The Second Renaissance

Part Five: Lucifer

-

I. Dawn

She felt a nausea of the soul, a hideous and sickening despair, a melancholy weariness so profound that she was going to die from it. Her last conscious thought was disgust at life; her senses had lied to her. The world was not made of energy and delight but of foulness, betrayal, and lassitude. Living was hateful, and death was no better, and from end to end of the universe this was the first and last and only truth.

-Philip Pullman, The Subtle Knife

-

When Reese awoke, it was because she couldn't breathe. Her eyes flew open, and she pushed herself up, coughing weakly. She wiped her face with her sleeve, trying to clear her nose and mouth of the liquid threatening to drown her, and winced as her shoulders screamed with pain. She stopped mid-motion, the sharp taste of...whatever it was...heavy on her tongue.

"But..." she trailed off, bewildered. But I'm supposed to be dead...

She glanced down at her hands, and noticed with vague surprise that they were glowing. Her green eyes traced the small puddle of the luminous fluid that almost killed her–again?–up the stone floor...all the way to where Fiona lay, Van kneeling beside her. It was her blood. Reese gagged. The blood of Eve.

Wretched understanding finally brought memory. Reese felt something sickly akin to regret as she took in the scene before her, forgetting the silver blood still staining her cheeks. Van cradled Fiona's lifeless body close, silently rocking back and forth in the throes of his grief. He pressed his forehead to hers, raggedly whispering, "I'm sorry, I promised, I'm sorry..."

Fiona's blood was everywhere, it seemed. Only the trails of it furthest from her body were still glowing silver; threads of crimson strained through in the pools closer to her, thicker and thicker, until that was the only color left. Van was covered in it, his face streaked with scarlet–and, apparently, tears–and his hands were slippery.

Reese swallowed the pain and slight nausea rising in her throat, turning her gaze away. I did this...it's my fault she's dead. Shaking away the pang of shame, the pool of blood before her drew her gaze again.

Reese knelt slowly, unable to take her eyes from the puddle of light in front of her. It shone silver-blue, and its surface shifted eerily. Hypnotized by its unnatural light, the girl shook off thoughts of its origins, slowly pulled off her glove and hesitantly stretched out her hand; her wrist and finger joints protested loudly at the action. She gasped a little when the fluid touched her, but then raised her hand to her face, puzzled. The liquid that met her aching fingers was cool, strangely so, and shimmered softly under her eyes.

Reese stared at it a moment more, then turned her thoughtful gaze away, and the shadows beckoned silently. She pushed away the stabbing guilt and descended into the dim light, refusing to look back, however high the scene behind her loomed. Stepping around a gigantic weathered pillar, she found what she was looking for: the fallen Helcat.

She approached it slowly, until its dirty silver bulk towered over her. She glanced at her glowing fingers, then again at the dead zoid. She swallowed hard, and dismissed the urge to babble to herself. Raising her hand, she pressed it softly to the metal, smearing the blood on gently, and then removed her fingers. For a moment, her silver fingerprints glowed, but then they faded away to nothing.

It seemed like nothing was going to happen, and Reese's shoulders slumped in disappointment. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she hung her head. As her bangs swept over her eyes, she muttered, "Then that's it. It's all over." She turned to go, defeated, and the hallway stretched before her, dark and terrible. I should have died.

A sudden growl stopped her. Reese froze, her shoulders tautly hunched, as a light shone from behind. As it streamed past her slight form, she whirled around, tears catching in her throat. An outline of her fingerprints' whorls glowed brightly and spread, liquid-like, over the silver armor. It swirled over the zoid, blanketing it in blinding light.

Reese shielded her eyes for a moment, but then the light faded, and she lowered her hands slowly. The zoid looked unchanged...all but the blue optic lens, which brightened under her gaze. The Helcat rose, and with it came a great and terrible sadness, a profound grief that superceded all creation. It wrapped Reese in its folds, draping her in a cool and deep calm. She leaned her forehead against the chilled metal and smiled as tears crept their way from her burning eyes. "I know," she whispered. "But she doesn't have to be, not for long."

A growl echoed lowly through the zoid's body, and it started to pull away. Reese let her fingers trail along the metal as long as she could, the currents of the core tingling across her skin. Finally, the zoid was gone, and she realized for the first time that her face was damp with tears. She pressed trembling fingers to her cheeks and absently wiped blood from them. "I think...I think I understand now."

With that, she turned to walk resolutely away, down the path the Helcat had been taking. Her senses softly indicated where to go, and she followed without question. The pillars marched by in the semi-darkness, revealing corridor after corridor, leading deeper into the silent Zoidian city. She turned down the alleys, twisting along the walkways, and marveled at how she knew exactly where she was.

She stopped suddenly in another nameless hallway...there: the unmistakably shape of an organoid. Reese approached him, trying to dredge up his name from her memory. Zeke. Yes, Zeke, that was it. She knelt beside his head, and felt a brief stab of heartache for the fallen little zoid. He looked like he had died unexpectedly, stretched out, as if he had merely tripped and fallen on the stone floor, rather than felled by a virtual heart attack.

Moving much slower than she thought was possible, Reese laid her luminescent fingertips to the organoid's muzzle. As the mark began to fade, she closed her eyes and bent to press her lips to it. What felt like a static shock passed to her, and she jumped, pushing herself away and rubbing her lip as the zoid became awash in the glow of life. When the light faded, Reese leaned forward again, placing her hands on Zeke's snout, and was rewarded with a soft growl. She smiled and murmured, "Go now, Zeke. Save them while you can."

She stood and backed away as the organoid got to his feet, his tail lashing dangerously. With a nod to her, he gave a roar and shot into the shadows, his boosters streaking blue through the darkness. The sun must have set some time ago, but the ruins were bathed in a strange half-light. Reese stared at her hands, which radiated a dim silver. She smiled and went to find Specular.

-

Van was still in the exact same position when she got back, hunched over Fiona's limp body. He didn't move an inch, even when she walked impatiently to his back. Reese glared at him. "Move." She made a quick, flitting gesture with her hand, and her fingers traced glowing afterimages in the air.

Van was silent for a long moment, then he muttered, "Go away, Reese."

Sentimental fool. "I said move, Van."

He turned dead eyes to her. "And I said go away." He registered no surprise at her glowing appearance, or at the fact that she had not called him by his surname. "Don't you think you've done enough?" he spat.

Reese allowed a sardonic smile, and then crouched beside him. In a quick gesture, she fluttered her fingers across his forehead, the white flames dancing briefly in his hair. Van blinked and gasped, falling backwards. In that lapse of security, Reese leaned forward on her knees and pressed her fingers to Fiona's blood-smudged forehead.

Reese smirked as the white flames surged forward, trembling off her skin to envelope the fallen girl in a silvery-blue sheen. A faint roaring sound grew around them, and the light whirled in a spiral of radiance. "With the blood of Eve...comes life," she murmured, her eyes shining in the pure light.

The last of the white glow discharged itself from her body, and Reese broke the connection, slumping back in exhaustion. She received a startled glare from Van, but they both turned their attention to Fiona, her body swathed in power that came from her own blood.

Finally, in a soft hiss, the illumination rolled out in an insubstantial wave, then faded into darkness. As the light deserted her body, Fiona's eyes flew open, her chest rising in startled, shuddering breath. Her fingers futilely clenched at the damp stone under her, and she didn't seem to register where she was.

But she remembered soon enough as she was crushed into a hug. She blinked into Van's shoulder, but did nothing to resist, despite the aches that ricocheted down her joints. Catching sight of Reese, Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but closed it just as quickly at the other girl's expression. Reese had a most curious look on her face: a combination of pity and distaste. At what, Fiona couldn't fathom.

Van finally released her, pulling back to stare her in the eyes. He looked...weary, and a little distressed...not to mention streaked with blood. "Fiona...I thought I'd lost you." His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

Fiona stared at him, nervously scanning his face. She shifted her weight onto her elbows and managed to whisper hoarsely, "Why?"

From behind them, Reese said harshly, "You don't remember?" She got to her feet and stood with her arms crossed, her jade eyes hard.

Fiona coughed. "Remember what?" Reese and Van traded a look, and she felt fear begin to edge at her mind. She finally darted a look down at herself, startled at her own bloody appearance. "...Van?" Her voice sounded like a little girl's, lost and confused, and she pushed herself away from him a little, her crimson eyes scared.

There was a very silent moment that involved a lot of staring, but then Reese sighed in exasperation. Before Van could answer, she turned abruptly and started walking away. "Come on."

Van scowled after her. "Where?"

"Just come."

Van dragged himself to his feet, pulling Fiona up with him. As soon as she was upright, her knees buckled, and she slid helplessly back down. Van knelt, offering his back to her, and weakly, Fiona complied.

As Van hurried after Reese's retreating form, she searched her memory. Something terrible has happened...but I can't remember it. The last thing I remember...is reaching out to Eve. After that, there was nothing. Nothing but a mixed feeling of comfort and self-satisfaction.

Reese turned up a narrow stairwell nestled between two of the pillars, taking the steps two at a time. The stairs stretched up and up, a small pinpoint of dim light far above them the only sign that the steps did, in fact, end. Fifteen minutes and over a hundred steps later, Van stumbled out of the small doorway that opened onto the top of one the plateaus that created the Valley of the Rare Hertz. The desert battleground was laid out before them, a solid view of bloody devastation.

Van let Fiona slide off his back, and her legs supported her this time. He turned to look at her, and winced. Her sunset eyes were wide, and glistened with unshed tears as they scanned over the landscape of destruction. She took a shaky step forward, her lips opening and closing silently, and her hands crept up to cover her mouth in horror. Finally, she turned to Van, and the tears started to spill over as she stammered, "V-van...did I...do this?"

Van swallowed hard, and opened his mouth to say something, but his throat constricted. He couldn't do anything else, when faced with Fiona's heartbroken expression. He closed his lips and looked away, swallowing hard.

"Did I?" she whispered again, trying to meet his eyes.

Reese interjected coldly, "Yes. It's as simple as that. You, Fiona, Alisi Lynette, or whatever name you choose these days, caused all the ruin you see here." Fiona darted her gaze around to look at the other girl, and she looked even more stunned at the affirmation.

Without stopping for breath, Reese went on hotly. "You commanded the zoids, you tried to obliterate the humans of Zi, and you faced the Imperial and Republican armies as an enemy." Her eyes burned with a curious flame. "And you...you became an abomination of the Zoidian race."

Van glared at her, fury etched on his features. "Reese, that's enough. Stop." He stepped protectively in front of a shaken Fiona.

"She needs to know what she's done." Reese's voice was harsh, but couldn't mask the pain that sat there, nevertheless.

"I mean it! Just leave it alone for now."

"You're naïve!" Reese furiously waved a hand at the valley in front of them. "All of it's not just going to go away! She needs to face it. Now."

Van's voice was despairing. "No, not now! She needs to rest. Or something."

Fiona slipped out from behind him and stepped closer to the edge of the steep cliff, looking out onto the valley. Van and Reese's voices fell quiet, their invisible gazes following her unsteady movement. Fiona let her eyes travel over the cluttered sand, covered in smoking heaps of metal that only vaguely resembled zoids. One of the machines roared piteously in the distance. They were alive, but only thanks to the bright flashes of light–healed organoids–that darted from hulk to hulk, reviving each core independently. Most...would never rise again. Those who would ultimately had Reese to thank. The Ultrasaurus was to the east, a flurry of activity almost smothered by the sheer number of people there; they were swamped. The valley was silent, as twilight fell upon the bloody battlefield.

She felt tears spill down her cheeks again. "Oh, Reese. Why..." She slid brokenly to her knees, burying her face in her hands, and whispered, "Why didn't you just let me die?"

There was no answer from behind her.

-

"...There still has not been a confirmed report of what caused the zoids to rebel in the first place, but investigators are still examining the evidence found. In other news, most of the wild zoids have been gathered. However, it would seem that they have minds of their own, this time.

"What would previously be a considered selective or demanding personality is now the norm among the zoids, and they will not allow just any candidate to pilot them. Anxious to prevent a repeat of the last few weeks, officials are not trying to discipline these zoids at all, but are allowing them to pick and choose their pilots. No reports of violent behavior since the initial incident have come in.

"At the site of the concluding battle, countless numbers of zoids were sacrificed, and the loss of human life is just as staggering. Some specialists have theorized that the actual cause of the battle in question lies with the location: the Valley of the Rare Hertz, notorious for the rebellious attributes it inspires in zoids. However, military officials discourage this rumor. Imperial Colonel Karl Lichten Shubaltz is remaining at the site to assist with cleanup. He has, however, refused to comment on the issue at this time.

"The Imperial maverick known as Raven has once again disappeared without a trace. However, military officials have decided to let him go, and his most recent crimes against the Empire and Republic have been waived. This does not, however, constitute that the renegade is safe; officials discourage any sort of contact with Raven or his affiliated zoids. Any sitings that denote aggressive intentions are to be reported immediately.

"Later, we have exclusive interviews with Colonel Robert Hermann and Doctor D. Thank you for watching this special report–"

Zeke rested his muzzle against the power button of the television set, gently applying just enough pressure to turn it off. This done, he turned and surveyed the apartment. It was early afternoon, and may as well have been unoccupied. The sun's bright rays shone cheerfully through the bay windows, casting distinct shadows on the carpet. Assorted birds twittered noisily on the balcony, mingling with the crashes of working zoids and those few luxury cars that still remained in the capital.

The zoids had fit almost seamlessly back into the society that had evolved around their existence. The humans were cautious around them, but still nervously depended upon them for those menial tasks that demanded the agility and versatility of zoids. That tension was especially apparent in Guygalos, the Imperial capital. Zeke, however, still managed to elicit the most discomfort amongst civilians.

The organoid shook his head turned and clanked off to Van's bedroom. He nosed the door, hard, and it swung open to reveal Van, still stretched out on his untidy bed, sound asleep. He was oblivious to the sunshine creeping ominously towards his peaceful face, and didn't look as if he'd moved at all in the four days since he, Fiona, and Zeke had returned from Elemia.

A scrawled note from Irvine floated from the side table in a slight breeze from outside. Gone to find 'Bay, it read. Saix needs repairs. Thomas had handed it to them with a roll of his eyes just before they'd left the desert, and muttered something resentful about mercenaries. The technician himself was rather the worse for wear, his hand wrapped in soggy bandages, his cheeks sunburned, and his eyes hollowly exhausted. He had made Van promise to keep him up-to-date on Fiona's condition.

Van made a sleep-sound and rolled over, his hand flopping over the bedside. Zeke crept curiously forward, growling to himself. When he reached the head, where Van's arm hung over the side, he grunted and nudged his master's hand. It fell limply back down, to no effect. The organoid sighed and turned to retreat, intending to inspect Fiona's room, instead.

Zeke nudged the door open, and was rewarded with the sight of Fiona curled up on her side, asleep as well. She lay motionless, and breathed the deep sighs of the exhausted. Zeke cocked his head to one side, and edged over to the other side of her bed. Fiona's room was much cooler than Van's was, mostly due to the curtains that shielded it from the worst of Guygalos's hot sunlight.

The girl had kicked aside her comforter on the window-side, and her hands lay almost clasped in front of her face. Her face was troubled, her expression frozen in dreamless sleep. Zeke zeroed in on his target, and leaned across the bed to put his nose in her cupped hands, growling the same question he had asked Van.

Fiona's crimson eyes slid slowly open, focusing on Zeke's face, only an inch or so away from her own. She blinked tiredly and smiled. "Hey, Zeke. What's up?" She pulled one hand away to tuck a loose section of hair from her face, and stifled a yawn.

Zeke didn't really answer her, but just pushed his muzzle harder into her left hand.

"Time for me to get up?" She sighed, and pushed herself up reluctantly. The comforter fell away, and she shivered at the sudden lack of warmth it caused. Sliding to the side of the bed closest to the door, she put her legs over the side. "Come on, I'll keep you company."

She grabbed a hairbrush from her side table as she went, Zeke trailing closely behind. She wore a large T-shirt and shorts, and the linoleum of the kitchenette was a cold shock to her warm, bare feet. Fiona poured herself a glass of orange juice and sat down at the counter, starting to brush out the tangles in her long hair.

Her hair's color was strange, now; not having retained its golden, almost honey-blonde hue, it was more white than blonde. Its present color was bright, a shiny platinum that only looked blonde in shadow. Her skin was paler than ever, as well, and contrasted sharply with her scarlet eyes. Even more blatant was the perfectly circular scar just below her collarbone; Reese's bullet had carved a hole through her body, and she could probably find a matching scar on her shoulder blade, had she the heart to look.

Her appearance was unsettling to see in the mirror, and served as a bitter memory of what had taken place, what she had become. She pulled the brush savagely through the bright locks, clenching her teeth. The pale strands filled her vision, almost blinding her with their intensity. After a minute or so, she realized that she was choked with tears, and she stopped. She ran her hands through her hair, holding it away from her face at its roots, so that she couldn't see it, and darted a glance at Zeke.

The organoid sat to her left, looking almost puzzled. Fiona sniffed. "I look really dumb, don't I?" He stayed silent, and she let her hands drop, her hair falling back to its characteristic style. "You don't...understand, Zeke. I did terrible things. Unforgivable things." She shook her head. "I...I practically realized Hiltz's dreams." A lump rose steadily in her throat. "I...I killed, Zeke." She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, clutching her bangs in shaky hands for what felt like a long time.

It felt as if she had done too much crying in the past few days, and her eyes ached. Ever since they had returned, she spent her days in her room, waiting for night, and the forgiving darkness it brought. Van had made a sweet point of checking on her whenever he could, but she ignored his whispered calls. She came out of her room only when she was sure that Van was asleep, managing to choke down whatever food was necessary to stay alive. After that, she simply retreated to the solace of her room, trying and failing to sleep...trying and failing not to think about what she had done. Whenever she could, she forced down a sleeping pill or two–anything to slip into dreamless slumber, and to not have to live with herself.

Clanging steps faded from earshot, and the room was silent again. Finally, a cold, metal head sat itself on her leg. Fiona opened her ruby eyes to see Zeke holding something in his mouth and staring hopefully at her. He jerked his head meaningfully, and she put an upturned palm under his chin.

Zeke opened his jaws, and a leather holster tumbled into her hands. Her eyes widened as she recognized Van's handleblade. Her gaze darted back up to Zeke's, and fear froze her insides, a horrible, numb feeling that cut through her grief. "You can't mean...you think I should..." Zeke's intuition was always correct, and if he assumed that she were better off dead, than she would accept his judgment as law.

Zeke snorted and shook his head vigorously, looking outraged. He stretched up and swished his nose through her long hair. This done, he turned to look back at her, and cocked his head to the side again. Apparently satisfied with this answer to her problems, he turned and laid down on the carpet.

Fiona gently slipped the knife from its buttery-soft leather casing. The blade was sharp, and glinted dangerously in the afternoon light. She reached a hand up to the nape of her neck, and then stretched it down the length of her long, silky hair. She only ran out of tresses when her hand passed the seat of her chair. Reaching up to grasp her bangs, she pulled them down in front of her nose.

Slowly, very slowly, she pulled up her right hand, the large grip of Van's handleblade clutched clumsily in her small, inexperienced fingers. With only one last hesitation, she put the sharp edge to the taut locks, and began to cut.

-

At about mid-afternoon, Van stumbled from his bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The sun had finally hit him squarely across the face, its blinding light making it impossible to be dead to the world for much longer. His first thought was for food; then to check on Fiona. It was as much to confirm his own incredulity that she was really backas it was to worry for her health. She couldn't mourn for the planet much longer, or else she would surely waste away.

Zeke roared in greeting, clearly happy to see him. The silver zoid pushed his head into Van's hand, practically purring. Van frowned at him; it was the most jubilant he had acted since the Death Saurer's defeat. Zeke kept following him to the counter, a constant and insistent press against his hip; so insistent, in fact, that he almost succeeded in pushing Van over.

Upon reaching the wraparound counter, Van froze breathlessly, spotting his handleblade. "That...wasn't..." His mind raced, immediately jumping to the worst-case scenario. Where is she? Fiona could've woken up from her near coma-like state...but she wasn't that badly off, was she? She never really seemed the type that would commit suicide...but she was so good at hiding things. Not that she'd had to hide anything from him–she had successfully avoided him altogether for the last few days. The only reason he knew that she hadn't committed suicide before then was that he managed to check on her whenever he awoke. Where? I have to find her.

Suddenly very much awake, Van gripped his blade tightly and darted his gaze around for other signs of anything amiss. The apartment was quiet and peaceful, everything in order. Van started toward Fiona's bedroom, but Zeke blocked his way. Something clicked in his mind: Zeke's...happy. Surely, the organoid would have woken him if something really bad had happened to the girl; obviously, he hadn't.

The organoid head-butted Van's leg, nudging and bumping him in the opposite direction–to the open door of the balcony. Van relaxed, and let him, considerably calmer; he took a deep breath of the summer breeze and smiled, convinced of life's optimism. Reaching the sliding glass door, Van poked his head out. "Hey, Fi...?" He froze. And said quietly, "Oh."

Fiona sat in one of the metal deck chairs that looked out over Guygalos, and in her lap was a pile of shimmering locks that used to be growing from her head; she had been absently braiding the longest strands of it together, and her hands were frozen mid-action. Now, her bangs grazed her cheekbones, and the rest of her hair curled gently under her ears. He stared at her, awestruck, and she returned a slightly surprised and worried gaze. He approached her slowly, as if afraid that she would bolt, like a wild animal.

She stood and placed the long mane of gold in the seat of her chair, and turned to face him. Standing before the slight girl, he reached up a hand. She didn't move a muscle as his fingers came in contact with her jaw line, sliding his hand up to cup her cheek. His grey eyes puzzled, he said simply, "Why?"

At that, she smiled, her left hand creeping up to cover his. "Because." Her voice was quiet. "I need to forget." Her crimson eyes, now in such contrast with her pallid skin, searched his for something.

Van opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to be the right thing to say. He searched his mind for a brief moment, but only came up with a lame, "I'm...sorry."

Her eyes softened. "Don't be."

After a moment, Van said, "It's going to be okay, you know."

He looked like he half-expected her to protest, but Fiona just gave another smile. "I know." He stared at her. "It is, now." It was only then that she could feel how he'd changed. He had grown up, matured, in her absence. There was a certain age to him now, and she instinctively knew that their relationship, the one thing that she treasured above all else, had changed. It had progressed beyond what she had first known it to be, and grown along with them.

She tightened her fingers around his hand. "Van?"

"Yes?"

She smiled again. "Stay with me?"

He blinked at her, his eyes confused. "Of course." Then, "Always."

It was only later, as Fiona sat in Van's lap in the deck chair with his arms around her waist, the starry night dancing in the sky, that a fleeting memory captured her mind. A month or so after the final defeat of the Deathsaurer, Reese had asked her a question. It may have been over the phone, or in person; she couldn't really remember. It had probably been in person, though.

Apparently frustrated over the other Ancient Zoidian's choices, Reese had raised a cynical eyebrow and said, What do you see in him? It was obvious that she meant Van. Fiona had flushed in embarrassment and scrambled to change the subject.

But now, with the knowledge of centuries weighing on her mind, she crept back to that ever-sensitive subject. Everything had changed: the zoid-human relations were reborn into new light...Eve was finally gone, stealing her strife into oblivion...and the blood of the world dripped heavily from her hands. It seemed, though, that she was getting the chance to cleanse herself.

What do I see in him?

Fiona glanced up to study Van's profile for a moment, memorizing the contours of his face. The stars and bright lights of Guygalos gleamed off his tanned cheeks, and her short hair blew against his lips. He was happy with himself. He was happy with her. He would stay with her always. Finally, he darted his gaze to lock with hers, and she knew. Fiona smiled genuinely at him and settled more comfortably against his chest, the soothing rhythm of his heart beating against her shoulders.

Myself. She stifled a giggle. I see myself.

-

In an obscure part of the Republic, somewhere between New Helic City and the Central Range, overgrown trees sheltered a large observatory, its huge front windows scratched and dirty with age. A crimson Genobreaker crouched against the rear wall of the building, its metal sand-worn. Flattened trees marked the makeshift path to the forgotten building's base.

Raven sat on the balcony of his old home, elbows propped on the surrounding ledge. The summer day, though cooler than that of Guygalos, was still hot, and beat down oppressively on his shoulders. The maverick scowled and turned away from the pastoral vista to look behind him.

Shadow's stony body lay motionless on the tile of the deck, just as it had for almost a week. While the other zoids had regained vitality, his organoid had stayed heartbreakingly lifeless, until he was the only one left. With some assistance from the other mercenary, Raven had located his 'Breaker and managed to program in the coordinates of his home, Shadow clenched in its claws.

In a few days, he had regained his sight, however indistinct it was. His vision still marginally blurry, Raven could make out the familiar sights of the observatory, and a little beyond that. All that really mattered was that he had Shadow memorized, waiting for the slightest change in his condition, waiting for him to wake up.

With that thought, Raven stood and shuffled over to the organoid's inert form, and crouched beside him. He ran his scarred hand over Shadow's side, sighing heavily. How long would it take to happen? What if it...never happened? It was too terrible even to consider, and he shook off the thought angrily.

Then a voice came from behind him, low and sweet and terrible. "He's not going to wake up, you know." A pause. "Not without some help, anyway."

Raven stiffened and looked over his shoulder, his newly healed eyes half-focusing on the shape of Reese sitting cross-legged on the ledge of the balcony. She seemed to smirk at him in contempt...or something like that. She confirmed his thoughts by saying laughingly, "Can you even see me?"

He scowled at her and faced her fully, refusing to show any weakness. "Of course I can see you, Reese. I'm not–" He faltered.

"Blind? Looks that way to me." She hopped down and walked toward him. Raven pushed himself to his feet and stood protectively in front of Shadow.

"What do you want?"

Close-up, she was less fuzzy. "I'm just returning a favor." She sighed in exasperation. "Oh, move already, Raven. I'm not going to hurt Shadow. You want him back, don't you?"

Raven squinted at her for a moment, and she stared back with that aggravating self-assured air of hers. Finally, he gritted his teeth and stood aside. She brushed past with a stiff, "Thank you."

She knelt beside Shadow and stretched out her slender fingers. Raven sat down and watched her as best he could, her pale hands searching down the organoid's hide. Conversationally, she said, "Sorry I didn't take care of him...I really meant to make it down to the desert." Raven didn't answer, and she fell silent.

Finally, she inhaled slowly, closing her eyes. An instant later, something sparked under her fingers, a blinding flash that made Raven wince. "What was that?" Reese didn't say anything, just sat back as the organoid in front of them growled softly. Raven's eyes went wide in disbelief. "Shadow?"The little zoid answered by pushing his snout into his scarred hand.

Raven looked in Reese's direction. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Reese stood, dusting off her blue dress. "I said I was just repaying a favor."

"A favor? You mean it takes you two years to repay a favor?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes." She walked to the ledge of the balcony. "Shadow will be tired for a few days, so don't expect him to be fusing with the Genobreaker anytime soon." She glanced at him. "You know, you really should have some zoid magnite on hand if this sort of thing ever happens again."

"Zoid magnite? But you didn't use any."

She shrugged again. "I think I still have some residual powers of Eve's running through my veins. Any other time, I would need the rock. Although..." There was a smile in her voice. "It shouldn't happen again, short of another revolution. Shadow is special, remember? And he's not the only one."

Raven scowled. "What do you mean? I'm getting tired of you saying things like that."

"What do I mean?" Her footsteps came closer. "You mean you never thought about it? Why Shadow is the only recovered organoid who isn't bonded with an Ancient Zoidian? Why the Dark Kaiser wanted both of you on his side? Why you could tame him in the first place?" Suddenly, she was standing right in front of him, a bleary blue shape.

Raven uneasily tried to focus on her, and kept an uncertain hand on Shadow's neck. "I don't know what you're talking–"

She crouched and grabbed his chin, only inches from his face. "Raven. Darling. Don't you ever think?" Suddenly, he didn't have to try to focus on her anymore, because her face was crystal clear and mocking him, just as she always was. Her turquoise eyes darted back and forth between his, and she gave a little smile, her bangs falling forward to hang in her eyes. "No, I guess you don't. But I thought you knew." He faintly noticed that the blue strands sported paler streaks, now.

He shook his head, his mind registering her words and scrambling to follow. "Knew what?"

She leaned forward, her bangs brushing against his cheek as her lips got closer to his ear. "I mean," she whispered, "the strain of Zoidian in your blood. You are of the Ancient Race."

Raven inhaled sharply, and she smirked, her words branding themselves on his mind.

"You are one of us."

Dun dun dunnnn... Yay TSR is dead! Ding dong, the witch is dead. No really, it's been done since December.

Thank you to all of you beautiful people who actually paid attention to me when I posted this, I'm forever indebted to you. And, of course, there're those who saw this before I posted, who helped me to make it presentable. All my love to Maelgwyn, Red Baroness, Shadowcat, Dark-lil-Devil, Neo-sama, Dillon, my mother, Aunt Mary, Michiko-ALL of you. You picked me up when I was down, and turned my block into the sweetest inspiration. Thank you, Vappa, even though I doubt you've read this. Your fictions ultimately inspired me to reconsider how I wrote, and the characters I commanded.

Yes, there's a sequel. Yes, I'm a psycho. I'm only three pages in right now, and I hope for it to grow...quite a bit more. I have no idea how long it will take me to get where I want to be. I have to write it, because the ideas are itching at me, and I'm in love with my character development. Here's a hint-that last line, with Raven and Reese? Yeeeeeeeeah...

So yes. I do suppose I had a mission with this. If I managed to make you think, if I managed to make you not hate a character, to (heaven forbid) inspire something, then my life is complete. I love you all, and will see you when Double Helix is complete. If you have any questions, any at all, feel free to mail me at my listed mail on my bio (sorry, won't show here, it hates me)...then you'll end up with a reply relatively quickly.

Mwah!