank God for DVRs," muttered Diane. She grabbed the remote and rewound the TV coverage on the screen that the President had been pointing at.

The President stopped her on the right image a moment later. "There. I think that's him. I'm pretty sure that's the man I've been telling you about."

"How sure are you, sir?" asked Diane, studying the image for herself.

"Maybe 90 percent, since everyone's covered in dust."

Diane was tempted to shrug off the image, not being able to tell one way or the other whether that was the man the President was looking for and not recognizing the man in any case. Her eyes quickly widened, though, as she did recognize the other man on the screen...and then her eyes rolled just as quickly with annoyance when she recognized what that probably *meant*. "Would you excuse me, sir?" she asked the President. "It appears I have to make a phone call."

"A phone call?" asked the President in disbelief. "Do you know that man?"

Diane shook her head. "No sir, I don't. But I do know the man next to him. And he owes me some answers..."

Mark Fallon nearly ran himself off the roof of a 50-story building.

He was charging at a rampaging hell-beast that looked a bit like a lion, except that it had snakes surrounding its head as a 'mane' and talons instead of paws. Fallon was within inches of decapitating said beast...when his surroundings changed *very* suddenly. Momentum carried him to within six inches of the building's edge before he stopped and was able to take stock of the shift in his environment.

It was then that he noticed the tiger spirit. "I suppose you're the reason I'm up here?" asked Fallon between deep gulps of air.

The tiger nodded. Your role in this battle is far more important than you realize, Agent Fallon.

Fallon stared at the tiger in disbelief. "My role?" The tiger nodded. "I was *fulfilling* my role in the battle and doing a damn good job of it! So why did you bring me up here?"

Your role in this battle is far more important than you realize, Agent Fallon.

Fallon was starting to feel like his energy was returning. "You said that."

I am aware of that, Agent Fallon.

"You're aware of that," Fallon muttered. He started joining the tiger in his pacing, watching the beast spirit as it crossed the length of the rooftop. "So my role isn't on the ground?"

No, Agent Fallon.

"It's something up here."

Yes, Agent Fallon.

"And supposedly no one else can do this?"

Yes, Agent Fallon.

"So why do I need to be up here?"

Being near the battle does not help you in your role, Agent Fallon.

"Cryptic," Fallon shook his head in frustration. "Why didn't Esposito warn me that you could be so damn cryptic..."

A small device started vibrating in Fallon's pants pocket. Your time has come, Agent Fallon.

Fallon ignored the vibrations. "I mean, just once, could you *possibly* lower yourself to giving me a single straight answer..."

Answer your phone, Agent Fallon.

"A simple, straightforward answer, is that so difficult?"

Answer your phone.

Fallon stopped, suddenly realizing that the tiger was giving him a direct order. "Wait...what?"

Answer. Your. Phone, Agent Fallon. *Now.*

It was only then that Fallon noticed the vibrating of his cell phone in his pants pocket. And when he took the device out of his pocket, a knot immediately formed in the pit of his stomach. The tiger spirit, for all his cryptic crap, was absolutely right. He was the only one who could take this phone call. Hell, he was the only one likely to even *receive* such a phone call. "Good afternoon," Fallon greeted the woman on the other end of the line in as cordial and casual a manner as he could muster. "How are you today, Director?"

The director was in no mood for pleasantries. "Save it, Fallon. What the *hell* are you doing in New York?"

Fallon swallowed hard, not liking the cold, steel-hardened fury in his boss' voice. "I'm taking some personal time..."

"Try again."

"I wanted to see that new Islamic Exhibit at the Met..."

"That's your excuse?"

"There's this new curry house on 23rd Street..."

"Agent. Fallon." Diane cut Fallon off as she put him on speakerphone. "Look, I'm sure you're aware that current events in New York have been all over the news in the last twenty-four hours. Right now the U.S. Government is in the process of trying to decide what to *do* about these ongoing events."

Fallon frowned as he recognized the echo and volume change within the conversation. "Director, do you have me on *speaker*...?"

"Yes I do, Agent Fallon. Now, I'm only saying this because I believe you may have been involved in saving the President's life last night get out."

While the President gawked at Diane in open-mouthed shock, Fallon reacted on the phone with equal astonishment. "Excuse me...?"

"You heard me. Whatever response the military decides on I can promise you that you will not want to be anywhere near it when it happens. I'm ordering you to leave New York and report to DC..."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Director," Fallon countered. "My people..."

Diane was tempted to stare at the phone in disbelief. "Oh, so you have *people* now, Agent Fallon?"

Fallon paled as he realized his mistake. "The people, Director. Need I remind you h-how many innocent people there are on the island of Manhattan..."

"And need I remind *you* how many innocent people there are in the United States of America, Agent Fallon? Are you familiar with what is currently *happening* in Central Park?"

Fallon swallowed hard. "I am, ma'am."

"Then unless you can give me a good reason to delay bringing in the military..."

Tears starting to form in his eyes, Fallon looked to the skies, as if praying that a salvation to his problems would come pouring down from above. When no salvation came, however, he knew what he had to do. The only thing he could do...Forgive me, honored ones..."The third photograph, ma'am."

Diane suddenly found herself on unsteady legs. "You found it," she declared in a voice wobbling with nervous, astonished excitement.

"Them, ma'am," Fallon replied with deep, solemn conviction. "*They* are my people."

The President finally found his voice to break into their conversation. "Agent Fallon, the man who saved my life...is he with you?"

"Yes, sir," said Fallon, his voice almost instinctively perking up at the sound of the country's leader.

"Can you hold for a minute, Agent Fallon?" asked Diane. She then continued her conversation with the President without muting the agent's line. "Sir, I..."

The President cut her off. "Now look here, Diane. Exactly what photos are the two of you talking about?"

"Remember those crazy dragon photos we got from the Canadians a while back? The ones no one could explain?" When the President nodded, Diane declared the conclusion to which she had just arrived. "The last time I sent Fallon to New York I asked him to look into the photos. To find out why the second and third photos were so different. Apparently Fallon's 'people' are that reason."

"And they're also the reason I'm still alive," the President agreed.

"Yes, sir," Fallon chimed in on the other end of the line. "Sir, I believe with all my heart that my people can handle this."

Diane drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to buy herself a moment to consider her options. Finally, she decided that if Fallon were so willing to risk everything to protect these people, then they could be trusted. And if he said they could do what he thinks they can do..."What do you need from us, Agent Fallon?"

"Give us until sunrise tomorrow morning," Fallon replied with decisive speed. "After that...do what ya gotta do."

"You have it," Diane agreed. "Good luck."

As the Homeland Security Director ended her phone call, the President had only one question on his mind. "Diane, how are we going to know if these people have saved Manhattan?"

Diane's memories flipped back and forth from the second to the third photo in repeated succession. "Sir, I can promise you...we'll know."

Okay, at this point I *know* I'm writing faster than you guys can keep up with it. I just wanted to say thank you for not giving me grief about spamming your inboxes. :-). Please don't hesitate to leave comments. I very much want to hear what you think!