XXXXX

Wagner's Apartment
Los Angeles, USA

Kenny had just put away the last of the clean dishes that filled the sink from breakfast this morning when the phone rang. Melissa cancelled her visit due to last minute changes, and Wagner had gone out with Juli, leaving him to man the apartment. Sighing, Kenny dried off the water droplets on his hands by patting them against the sides of his pants - he still hadn't bothered to change out of his school uniform - as he headed for the phone, picking up the receiver in the midst of the fourth ring.

"Wagner Residence."

"Hey Kenny, it's me." He smiled. It was a voice that he hadn't heard in a while. Cranky had promised to check in every month, but Kenny didn't expect his big brother to keep it. Building a bar from the ground up took a lot of work, regardless if he had help funding the immense project. Cranky had been up to his brows with red tape, jumping through hoops, winding his way around municipality fees, strata fees, marketing strategies, and staffing. It didn't surprise him that the last they spoke was almost half a year ago. Nevertheless, it was good to talk to him again. "Just calling in to check up on you. Everything fine over there?"

"Hey, Crank," Kenny replied. "Things are going pretty good here, I guess. I miss your face."

"Can't say I blame you." Kenny responded with a silent eye roll that he knew Cranky could sense on the other line. "Sorry I've been out of touch," he apologized. "Things got real complicated over here for a bit." Noting the tone with which he spoke, Kenny immediately grew concerned.

"It's what … almost four in the morning where you're at, and you sound sad. Is everything all right?"

"I just …" Cranky stuttered, "me and Cammy got into another disagreement. It's nothing we haven't been through before, but she did mention some interesting developments on your end."

"Word gets around quickly in this family," Kenny said. "I only told Wagner this morning, but yeah, I got accepted into Michigan State University, into the Faculty of Law. Undergraduate starts in the fall, and deadline for my confirmation is within the next month. Should give me enough time to wait to hear back from the others."

"What do you mean by 'others'?" Cranky asked.

"Well I'm not putting all my eggs in one basket," Kenny explained. "Michigan State is well and good, but it's the worst of the best. I'm really hoping for Yale or Stanford."

"What about Harvard?"

"Eh, too snooty."

Cranky beamed with pride. "Well what can I say, other than I'm freaking proud of you? Really, these are the top universities in the country, and they're showing interest."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Kenny warned. "It's just one university so far. They were particularly interested in the volunteer work I did with the Raccoon City police department, so it's a relief that the work experience credit got transferred over after I relocated. You always said to study hard and get good grades. They're paying off, Crank!"

"Yeah, you're right. That's good …"

But Kenny could pick up Cranky's mood like a K9 unit on a scent. "Look I know you're worried about tuition. These places are prestigious and with it comes a hefty price tag."

"That's none of your concern," Cranky snapped.

"I've been looking up scholarships my high school offers," Kenny pressed, "and I'm eligible for a couple hundred bucks that will cover basic expenses. I've been working with the career counselors and …"

"I said no, Kenny." Cranky was loud and firm this time.

"What's the problem?" Kenny retorted. "Everyone at school is going this route. Some are even applying for loans. It's perfectly normal. And if that will help you out …"

"You have one job," Cranky said, gentler this time. "Work hard, and focus. If you get scholarships along the way, great. But don't do it for the scholarships. Stay away from loans and lines of credit. They're only going to distract you from your studies and I don't want you starting your career hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt."

"Okay, you really sound like an immigrant parent right now," Kenny noted with a mixture of bitterness and amusement.

"Blame Mei."

Kenny sighed in defeat. He wasn't going to budge. Cranky was strong as an ox and so was his stubbornness, so he settled on changing the subject.

"There's something else," Kenny began hesitantly, "Something that Wagner wanted you to know but I think it would sound better coming from me than it would from him." Kenny paused and figured out how to word it in his head but Cranky was growing impatient.

"Well?"

Kenny let out the breath he'd only realized then that he'd been holding. "Promise you won't get mad."

"You making me wait for it is making me mad."

XXXXX

The Royal Inn
London, England

Julian Marquez was bent over the sink, running his cupped hands under the a trail of warm water that ran from the faucet. The water pooled in his palms and he brought them to his face, feeling the brief warm splash that wakened him a little. Droplets landed on the sides of the sink, and on his shoulders. Water dripped from his sharp nose and chin as he stared at his own cerulean eyes in the mirror. His dark hair, still moist from his recent shower, was slicked back with the calloused comb that his fingers provided.

He reached for the towel hanging on the wall, not taking his eyes off his reflection, and buried his face into it. The coarse fabric felt great against his tired skin - a reminder that he was lucid. The memories of the last forty-eight hours were not a dream - it had actually happened.

Julian walked out of bathroom and towards the single twin bed of his motel room, and saw the papers lying there comfortably in the pockets of an open glossy folder, with a single waxed seal straight from the Vatican, now broken open by his having opened it - an official letter from the Pope himself, consisting of what was likely a template letter expressing the Church's regret that he had chosen to leave a life of servitude to the Lord. The whole process went smoothly, as if they had done it a dozen times before; submit a letter to the Archbishop presiding over the diocese and wait for it to make its way up the chain to God knew where.

Sure, he could've mailed the letter and booked it out of the Church without waiting for a reply, but Francisco would have his head on a platter if Julian had ever fathomed to disrespect God in such a manner. Besides, it was Francisco, Julian's father, who had helped hide him in the Church from Shadowlaw's wandering gaze in the first place. And it was through their help that Kenny had been admitted to one of the most prestigious private schools in the United States. For everything they'd done for him, Julian figured he owed them that much respect in the least. And a trip to the Vatican to officiate the process was the perfect way to end his years in servitude.

Julian's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden ringing of his cell phone - a gift from Ken Masters. It buzzed loudly on the bedside dresser. He reached over an picked up the call.

"Marquez," he called gruffly into to the phone.

"Got your message," said the voice on the other end. It was Colonel Wolfman, the leader of Delta Red who had pledged to Julian their aid in locating his son; the one person who changed the direction of his life, who imbued him with the courage to come out of hiding. Suddenly it was as if he didn't care what happened to him, as long as he found Dorian. "I hope your journey was enjoyable."

Julian chuckled. "I think they used children for reference when deciding on airplane seat dimensions."

"Sorry," Wolfman said, half jokingly, "budget's slashed this year. It's all we could've afforded to get you here."

"Thanks for picking up the tab, sir," Julian replied honestly. "I'd have paddled a raft over the ocean if it meant getting to you to help me find Dorian."

"It's not an easy task locating him," Wolfman admitted. "But all evidence leads us to the fact that young Dorian is not directly in Shadowlaw's possession, though we believe he is still within their sphere of control."

"What?" Julian choked out. He couldn't think of any words vaguer than the ones Wolfman had chosen to use. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means they left him in the hands in a confidant," Wolfman elaborated.

"Shadowlaw's reach is global. You're basically telling me we're no closer to locating him."

"Meet me at Delta Red headquarters tomorrow afternoon, three PM," Wolfman ordered with calming rationality. "I will share with you everything we have found."

"I ... I'm sorry for snapping like that," Julian said, realizing only with the professional conduct with which Wolfman had spoken to him that he had been out of line. "I really am grateful for everything you're doing for me. I'll be there tomorrow."

"Good. I'm going to let you go now, Marquez. It's late, and you're going to need to rest up for everything we have to share with you tomorrow."

"Yes sir. Have yourself a goodnight too." Julian snapped the phone shut and returned it to its original place on the bedside dresser. Without even unraveling the blankets on the bed, he lay down, folding his arms behind his head as he gazed up at the bare white ceiling, lit softly only by the ambient hue from the table lamp.

Julian didn't know what other information about his son Delta Red was able to obtain but he was certain of one thing; that he had never been closer to finding Dorian since he'd found out about him years ago. Even if there was nothing more, he had one thing - help. Help from a branch of one of Britain's elite military units. He told himself silently that he would never take it for granted and that if by some stroke of luck Delta Red was able to locate Dorian and God willing, unite them, he would be forever in their debt.

His hopeful thoughts were interrupted by a weak knock on the hotel door. Julian thought it was his imagination at first and stopped moving, listening quietly for the knock to come again. But for a few seconds, all he could hear was the rain thundering down from outside, beating against his window. Then, clear as crystal, the knock came again - three weak taps against the wooden slab that separated the cozy suite from the torrential downpour outside. His heart leapt into his chest instantly, instinct for self-preservation kicking in. He carried no firearm on him, a difficult decision to make on his international trip, but decided it was best if he wanted to avoid being detained by authorities and questioned at the airports. It had worked but he found himself now silently wishing he had brought one.

Julian sat up from the bed and grabbed the drawer handle of the dresser, pulling it open to reveal a bible - the heaviest object he could think of in the motel room which he could conceal and defend himself with in case his guest turned out to be a hostile. Not even bothering to put a shirt on, he approached the door, careful to conceal his footsteps to avoid giving the knocker any confirmation that there was someone in the suite ... even though the lights were on.

He reached the door and peered through the peephole. If his heart was in his chest before, Julian could swear it jumped high enough into his throat that he could cough it out. Standing there, soaking wet in nothing but a housecoat was Cammy. Her long blonde hair clung to her skull, neck and shoulders like a second skin. The drenched house coat weighed down her shoulders and arms. Instinctively, Julian reached for the lock and twisted it, and yanked the door open.

Cammy fell into his arms, as if the door had been propping her upright in the first place. Torrents of rain water from her clothing pressed against his bare skin and trickled down his torso in little rivulets. She buried her face into his chest and began sobbing heavily. He felt her warm tears mixing with the rain water on his skin and brought his arms around her, one hand stroking the side of her face gently. His first thought was to question how she had found him, and then remembered that in a drunken stupor, he had texted her the address of his motel once his trip had been confirmed. And that was precisely why Julian avoided alcohol for the most part. She didn't respond then, of course, and he knew full well that she had committed herself to Cranky.

Which was why right now, her sobbing in his arms almost naked and soaking wet confused him even more. It also did more than that - but Julian had a new purpose in his life, finding his son. He could not afford old habits to get in his way. Resisting the urges that her soft skin against his brought, he took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up to look him directly in the eye.

"Cammy girl," he said softly, "what happened to you?"

She looked up at him, green eyes wide and brimming with fresh tears. She composed herself at the sight of him and pressed her mouth into a thin line to suppress yet another outburst. "Cranky ... he hurt me."

Julian's tenderness melted away, only to be replaced with fury. He grasped Cammy by the shoulders, never breaking the gaze with her eyes. "What did he do to you, Cammy?" Julian asked. "How hard did he hit you? Are you all right?"

She swallowed a lump in her throat and shook her head, speaking with great difficulty. "He didn't touch me," she elaborated. "We got into an argument and he ... he..." She could hold her composure no longer and broke down once again, causing Julian to pull her tightly into him. "He kicked me out." She sobbed heavily.

"Cammy girl," Julian whispered into her ear, "Cranky's a hothead but he's also a good man. Tomorrow morning, he's going to wake up with a killer hangover and worse, the weight of what he did to you bearing down on his shoulders. I'll admit, I haven't seen a fight this bad before." Julian motioned to the two of them, huddling in the doorway of his motel room, one of them drenched with rain water. "What shit could have possibly hit the fan for him to kick you out in nothing but a bathrobe in this weather, at this time of the night?"

Cammy looked towards the ground and mumbled. "I challenged his ability to run his business and take care of Kenny."

"Ouch," Julian winced painfully. "Yeah, that'll do it."

She bit her lip. "I don't know ... at that moment, I was so angry. It felt like I just ... like I just wanted to say anything to hurt him. I guess it worked."

"You two fight on a regular basis," Julian explained, "and every time he comes crawling to me with a new sob story on how bad he feels about it and how to best apologize to you. I guarantee you he'll be phoning me the first thing tomorrow for suggestions on how to fix this."

Cammy had stopped crying by now and looked at Julian with a mixture of relief and confusion. She'd taken a step back from him and looked at him objectively now. "All those times ..." she said, raising a finger towards him, "... it was you?"

Julian shrugged. "Well, I don't exactly know how many times it happened. They might have been some times when I wasn't -"

He was suddenly cut off when Cammy, without warning forced her lips upon his, mid-speech. Her tongue forced his jaws apart and forced its way into his mouth. It was only a split second that Julian relished the kiss like they had so many times in the past when they were younger, before his rationale kicked in and he roughly tore himself away from her.

"No, Cammy," he said, breathing heavily. "This can't happen."

His words seemed to hit her hard. She immediately blushed, bringing her hands to her face in embarrassment for what had just happened. "Oh ... Oh my God," she stammered, turning away from Julian. "I don't know ... I just ..." Try as she might, Cammy was unable to finish her sentence.

"Me too," Julian said, letting her know that she wasn't alone in her confusion about what just happened. "Old habits. Come on, I'll to take you back."

She looked at him with a bewildered expression on her face. "Take me back where?"

"To Cranky's," Julian replied innocently.

"No." Cammy shook her head violently. "He's not ready to see me again, not yet."

Julian turned her around so that her back was against his chest and rubbed her shoulders with his hands. "I'm going to be with you," he reassured her. "We can't have you dressed in a bathrobe when the rest of your stuff is at his place, right? You don't have to talk to him if you don't want to. I will. We just need to get your things." Cammy looked over her shoulder at him and Julian met her curious gaze with a smile and nod that made her feel curiously secure in his arms. Old habits indeed. Wrong as it was, it felt like it was what she really needed right now.

XXXXX

Crankurt's Loft
London, England

"I trashed Wagner's apartment last night," Kenny admitted, lowering the volume of his voice as if someone could have overheard their conversation. "I didn't mean to, but I had a nightmare and sleepwalked through the whole thing. Wagner says he found me convulsing on the living room floor and he tried to wake me up, but then I started fighting back we ended up damaging his home in the fight. He told me this morning that he had to suffocate me just to get me to come around ..."

He waited for Cranky's response but none came. "Come on Crank, say something. I've been working so hard at being normal but sometimes these flashbacks just come out of nowhere and ... just ... please don't be angry with me."

"Angry?" he heard the creak of the plastic phone casing Cranky held being crushed in his grip. "Kenny, how could I ever be angry with you about something like that? Are you okay? How hurt are you?"

"Not physically, but psychologically, they're terrifying. It's like there's someone else in my head, someone who's cornered, panicked, and willing to do anything for survival - even if it means destroying everything around him. And I'm fighting it - fighting HIM. But once in awhile, I lose."

"I can be there on the next available flight." Cranky offered.

Kenny shook his head. "And beat the stuffing out of who, Crank? Wagner's helping me work through it and he thinks it's important for you to know, so I'm telling you. He's helping me handle it. I just ... I just want to know how Cammy made it through."

"Cammy? Well ... she ..." he faltered. How did Cammy handle it? Sure, she'd been talked about her traumatic past to him before, but only then did it dawn on him that he had been too captivated by the woman she'd become to pay attention to the recognition she deserved having gone through all that. Nor had he bothered to register that Kenny was following in her footsteps and she was giving him the key to understanding it for their entire relationship.

"Juli's still too fucked up to operate normally, and Wagner has to deal with us both. Cammy's the only other person I know who gets it and she's fixed herself enough to have some sort of a resemblance to a stable life with you, and I need to know how she did it. Because I don't want to live the rest of my life like this, Cranky." He could hear Kenny's voice breaking under the desperation. "I don't want to live the rest of my life under the control of the events of my past that I can't change."

Try as he might to help out his little brother, here Kenny was pleading for the aid of someone else. Cranky thought about where Cammy could be right now - on the rainy streets of London in nothing but her bathrobe, soaking wet, knocking on the doors of the neighbours she barely knew , desperately hoping to find some shelter from tonight's storm.

The fact that he had just kicked her out of his home for simply caring did not help. And here Kenny was, halfway around the world from him connected only by a phone line, desperate for advice that would help him through a certain type of torment that only Cammy could help him through. He had failed her as a partner; failed Kenny as a guardian. Cranky had never felt so powerless in his life.

"Dear God, what have I done?" he asked himself.

"Can you get her to call me?" Kenny pressed. "Wagner's awesome, but I just want to talk to Cammy."

"Okay," Cranky replied, breathing a little easier. "I'll go get her, but the moment you need me, you let me know, okay? I'm gonna have to catch some shut-eye. It's been a long-ass day. Say hi to Wagner for me."

"Yeah, you're up at a pretty unearthly hour. But Cranky ... one more thing before you go"

"Yeah?"

"I don't know what happened between you and Cammy tonight," Kenny began, but swallowed a nervous lump in his throat as he finished the rest of this sentence, "but I really think you should apologize to her..." Kenny whispered the last few words of the line, preparing himself for the verbal tirade was the sure to follow.

His unwelcome, but surprisingly accurate insight had caught Cranky off guard. He had only mentioned the aggressive exchange between him and Cammy in passing, yet here Kenny was already passing judgment. So he pried further, questioning his motives.

"Where is this coming from?" Cranky asked. "How do you even know that I'm the one who should be apologizing?"

"Because I've seen you two fight before," Kenny explained. "Whenever she's in the wrong, you go into a berserker rage, and nobody can calm you down. But when you're in the wrong and you know it, you get all deflated. Kind of like how you sound right now."

"And you're starting to sound like Wagner," Cranky scoffed.

"He's taught me a thing or two," he confessed, "but not this. If there's anything I know about you, aside from your insecure, overprotective, smothering, inability to - "

"Get to the point, Kenny."

"... it's how you can't let go of your own guilt."

Cranky sighed, knowing the direction this was headed. "You're talking about the time when I ... you ..."

"When my big brother gave me away to strangers so he could afford his next meal," Kenny confirmed. "Yeah, that would be it."

"She brought that up too," Cranky said. "That's when I just ... when I ... Kenny, I'm sorry. God, I don't think I've never said it out loud but I am so, so sorry."

"You don't have to say it, Crank. You show it in everything you do. It was a long time ago and I'm still here. But whatever happened between you two tonight, that's what's in front of you right now, and she's walking away. Fix it now - apologize to her. Don't let this turn into another thing that you let eat you up for the next decade. Don't let the second best thing that ever happened to you slip between your fingers."

"Second? ... what about the first?"

"Me of course, dummy."

Cranky chuckled. "It's times like this when I forget you're not a kid anymore. Thank you."

"Just get her back, Crank. I can't do this on my own."

"I will, Kenny. For the both of us." Cranky didn't wait for him to respond before hanging up the phone. Cranky thundered towards the front door that minutes ago, he had slammed shut behind Cammy, grabbing a coat off the back of the living room recliner as he went and headed out the door, keys jingling in one hand after swiping it off the counter. The conversation with Kenny had told him more than he needed to know about just how wrong he'd been this whole time - about everything. Cranky was going to find Cammy tonight, though he didn't know how exactly. But his resolve would eventually find a way; it had always before.

He was going to have a lot to apologize for; as if what he'd already done tonight hadn't been enough. He'd start with not listening to her, for letting his infatuation with her get in the way of any kind of deeper appreciation for her past. Then he was going to reassure her that though he'd heard everything she said about her past with Shadowlaw, it didn't click until Kenny mirrored her words. He hoped she would understand. And if she was still listening to him, then he would begin the monumental task of begging for forgiveness for what he had done to her tonight. Hell, even if she wasn't listening, he would beg anyway. Get down on his knees if he had to.

But it turned out, after thundering down the stairs to the darkened bar, that he wouldn't have to. Finding Cammy wasn't as hard as he anticipated it to be because she hadn't gone far at all. And someone else was already on their knees in front of her. He spotted her seated on top table 23, her back facing him, bathrobe clearly undone in the front, as the ties hung loosely by her sides. He saw the bare knees, protruding from opposite sides of her torso's silhouette.

"Cranky!"

And from between them rose the head of a man, getting back on his feet, stubbled jaw dripping with her essence.

"Oh my God, Cranky ... this isn't ..."

A man that Cranky recognized.

"Please, don't get the wrong idea!"

Julian.

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

Fucking.

"Oh ... hey, Crankurt."

Marquez.

XXXXX

Guile Residence
Los Angeles, USA

Wagner's two door hatchback pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. The car was new - to him - but the property wasn't. He twisted the key to the ignition, shutting off the engine as the glow from the hazard lights faded, as he pulled the handbrake up. In the passenger seat, Kenny mirrored his motions, unbuckling the seatbelt as they both prepared to exit the vehicle, except that he had reached to the back seat to grab their contribution to this evening's Easter dinner before doing so.

"Home sweet home," Wagner commented as climbed out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him.

"Sucks that Juli couldn't come," Kenny commented while they made their way to the front door.

Wagner spun the car keys around his index finger deftly before pocketing them. "She could have come," he said. "But you know Juli. She's too wrapped up in her recovery to embrace this." He motioned towards the manicured lawn, the vibrant flowers lining the base of the house that his adopted mother Jane tended to on a regular basis, and the two storey house situated on the center of the property. In a brilliant reddish light, the setting sun highlighted the angled roof of the home, arranged in an attractive composition harking back to the mid-eighties, trimmed with elaborate eaves to conceal the rain gutters.

"Can't say I blame her," Kenny replied. "Uncle Guile is scary in his best of moods."

"Copy that," Wagner admitted, ringing the doorbell to the house.

It had only taken a few seconds before they both heard shuffling footsteps towards the door, and the clicking of the lock. The door opened to reveal Jane Guile, her wispy blonde hair tied haphazardly into a bun, wiping her hands on a floral apron. Her aging expression beamed at the sight of the two young men standing before her. She started with Wagner, taking him by the shoulders and, standing on the tips of her toes, planted a kiss on his cheek. Wagner fought the instinct to scowl.

"Mom ..."

"Welcome home, son," she said, patting his arms. Jane then turned her attention to Kenny, pulling him into a tight hug. "And welcome back, Kenny. Such a pleasure to have you both with us tonight. And what's this?" She motioned at the gift bag Kenny held in his hand.

"Merlot, Mrs. Guile," he explained. "Thank you for having me tonight. I know you make your signature roast beef every year for this kind of thing so I wanted to bring something that would compliment it. French import; aged ten years." He handed the gift bag to her, which she accepted, extracting the bottle from it.

"You're growing into a man of taste," she commented, examining the label. "Your brother should be proud. Please, come in. Dinner's almost ready."

Wagner and Kenny complied, allowing Jane to lead them further into the house as she spoke. "It really is a pity that Cammy and Craig couldn't be with us tonight. I get that she's busy but it wouldn't hurt to drop in every once in awhile to say hello. She's always so busy."

"Terrorists never take a break, Mom, so why should she?" Wagner offered.

Jane sighed. "It's just that they get to see her more than I do." She looked at Kenny. "You must feel the same way about Craig."

He chuckled. "He's dealing with drunkards, not terrorists. But yeah, it would be nice to have them around more often than they are."

"Well since you mentioned the roast," Jane said, reverting the subject, "I'll need to check on it." She deposited Wagner and Kenny in the living room with the merlot in hand, where they were met by Guile, and to Kenny's surprise, Ken Masters and his family.

Guile was the first to rise from his spot on the sofa, embracing the two of them simultaneously. "Good to see you both," he grunted. "I hope you brought your appetites."

Kenny had to hold a snicker as he witnessed Guile hug Wagner. While he saw Wagner as a responsible guardian, seeing his form engulfed by Guile's mass reminded Kenny of a child being hugged by his father, which technically was exactly what was happening. "And Kenny, we heard the good news. Congratulations on being accepted into one of the finest law curriculums in the country."

"Thank you, sir. It's the tenth best in the country, sir."

"Keep on this path and there's no doubt you'll achieve greatness," Ken Masters added, approaching the group in a red golf shirt and slacks. He and Eliza exchanged obligatory greetings in the form of tight hugs with Kenny. "We're all really proud of you, kiddo."

"Thanks, Uncle Ken, Auntie Eliza," he replied sheepishly, uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving. "I only found out a day or two ago, before I decided to tell Wagner. And I'm still trying to understand what this really means."

"It means a position with the Masters Corporation in the near future," Uncle Ken said, winking at him. "Bastards are always trying to find any excuse to sue a buck or two out of us. Do well in school and we could probably use someone like you after you graduate."

Ken and Eliza's young son, his attention previously glued to the television screen finally noticed Kenny's presence and made his way over to him, blond hair bouncing as he ran quickly, unannounced, between his parents. "Kenny!" He collided with him, wrapping his arms tightly around Kenny's waist.

"Shit, Mel!" Eliza scolded.

"Ouch, kid," Kenny winced. "You've got quite the grip!" He struggled to unlatch Mel's hands from around his waist and knelt down to face the elementary school boy. "Growing big and strong like your dad, huh?"

"Or maybe you could do a push up or two, and not get beaten up by a seven year old," Wagner joked.

Kenny scraped a knuckle across Mel's cheek. "Go on, get back to your cartoon. Commercial's are over now, you know." The boy smiled happy and ran back to the television set as Kenny stood back up, aiming his attention at Ken. Eliza and Wagner had engaged in a conversation about real estate markets, while Guile had been summoned to the kitchen to aid Jane in setting the table, allowing Kenny to seize the opportunity. "Uncle Ken, can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

"Sure thing," he agreed, and the two of them made their way towards the back of the house, through the rear sliding glass door onto the patio. Kenny closed the door behind him and produced a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it, earning a disapproving look from Ken.

"You really need to kick that habit," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Kenny replied dismissively, taking the initial drag from the cigarette. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about this whole university thing. This isn't some community college. This is like, put you hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt before you even begin your career type of thing."

"Well ... yes," Ken agreed. "But you shouldn't have to worry about that. Cranky's taking care of it, isn't he?"

Kenny exhaled a plume of smoke into the cool evening air. "He is. But the problem is I don't actually think he can."

"Oh, no no no," Ken interrupted, waving his hands defensively in front of his chest. "I know what you're trying to do, and the answer is no."

"Uncle Ken, please!" Kenny pressed. "I don't want Cranky to risk his livelihood on my account."

"Too bad, kiddo because that's exactly what he's committed himself to doing. You don't think I've tried talking him out of it? You don't think I've offered to fork the money over?" Ken shook his head in dismissal. "Him doing this for you is just as important to him as it is to you. I'm not going to rob Cranky of his right to claim that he can actually look out for his own."

"Fuck his ego," Kenny countered. "This is his livelihood we're talking about. I'm his brother, not his kid. And I don't want to be the one responsible for screwing his life over."

"Then pay him back," Ken offered, silencing him. "When you graduate and make six figures off your first job, pay him back. Everything that you feel like you owe him. But whatever it is you choose, don't make me a part of your dysfunction. Cranky has made the decisions he has, for whatever reason and I intend to respect that. I get what you're feeling, Kenny. But the ball isn't in my court. It's in yours."

Jane's piercing voice interrupted their conversation, even from behind the closed sliding glass door. "Dinner's ready! Everyone take your seats!"

XXXXX

Guile Residence, Backyard Patio
Los Angeles, USA

"I can't eat anymore," Kenny said, one hand resting atop his belly as he lay on the chair of the patio set, gazing up at the night time stars. It looked as if someone had taken a diamond and shattered it with a hammer, sprinkling its debris across the night sky. "We have this life of surplus. You'd think all of this was just a reminder of how small we really are." He pointed at the most brilliant star in the night sky. "Polaris, the north star. We use it to navigate but to anyone else in the universe, it's just another dot in the sky."

He felt his hand get squeezed in the grip of Amy Melissa Guile, who laid alongside him on the grass of her backyard lawn, gazing up at the majestic view upon which Kenny focused his attention on. She spoke. "It's the only reason the new world was discovered. The only reason you and I lie upon the ground that we do, beneath a hundred million stars."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she said, before pointing at another brilliant spot in the night sky. "You see that one? It's called Vega. In Asian legends, it is the star of the princess, who falls in love with the shepherd, represented by the star, Altair. Every seventh night of the seventh moon, a bridge is formed between the two stars to reunite. Kind of like us. Only that we get to see each other once every couple of years."

"Except that your dad would disapprove," Kenny said, folding his arms.

Melissa moved her chair closer to him. "And dad can disapprove all he wants," she said. "It doesn't change the way I feel." She threw an arm over Kenny's body, inviting the heat he produced into her own. Kenny turned his head to face hers, looking Melissa Guile straight in the eyes.

"I don't know what the hell you and I are, Kenny," she said. "All I know is that this, right now, feels right."

"Then let's do what feels right," he replied, kissing her gently. They locked lips for longer than either of them had expected, beneath the gaze of a hundred million stars.

The End.