CHAPTER TEN

LEAVE IT BEHIND

Author's Note: It looks like my evil habit in writing has caught up to me: writing LONG chapters. It also looks like this one may turn out to be three parts instead of two, so that means a little longer wait. I'll try to cut down the next few chapters. Oh, and there are only about four or five chapters after this, and then I'm free – er, then my epic is completed! I hope you all continue to enjoy reading.

Sometimes Matrix wondered why he was forced to endure this kind of pain. As if the last twelve hours of his life hadn't been torture enough, now everyone he knew and loved, plus several strong allies, were turned against him, and he was behind bars for something he wasn't sure why he'd done.

It was a humiliating experience, to be a prisoner in an ally system, guarded by those he was supposed to fight with, not against. He didn't get many visitors, but there were always guards patrolling the cell block, all second and all downtime. At night, when Matrix lay awake, unable to find the temporary solace offered in sleep, he heard the Azraelian CPUs muttering to one another about the "psychotic maniac who had turned on all his comrades." That much was enough to keep him from sleep every night.

Mostly, he thought about AndrAIa, and how she was doing. It had scared him in a way he hadn't realized he could be hurt and afraid when his beloved – his best friend, the only companion he had had growing up – hadn't known him, had treated him like some sort of monster. The worst part was, Matrix hadn't talked to Dot or any of his friends since he had been jailed, so he had no idea of what had happened to AndrAIa after that second he had encountered her – and she had screamed in fear, and anger, at him –

Matrix blinked furiously and swiped a hand over his face. If anything, this was definitely the lowest point of his life. He had never felt as angry and humiliated and, most of all, helpless as he did now. His entire body felt on fire with the heat of his anger; it was such a heavy, tangible thing that a strong ache exploded inside his head. It was so powerful that Matrix groaned and turned over on his side. A dull pounding had been echoing through his head for several seconds now, and Matrix had figured that the considerable stress was giving him a headache. Now, it felt as if his head had blown up from the inside. His skin tightened until the pressure was almost unbearable and Matrix was gasping. This was no headache – it hurt too much. But then, what the hell was wrong with him?

Matrix swung himself into a sitting position, but immediately a wave of nausea overtook him, and he was forced to brace himself against the cold metal of the cot on which he lay. When most of the dizziness had faded, he carefully stood up from the cot and slowly walked into the corner of the cell, where a single metal bowl lay, filled with the remains of the meager dinner they'd served him; he hadn't been hungry enough to eat it. He hadn't eaten much in seconds, actually.

Matrix dropped to his knees and picked up the plate, tilting it so that it caught the meager light from the hallway. By tilting the dish at a certain angle, Matrix could see his distorted reflection. He squinted and peered closer at the dirty metal, trying to discern if the faint glow at his temples was just his imagination. Upon closer inspection, he found that he hadn't imagined it: sickly, greenish veins pulsed, weak but steady, on his forehead.

Matrix tossed the dish aside, and it clattered loudly on the stone floor. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled over to the cot. When he stood in front of the tiny cot with its raggedy blanket, the realization hit him fully.

He was in the first stages of infection. Namely, the Infection.

If Matrix hadn't been so malnourished, tired, damp, and emotionally exhausted, he would have screamed and broken things and shot wildly with Gun. But things were different now. A sort of apathetic hopelessness had settled over his body, and suddenly he simply didn't want to fight anymore. Matrix lay down on the cot and stared blankly at the ceiling. The veins at his temples continued to pulse.

In the dark silence that followed, the only sound Matrix could hear was his own breathing. User, he had to get out of here. Maybe to see AndrAIa, he thought, but the notion flitted away like a paper-thin butterfly as soon as he had processed it. He just wanted to be free – free from the burden of guilt that he had lived with for every second since he lost that Game with AndrAIa. That guilt had returned, it seemed; though manifested in a new form, he was again at fault for another disaster that had put one of his closest friends in the clutches of deletion.

She loved him.

That was the only way to explain the familiar yet strange and alien feeling Mouse possessed for Ray Tracer. It wasn't the flirtatious winks she directed at Bob, and it was even more than the simmering flames she still felt for Ethan. Her feelings for Ray were a confusing but amazingly strong combination of physical attraction and affection and a strange ache in her core-com.

She really did love him. When he had been torn away from her, several times in this adventure, she had been scared beyond her wits until she discovered he was unharmed. Though she had never admitted it to herself, during the micros it took to get to the Supercomputer Mouse had wondered endlessly if Ray were deleted. If he had been truly gone from her life, for those micros Mouse had experienced the heart-wrenching realization that she wouldn't have been able to live without Ray.

Ray kissed her swiftly, then broke away roughly to nuzzle her cheek with his. He was relieved to be alive and overjoyed to find Mouse. He'd never thought he could feel this way for anyone, most of all Mouse – he'd thought they were just flirts, not truly soulmates -- but this war had shown him how much he really did care for her, and Ray was so glad to discover that she felt what he did. He bent to her ear and whispered, "I love you." Mouse whispered those exact words back and kissed him in the same breath.

She pulled back to get a better look at him – to think, she might have never seen his ruggedly handsome face ever again! – but she didn't release her hold on his hands. Ray looked badly beaten up; his pale blue websuit was torn and even a little bloodied, as if he had been thrown around constantly. Not to mention, there were countless bruises over his face and neck, and angry red welts covered his entire left cheek. However, Ray still managed to grin roguishly, though it visibly pained his face when he did so. Mouse couldn't help but grin and lean forward to kiss him again; they kissed very gently, as she threaded her fingers through his short, blond hair.

But this was not the time for romantic silliness. Mouse grimaced as she heard the ever-present roar of sirens from Guardian transports, and she reluctantly pulled away from Ray. "We've gotta find someplace to hide, Sugah."

He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "You're right, but I have no idea where to go. I just got here, anyway."

"Not to worry, luv." Mouse winked at him, and Ray grinned when she adopted his manner of speaking. "Ah know this place well – very well, actually. Just follow me; I'll get us as far away from the Guardians as we can."

Mouse paused and slowly turned around again to give the Guardian Academy a final, thoughtful stare. Though she hated to admit it, the sight of such a magnificent training grounds – for it truly was the best academy in the Net, hands down – desecrated so thoroughly struck her like a rough blow. Mouse shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath, then reopened them with her regular fierce determination. The only thing that gave her away was the glimmer of moisture in her large brown eyes.

Ray could easily see the fresh pain in her eyes, rekindled from an old wound from long ago. There was no doubt in his mind that Mouse had had something to do with the Academy in her past. But now wasn't the time to bring up sensitive subjects. Nevertheless, Ray catalogued that piece of information in the back of his processor and hurried to follow her.

"What about Ship?" Ray asked as he sailed beside Mouse on Baud.

"It's in another sector, near the borders of the system," she answered. "Let's go get it." She took Ray's offered hand and jumped on to his Baud, as they both skimmed over the dirty, uneven streets.

It wasn't long before they slipped into the dark shipyard where countless ships of all size and style had been docked. Keeping to shadows and trying to appear inconspicuous, they hurried past other, run-down vessels and reached Ship. Mouse's weathered ship easily blended in with the dark shadows, but it was truly a welcome sight for Ray.

Mouse opened the hatch with a secret code, and they went inside as the hatch closed again behind them. Mouse seated herself in the pilot's chair and powered up the controls. Ship sailed smoothly up and away, out of the shipyard and into the hazy air. Mouse kept Ship low to the ground, however, so as not to attract attention from Guardian transports.

Unfortunately, those damned transports swarmed everywhere, like ants scurrying over a fallen sweet. Twice Mouse turned a corner and barely avoided bumping into a hovering ship with the faded black-and-gold icon painted on its side. Mouse searched the skies for an opportunity to dart past the many transports, but they guarded the portal to the rest of the Net. The nano Ray had escaped her clutches, Daemon had alerted all of her slaves to put down a strict guard on the entire Supercomputer, because she suspected that where the Web Surfr was, there was bound to be another sprite on the side of Mainframe.

Mouse swore under her breath. Following her gaze, Ray made the same realization, and his expression darkened. "What do we do?" he asked softly.

Mouse expelled a deep sigh and quickly made her decision. "We'll have ta hide out, and Ah know just where. In the middle-class sectors, there are a few run-down warehouses; I saw `em when Ah was headin' for the Academy. They're big enough to hide Ship, and we'll be able to buy some time."

Mouse shrugged. "After that, Ah've got no idea. But we'll get through it." Ray gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Mouse swiveled Ship around and silently flew through the sectors of the Supercomputer, until they reached Sector 6. As Mouse had seen earlier, a huge row of weathered, dark gray warehouses stood in the sector. Not a single building had escaped fighting; viral slash marks marred the dark outer walls of each warehouse, and they seemed to stand only by being supported by the other warehouses. But these were the only shelter Mouse and Ray had.

They entered a warehouse on the end, where Mouse touched down Ship behind stacks of boxes holding unknown supplies and began to power down the transport. Together they left Ship and walked through darkened rooms. Even as Mouse's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she couldn't tell what the buildings housed.

The warehouses were interconnected by a series of doors that looked as if they hadn't been used in ages. Mouse put her hand on the doorframe and came off with her palm covered with dust, which only confirmed her thoughts that the places were abandoned.

They stepped through the old door and continued going from room to room. Inside a room in the second warehouse, Mouse scuffed her foot against the floor and stopped when no dust rose. Maybe she had been too quick to label these warehouses as "abandoned." She slid her hand over a nearby object and verified her suspicion.

She held up her clean hand. "Someone's been here recently," she observed. "We're gonna have ta be careful." Ray nodded, and they continued on their search through the rooms, their senses on the highest alert. Nothing leapt out at them from that room, however, so they carefully opened the next door and entered a room that was pitch-black.

"I wonder what's in here," Ray muttered as he searched for a light. A single overhead lamp snapped on, revealing that they were in what appeared to be a small, horribly primitive war room. There were several tables with chairs pushed away from them and maps on the walls. Mouse inspected the maps while Ray continued searching the perimeter of the room. One map showed a recent map of the Supercomputer, and the others were of specific points. Some Mouse and Ray had already seen: the Guardian Academy, both inside and out; others, like the images of large estates and mansions, were unfamiliar to them.

Mouse heard footsteps coming from somewhere around them. Her head whipped around as she searched the darkness, but she could see no one.

Then she heard someone behind her. She turned around to confront the person and was met with air.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and she felt the weight of a gun press between her shoulder blades. Ray had been caught in a similar situation.

She heard the sounds of many more sprites approaching, and she and Ray were backed into a corner. They were in trouble now. They faced a large group of sprites ranging in ages from late teens to 3.0s. The sprites all wore dirty, ragged clothes and weary expressions on their faces, but their eyes were bright with the will to fight.

Ray's mouth tightened as he gazed at the rebels, wondering how he and Mouse would be able to fight their way out. There didn't look to be any options.

Mouse watched a sprite step forward from the cluster, holding a lantern at arm's length. She tensed, and her captor's reaction was to jam the gun harder into her back.

The sprite cautiously approached Mouse and shone the lantern into their faces. The soft light let her see the sprite's face as he saw hers.

Her core-com stopped. Just stopped.

He was young, a probable 1.9. First, she saw the features that were similar to hers, and yet seemed so different: ruby hair, amethyst skin, jade eyes. Then she began to pick out the details. He wore his hair in a thick braid over one shoulder, with messy spikes over his forehead. A faint line of hair traced its way over his sharp jaw. The eyebrows and nose were like hers, but he must have picked up the bitter curl of his lip from someone else.

She could barely see the little, 0.4-hour-old brother she had known.

"Dean?" she finally asked, in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

His eyes narrowed, seeming like green chips. "Who are you?" he growled. He leaned forward, scrutinizing her; then he abruptly jerked back, his eyes wide. The light from the lantern shivered, and Mouse realized that the sprite's arm holding the lantern was shaking.

"Dean." She was sure now. A smile had appeared on her lips unbidden, and it grew as she realized that it was really he.

He expelled a long, shaking breath. "Moira?" he finally breathed.

Mouse felt a cold hand grip her core, as chilling memories wound their way through her chest at the mention of that name. She pushed them away and answered, "Yes, it's me." In a slightly different tone, she quickly added, "It's Mouse, now."

The grip on her shoulders slackened. Mouse caught a sight of her captor – a sprite her brother's age, with green skin and yellow hair – before the teenage Dean ran to her and hugged her tightly. Mouse forgot about the sprite and returned Dean's hug with a fierce happiness. Is this what Dot felt when she saw Enzo again? she wondered.

Dean pushed her back and stared at her in astonishment. "Sweet User! I can hardly believe you're here. I mean, it's been so many hours – and how did you get out –"

"Mouse, who are these people?" Ray asked, cutting off Dean's chatter. "And how do you know that Dean person?"

One of the rebels growled for him to be quiet and emphasized their point by nudging him sharply with their weapon.

"This is my sister," Dean told him, rather sharply.

"Sister?" Ray's gaze swept to Mouse. "You never said anything about having a brother."

"Ah didn't know he was processing," Mouse shot back, slightly irritated. Her voice lowered. "Ah didn't know anyone was processing, `cept me."

Ray's expression softened. "Mouse, I'm sorry." He turned his gaze back to Dean, scrutinizing the boy. Suddenly, he jerked in surprise. "I know you! You're that kid I saved, in the Academy when all the rebels went after the Guardians."

Dean cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes; He looks a lot like me when he does that, Mouse thought proudly. Slowly, his eyes widened, and he said, "Yeah, I recognize you too. You're Daemon's Surfr."

"Not Daemon's," Ray hissed suddenly and vehemently, and Mouse knew without a doubt that he was speaking the truth. He struggled a little against one of the rebels, but the hard-looking woman who held him didn't look as if she were about to release the Surfr. "Mouse -- do you think, the kid being your brother, he could tell them to let me go? And here's a few things for you, Dean – Daemon was trying to infect me, and I saved you. I'm on Mouse's side – which means I'm on your side, too."

The rebel holding Ray looked uncertainly at Dean. The young sprite regarded Ray suspiciously. "I don't know about him. Daemon's been trying to infect Web Surfrs; how do we know he isn't one of her minions now?"

"He's not," Mouse said firmly. "Ah'd trust `im with mah life."

Dean looked surprised. Then he nodded. "And I trust Moira – I mean, Mouse. Nice to meet you --?"

"Ray Tracer." Ray was released, and the two sprites shook hands.

"A lot of explaining is in order," one sprite said softly.

Dean nodded, his eyes on Mouse and Ray. At the same time, he and Mouse asked questions.

"What happened to you?"

"Why are you in the Supercomputer?"

They stopped and smiled at one another. "You first," Mouse quickly instructed.

Dean nodded, his eyes bright with excitement. Before he spoke, however, he inclined his head toward one of the rebels. "Rapi, would you watch for Guardians?" Mouse noticed how he phrased the order as a question. The yellow-haired teenager nodded and went to do as Dean asked. He turned back to Mouse and spent several nanoseconds simply staring at her, sizing her up. His eyes were narrowed in thought, as if he were considering how exactly to sum up fourteen hours of separation into one question. But he knew, as Mouse also did, that that was impossible, and so he tried to form one question, to begin to learn more about the sister he hadn't had for two-thirds of his life.

"How did you escape?"

Ray's thoughtful look abruptly snapped to one of deeper interest as quickly as a light switch first illuminates, then darkens, a room. There was a story behind this; he had no doubt of it. And from the look on Mouse's face, it wasn't a pleasant one.

"A virus attacked our system," Mouse explained softly to Ray and the other refugees, though most of the latter already knew the story from having worked with Dean and his family. "It almost got me, but . . ." Noticing Ray watching her, Mouse hurriedly tried to look happy again, but those dark memories seemed to breathe down her neck as she dredged them up to make a proper explanation. "Ah got a ship and flew out of there as fast as Ah could." She wasn't telling the entire story, Dean knew. But he couldn't blame her for leaving specific parts out. Even now, as the memories came back to him too, he could remember the horror, the death . . . his sister's cries for help, as she and Moira were stuck inside the system and he and his parents made it out.

Dean struggled to focus on Moira – no, her name was Mouse – again as she continued her story. "Ah became a hacker and got odd jobs in the Supercomputer. Then, a few hours ago Ah met up with some old pals in a backwater system, and Ah've been with `em ever since."

"Did you settle down there or something?" Dean asked.

Mouse smiled grimly. "It wasn't all fun and games. Mostly, it was war that kept me there with my friends. Now it's another war that's got me on their side." Ray squeezed her hand reassuringly, and Mouse looked up, surprised, into his eyes. Slowly, a smile spread over her face.

"Our story's kind of similar, then," Dean began his part. "Like you know, we got out of the system, but we kinda drifted over the Net for a while. Then we made it to the Supercomputer. But since we had no supplies or units, plus we were torn up pretty badly, we couldn't do much in this huge, rich place. Luckily for us, a nice lady took us under her wing. She did everything for us – she fed us, gave us new clothes and work in her business.

"But then she got involved in a near-deletion experience, and she became different. She wasn't herself for minutes, and instead of us being her employees she treated us like slaves. She even deleted two guys – and, get this, they were still walking around and talking like they were normal, processing sprites."

Mouse's energy ran ice-cold, and she traded a wide-eyed glance with Ray. The concern on his face only confirmed her worries. She slowly turned back to Dean to hear the rest of his past, though she had a pretty good idea of how it would turn out.

"Then she tried to delete us," the 19-hour-old continued. "Minutes ago we knew that it wasn't her, and then we found out the truth – she was infected, by not just any virus, but a super-virus called Daemon. You've probably heard of her."

Mouse couldn't prevent a snorting laugh from escaping her throat. "Ah believe that's the understatement of the hour, little brother."

Dean paused to send her a look of slight annoyance before he wrapped up the story. "So Daemon infected the nice lady, and then she went on to infect all these other rich people – all women, too – before she got into the Guardian Academy and deleted everyone else. We retreated into the underground levels and abandoned warehouses" – he gestured around them with exaggerated flourish – "and we've been fighting the good fight for hours."

"And who's we'?" Ray asked.

"Me, my folks, these people here – by the way, those two near the doorway are Tulin and Dado, two of my closest advisors. Everybody else should be at our little command center', unless they've been sent off on scouting missions like we have. Speaking of, we should get back. Come on, and I'll show you the way."

As Dean led the way through another door Mouse and Ray hadn't seen before, the young leader halted and blinked slowly. He hurried back to the largest table, in the center of the room, and scanned the room once, then twice, looking for something unknown to Mouse. His green eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then suddenly widened. He spun around and looked at Tulin and Dado for anxious confirmation. Tulin nodded slowly, but he said nothing.

"Wait." Dado, noticing the silent exchange between the two young men, was the one who dared to speak. "Where's Rapi?"

"Who?" Mouse asked.

"The sprite who was keeping an eye on the door," Dean answered absently without looking at her. He scanned their group, then brought his gaze to Dado. "She was here a nano ago." He narrowed his eyes and pushed past Dado, his gaze on something else.

Dean shone his lantern over the floor, revealing the imprints of boots in the dusty floor. He looked at the others and announced grimly, "These aren't our prints. You know what this means?"

"Guardians," a rebel answered.

"She's been taken away," Tulin whispered. As he spoke, soft mutterings rose from the group.


Dean's face tightened, and Mouse saw the fierce, hard look of an experienced warrior in her little brother. "She's been gone for less than half a micro; we've still got time. Let's go."

The other rebels nodded and wordlessly slipped out through a doorway. Mouse and Ray were left standing in the dark war room before they broke into a run after the retreating sprites.

They saw the group slinking along the streets in the dim light. They caught up with Dean, who was in the head of the group, jogging along as he issued instructions.

"Where exactly are we going, mate?" Ray asked.

Dean looked at Mouse and Ray, really looked, as if he had only just noticed that they had followed him. He shook his head, sending some hair loose from the braid into his face. "Lucia Calamar's mansion, in Sector 9. She's Daemon's new host, but she might not be for long," he added.

"Host? What's going on? What do you mean?" Mouse demanded.

"Look, Moira, I can't really explain right now," Dean protested.

"We both need to know what's going on," Mouse shot back. "And Ah told you – Ah'm Mouse."

Dean glanced ahead at the rest of his group, then back to his sister. "Here's the footnotes version: the Guardians kidnapped Rapi, and if we don't hurry, they'll delete her and use her to further Daemon's control. Now, come on, we have to get to her." He turned and ran to catch up with the other rebels.

Mouse was still confused, but she listened to Dean. As her brother reached the refugees, Ray touched Mouse's arm. "Come on, luv," he said. She nodded, and they mounted his Baud and set off after Dean.

Dean showed his troops and Mouse and Ray an opening through a manhole on the street, and they all slipped inside; Ray even found that the opening was large enough to fit his Baud through. The rebels moved swiftly through intricate underground tunnels, splashing through murky sewer waters as occasional sounds from the cement above them echoed through the dark tunnels.

They emerged in the richest sectors of the Supercomputer, where the wealthiest sprites and binomes resided in lavish mansions, waited on hand and foot by various servants -- or at least, they used to. Mouse wasn't sure, with the present situation, if even the wealthiest and most protected sprites hadn't fallen prey to Daemon's invasion.

Dean led the group stealthily through the cement streets broken up by thick, dark vines streaked with bright veins, as the two Mainframe sprites followed silently. Mouse knew the Supercomputer's rich sectors rather well -- since many a job had been done for or against the lords and ladies of the system -- but Dean's knowledge of this place was five times better than all she had learned in her hours in the Supercomputer.

They finally reached their destination, the mansion of one Lucia Calamar. Mouse hadn't the faintest idea who this woman was, but she sounded just like the young Countess Dot, Matrix, and AndrAIa were off protecting: a pretty young woman with units and power. What a "host" had to do with the process, Mouse really didn't know.

Lucia Calamar's mansion was a huge, solid-looking building; apparently, the fight for control of the Supercomputer hadn't yet reached it. The large house was surrounded by a high outer wall of solid gray stone. The top of the wall was covered with coils of barbed wire, and shards of glass had been mixed into the cement so that they stood out in jagged-edged spikes -- a deadly consequence for anyone who dared climb the walls.

Fortunately, the refugee group was experienced in sneaking into rich sprites' homes and had extended their underground system to burrow under the walls and enter the mansion. "We are the true creatures of the underworld," Dean wryly told Mouse as the other sprites streamed past him to go into the opening.

When they entered the mansion through a passage into the kitchen area, the inside was strangely deserted; not a whisper of air stirred the still drapes over the huge windows, and a visible layer of dust had settled over the chairs and table seen from the nearby drawing room.

"Lucia Calamar has already been infected," Dean took a nano to explain, "so there's no need to proceed with deceit. Everybody knows it's Daemon, so they just avoid the rich sector, to keep their lives."

"Chief, we've got a reading," Tulin interrupted from a few feet away, and, with a well-contained sigh, Dean strode over to his two closest advisors. Within moments of hushed discussion, Dean raised his voice and instructed them to move in what he thought was the right direction.

"Tulin says he detected body heat several rooms ahead of us, in the estimated center of the mansion," Dean announced. He led the rebels through the next empty rooms, his pace steadily speeding up as they drew closer to their destination. His chest tightened in a mixture of anticipation and sudden fear, and he fervently – and helplessly, he realized – hoped that they weren't too late.

They burst into a large bedroom (probably belonging to Lucia Calamar), Dean in the lead, the other rebels and Mouse and Ray following. There they met a horrific sight.

There were no Guardians visible in the room; however, Dean sent out rebels to each end of the room to double- and triple-check before everyone entered. The sprite named Rapi was on her knees, fighting against something. Her body arched forward, but her arms were bound behind her by thick, tendril-like things. She was screaming protests and pleas as a dark, snake-like form pushed itself into the back of her neck. The snake gained access to her neck, and she gave a pained scream and fell limp.

"Rapi, no!" Dean screamed, sprinting across the room towards her. The rebels immediately rushed after him. They knelt by Rapi's form and tried to free her. Dado fought at the tendrils that held Rapi's arms while Tulin pulled out a knife and sawed at the snake.

Tulin's knife severed the snake. It gave a screech and sprayed black liquid on his hand. He pulled back at the right moment, but some liquid still spattered on his hand. It hissed against his skin, and he cried out in pain as he cradled his hand against his side.

Rapi jerked forward, and Dean caught her.

The snake-thing screeched and lashed out blindly. Mouse unsheathed her katana, but the snake lunged for her, and she darted away, holding the weapon at arm's length. The snake coiled in on itself and rushed again at her, even though she was easily able to dodge it. It was then that she realized that the snake's charges weren't blind. It was lunging for female sprites.

Mouse raised her katana, and when the snake next lashed out at her, she brought her katana down, neatly slicing the snake in half.

Dean hefted Rapi's unconscious form against his shoulder. He held his sleeve against the back of her neck to staunch the flow of energy. Looking at the other rebels, he commanded, "Let's go."

They moved through the sewers even faster than before, as Rapi's worsening wound urged them onward. Instead of emerging back on to the street outside the warehouse where brother and sister had been reunited, they instead came into a larger warehouse that reminded Mouse of the underground hideout they had used in Mainframe when fighting against Megabyte. The shabbily clothed sprites and binomes who passed by paused in their work as the group rushed in.

Dean, helping to carry Rapi, gave instructions. "Dado, take Tulin to the med center and have them fix his hand. Come on, guys, let's get Rapi somewhere she can lie down."

A much older sprite caught up with them. He had the same hair as Dean, though it was shot through with gray and white. "Dean, what happened?" he demanded.

"It's all right, Dad," Dean said hurriedly. "The Guardians almost got Rapi, but we saved her," he explained with a small smile. "Be right back."


The sprite nodded as they headed for a corner of the warehouse. He turned around and came face-to-face with Mouse. A startled gasp escaped his throat, and he jerked back as if he had seen a ghost.

Mouse backstepped, and Ray steadied a hand against her back. She stared in stunned silence at her father.

"Moira?" the man asked in a whisper. He sounded half-hearted, as if he didn't believe it himself. The pure grief that made this wonderful, commanding sprite look like a tired shell was so great that Mouse didn't have the heart to correct him.

"Yes," Mouse managed to choke out. She should have thought that if Dean were alive, her parents would be too . . . but she hadn't even let the former set in. . . .

Garret enveloped her in his arms and hugged her fiercely. He pulled back and stared long and hard at her. "It's been so long, Moira– fourteen hours," he whispered in disbelief.

"Ah know," Mouse said softly, "believe me, Ah know." Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she blinked before allowing them to fall. Garret noticed this and reflected, Seems like my little girl's still as tough as ever. But seeing how different she looked -- the static hair, the intricate tattoos and scars that marked her face and arms -- he feared that she'd been through a horrible amount of trauma that had forced her to toughen up.

But now he would know what had happened to his dear Moira. Garret had been given his daughter back, and he planned to reconcile for everything that had passed over the last fourteen hours. It would take a long time to fully understand Moira again, but Garret would gladly do it. A laugh worked itself free from his rusty throat, and suddenly his chest felt incredibly light. Garret smiled in spite of himself. "We have a lot of catching up to do," he said quietly.

"Ah couldn't agree with you more --" Mouse paused and swallowed hard. She wanted desperately to use one more word, but she didn't know if she could, after all this time. Finally, she wet her lips and spoke. "-- Dad."

Garret's smile broadened, and tears flowed down his cheeks. He hugged Mouse tightly to him, and for a few suspended nanoseconds everything was all right. Mouse looked over her father's shoulder and caught sight of a petite, muscled woman with curly blond hair and rosy skin. Her breath stuck in her throat, and she barely managed to stumble toward her mother and wrap her arms around her body.

Gloria wasn't sure if she should believe that her daughter was actually here, actually alive and breathing. One look into Garret's eyes let her know that she wasn't imagining things, and so returned Moira's tight hug. For the first time in fourteen hours, Gloria's steel wall of emotions was broken down by a flood of tears.