Part IV: EPILOGUE
Tony
Fifty years ago. Can you believe it? It was 50 years ago today that Marwan wreaked such havoc on this country and I remember it like it was yesterday. Actually, I may remember it better than I remember yesterday. At my age the long term memory is a lot better than the short term memory. I was almost 40 that day. I'll be 90 next month, if I last that long. Truth be known, I think I dreaded turning 40 more than I mind turning 90. At the time 40 seemed old. Ninety, on the other hand, seems more like an accomplishment, something to be proud of. And overall, I'm in good health. Well, as good as it gets when you're my age. I get around the house okay, but when I go out, my daughter Monica insists that I use a cane. I hate that. It makes me look old! If Monica isn't paying attention when we leave the house I conveniently forget the cane. When she asks where it is, I tell her that I'm old and I can't keep track of those things. Monica just rolls her eyes. She looks so much like Michelle when she does that.
God! I miss my Michelle. I lost her two years ago. Doesn't seem right. By all rights, she should have outlived me. Don't men have shorter life spans? I was five years older than she and I never expected to live longer than she did. I didn't prepare myself for that. She seemed like she was in such good health. I just thought she had a bad cold or maybe the flu when we went to see the doctor. He listened to her lungs and said she had pneumonia and she was dehydrated. He put her in the hospital and that was pretty much it. She did okay at first, but the illness seemed to sap her strength. The doctor felt that she didn't have the strength to fight it and eventually her heart failed.
"She's 82," he told me as if that was supposed to make me feel any better. I was 87 and I wasn't laying there dying. Our children were there along with their spouses and children. Thank God for them. They got me through it. Not that I'll ever stop missing her, but at least I can get up in the morning and face the day. For the first few months it was a struggle to get out of bed.
Michelle was beautiful until the end. I didn't let them put her on any machines. She wouldn't have wanted that and I wouldn't have been able to remember her as being pretty. I sat next to her and held her hand and just watched her as the life ebbed away. Her breathing slowed and finally stopped. I could hardly believe it. I guess even though I knew she was dying, I didn't really believe it until she stopped breathing. Her hand went limp and her skin started to cool. I cried until I thought there weren't any more tears left and then I cried some more.
Once Michelle was gone, the kids didn't think I should live alone. They insisted that I spend the winters in Arizona with Monica and the summers in upstate New York with my son. He's the older of our two kids. John Bauer Almeida. Like his namesake, we call him Jack. We started out calling him John but it didn't seem to work. He was definitely Jack. Smart and ornery from the day he was born. He was Jack alright.
Once we got past the CTU years, Michelle and I had a storybook life. We remarried just a couple of weeks after we reconciled. We sold the house and the cars and most of our furniture and really started over. We took a second honeymoon at Niagara Falls and settled in Washington DC where I took the job with Secretary Heller. Taking that job was the best move I could have made. The job itself only lasted two years as Michelle and I expected from the start, but the contacts that I made because of it lasted a lifetime and so did my relationship with Jim Heller. After that, I worked for a defense contractor in North Carolina.
Jack was born 14 months after we moved to Washington. When we first moved there, Michelle considered taking the job Kate offered her with Warner Enterprises but it would have required a lot of travel and she wasn't interested in that. Instead she worked for a company that provided computer security for banks and brokerage houses. That job allowed her to work from home after Jack was born. She did that until we moved to North Carolina. By that time she was pregnant with Monica and decided not to work for a few years.
We lived in North Carolina for several years when someone I had worked with in Jim Heller's office approached me about starting a business with him. After much thought and discussion with Michelle, I agreed and we moved to upstate New York. The kids really grew up there and Michelle and I lived there until I retired. We had always loved North Carolina and the New York winters seemed to have gotten longer and longer, so we moved south. Jack took my place and runs half of the business now. He and his wife, Jenny, bought the house from us and kept a bedroom there for us to visit. Now I live there with them six months of the year.
It's kind of nice spending half the year with each of the kids. Jack and Jenny had just started dealing with "empty nest syndrome" when I first moved in with them. Their only child, A.J. (short for Antonio Juan) had just left for college. A quiet six months with Jack and Jenny gets me ready for the wild six months in Arizona that follows. Monica and her husband, Steve, have three teen-aged daughters. Raising daughters is a job that should only be given to saints. Michelle and I only had to raise one and I'm not sure if we raised her or she raised us.
The oldest is named after Michelle, but they call her Shelley. She's 19 and nothing like the grandmother she was named after. I'm never quite sure what color her hair will be on any given week. Nor can I keep track of the boyfriend of the week. By the time I commit his name to memory, he's gone. I'll say something stupid like, "So Shelley, are you going out with Derrick tonight?" and she'll make a face and say "Oh Grandpap, he was a jerk! I'm seeing Josh now." I taught Steve the art of cleaning his gun on the front porch right about the time that Shelley's dates are due to arrive. Steve thanked me later. He thinks that scared off at least one or two of them.
Allison is next. She's 15 and they have yet to invent a sport that Allie doesn't like or isn't good at. A tomboy since she first learned to run, she has excelled in soccer, basketball, softball and tennis. Allie and Shelley are polar opposites. Steve doesn't worry about Allie on dates. If the guy tries anything she doesn't like, she'll deck him. Her dates are more likely to come to the door with a tennis racket or set of golf clubs than flowers or candy.
The youngest is my little princess, Lauren. She turned 13 this year and with it got the worst case of hormones in the contiguous 48 states. She's a doll except for one week every month when simply breathing the same air as she might get you drawn and quartered. Steve makes sure his gun and ammunition are stored separately that week.
I joke about it, but I love those girls and they love me. I don't think a week goes by that one of them doesn't ask me to tell the story about how I tried to rescue Michelle from Stephen Saunders or how Michelle and I reunited in the middle of a terrorist attack. By the end of the story one of them ends up sighing, "That's so romantic, Grandpap!" while which ever one of them is currently PMSing sobs like a baby.
After 20 years with Monica and their girls, I think the Pope may seriously consider Steve for sainthood while he's still alive. I think Steve actually looks forward to the six months a year when I live in Arizona. At least it's a second drop of testosterone in the sea of estrogen that churns through that house. He looks so grateful to see me when he picks me up at the airport every October and so forlorn when he takes me back there for my trip to New York in April. I'm amazed at how much more I like him now than I did when he and Monica were dating and I thought he was just another testosterone laden frat boy who was looking for a way to get my daughter in bed with him. Twenty-some years later, it turns out he's been a faithful husband, a loving father and a good provider. I guess Michelle was right when she told me to leave the kid alone. Michelle was usually right if I took the time to listen to her.
Michelle and I had a wonderful life together. I was so blessed to have had her so many years. I look back on the events of that day and despite the loss of life, I'm not sorry that Habib Marwan did what he did. It resulted in my getting Michelle back and having such a happy life. Even Jack ended up doing well.
Michelle and I first heard from Jack about 18 months after he escaped. I got an email at work. Jack was always computer savvy and it wasn't that hard to track me down. The email looked like an advertisement, a piece of spam that I was about to delete. It was an advertisement for a vacation at a dude ranch in Alberta, Canada. There were pictures of a ranch house and the barns and stables and the horses and cattle. There was something odd about the advertisement. There was no pricing or travel information. No section for "frequently asked questions" or to "contact us". I looked carefully at the men on horseback and used some software I had to enhance the image. There I found Jack sitting atop a big black mare roping a calf. I laughed until I cried. I missed Jack but it was good to know that he was doing well. I saw David Palmer at a cocktail party at Jim Heller's house not long after that and knew that he would be happy that Jack was okay. Jack never admitted that it was Palmer who called him that day at CTU and warned him that his life was in danger, but I always knew that it was.
"I had a message from our friend," I told him when we had a moment alone.
"Our friend?" he asked. He said that as if he didn't know what I was talking about but I could tell by the tilt of his head and the sparkle in his eye that he understood.
"He's doing fine. He's working on a cattle ranch in Canada."
Palmer smiled. "I'm happy for him. If you ever get a chance to talk to him, tell him I said 'hello' and I hope he's found some happiness. I'll always regret what he was forced to give up for this country."
When Jack and I planned his escape, he told me that once it was safe to contact me he wanted me to tell Kim that he was alive. The part he hated most about the whole plan was that Kim would have to believe that he was dead. I wanted to tell her from the beginning. I knew that she and Chase would understand that for Jack's safety they would have to play the grieving family. Jack was afraid that they might not be convincing. Both the US and the Chinese governments were going to be looking for anything that might indicate that Jack was still alive. He also feared that the Chinese government might be vindictive enough to kidnap or hurt Kim in order to get to him. So I agreed to keep Kim in the dark until Jack thought it was safe.
Now that Jack had contacted me, I needed to tell Kim. Within a few weeks of Jack's email I had to take a trip out west. Michelle decided that she and the baby would come with me and visit her family. While we were there we went to see Kim and told her the truth. I downloaded Jack's email along with the images I had enhanced to a disc and took it with me. She was shocked and maybe just a little angry at first but then she saw the picture of Jack on the horse roping a calf and her face lit up.
"Look at his smile!" she exclaimed. "I can't remember when he last smiled like that. He's really happy, isn't he?"
Another year and half passed before we heard from him again. This time it was a Christmas card. We had moved to North Carolina by then and again, Jack was able to track us down. The card didn't carry a return address but had been mailed in Canada. I opened it to find a picture of a woman sitting up in a hospital bed looking tired but happy and holding a newborn baby. On the back it said "Molly and David". I could see a wedding ring on the woman's hand. Jack had truly started over; a new life, a new family, everything was new. I don't think I could have been happier for him. He so richly deserved every bit of happiness that he could grasp and I knew that, after all he had lived through, he would savor every minute of it.
Two years later we got another Christmas card. This one included a picture of the same woman with a little boy and another baby. On the reverse it read: Molly, David and Tony. I was honored that he would have named his son after me.
We continued to get subtle messages from Jack over the years: an occasional Christmas card with a picture of Molly and the boys or a post card from some picturesque part of Canada. Twelve years passed without either Michelle or me telling anyone other than Kim that Jack was still alive. It wasn't until I got a call from Audrey Raines, who by then was Audrey Hamilton and the mother of three young children, that I had to decide whether to break my silence or not.
Audrey called to say that her father was dying. Jim Heller and I had stayed close through the years despite the fact that he lived in Virginia and I lived in North Carolina and later, New York. Jim had had two heart attacks in the past year or so that left his heart pretty weak. I talked to him about once a month and over the last two months could hear a distinct difference in his voice. Audrey called to say that his heart was failing and the doctors didn't expect him to live more than a few days. He was living at her home and when he was awake, he was lucid, but he was sleeping about 18-20 hours a day. She said if I wanted to see him that I was one of several people he was willing to see. Otherwise he was not taking any visitors.
I knew right away that I had to see him and say goodbye to him. He had played an important role in my life and in getting me back on the right track and I wanted to thank him one more time. I suspected he wanted to thank me again, too, for saving Audrey's life as if he hadn't thanked me dozens of times already. Deciding whether to see Jim or not was easy. The harder decision was whether or not to tell him about Jack. It wasn't until I saw him that I knew I had to tell him.
I arrived at Audrey's house two days after she called me. We greeted each other warmly. Audrey and her husband and Michelle and I had become friends over the years. We didn't see each other very often but maintained as much contact as busy people with young families can manage to maintain. She led me to a sunny sitting room where Jim sat sleeping in a reclining chair.
"Dad," she whispered shaking his shoulder gently. "Look who's here to see you."
Jim opened his eyes slowly and smiled as he recognized me. "Tony," he said in a quiet voice. He reached for my hand. He didn't really shake it, but held it weakly. "Sit down," he directed me. I sat in a chair Audrey had pulled right next to Jim's.
Audrey excused herself and said that she had some errands to run. I was happy for the opportunity to be alone with Jim.
"So," Jim started, "you came to be part of the death watch."
I had to smile. Jim was as crusty as ever. "I prefer not to think of it that way. I'd rather think that I came to thank a good friend for all he's done for me."
"You can think of it any way you like, Tony, but let's tell it like it is. I'm not going to be around much longer and you're here to say goodbye. I'm not bitter or angry about it. I've had a great run. It's time for me to move on." He paused for a moment and got his breath before going on. "If you are unfortunate enough to live longer than your beautiful wife like I was, you'll understand what I'm saying. I haven't exactly been sitting around waiting to die ever since Susan died, but I've always known that whenever it happens, I'm ready. I know she'll be waiting for me. Knowing that takes away any fear or hesitation I have about dying. It's been a long time since I've seen Susan and I'm ready to see her again, Tony."
There was an awkward pause and I nodded as if I understood but I doubted that it was possible to understand Jim's position unless you were in it. All these years later, I do understand. I know now what Jim was talking about.
Jim continued, "You know, Tony, I've been thinking a lot about Jack recently. When Jack was killed, it bothered me for a number of reasons, but two reasons really stuck in my craw. First, I hated that he was taken down in the prime of his life. Second, it bothered me that he died trying to escape. If he had died in the line of duty, like CTU told the press, I would have had an easier time accepting it. I could definitely imagine Jack dying trying to save other people. The fact that he died trying to escape troubled me for a long time. Since I've been sick over the last year, it has occurred to me that Jack did the right thing. Most of us don't get to pick and choose when and how we die. That's left up to someone who knows a lot more than we do. But Jack died on his own terms. He knew the likelihood of escape from CTU was slim, but he took that chance. He got to choose how he died. He didn't wait around for the Chinese to kill him or for his heart to wear out like mine has. He died on his own terms and in a way, I think he was lucky."
I looked at the floor not sure where to begin. I finally looked up and met Jim's gaze. "Jim, I have to tell you something and I don't quite know where to begin." I stopped and took a deep breath. Jim was watching me intently. His blue eyes had not faded despite his declining health. "Jack is alive."
"He's alive? How is that possible? I thought you were there when he died."
I explained how we had staged Jack's death and substituted one of the terrorist's bodies. I went on to tell him that Jack had been living in Canada, although I didn't have an address, and I showed him the pictures of Jack's wife and sons.
"I can't believe you got away with this," Jim said with an amused smile. "I'm so happy for him."
"Jim, I don't have to tell you that no one else can know about this," I said. "The Chinese would still love to get their hands on Jack and if he is ever caught, Michelle and Chloe and I are accessories. We could all go to prison. I'm sure you'd like to tell Audrey, but I have to ask you not to tell her."
Jim nodded his understanding. He knew what was at stake and would never risk Jack's safety or the safety of those of us who helped him. "If you ever talk to him, Tony, tell him I was proud to work with him and to call him my friend. He is a hero in every sense of the word. I'm sorry that he's spent the last 12 years in exile but I'm happy that he's alive and well and I hope he's happy with his new family."
I could tell that our conversation had exhausted him. He drifted off to sleep in the reclining chair still holding my hand. Jim Heller died four days later without divulging the secret I had told him. I can honestly say that when he died it was like losing my own father. I still miss him as much as I miss my father.
The years went by quickly. Jack and Monica were growing up so fast that Michelle and I could hardly keep up with them. We continued to get occasional mail from Jack, usually at least every two years. It was Christmas, about six years after Jim Heller died that we got a surprise in the mail from Jack. Inside of the card was a folded sheet of paper. The paper was a confirmation for a cottage at a rustic resort near Lake Manitoba for the first week in July. The name on the confirmation was "Jeff McCarthy." At the bottom of the card was a brief note: "Hope you two can join us. Molly and Jeff."
Jack had finally made the decision that it was safe for us to meet and I agreed with him. Charles Larson and most of his cabinet members were now either dead or old and in ill health and the Chinese government had changed hands. The current Chinese government would have no need to settle an old score with an American agent over a long forgotten incident. Any risk to Jack or to those who helped him escape was minimal at this point.
Michelle and I immediately blocked off that week and made travel plans. We flew to Chicago and dropped the kids, who were teenagers by then, off with my parents. Then we flew to Winnipeg and drove the five hours to the resort. As we drove up in front of the cottage Michelle and I both noticed a slight movement of the curtain on the front window. We smiled at each other knowing that Jack was watching for us, making sure that before he opened the door he knew who was on the other side. Once a spy always I spy, I guess.
Jack opened the door as we stepped onto the front porch. Michelle was in front of me and he immediately took her into his arms to hug and kiss her. He looked good; time had treated him well. His skin was tan and had taken on the weathered look of someone who worked outdoors much of the time. His hair was a little thinner and some of it might have been gray but it was impossible to tell since it was bleached a pale blond by the sun.
"It's so good to see you, Michelle," he said still holding her in a tight embrace. He looked over at me and, still hugging Michelle, he reached for my hand. "Tony," was all he said as our hands met. Michelle stepped back and Jack and I hugged and slapped each other on the back the way men do when they are embarrassed by such displays of affection. We each took a step back and tried to pretend that we didn't have tears in our eyes.
"Come in, come in," Jack said holding the door open. "I want you to meet Molly."
Molly stood somewhat awkwardly in the kitchen obviously waiting for us to have our own private reunion. She was an attractive woman with blond hair and striking green eyes. She was probably a couple of years younger than Michelle, which would make her roughly nine or ten years younger than Jack. She greeted us warmly.
"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said in a strong Canadian accent. "Jeff has told me so much about you. I guess I should thank you. According to what Jeff has said, without you two he wouldn't have had the chance to move to Canada and we would have never met. So, thank you."
I looked at Jack and raised my eyebrows not sure how much of the story Molly knew. Jack understood the look I was giving him. "Molly knows the whole story. I thought it was only fair if she was going to marry me that she knew everything. I'm still amazed that it didn't scare her off." Jack put his arm around his wife's waist and pulled her close. He pressed his lips against her temple and kissed her.
The week together was great. Jack told Michelle and me all about his escape from LA to Canada. As I thought, he had stowed away on a freight train going north. He was able to take trains or hitchhike up the west coast and finally into Canada. Once he was in Canada he worked his way east from British Columbia and into Alberta. It was there that he hooked on as a ranch hand on a cattle ranch. The owner didn't ask a lot of questions. It was his busy season and Jack was strong and willing to work. Jack and the other hands lived in rooms above the stables. In his free time, Jack was able to do some research at a local library. He searched vital records and found a death certificate on a child named Jeffrey McCarthy. The child had died in infancy and had a birth date similar to Jack's. It was at that point he assumed McCarthy's identity. As soon as the busy season at the ranch was over, Jack collected his pay and moved to Calgary using his new identity.
Once in Calgary he needed a job. Since he couldn't provide any work references, it was hard to get any kind of decent job, so he took whatever odd jobs he could find. Eventually he saw an advertisement in the paper for a ranch manager about 60 miles outside of the city. He called the number and set up an interview. The second he arrived on the property, he knew that he wanted the job. The scenery was beautiful. It was so different from LA and Washington DC. This was the perfect place to start over.
The owner of the ranch was a man named Theodore Anderson. He was a big man with a shock of white hair. Jack guessed his age to be around 60. Anderson owned a significant spread of land and raised cattle and pigs. He had been seriously injured a few weeks earlier when he was thrown from his horse. Although he was expected to recover, it would probably be several months before he was able to run the ranch again. In the meantime, he needed someone to do it for him. And considering his age, he had decided it was a good idea to keep a manager on full time. Jack had to do the hard sell to convince Anderson to hire him. The truth was that he couldn't provide any references that he knew how to run a ranch. Since he was using another name when he did the seasonal work at the other ranch, he couldn't even ask that ranch owner for a reference.
Anderson was a coarse, straight-talking gentleman who finally looked at Jack and said, "Son, you haven't given me one straight answer since you got here. You walk in and tell me you want to manage my ranch but you don't have any references. I get the distinct feeling that you're hiding something from me or maybe you're running from something. Tell me why I should hire you."
"Sir, you're right. I am running. I'm running for a lot of reasons. Those reasons are personal and I don't want to explain. I need to start over. I assure you that I'm not in any trouble and I won't cause any trouble. If you want me to prove myself, I'll be happy to do that. Give me two months. If you'll give me the room and board, you don't have to pay me. At the end of the two months, if you're satisfied with my work, you can pay me the back pay and hire me on. If you're not happy, you tell me and I'll leave. No questions asked. Do we have a deal, sir?"
Anderson admitted later that there was something about Jack that he liked. "How can I pass up that deal, Mr. McCarthy?" Ted reached out his hand to shake Jack's. "The room's in the barn loft. You get the room on the right with the attached bathroom. The other two hands, Dylan and Kurt, share the room in the back. Don't let them tell you otherwise. The cook will bring dinner over for the three of you at six o'clock sharp. You start first thing tomorrow morning. Dylan and Kurt will show you around. At this time of year, I expect your work day to start by five a.m. Once winter sets in, if you're still working here, you can sleep in a bit and start at six."
"I understand, sir," Jack told him. They shook hands and Jack was about to leave the room when a voice from the door behind him made him turn and look.
"Daddy, I hate to interrupt, but it's time for your medicine." The voice belonged to a pretty blond who Jack estimated to be in her early thirties.
"I hope those fool doctors know what they're doing feeding me all of these medicines," Anderson complained. "McCarthy, this is my daughter Mary Louise. She's a nurse over at the hospital and in her spare time she tries to mother me."
Jack extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Anderson," Jack told her. He was immediately struck by her good looks.
"Likewise, Mr. McCarthy," she said. "And everyone calls me Molly."
"And I'm Jeff," he said. Jack told me that he never believed in love at first sight until he met Molly Anderson.
The job as ranch manager worked out and Jack continued to work for Ted Anderson for the next two years. During that time he and Molly began dating and fell in love. As Jack's second year of working for Anderson was coming to a close, Jack saw an opportunity that he couldn't pass up. There was a small ranch for sale about a hundred miles from the Anderson ranch that Jack desperately wanted to buy. He liked working for Ted, but it was time for him to be on his own and he wanted Molly to go with him.
He took her to see the ranch and told her that he wanted to buy the ranch and he wanted to marry her but admitted that there was something that she needed to know about him. Molly suspected that Jack had been hiding something from her. He never talked about his past. It was as if his life started when he started working for her father. Sometimes that bothered her, but she loved him so much that she was able to ignore it.
Jack sat her down and told her everything. He told her about his years in the military and about Teri and Kim and his work at CTU. He ended the story by telling her about faking his death and escaping to Canada with the help of friends. He also told her that if she wanted to marry him, that this would have to be their secret forever; no one could ever know. But now that she did know, if she chose not to marry him, he would have to disappear and find another identity and start over again. According to Jack, Molly didn't hesitate for a second. She was happy to know the truth and was more than willing to keep it a secret.
Jack and Molly lived on the ranch until he died about ten years ago. Until then Michelle and I got together with them every five years or so. We wanted to go to his funeral but it was in the middle of winter and that part of Canada gets pretty well buried under a mountain of snow. Not to mention that Michelle and I weren't young anymore ourselves. The trip up there was grueling and it had become too much for us. So we grieved at home for our friend who had, in essence, died twice.
So here I sit in a rocking chair on the patio, an old man who can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning, but remembering clearly all that happened at CTU the day that Habib Marwan decided to take out his hatred of the United States on innocent Americans. I think back at everyone who worked so hard that day and remember them fondly. Not many of us are left. Bill Buchanan died of cancer just two years later. Curtis Manning died in the line of duty just a few years after that. David Palmer suffered a stroke about ten years after that terrorist attack and was unable to speak. He died about a year later. Chloe and Edgar both died within the last couple of years. Erin Driscoll never returned to CTU after her daughter committed suicide there but worked at Division for a few years. Once she left there I lost track of her. Audrey is still living in Virginia with her husband. About 20 years ago, I finally told her that Jack was alive. I think part of her was angry that we had allowed her to grieve for him and had kept her in the dark for so many years, but another part of her was happy for him.
"Dad," Monica called to me. "Alexandra Newhall is here from channel 11 to interview you for the retrospective they're doing on the terrorist attacks. Are you ready to see her?"
I sighed. "I'm ready, Sweetheart," I tell her. I look at the clear blue sky and without even hearing the questions, I know what Ms. Newhall will ask. I've been interviewed dozens of times. They all want to hear about the override and the nuclear football and the missile and tracking down Marwan. They ask philosophical questions like "How did that day change this country?" As if I could answer that. What I can answer is how that day changed my life, but they don't ask that question. They don't want to hear the story I want to tell; the one about how an agent who refused to take orders from the White House and redeploy back to CTU saved my life and how that same man was so unjustly sent into a lifetime of exile or how I got the love of my life back and how we lived happily ever after. They never let me tell the story I wanted to tell. But you know, today - screw them all - I might just tell it anyway.
THE END
Thank you to everyone who has read the story and special thanks to those of you who have reviewed. I hope you aren't upset with me for not giving Michelle's POV in the epilogue, but as this chapter took shape in my mind, I decided that telling the story from Tony's POV as a widower what far more poignant. I hope you agree. I'm sure you'll let me know if you don't! lol
I hope to write something again soon. I'm fresh out of ideas right now, but I never know when something good might occur to me. Whenever that time comes, I hope you'll all be there to read it! Until then, happy 24 dreams to all.