As always, you lovies are close to my heart. That means I need to reply a bit. No questions yet, per se...but I feel you guys need some sorta response.

-IrvineSano- Hey, I'll see what I can do...but remember that it's been forever and a day since I've written anything even remotely Irvine/Moonbay. Do you have any sorta specifics that would make it a bit easier for me email for convenience, maybe? I won't promise anything, but I'll certainly try, once this large project is wrapped up.

-plink- Heh--I've started trying to make use of alla meh charas now, just because I figure that they're valuable assets, in their own ways. And Thomas's awesomeness has crept up my scales because he became of use in this story. Of course, he'll be of much greater use later... -insert evil laugh here-

-ravenwings5- That OOCness is mostly from how I haven't seen Zoids in quite a while, seeing as how it was taken off CN over a year ago. And, I assure you, the quote thing has been entirely coincidental thus far--as you can see by this chapter's quote, they aren't really meant to "preview" the chapter, mostly just to "pave the way" for it.

Anyways. I think I'm on some semblance of a posting schedule now--Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, skipping a day when a part is done. This is mostly to stall for time so I can finish the connected story that comes after this. I'm not used to this whole deadline thing yet. If that's too confusing to deal with, then author alerts are your friends.

The Second Renaissance

Part Two: Pentacle

-

I. Silent

"The pentacle...is a pre-Christian symbol that relates to Nature worship. The ancients envisioned their world in two halves–masculine and feminine. Their gods and goddesses worked to keep a balance of power. Yin and yang. When male and female were balanced, there was harmony in the world. When they were unbalanced, there was chaos. The pentacle is representative of the female half of things–a concept religious historians call the 'sacred feminine' or the 'divine goddess.'"

-Dan Brown, The Da Vinci Code

-

Fiona awoke disoriented, hot sunlight beating harshly on her back. She was being carried, a bouncing sensation that jarred her teeth and sent a dull ache spiraling up her left arm. Tentatively, she tried to clench the fingers of her left hand, and gasped. It took all her willpower to keep from screaming in agony at the blinding pain that overtook her arm. However, she could not prevent the soft moan that escaped her lips as she buried her face in what she dimly registered as dark red fabric.

The jarring suddenly stopped, and Fiona felt the hold on her legs adjust slightly. Van craned his neck around to look at her. "Hey." She didn't answer. "You okay?" Fiona squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head roughly. She heard Van say something, and resisted the urge to groan again. His voice hurt her head tremendously, sending a throbbing migraine to pulse between her temples. She opened her eyes again, though, when a surprisingly cool bare hand laid itself against her damp forehead.

Thomas looked closely at the girl, frowning. Her cheeks were flushed magenta, and she looked like she just barely recognized him. He removed his hand hesitantly and pulled his glove back on, muttering to Van, "I think she'd in shock; as the temperature drops, she could catch a fever. We need to hurry."

Van glanced at Fiona's injured arm, where it hung over his left shoulder. The makeshift brace they had managed to construct for her broken wrist looked far too white against her skin, and her hand was a most unhealthy shade of violet. He nodded, shifting his grip again. "Yeah, I know. No telling what she could pick up out here."

"Do you need me to take her?"

The question was quiet, but desperately needed. Van nodded, lowering himself to his knees. The muscles in his legs were almost spent, and burned with the fire of exhaustion. Thomas lifted Fiona's weight from his back, and he sighed in relief, dragging himself to his feet again to shoulder the emergency pack.

Grunting with exertion, Thomas righted himself, and managed to keep from dropping the girl on his back. "Okay, it shouldn't be too much longer. There is a small Imperial base–Naraya, I think–up ahead. We should be there in," he tilted his head to check his watch, "about an hour, if I'm not mistaken." He squinted through the bright afternoon sunlight, as if hoping for a glimpse of the base in question. Of course, it was only the dusty road stretching away down the mountain that met his gaze.

"Okay, sounds good." Van laughed ruefully. "How are we going to explain this?"

"Very carefully, my friend. Very carefully."

It was only about twenty minutes later that the fever chills started. Thomas felt Fiona's legs begin to tremble, softly at first, but then her small fists clenched at his shirt. Soon, her entire body was wracked with shudders, and he was having trouble holding on to her.

When Van noticed that Thomas was lagging behind, he darted a look back, only to see his friend kneeling on the ground. He rushed over just as Thomas slung Fiona around to rest more comfortably in his arms, where she shook uncontrollably, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on her forehead, making her long blonde bangs stick to her face, her eyes squeezed shut. Van could only stand by and watch, helpless...there was nothing that he could do for her.

Thomas held her close, trying to keep her from hurting herself in her tremors, and said urgently to Van, "Check the bag, see if there's any sort of medicine."

Van nodded, and pawed desperately through the pack, hoping and praying that there was something, anything there for him to find. He felt his hand scrape the bottom of the bag, and almost cried out in despair...but then his fingers closed gratefully around a small bottle, and he pulled it out, relieved. "Got it."

He watched as Thomas shook Fiona, talking softly to her. Gradually, she awoke to full consciousness, her eyes hazily trying to focus on both of them at once. Her tensed muscles finally relaxed, and Van breathed a sigh of relief, clutching the medicine until his knuckles turned white. He managed to shake a couple of aspirin into Thomas's out-stretched hand, then pocketed the small bottle. Heaving another sigh, he sank to sit in the middle of the dusty road, pausing only to hand Thomas a water bottle.

As the buzzing of summer insects filled the silence, Van suddenly muttered, "What did we ever do to deserve this?"

"Nothing, probably." Thomas capped the water bottle and gave it back. He eyed Fiona as she swallowed hard, then patted her head absently. "Good girl."

Van darted a look at him. "You're burned."

Thomas snorted. "So are you. So is she. What's your point?"

Van grimaced, pushing himself back to his feet and dusting off his pants. "My point is," he gave Thomas a look, "we need to find some shade. And a base," he added as an afterthought.

Thomas shrugged. "Okay, let's go." He took a few minutes to stand and get Fiona positioned comfortably on his back once more. And then they were off, this time sans any major interruptions.

The two men kept conversation to a minimum as each tried to save their strength for the hike. The road dust hung heavily in the air, mixing with wildflower pollen. After a few explosive sneezes, Van found he had to walk with a hand covering his mouth and nose, making a face the whole way. The hot sun made the journey no more pleasurable, creating uncomfortable sweat and a shimmering horizon. Finally, the monotonous view changed, a dark shadow marching up from the flat road.

Fishing for the binoculars, Van squinted through them for a scant moment, and gave a sigh of relief. "Trees," he explained, stuffing them back in the bag. "Finally, shade."

Thomas shook a bead of perspiration from his nose and nodded. "Good, that means we're close." He shifted Fiona's weight. "We can switch off there?" He had to force it out.

Van didn't notice, and just sniffed wetly. "Yeah, that'll be fine."

The shade was cool and dark, due to the thick foliage above. Van led the way in, pushing aside branches, crunching leaves underfoot, and breathing much more easily than he had for the past half hour. Panting, Thomas followed.

Spying a small rise ahead, Van made straight for it. Thomas saw and groaned, "Not uphill, come on..."

But Van stopped at its base, dropping the emergency pack. He climbed to its eight-foot peak as Thomas knelt, depositing Fiona on the ground, exhausted.

Excitedly, Van called, "Hey, I think I can see it! Is that it?"

Without looking, or even making a move to rise, Thomas muttered, "Probably. Check with the binocs."

After a moment, Van's voice came again, quieter. "Hey, uh, Thomas?"

Thomas rose and reluctantly climbed the mossy incline. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure this Naraya place is, ah...small?" Thomas squinted up at Van. The Republican had a strange look on his face as he stared through the binoculars.

"Last time I checked, yeah, it was tiny. Hardly had any room for zoids. We never needed them this far out in the wilderness." Wordlessly, Van handed him the binoculars. Frowning, Thomas took them and raised them to his eyes. "Whoa..."

The base's outer perimeter was no longer definite, as it was teeming with sheer numbers of people and tents. The black tarmac was barely visible, and, of the masses, only a few were soldiers. Thomas lowered the binoculars, thinking. Finally, he said, "Well...okay. This...isn't bad, technically."

"Then what is it?"

"Not...quite sure yet. But what we are going to do is go down there and find out why on Zi there are so many civilians crowded into a tiny mountain base. Besides, Fiona still needs help."

Van shrugged. "Okay, then, let's get going. Although, I can't help but think that since there are so many people there that it means we might not be able to get the service we need."

Thomas slid down the little hill, closely followed by Van, and slung the emergency pack onto his shoulders, exhaustion shoved aside for the moment. "As bad as it may sound, I'm pretty sure we out-rank everyone down there. Trust me; they'll give us what we need." He eyed Van as he got Fiona situated for travel again. She didn't stir, acting as only so much dead weight. At least the fever chills stopped...

Ten minutes later, they met the perimeter of the base, an exasperating chaotic mass of people. People lying down, people sitting, people crying, people talking...it was almost unimaginable. It seemed like every small colony within a twelve-mile radius had decided to gather at Naraya Base. Thomas pushed through, desperately seeking some sign of authority, someone that could help, and Van did his best to keep up without jostling his precious cargo too much.

Finally, he spotted a uniform he recognized, that of a private. Lunging, he grabbed the man's arm, yelling over the din, "Can you tell me who's in charge here?"

The private turned tired eyes to him. "Please, sir, everyone will be served in due time. We are over-crowded here and need your cooperation. The colonel cannot be bothered."

"Which colonel?"

"Please, sir, I said–"

"Tell me!"

The private sighed. "Colonel Shubaltz, sir."

Thomas's eyes brightened. Now that was an unexpected stroke of luck. Excitedly, he yelled, "Take me to him, please!"

"I'm not authorized–"

"Just do it! You won't regret it, I promise!"

Perhaps it was just the end of a long, long day, but the private gave him a defeated look and nodded, turning and walking off. Thomas trailed after, keeping one eye on Van to make sure he could keep up with the soldier's brisk pace. Finally, after pushing through the worst of the crowd, they came up against a thick steel door, where the private turned and said, "I'll go speak with the colonel now, but please understand if he is unable to see you. Is there a message you would like for me to give him, instead?"

"Just...just tell him that Thomas is here, and he'll say it's okay. I promise, he will."

The private looked very doubtful, but just nodded and ducked inside the door. Turning, Thomas sighed and leaned against the wall, doubtfully scanning the crowd before him for any answers. "It's just so weird," he muttered, shading his eyes. "Where did they all come from?"

Beside him, Van panted, "Who knows? Looks more like a hitchhiker convention than anything to me." And he was right. All the people grouped at the base were dusty, hot, and sweaty...they looked like stranded travelers.

Thomas shook his head. "Yeah, I guess." He darted a look to Van. "You okay?" When he nodded, Thomas shrugged. "At any rate, Karl will be able to give us some answers." As an afterthought, he added darkly, "At least, he better."

The sound of a door opening drew their attention, and the private that had left them only moments before stepped out, nervously faced them, and snapped to attention. "S-so sorry, Lieutenant Shubaltz, sir, I didn't know that it was you, sir, otherwise–"

Thomas managed a thin smile. "It's fine, but could we get moving, please?"

"Yes sir, now, if you would please come with me, please, sir." He ducked back into the door, gesturing for them to follow.

Thomas grinned and shot Van an "I told you so" look, then went after the Imperial soldier. Van rolled his eyes before following, trying to keep a secure hold on Fiona's legs. He would have to put her down very, very soon, or she was going to end up on some random floor.

The base's air conditioning was lovely and welcome. Van and Thomas stood blissfully in the hall while waiting for the private to lock the door behind them. He nodded apologetically at them, adding, "We need to keep the main area secure, or else all those civilians would swamp us. They don't seem to realize that we don't have room for all of them in here."

Van frowned. "But...why–" He caught Thomas's eye, who shook his head sharply. Van shrugged and fell silent. The private didn't seem to notice, and only led them further into the winding hallways of Naraya. Finally, he stopped in front of a very nonchalant-looking door, and managed to open it with what felt like agonizing lethargy.

Finally, Thomas led the way through, Van following in his wake. Thomas dismissed the private just inside the door, and turned to face the figure behind the desk, snapping into a smart salute.

"Lieutenant Thomas Richard Shubaltz of the Guardian Force reporting for duty, sir." He cracked a thin smile at the expression on Karl's face: alarm, anxiety and relief blending into one weary mess.

The colonel stood, managing a slight smile of his own. "Thomas..." He shook his head and began again. "At ease, soldier." As Thomas relaxed, Karl just stared at him, his gaze unwavering. Some strange sort of silent communication seemed to pass between the two. Karl looked on the verge of scolding his brother, and Thomas, dusty and weary as he was, managed to look confidently pleased with himself, something he'd picked up from Van.

As the minutes stretched on, Van suddenly piped up, leaning out from behind his partner's lean form. "Yeah, hi, there, Shubaltz. I'd salute, but, uh..." He turned sideways to reveal Fiona's still form.

Green eyes widening in alarm, the elder Shubaltz said, "Go, take her to the hospital wing," before turning to his brother with a frown. "Thomas, I think there are some things you need to explain to me."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You don't know the half of it."

As the door closed behind Van, Karl sat, clasping his hands before him. "It's really...really good to see you guys, Thomas." Karl stared levelly at him as Thomas sank into a high-backed chair in front of the desk. "When you didn't show up at Inea three hours ago, and then we realized the Hammerhead had disappeared from our radar...we were all pretty worried."

Thomas frowned. "Who?"

"Hermann. Doctor D. Me." Karl fell silent for a moment, looking troubled. "What...what happened out there?"

Thomas sighed. "The Hammerhead refused to follow orders, so we had to bail." He shrugged. "Then we took a little nature walk, and here we are." He spread his arms demonstratively.

"And Miss Fiona?"

"Injured on her way to the ground."

Karl sighed, closing his eyes. After a long moment, he murmured, "I was afraid of this."

Thomas felt his pulse skip a beat. "Why?" And then he remembered. "Oh, I meant to ask, why are all these people here? And I was surprised to find you were stationed here, I didn't really remember that–"

"It was a recent development." Thomas trailed off at the somber expression on his brother's face, and felt dread edging at his nerves.

"Karl...what's wrong?" His voice came out higher than it was supposed to.

Very, very quietly, Karl said, "They're gone. The zoids are gone."

Thomas frowned. "The zoids at the base? You mean...someone stole them?"

Karl looked at him with an unreadable expression crossing his face. "No, you don't understand, Thomas. I don't mean the zoids here. I mean...all the zoids. They're all gone."

-

"Gone?"

"Gone."

Van looked wide-eyed at Thomas, his eyebrows drawn together in bewilderment. "What do you mean, gone?"

Thomas sighed in exasperation, gesturing emphatically. "Exactly what I said. They're gone."

Van sat down heavily onto the rest area's couch, burying his face in his hands. "I don't understand," he moaned, his words muddled by his fingers. "How can all the zoids be gone?" After a long, silent moment, he raised his head again to look at Thomas. "What does it mean?"

Thomas sighed and sat down beside him, saying nothing.

Van stared hard at him. "What does it mean?" he repeated insistently.

Thomas glared at him, irritated. "First of all, it means that now we know why all those civilians are here. They're the ones that survived when their transports abandoned them." They're the only ones who survived... He shook off the unvoiced comment as Van nodded slowly.

"It also means that we're helpless in the face of an attack." Under Van's paling gaze, he went on, staring straight ahead, cupping his chin in his hands. "Our society has progressed too far depending on zoids. Without them, we're totally unarmed."

His eyes slid over to Van. "And I'm sure you know what else we know. You must have figured it out."

Van sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah, I know. The Liger's gone. No telling about Zeke." He snuck a peek at his friend. "It's like you're any better off, though. I mean, the Bison's not exactly–"

"Actually," Thomas interrupted mildly, "it is. Apparently, my zoid hasn't budged." He smirked in meager satisfaction, meeting Van's crestfallen gaze.

The younger lieutenant made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, crossing his arms. "Now that, that...is not fair."

Thomas shrugged. "Nothing to be done about it now." They fell silent for a moment, then he went on, "How's Fiona?"

Van relaxed, lowering his voice. "Fine, I guess. Haven't really been to see her after they moved her to a spare room. I don't think she's woken up yet, actually."

Thomas nodded, his gaze resting on the ceiling. "She needs the rest." Closing his eyes blissfully, he let his muscles relax. The whole ordeal had taken more than he would have liked from his body, adrenaline and desperation the only things that kept him standing until that point. With a sigh, he surrendered himself to exhaustion.

It was Van that brought him from the rare solace, his words incoherently muffled in his hands. Thomas gave him a curious look. "What?"

Van raised his head halfway, saying more clearly, "I'm sorry." His eyes were a strange, stony grey...it was a look that he didn't wear often.

"Wait–what?" Thomas frowned at him. "Where did that come from?"

Refusing to look at him, Van swallowed hard. "It was my fault."

"What was?"

"All of it. I was the one that said we should take the Hammerhead."

Suddenly, it dawned on Thomas, and he gave an exasperated sigh, smacking his forehead. "Don't be thick, Van, we all agreed on it." When he got no response, he added, "It wasn't anyone's fault; there's no way you could have known."

Still no answer.

Thomas rolled his eyes. "Well, that's how it is. Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth. Stop wallowing and accept it." He leaned back, and closed them again.

After a couple of long silent moments, there was a sudden lessening of pressure from the other end of the couch. Thomas opened his eyes in time to see the door hiss shut. He sighed heavily, gritting his teeth in a grimace.

I hate self-pity.

-

Fiona finally began to stir when her fever broke, opening her eyes to be greeted with almost complete darkness. She stared into the black for a moment, but then pulled herself upright, the action made difficult by the sling confining her left arm to her middle. A thick comforter slipped down to rest against her hips as she managed to support herself weakly with her good arm.

Golden moonbeams filtered through the large windows onto the bed, casting strange shadows onto the cloth. She slowly brought her gaze up to take in the huge, dark mountains directly in front of her. Memory filtered back in fragments. Dust. Heat. Pain. Blessed unconsciousness. She let her breath out in a sharp little sigh.

"We made it."

The realization in itself was exhausting. Relief coursed through her veins, and she leaned forward to take most of her weight off her arm, taking slow, shaky breaths. After a moment, she sat back against her pillows and closed her eyes. How long had it been? Anywhere from hours to days, for all she knew. The base was silent and still; it was probably the middle of the night.

Fully awake, Fiona turned her attentions to her new room. It was plain, but nice...probably a spare. As she let her eyes travel around the room, however, one thing became quite clear: she needed water. Desperately.

Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. When her toes met the floor, an icy chill raced up her feet, and she shivered. As an afterthought, she grabbed the extra blanket sitting at the edge of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it closed with her one free hand.

She had been re-dressed in a simple tank top and black pajama pants. They were much more comfortable than having to sleep in her day clothing, but not nearly as warm as, say, her gloves and boots. Moving as carefully as she was able, Fiona picked her way across the floor and pushed the outside door open. A dimly lit hallway greeted her with temporarily blinding light. Squinting, she shuffled down the hall, occasionally stopping to open a door.

So far, they were all spare storage rooms, but she was bound to come across a lounge...a kitchen...or a bathroom, even. Her parched throat was agonizing, begging for just a sip of water. At the moment, the only option was to open every door she met; hopefully, it wasn't a big base.

It was, however, larger than she had expected, and eventually she just let her senses guide her, tending to pass five doors in a row before stopping to check. It was only when she had been walking dazedly for about ten minutes that she realized she probably wouldn't get back to her room; the base was a maze of blank hallways, each ending in either a door...or another corridor.

On the verge of giving up and going to sleep on the floor, Fiona finally found a small lounge. She tottered in, her blanket dragging the clean white linoleum. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, she filled it at the faucet and drank gratefully. The cold water rushed down her parched throat in a refreshing deluge, almost immediately giving her a headache. It was, however, worth it. Five minutes later, she rinsed the glass and started back out, satisfied.

Voices emanating from the closed door across the hall halted her slow progress. She glanced at it curiously, feeling much more alive than she had when she first woke up. Edging to the wall adjacent to the door, she pressed her back to it and slid slowly down. When her rear bumped the floor, she sighed wearily and stretched out her legs, then leaned her head against the wall, trying to listen.

"...But aren't we miles from the valley?" She raised her eyebrows. What's Van doing up this late?

"We're not that far; it's just across the mountains." And Thomas...I wonder what's going on?

"Thomas is right, it doesn't seem to matter how far away we are. The whole continent was affected, after all." Doctor D's voice was cracked with static. A comm. link...

Fiona suddenly felt guilty. "I shouldn't," she whispered, staring at her hands. "If...if they think I need to know something, then they'll tell me. I-I trust them." Only the last sentiment was concrete, and she didn't move, especially when she heard what floated through the wall next.

"The Zoid Eve? Really?" Fiona froze.

"Yes, it could be a residual effect, something that only the zoids could pick up on."

"You mean...like a gigantic Rare Hertz pulse?" Thomas sounded doubtful.

"Does it not make sense? The zoids always acted strangely when they got around the valley, remember?"

"But that was because of Eve. She–it–was destroyed, right?"

"Not necessarily, the energy source was only...diminished, not terminated."

It was enough. Fiona pushed herself to her feet and started off deliberately the way she had come. It really wouldn't do for one of them to open the door and find her eavesdropping, especially with her hair tousled and her eyes bleary from sleep.

"Tomorrow," she murmured, "I have got to call Reese. So much more depends on this now. On us." It's our past, anyway...

It was, to her knowledge, the first time in about a year that the military had considered anything about the Zoid Eve. The city had been destroyed, Hiltz and the Deathsaurer (...And Eve...) along with it–end of story. Or maybe not. Reese had to know something. She just had to.

-

She finally managed to find her room again, thanks to pure luck, just as the moons set behind the mountains. That night, she dreamed of zoids, the gigantic machinery towering over the ruins of a great city. They stood majestically, obviously the victors of a great battle, for their paws and fangs were stained a heavy, crimson red. Upon waking with tears in her eyes, Fiona realized that she couldn't tell if the dream was hers or not. The thought terrified her.

The sound of faint knocking drew Fiona from her reverie, and she jerked her face from her hands, hastily drying her cheeks. "Yes?"

Thomas's voice came from the other side of the door, muffled. "Hey, Fiona, do you think that you could be ready to leave in about an hour?"

"Wait...just a minute!" She threw aside the covers and hastily stood, wrapping her blanket about her shoulders again. She stumbled a little, lurching with dizziness, but she managed to right herself, and made it to the door undeterred.

She opened the door quickly, panting. Thomas looked surprised to see her so active, and he stammered, "Are you...feeling better?" He looked her up and down doubtfully, but then caught himself and blushed furiously.

Fiona nodded, feeling a headache starting. "Just an hour?" He nodded an affirmative, and she sighed. "I don't know about that."

He blinked. "Really? Why?"

Fiona sighed again, this time in exasperation, dropping her blanket to rumple at her feet. "Because," she said slowly, "I can't get dressed, Thomas." She indicated her left arm, and her headache intensified.

If possible, Thomas's face grew a deeper shade of crimson, and his eyes grew quite wide. "Uh..." Fiona kept her gaze mild, watching him. "Um, uh..."

Finally, she gave a short laugh. "Look, if you could just take me to the infirmary, then one of the nurses there could help me, okay?"

Clearly relieved, Thomas nodded. "Okay."

Fiona laughed again and turned to grab her clothes, neatly pressed and waiting to be worn again, from the bedside table. Leaving the blanket behind, she clutched the clothes to her chest with her free hand and followed Thomas out the door.

After a few minutes of silent walking, he coughed. "So…you are feeling better?"

She gave a tired shrug. "As well as can be expected, I suppose." She glanced at him. "Why?"

He shook his head noncommittally. "Oh, no reason. But," his eyes slid over to her face again, "I would have thought that the medicine would have put you under a little longer. Considering that this is the first time you've been up today, you're handling it well."

"Oh." Fiona felt her face heat. The first time I've been up today, right... Struggling for a subject change, she stammered, "Uh, what time is it, though? How long have we been here?"

He thought for a moment. "About...a day, I guess. It's late afternoon now. Turn here." He touched her shoulder gently and hung a sharp right. She scrambled to keep up with his long stride. "Van wanted to leave pretty soon; he said that he wanted Zeke nearby."

"Zeke? Why?"

"I dunno, that's just what he said." Fiona looked curiously at Thomas. He sounded almost...resentful. She opened her mouth to ask, but then he turned into a doorway. "Here it is." He nodded to her curtly. "I guess you can handle it from here. I need to go talk to Karl about something." And then he was gone.

Fiona stared after him for a minute, troubled, but then she shook her head and pushed open the infirmary door hesitantly. Two long rows of white-sheeted bed stretched down the long room, curtains drawn around a few; no one was in sight. "...Hello?"

"Yes? May I help you, miss?" A young woman leaned out from behind one of the curtains, her shoulder-length black curls bouncing against her white uniform. When she saw Fiona, she frowned. "Oh, you're the girl that was in here yesterday, aren't you?" She stepped out from the bedside, hands on her hips. "Your arm isn't giving you trouble, is it?"

Fiona blinked and shook her head. "Oh, no, it's fine. It's just that...I, uh..." She held up her armful of clothing helplessly.

The nurse nodded slowly. "I see. You need help, miss?" At the other girl's affirmative, she waved. "Why don't you come over here, and I'll give you a hand." She smiled. "By the way, my name's Anna."

Twenty minutes later, Fiona was struggling into her top, sitting on the bed. Anna watched critically for a moment, then muttered, "You might have to be sewn into it, girl."

Fiona panted, "No, I think I'm okay." With a grimace, she shoved her right arm through the sleeve, and laid back, fully dressed and satisfied. "See?" She winced again as she settled her weight.

Anna's eyes flashed, and her small hand darted out, gently prodding Fiona's left arm. When the other girl gasped in pain, the nurse frowned. "That isn't supposed to hurt, miss." Suddenly, Fiona found the floor to be quite interesting. Anna stared hard at her. "You haven't been active, have you?"

Slowly, Fiona brought her guilty gaze up. "Well, no, not...much." She managed a weak smile.

Anna sighed. "Well, if I don't give you something now, then the pain will be terrible, later." She tossed aside the curtain, saying over her shoulder, "I'll have to call one of your friends to help you. After you get this medicine, then you won't be able to walk five steps in a straight line."

As the nurse trotted away to the door, Fiona sighed. "Great. Just great."

Ten minutes later, Anna returned, towing Van by the arm. He looked surprised to see Fiona sitting on the hospital bed. "Hey...Fiona? You okay?"

As Fiona opened her mouth reluctantly to reply, Anna butted her way in as she headed over to the medical counter. "No, she's not. She managed to strain her wrist, and it will be hurting her greatly later if I don't give her something now." She smiled over her shoulder at him. "Is that...okay?"

Van's eyes went wide in confusion, and he scratched at his neck nervously. "Uh, yeah, I guess." He went to sit on Fiona's right side, and nudged her. "What happened?"

"Uh...slept on it wrong, I guess," she lied, with a sigh and a shake of her head. Anna said nothing, thankfully.

After a quiet minute or so, the nurse approached with a hypodermic needle. She gestured, and Fiona stretched out her right arm, grimacing. Anna bit her lip and muttered, mostly to herself, "Okay, now this won't hurt...a bit." In Fiona's limited experience with doctors, this was a blatant lie...but she just squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. Van's reassuring warmth on her right was enough to keep her from making a sound when the large needle entered her arm.

A few seconds later, she heard Anna chirp, "There, all done. Now, that wasn't so bad, huh, miss?"

Fiona opened her eyes wide and blinked a couple of times. "Wow." It was all she could say. "Wow." Her vision slid rebelliously out of focus, and she felt most of her self-support disappear. She leaned heavily on Van, still blinking.

Faintly, she heard Anna chuckle. "Yes, it is pretty much instantaneous."

Sounding worried, Van stammered, "Uh, when will this...wear off?"

"Oh, give her a night's rest. It'll be great healing time."

Fiona shook her head and tried to push herself off the bed. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her knees buckled, and Van caught her before she could hit the ground. She ground out, "Let's go. Let's go home."

He nodded, staring wide-eyed at her. "Um...okay." Hesitating only for a minute, he reached down and caught her legs, just behind her knees, and swung her off the ground. He muttered a goodbye to the ever-helpful nurse Anna, and then made his way out the door. Fiona simply leaned her head against his arm and tried to concentrate on keeping her eyes open. It was awfully hard, considering how Van's steps merged into one monotonous, comforting rhythm.

When he set her down gently on a cushioned seat–hey, a car–she murmured, "Hey, Van, what about Thomas? I didn't get...to say goodbye." Her words were tangled together, and it was a wonder that he even understood her.

He climbed in beside her, and shut his door. The answering slam ahead accounted for the Imperial private driver. "I think you need to get home as soon as possible, Fiona." He gave her a wary look. "You're ah, in a bad way. And besides, we'll be home in about an hour or two."

Said hour was akin to torture, in which Fiona flickered in and out of disturbing fragments of dreams. The subject matter varied from deserts to clouds to pillows...but all with one recurring theme. The desert sands had sprinklings of glass-like crimson pearls scattered everywhere. The cloud's lining wasn't silver, but a deep sunset red, dripping wetly. The pillows were sodden and smelled of pennies.

Finally, a rough boom of thunder jerked her awake. She blinked blearily and raised her head from its warm nest on Van's arm. "Where are we?"

"About fifteen minutes from home."

Suddenly, a wave of something...strange, something unnatural, hit her, washing over her body like ice water. Fiona let her head loll against Van's shoulder, murmuring, "Van, I don't feel...ah...something's wrong."

Van glanced at her, worried. Her face was strangely ashen, her eyes closed and brow knit in something...exhaustion, maybe. He sighed heavily. "I think it's just the painkillers, Fiona." It had better be... Outside, subdued thunder boomed from dusky clouds.

Fiona clenched her teeth, forcing out, "No, it's not that...something else...terribly wrong..."

"Shh, we're almost home." She shivered, and he awkwardly smoothed her hair.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the transport pulled up in front of their building. Van managed to edge out the door, Fiona in his arms. He kicked the door shut, and, with a nod to the driver, turned to the steps behind him. Each footfall seemed heavier than the last, exhaustion dragging at him. His eyes burned hotly, and the girl in his arms was an incredible burden.

Zeke met them at the door, growling in welcome. Van waved him off, bumping the door shut behind him. The apartment was dark, but it was a comforting dark, reminiscent of quiet mornings and peaceful twilights. At the moment, it looked like heaven on Zi.

Sighing shakily, Van squinted and carefully picked his way across the dark room, making for Fiona's bedroom. Just a little further... With Zeke underfoot, it took longer than it should have, but he finally made it, throwing the comforter aside with a desperate motion and setting Fiona onto the sheets as gently as he could.

At the sudden motion, her drowsy eyes shot open, and she grabbed his sleeve. "Don't go, Van." Her words were muddled, half-asleep and drugged as she was.

Pulling the thick blanket over her legs, Van tried to talk soothingly. "It's okay, Fiona. We're home now." He took her hand and gently detached it, laying it by her side. When she continued to look distressed, he smiled. "Go to sleep." He placed a hand on her shoulder, and, unknowingly mimicking his sister, pushed her firmly down to the pillows.

Before she could grab his arm again, he hastily stood. A low rumble of thunder drew his attention to the window, and he hesitated. Finally, he said, "It's been a long couple of days. Go to sleep, and you'll feel better tomorrow. I'll take care of you, I promise." He backed out of the room, shooing Zeke away while shutting the door.

Staring after him, Fiona sat back up and ran a hand across her forehead, feeling hopelessly disoriented. "Van...you don't understand." She swayed a little, and finally lowered her shoulders back to the pillows, the unable to resist the wave of sleep any longer.

Van wandered back out to the kitchen, and found it was clearly a miracle that he'd managed to get to Fiona's room in the dark. As an afterthought, he switched on a low counter light, dimly illuminating the room with a soft blue-white glow. Zeke's clanking footsteps followed close behind him, and the organoid emitted a curious growl or two every now and then. When Van's hands finally met the back of the couch, he sighed.

"Fine. I give up. I should probably be close by in case Fiona needs anything, anyway." He felt his way around the couch and collapsed wearily onto the cushions, his body aching. Zeke plodded up beside him, nudging his arm with a soft whine. Van swatted at him, muttering, "Not now, Zeke, please."

With a grunt, the small zoid curled up noisily on the floor, and fell into the organoid-version of sleep. Standby-mode, or something. As his snores fell into a strange sort of rhythm, randomly punctuated by rolling thunder that echoed out over the proud city of Guygalos, Van found himself slowly drifting into an exhausted sleep. His last thought was that he probably shouldn't have let Fiona sleep in her clothes, but he shrugged it off, deciding that it could wait until morning.

-

The refuge of sleep had long-ago ceased to exist. Now...now, it was an impenetrable prison.

In her strange half-lucid dreamings, Fiona frowned, her lips parting soundlessly. The fingers of her right hand twisted the bed sheet, the other lying motionless in its sling. The edges of reality were blurring into an incoherent mess; dreams were materializing before her eyes, and the very tangibility of life was dissolving beneath her fingertips. She sank deeper and deeper into nothingness, unable to pull herself out and unable to cry for help.

With the darkness enveloping her, she was only vaguely surprised to feel a touch at her mind. Those horrible, haunting voices were back, but nothing seemed to happen. They were waiting. For what, she didn't know, nor did she care.

Will you?

The question was unexpected, but the girl's fuzzy mind didn't register any sort of disbelief. Both her mind and body felt leaden, unmovable. She could feel them waiting patiently for an answer, and her will quivered. Uncertainty ruled for a moment, but then her resolve collapsed in on itself, defeated by the invisible persuasion that they held over her. Back in what she suspected was reality, her lips formed the one word, the almost-silent whisper that they had been waiting for.

"Yes."

They were quiet for a long moment, but then she felt her senses tingling unpleasantly. It didn't hurt at all this time...or maybe she was just beyond pain. In a strange wash of heat, it flowed around her body, rising slowly. It was warm, and not threatening anymore. Fiona felt herself sink down into it, and it seemed that a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. The endless wars waged within her mind–they were gone, over forever.

As the peaceful waters closed over her head, she did feel a small nudge of regret, but forgot it as soon as it began, surrendering herself totally. This time, it was a true slumber that took her, and she could have sobbed with relief, had she been able.

-

Zeke was the one that woke Van, with his distressed howls. It was a strange, unnatural-sounding noise, one that probably woke up half the building. Van pushed himself up from the couch, and seriously considered throwing a pillow at the organoid. Zeke evidently realized that his master was awake, and clanked over to stick his head over the couch, and put his very cold muzzle right on Van's neck.

"What do you want, Zeke?" Van shoved the zoid away, but Zeke ignored him, his high-pitched growls simply getting louder. Van hastily reached up and pushed the organoid's mouth closed. "Shut up," he hissed. "You'll wake Fiona up, if you haven't already."

Zeke actually paused for a moment, his crimson optic lens seeming to stare right through Van. It was unsettling, but after a few seconds, the organoid grunted and roughly shook off Van's hands. Turning awkwardly, he lumbered across the kitchen to the small hallway that led to Fiona's bedroom, where he carried on as he had before. Scowling and muttering about stupid organoids, Van stood and followed him, trying to shake himself awake.

Upon reaching the door to Fiona's bedroom, Zeke turned and looked at him, whining softly. Van's exhausted mind finally felt prickles of doubt edging at it. "Zeke...you think that something's...wrong?" The organoid's whimpers grew louder. Hesitating, Van started to reach for the doorknob, afraid of what may lay behind it.

Finally, his hand closed on it, and he turned it slowly...slowly... It was too slow for Zeke, who gave a frustrated roar and head butted the door roughly, swinging it open to slam against the wall. The small zoid barreled through the doorway with a roar of distress. Van followed after, his heart pounding deafeningly in his ears. The sight that met his eyes nearly made his heart stop altogether.

Zeke sat at the foot of the bed, silent for what seemed to be the first time that night. Slowly, the zoid lowered himself to the floor, where he curled into a despondent little ball, looking for all the world like a faithful dog who had lost his master. Van couldn't spare his gaze for the organoid, though. He was focused on the bed, on its rumpled sheets, on the absence that was painfully obvious only now.

She's...gone. Thunder boomed thickly outside.

But still, no rain fell.