Gambit

by Stephensmat

Everything Changes In This Story. A SpiderShadow Crossover by Scarlet and Yours Truly.

Gambit

A Shadow/Spiderman Crossover By Stephensmat and Scarlet

From his hideaway deep in the northernmost mountains in western Canada, Khan was pacing his throne room. Chief lieutenant Shan Ruche was late in reporting in, and Shan was never late reporting in. Unless, of course, he'd failed at his mission, which was looking more and more likely. This game of chess he was playing with the latest heir to Ying Ko's lineage was growing tiresome.

One of his men came in, groveling profusely.

Khan didn't even need to ask, or listen; he knew what the groveling was about already. He followed the flunky out to the main chamber to see for himself.

Sure enough, standing in the midst of the main chamber was a large crate decorated with warning labels.

Khan opened it and, somewhat predictably, found Shan Ruche tied up inside, with a cell phone taped to his forehead.

Khan grunted. A cheap Manhattan throwaway cell. The least Ying Ko could do was spring for a camera phone as part of this little game. He ripped it off Shan's forehead, and it immediately started ringing.

Khan left his lieutenant to get himself free as he always did and stalked into his private meditation room as he answered the phone. "I'm not impressed, Ying Ko."

"Using private charter planes to avoid being caught by customs was clever, Khan, but private airstrips are rarely used before three A.M. in that part of the city," Stephen's voice told him smugly. "Local noise regulations and all that nonsense. Your move."

Khan nodded. "King's rook to f3."

Scene Break

Half a world away in his Sanctum, Stephen turned to an elaborate chessboard, moving the piece accordingly. "Be honest for once, Khan--don't you ever get discouraged?"

"No," Khan's voice answered from the speaker. "Everything I do teaches me about your strategies. Since you keep sending my men back alive, they gain experience against you too."

"As do I against them," Stephen returned, finishing his study of the board. "B2 to d2."

There was a pause as Khan moved the piece on his own board. "You keep playing defensively."

"And you play too aggressively. You keep overreaching with your resources, and I can cut them apart."

"No, you can't," Khan said. "The very fact that you keep sending my men back tells me a great deal about your reluctance to use certain tactics. You could have shut down my entire ability to reach the western world, but instead you stopped this particular gambit. If you'd struck harder, you could have dealt me a harder blow. D9 to e10."

Stephen moved the piece, then immediately shifted his knight to protect his front rank. "H3 to E10."

Khan scoffed, as if he expected this response. "You see your problem, Ying Ko? You keep trying to save your pawns. No sacrifice, no risk, no victory."

"And yet, I have more pieces on the board."

"In all the wrong places, and not in position to attack, only defend. And defend pieces of very little strategic value."

Stephen glanced at the phone. "You think I'm too cautious?"

"You? No. Your strategies? Yes. Your strategies from the game and the field differ. You take all the risks yourself, you don't strike with your knights, and never advance your pawns too far. You don't mind the risk, but you refuse to risk others. You said it yourself: You never used your agents against me, and I think it's because you don't want to risk them."

"That's why it's good to be an agent."

Khan laughed heartily. "That's your weakness, Ying Ko--the people you want to protect."

Stephen turned to the phone carefully, worried now, Khan was leading him somewhere. It might be worthwhile to see exactly where. "That's hardly limited to me alone. I'm The Good Guy, it's what I do."

"H9 to B10."

Stephen moved the piece. His queen was taken.

"You see the problem in the strategy?" Khan said easily. "You never move your queen or your knights into the field, and thus leave them vulnerable to attack. Sarah, for instance."

Stephen paled instantly. Khan even knowing Sarah's name horrified him. Knowing her well enough to bring her up in this conversation made his hands shake.

"That is her name, isn't it?" Khan continued. "Sarah Branson? Post reporter who wrote a story about The Shadow and Spiderman a few months back, yes? The woman who was with Peter's beloved Mary Jane in Washington, right? Brown hair, green eyes, freshly-awakened clairvoyant?"

Stephen had to force himself to remember to breathe.

Khan took the pause as a positive response and smiled. "You treat her like the queen on the board. You use your pawns to protect her, and thus have no offensive power with what could be your greatest asset. She was a liability that way. I did you a favor by taking her off the board." His voice turned silky. "I could do the same for you in the field too."

Stephen clenched his fist and fought to hold back an eruption. "Stay away from her," he hissed.

Khan cackled. "It's a dangerous thing, Ying Ko, to get attached to any of the chessmen. It makes you vulnerable to them. Vulnerability I've been searching for since I first heard your name."

Stephen fought to find his cool. He knew it was somewhere inside him. "You must be getting desperate, Khan, grabbing at straws like this. My feelings for her are irrelevant. She is an agent, she's a clairvoyant, and I know full well what an asset that is to the game."

"You don't lie nearly as well as you think you do, Ying Ko. She is your Achilles ' heel. The women you love are your greatest weakness. It was the first time, and it is now. She is your weakness. You would throw the game away to save the queen. You would throw our match away if it meant protecting her."

"There are other ways to win," Stephen snapped.

"I had such hopes for you, Ying Ko," Khan taunted, enjoying himself immensely. "It pains me to see you brought down by a woman. Believe me, I would be doing you a huge favor…"

"Do yourself a favor and leave her alone."

"You would really have me stand idly by while you willingly follow her to your own destruction?"

"YES!" Stephen snapped without thinking.

Beat.

"As you wish." Khan hung up.

Stephen was shaking. No, not shaking, he was seething. No, not seething, he was terrified.

Finally, he picked up the phone and dialled. "Uncle? I think Khan might be after Sarah."

Scene Break

Sarah looked up at the sharp knock on her door. She concentrated and "saw" two mental impressions that she recognized as Peter and Stephen on the other side. "It's open!" she called.

Stephen stuck his head in and scanned the room. "Are you alone?"

Sarah frowned. "Actually, the maid just left, but my personal trainer is due any time now. Of course I'm alone."

Stephen came all the way in and immediately pulled her out of her chair and into the center of the room.

Peter followed and went straight to the kitchen, flipping things quickly on then off, concentrating on each one as he did. Listening to his spider-sense, Sarah realized, getting worried. "What's going on?"

Stephen took a deep breath. "Sarah, we have reason to believe that your life is in danger."

Sarah struggled to stay collected as she came up with an appropriate wisecrack. "My life has been in danger since the day I met you."

"A little more today than usual," Stephen returned. Without another word, he moved the chairs in her apartment to sit with their backs to the wall, shifted the standing lamps next to the windows to cast shadows inward instead of outward, and moved straight into the bedroom to do the same.

Peter came back into the living room and looked sheepishly at her. "Sorry about all this."

Sarah was still trying to catch up. "Uh..."

Stephen came back in, moving with purpose. "Is the kitchen clear?"

"Yep," Peter answered.

"Good. Check the lights and phones, then do a sweep of the outside."

Peter nodded and left the room, throwing open a window and scurrying out of it faster than Sarah had ever seen him move out of costume.

Sarah was staring at Stephen. "You're really scared."

"Stay out of my head," Stephen said coolly, with a crispness that left no room for arguments. "Is this place heated by gas or electricity?"

"Electric."

The window opened and Peter climbed in. "Roof and walls are clear."

"Good." He glanced around the room. TV, stereo, large windows, sofa...he nodded slowly as he reached a decision. "Sarah, I want you to come live at the Manor for a while. Plenty of room, really safe, people who are in on the secret..."

"Whoa! Back up!" Sarah interrupted. "Thirty seconds ago I was having a quiet morning. What the Hell is going on?"

"Khan is after you," Peter explained.

"Who's Khan?"

"She doesn't know about Khan?" Peter asked Stephen.

"She knows about Khan, I am certain she knows about Khan," Stephen responded. He looked at her. "Remember Washington? The warriors dressed in silks and armor? He sent them."

"O.K. So what's that got to do with me?"

"Well, he's after you now," Stephen told her bluntly, already moving for the kitchen.

Sarah followed him and was shocked to find him going through her fridge. "What the…"

"Is this milk new?" Stephen asked.

"As of about twelve hours ago, yes. I can't guarantee when it came out of the cow, but…"

Stephen looked closely at the cap, then the base. "No hypodermic points...still..." He turned back to the fridge and opened any container he couldn't see through. "Leftovers, pizza, Chinese, fruit salad, coffee, tea bags, bread, butter, cheese. Get rid of all this stuff. Nothing that has been opened before."

"Now wait a minute!"

"The Chinese food on general principle, because that is the worst looking lemon chicken I've ever seen."

"Hold on!"

"In a second--first I have to check your car." And with that, he was out the door.

Peter was on his way after his partner when Sarah put her hand out and caught his arm without looking. "Peter, what's going on? Stephen is scared--I can sense it. Is this really that bad?"

Peter hesitated. "Yes."

Sarah nodded slowly. "I don't want to be in a cage."

"Stephen won't have it any other way," Peter told her bluntly.

"Give me a few minutes. I can handle Stephen."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Handle Stephen?"

"Get out--let me talk to him."

Stephen came in. "Car's clean, but it hardly matters--you won't be driving. Pack your things."

"I don't want to go to the Manor," Sarah said bluntly as Peter quickly found something fascinating to look at in another room.

"Tough. It'll be safer there. Pack your things."

"Why would it be safer there than here?"

"The whole place is outfitted to turn from a Manor into a fortress. I can run a war from there if I have to."

"Then it'll be safer for everyone else if I stay here."

Stephen blinked. "What?"

"Tell me about Khan."

"Look, we really don't have time for this."

"Then you're going to make the time, because I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Stephen looked around for Peter to bail him out, then realized the arachno-human was definitely making himself scarce puttering around Sarah's bedroom. He sighed. "Kuba Khan is the latest in a line of Mongolian warrior-princes that stretches back to Genghis Khan. They have been trying to conquer the globe ever since, more covertly in recent times. His family and mine have been at war for three generations now."

"Then he knows about you?"

"Yes."

"Then he'll be expecting me to be at the Manor."

Stephen went over to the door that Peter had gone through, and closed it shut. "Let's get this straight, Sarah--you are still an agent. That means you do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it, and you do it without question. This man has no morals, no need for restraint, and no scruples that will get in his way. He has a private army at his command, he has powers and resources that match my own, he knows who I am, he knows my name, and he hates me. He hates me, he hates Victor, he hates Peter, he hates The Shadow, he hates Spiderman, he hates the network, and he's been beaten back by me enough times not to care who gets caught in the middle. And now he knows we are connected, and he wants to kill you just to make me crazy. Right now the only thing that matters is protecting you. And right now the only thing protecting you is me. He's powerful, he's relentless, and he's after you. In the interests of self preservation you might want to stop the conversation right here and start packing your bags."

This had to be the most insane thing she'd ever heard, and Stephen operated on a completely different level of sanity than anyone else she had ever met. "Look, I appreciate that you've been at this a lot longer than I have, but I need you to slow down a minute and try to think through this as a long-term plan."

"Long-term plan is for you to stay alive."

She did a slow burn, then counted to ten in her head and forced herself to think calmly. "O.K., let's think a little shorter term. If this guy is smart enough to find out that we are connected and smart enough to come after me, then he's smart enough to know that you already know that and are waiting for him. How do you know he hasn't got the Manor scoped out? How do you know he isn't expecting me to be there? How do you know he's not just making threats to keep your focus on me and not on whatever else he might be doing? He'd expect us to be at the Manor. Has he gotten in there before?"

Stephen winced. "Yes."

"O.K., so it's not such an impenetrable fortress. Yeah, you've probably got a lot more practice fortifying it, but you can fortify other places. Like this one. This place doesn't have nearly as many entrances, or windows, or space to protect as that 50-room museum your family calls 'home'. This place has wrought iron on the doors and windows, just like the Manor does--but more than that, this place has you. Someone like you can cover everything in this place at once. Could you cover the entire Manor every minute with absolute certainty?"

Beat. "I still say the Manor is safer," Stephen said finally.

"Maybe," Sarah told him. "But stop and think about this. Say you're right, say he comes for me, and say he attacks the Manor. Which is more useful to the network, me and my home, or you and Victor and the entire Manor?"

"It's not that simple."

"That's because you're deliberately complicating things. Think a little more long term than tomorrow. Think this time next week. If Khan doesn't intend to strike right away, then you will have to sit and wait protecting me--but for how long? A few days? A few weeks? A year? How long are you prepared to sit and wait him out?"

"Sarah, the man told me he was after you and intends to kill you. I can't treat this as business as usual!"

"Then don't, but the more time you spend focused on me, the more that everything else will suffer. Plus, if he does come for me soon, then you want to be able to catch them in the act, and if they strike the Manor, it'll be a much bigger strike then what they could put here. You'd have a much better chance of winning if I were still visible."

Stephen stared at her incredulously. "You want to be bait?"

"Why not?"

"Well...frankly, because it's stupid. My kind of stupid, in that it's the kind of thing that I have been known to do when it's just my life on the line, but still, it puts you in a distinctly disadvantageous situation…"

"You saying that you can't handle a simple body guard assignment?"

"There is nothing 'simple' about this! I'm trying to save your life here!"

"Trust me, I appreciate that…"

"I don't want your appreciation, I want your cooperation!"

"Look, I won't make it hard on you. I'll get my work calls forwarded, I can call in sick and work from home. I just don't see what locking me in a pretty gilded cage that you then have to turn around and guard 24/7, inconveniencing all of the cage's other residents, gains you in terms of your ability to protect me."

Stephen thought long and hard about this. "O.K. From a purely tactical standpoint you are right, but if you get killed, well, that's going to be really rough for Peter."

"For Peter?"

"I would take it all out on him since you'd be dead."

Sarah took a deep breath. "I'm willing to take that chance."

Stephen looked around, trying to assess the situation once more. The rowhouse was smaller and probably much easier to protect, but still…"You're sleeping in the guest room for now. The window doesn't overlook the street. We'll get you some heavier curtains, the kind that can seriously slow incoming bullets. I'll also put a new lock on your door."

"O.K."

"Either Peter or I will be here at all times."

"O.K."

"Under no circumstances will you answer the door, or leave the house alone."

"Right," Sarah said. "Now for my terms. Under no circumstances do you answer my phone. Under no circumstances will you be following me into the bathroom. You won't go pawing through my things, private mail, phone calls, and emails because they are private, and if I need to go somewhere for a serious, practical reason, I will go. Understood?"

Stephen nodded. "You will give me some warning if that's going to happen. Things like shopping are not a good reason. Groceries and mail I can take care of. If and when we go out, I will always be between you and the road, and we take Moe's cab instead of your car."

"Deal."

Stephen raised his voice. "You can stop hiding behind the door now, Peter."

Peter opened the hallway door and came back into the room sheepishly.

"Peter, I need you to get some tools, a few extra fire extinguishers, a panic button, that kind of thing, Victor can give you a list. Also, have Victor get some surveillance. Two cars at opposite ends of the street, and one the next street over, parallel with the house."

"Right."

Stephen looked around the room once more and sighed. "You better be sure about this," he told Sarah in a threatening tone.

"I am," she replied.

"Are you?" Peter challenged.

Both Stephen and Sarah thought that over for a moment, not sure which of them should answer. Then, Stephen turned back to Peter. "I'll take first watch."

Scene Break

Victor met Peter halfway up the driveway at Cranston Manor. "Where is she?" the elder man asked.

"There's...been a change of plans," Peter explained.

"What kind of a change?"

"Well, she didn't want to come here, so..."

"So Stephen knocked her out, stuck her in a bag, threw her into the backseat of the cab, and they're on their way?"

"Not quite."

"Then where is she?"

"She talked him into it. He's at her place, keeping watch."

Victor paused midstep. "But...Khan's after her."

"Yes."

"And still she talked him into..."

"Yep."

Victor burst out laughing, pausing only a moment to give a heavy lung-clearing cough.

"That sounds nasty," Peter commented.

"It's not," Victor replied, shaking his head. "At least, not as nasty as this situation is likely to get."

"What do you mean?"

Victor looked at Peter. "When have you ever known Stephen to let anyone have their own way that was contrary to his for very long?"

Peter considered it for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. This is gonna be bad."

Scene Break

Barely an hour into their new living arrangement, Sarah was ready to strangle her protector. It hadn't started out too badly--the methodical precision Stephen employed to ensure his orders were carried out was downright fascinating, and she'd taken an interest in the way he worked, but ten seconds after Peter returned with the supplies, her nosy Aunt Tessie had called, and that was enough to make the evening spiral into something out of a bad TV sitcom.

"No, Aunt Tessie," Sarah begged desperately. "This really isn't a good time to talk."

The loud grating scream of the drill on her doorknob made arguing the point difficult.

"Because I'm having some remodelling done on the house. Yes, I know you can hear it…no, Auntie, it's nothing serious. What? Hang on a minute…" She took the phone away from her ear. "SHUT UP!" she bellowed.

Stephen stopped the drill and raised an eyebrow at her impertinence, then ripped the doorknob apart and tossed it aside noisily.

Sarah scowled at Stephen, who ignored her as he began installing her new locks. "What'd you say? No. No, it's just some security stuff, new lock, some privacy curtains…no, there isn't a crime wave. New York isn't that bad. It's the same as it's always been…no, I'm not being stalked!"

Stephen looked up at Peter, who was up on the wall and installing security sensors near the top of the window. "Think we should tell her aunt the truth?"

"Not if you want to live through the statement," Peter returned.

"No, no, the neighborhood is perfectly safe," Sarah continued protesting. "Because it is. I'm sure. Because I am! No, I don't want to move out there with you for a while."

"Anywhere you go, we go with you," Stephen warned her mind as he fit the new lock into the door.

"Shut up!" Sarah exploded. "No, not you, Aunt Tessie. Look, I'm really busy right now. No, I'm not being unreasonable." She gave another nasty glare to Stephen and his ever-grinding electric drill. "I will call you when things get calmer. Yes, I will. I will. I promise! Loveyoubyenow." She hung up and glared balefully at Stephen. "You're not helping."

"Neither are you!" Stephen retorted. "Anyway, I'm not here to help your relationship with your crazy family, I'm here to protect you."

"Then you could protect me from my crazy family!"

"Let me guess--your mother's overprotective older sister who promised her that she'd always take care of her baby?"

Sarah seethed. "I am going to kill you if you don't stop trying to micromanage me…"

Peter hung the curtains, which promptly pulled the curtain rod back down, smashing an end table, shattering some crystal knick-knacks.

Sarah cried out at the loss of the souvenirs of her last holiday, while Stephen patiently set the dark curtains back up. Peter webbed them in place as Sarah stared daggers at the crazy man who had done this to her home.

It all went downhill from there.

Scene Break

"Do you need anything, sir?" Andrew called up from the bottom of the stairs.

Victor, who'd stopped on the landing to catch his breath, gathered himself and shook his head. "No, thank you," he called back. "I'm fine."

Andrew frowned discreetly. He'd only been a member of the service staff when Victor's father had taken ill nearly 30 years ago, but he still remembered the sudden and dramatic downward turn Lamont Cranston's health had taken right before his eventually fatal heart attack…the frequent colds, the heavy fatigue, the occasional stumbles on staircases, the general weakness. Not for the first time, he found himself contemplating calling Stephen to tell him the truth about Victor's deteriorating physical state as of late.

Then he remembered it was not his place to question the master of the house and went to answer the ringing doorbell.

Thus, he missed Victor slipping yet another nitro-glycerine pill under his tongue before continuing his ascent up the stairs, massaging his chest as he went.

"Sir, Mr. Parker and Miss Watson are here," Andrew pronounced.

Victor sighed, then pulled himself together and started back down the steps to confer with the visiting agents.

Scene Break

Sarah fixed herself a sandwich at lunchtime. It was a simple effort to do so, when Stephen had appeared as if from nowhere, and took the sandwich off her plate, taking it apart.

"You know, it would probably be a good idea if you waited till the groceries got here," he said conversationally as he disassembled the meal.

"I'll chance it," Sarah said through gritted teeth.

"You always have ketchup with ham and cheese?"

"What else is there? You threw out everything else."

"Like the leftovers? Yuck." He grimaced. "Food's fresh at the Manor--not too late to change your mind."

Sarah stormed out into her living room defiantly, and predictably, he followed her.

Scene Break

"She didn't want to go?" MJ burst into laughter and curled herself up into a giggling ball on a sofa in the Manor.

Peter was perched on the wall across the room and giggling helplessly along with her. "No. And you should have seen Stephen. It was hysterical."

"Oh, I'll bet it was," Victor replied cynically from his own armchair, downing a couple of aspirins to ease the nagging headache that this whole day was giving him.

MJ struggled to get her breath back. "I like those two together, it's like a 50's screwball comedy."

Peter and Victor exploded into laughter again.

Scene Break

Sarah looked at Stephen. He was staring out over the street as he had been since taste-testing her lunch, like he'd been doing for the past three hours now. At this point she was beyond annoyed, but at the moment he wasn't doing anything annoying. Which annoyed her all the more. She wondered how much longer this was going to keep up, because she was never going to get any work done at this rate…

Work. Oh, crap. She picked up the phone and dialled. "Hi, Sally--I need to speak to Truman. Is he there?" She rolled her eyes. "I'll bet he's been looking for me. Yeah, put me through."

"Make this call short," Stephen mentally warned.

Sarah shot him a death glare. "Hey, boss--yeah, sorry I didn't call sooner. I'm practically trapped…in my bathroom. Yeah, it's nasty. It all started with a really bad shrimp salad yesterday…oh, right. Too much information. Anything you need?" A pause. "Well, it's not like I can go out and do that right now. Can you e-mail it to me? Thanks. Yeah, I'll get some rest. Thanks again." She hung up…

…and noticed that Stephen, despite taking the time to chastise her while she was on the phone, was still staring out the window. He hadn't moved. He hadn't shifted his gaze. She had to listen carefully to make sure he was still breathing. He wasn't moving, he wasn't speaking, he was just...there.

Which, in its own way, was quite annoying.

Scene Break

"I am so late for rehearsal," MJ moaned, finishing her tea sandwich Andrew had delivered to the group.

"And I think Stephen's expecting groceries," Peter admitted. "So I need to get going, too. Want a lift?"

She gave him a wink. "Always."

Victor rolled his eyes. "I'd ask you to get a room, but since you're leaving anyway…"

MJ laughed. "Victor, confess. Sarah isn't really in danger, is she? This is all because Stephen wanted to see what married life would be like."

The very idea made Victor explode into laughter once more.

Scene Break

For the first time, Sarah actually had some inkling of what it might be like to be in prison.

Other than the delivery of the groceries by Peter, the day had settled into a monotonous routine. Sitting around, doing nothing, interacting with nobody. Not even Stephen, who was ignoring her for the apparent excitement of staring out the window for hours on end, stopping only to essentially stop her from leaving the room for any extended period of time. And that kind of closeness was becoming very annoying.

Trying to get down to business and get her mind off this confinement, Sarah booted up her laptop and downloaded her e-mail. In her box was a note from Cooper with investigator's notes from a recent warehouse fire. Joy. Just the kind of stories she did not enjoy doing. She crossed the room, found a sheaf of paper, loaded it into her noisy inkjet printer, and printed out the notes, only occasionally wailing in frustration at paper jams and fading ink cartridges. Calling in sick was frustrating, doing a ditzy act while calling in sick over the phone was embarrassing, doing all of it with an audience was worse…

…but through it all, Stephen still hadn't moved.

Needing a distraction from the mess her life was becoming, she gathered the papers into a bundle, highlighted some key passages in the notes, and started working.

For a long while, there was only the sound of typing keys.

After a while, Sarah's eyes shifted to the left of her screen.

He still hadn't moved. He was barely even breathing. Even his normally loud thought patterns were eerily still.

Enough, she told herself. Focus on the work--ignore him.

And for a long while she did.

Until once again her eyes shifted back to him. She couldn't tell what it was exactly, but she just couldn't ignore him. He was...there, he was always...there. He wasn't in the way exactly, he wasn't distracting her...well, that wasn't quite right, he was distracting her, but he wasn't doing anything distracting; he was just looking out her window.

Sarah kept typing. So why was that distracting? Maybe because she felt if she took her eyes off him for an instant he was going to do something? Maybe because this guy was in her private home causing a major disruption to her daily life, and wasn't even apologizing? Maybe because he seemed to be ignoring her, and that was just not fair, if she couldn't ignore him then he sure as Hell wasn't going to be allowed to ignore her!

Sarah kept typing. What's wrong with being a friendly neighborhood superhero? she thought. I mean, that is his partner's trademark--the friendly neighborhood Spiderman. What's wrong with actually talking to the person you're supposed to be protecting? Sarah kept typing, but her eyes kept flicking involuntarily to Stephen. What the Hell's so distracting about standing still and looking out the window for hours?

Sarah slapped down her laptop. "I'm going to go do something."

Stephen didn't turn. "Like what?"

"I don't know, go jogging or something."

"No," Stephen said bluntly.

"Well, I've got to do something. I don't know what, but all this sitting around is making me nervous."

"Me, too."

That was a rare admission lately. Despite his past promises to be more open with her, Stephen's glimpses into his well-guarded psyche were becoming more and more irregular. "Really?"

"I don't like playing defense," he confessed.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not crazy about it, either, but that's not what I meant."

"What, then?"

"You!" she complained. "You're making me insane. You haven't stopped staring out that window since lunch, and the only reason you stopped then was to fill some kind of Roman taste-tester role. You haven't moved a muscle, and you haven't stopped staring out the window, but I feel like you're still watching my every move, and it's making me insane! What's worse, you're being so damned polite about it that I feel like I'm supposed to be some kind of gracious host and offer you a freaking appetizer of some sort, but you're also like the guest that just won't leave, and that's making me even crazier. And every time I get up to do something, you're right there in the place that I do it and the thing is you don't do anything that I can help with and I feel like I'm inconveniencing you in my own home."

Stephen finally turned away from the street to look at her. "That was a truly spectacular sentence," he said in a polite but sarcastic tone. "Just how long have you been doing the ditz act anyway?"

Sarah gritted her teeth. 1...2...3...4...5, she thought to herself as she stormed into the next room in a huff. She remerged a few minutes later with a punching bag on a chain, which she hung up in the doorway and proceeded to pound madly for the next three minutes.

"Widen your stance."

She looked up and noticed that he'd crossed the room to stand opposite her. "What?"

"Put your feet further apart, bend slightly at the waist." He came up behind her and positioned his feet the width of her shoulders, then put a hand on her shoulder and gave her encouragement to bend. "Like this."

Sarah moved slightly to widen her stance and bend a little.

"You're still too stiff." He threw off his jacket, loosened his shoulders slightly, then with one fluid motion he set his stance and fired a right hook into the bag that threatened to knock it off its overhead hook. "That's how you do it." Taking her gloved fist, he mimicked the movement, his other hand on her shoulder, guiding her movement. "From the shoulder, not the elbow."

Sarah swung on the bag, driving her shoulder into the swing. Sure enough, the bag rebounded with a loud smack.

Sarah grinned and turned to thank her trainer, who was already retrieving his jacket and heading back to the window. "You taught MJ how to fight, didn't you?"

"MJ already had some training from the school of hard knocks," Stephen said. "I just supplemented it."

"I saw her fight in Washington." Sarah said, punching the bag again. "Mary Jane Watson, glamour queen, advertising's It Girl, Victorian-parlor-drama actress took on five guys bigger than her and put up quite a fight."

"And you?" Stephen asked her. "What did you do?"

"I tried," Sarah confessed, pounding away at the punching bag. "Didn't make much difference, though."

"I could teach you when this is all over."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Stephen gave a wry smile. "Of all the things you've been asking me to teach you lately, how to fight is a subject in which I am most qualified to provide a quality education."

Sarah smiled. "I'd like that."

Stephen nodded. "Of course, if we were at the Manor right now, we could start right away, but since we're not…"

Sarah's smile dropped. 1…2…ah, the Hell with it, she thought, and drove her fist into the bag furiously.

Scene Break

Victor sat in the back seat of his limousine, rubbing his eyes and trying to banish the annoying headache that the nitro-glycerine pills were giving him. He was beginning to wonder why he was paying the overpriced cardiologist he'd been seeing for a month now, since the only thing the man could offer as a alternative to the cycle of nitro for the chest pains and pain pills for the inevitable headaches they caused was that Victor needed to "de-stress". Like that was going to happen any time soon. At least the doctor had admitted that trying to get a man Victor's age to give up cigars, alcohol, and fine foods was a waste of time, not that Victor would have followed his instructions anyway.

He leaned back and let his mind relax, trying to tumo the pain away, knowing that a full-blown tumo was out of the question thanks to the current status of his health. Damn irregular heartbeat, he grumbled to himself. As if anything in my life has ever been regular…

The impressions of loud Manhattan thoughts swirled in and around Victor. Mostly incidental touches, the occasional unawakened telepath's natterings, a brief bit of Stephen's obsessive contemplation of when Khan intended to storm Sarah's domicile…

…and then, the shuddering sensation in his chest interrupted the healing meditation. Victor opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as the rebound from the sudden change in thought projection whiplashed inside his brain. Growing old stinks, he decided, fishing out his vial of nitro pills once more.

Scene Break

Peter sat in the Sanctum studying recent case notes. There had to be something in the recent Shadow investigations that would lead Stephen to suspect that Khan was about to make a strike, but so far he hadn't found anything. Stephen hadn't exactly been forthcoming about the details behind his suspicions, only that Khan had made a direct threat to Sarah. For a man who was normally obsessive-compulsive about note taking and note keeping, Stephen was really playing this one scarily close to the vest. About the only thing he'd found while scouting around the room was a new chess board among Stephen's many games he was carrying on with opponents around the world. Stephen's obsession with chess was topped only by his obsession with defeating criminals, and was the only man Peter had ever met whom he'd swear played chess for blood…

…maybe literally, he realized. Because this new board was the only one where the black queen was missing. For more of a challenge to himself, Stephen rarely went first in any of his chess games, so he almost always played black. And normally Stephen was an expert at protecting his queen. But this time, the queen was gone…

…and that was when it hit him.

He found his cell phone and started dialing.

Scene Break

Sarah's phone rang. She stopped pounding the bag long enough to notice that Stephen was making no motion to answer her calls. Dammit, he wasn't even moving. Again. The man was driving her insane. Despite the fact that she'd actually told him not to answer her phone, his extreme focus was really getting on her nerves. She towelled herself off and answered the phone. "Sarah Branson."

"He'd better still be there," Peter answered.

"Like he'd be anywhere else?" She held up the phone. "Your better half."

Stephen extended his right hand.

Sarah felt the receiver yank itself out of her hand and watched it fly across the room and land in his grip. And he still didn't turn around, she mentally grumbled. Good thing that was a cordless handset…

"What's up?" Stephen asked the handset.

"You wouldn't happen to have started a new chess game recently, would you?" Peter's annoyed voice responded.

Stephen stiffened slightly. "This is not a good time to talk about this."

"Oh, I think it's an excellent time to talk about this, considering that the black queen is missing on one of your boards and you recently became very paranoid about the same thing happening in real life…"

"Unless you have something new to add to my already existing knowledge, I think talking about it would be superfluous," Stephen cut him off.

"Have you told her yet?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're a flipping loony, but that's really neither here nor there."

"Your confidence is most reassuring."

The iciness of that response made Peter sense he was pushing Stephen a bit far. "Do you need a break?"

"No. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Stop poking around my office, for one thing. Just…keep an eye on things. I can't be in two places at once, despite my reputation."

"O.K. I'll check in again later today."

"Thanks." Stephen pressed the "talk" button to turn the phone off, then tossed it over his shoulder to Sarah.

"Ow!" she shouted as it hit her in the chest.

"You O.K.?" he asked without turning around.

"What, you don't have eyes in the back of your head?" she snapped angrily.

"And you don't have better reflexes than that?" he retorted.

"Oh, that does it!" She hurled a pillow across the room at him.

He brushed his hand in the air, and the cushion changed direction and bounced away from him.

Infuriated, she reached for a heavy pillar candle.

Stephen whipped around and telekinetically shoved the candle away from her grip.

"At least you finally turned around!" she huffed.

"You're being childish," he snipped.

"I'm being childish? I'm not the one playing Guard The Fortress by the window over there!"

"What else am I supposed to do? You're the one that wanted to stay here!"

That was it. "How many times are you going to play that card?" she roared. "Honestly, you're doing it deliberately!"

"Doing what?"

"Being abrasive! Being harsh! Whatever you want to call it! You're doing it to make me nuts."

"I am not!"

"You are. You're doing it just to punish me!"

Long beat. Both of their instincts were screaming at them to back off and leave it at that. Both of them knew better than to keep going. Both of them didn't care.

"Punish you?" erupted Stephen finally. "Why the Hell would I want to punish you?"

"To stop me from having an opinion!" Sarah snapped. "So that next time I disagree with you, I'll keep quiet, because it won't be worth the aggravation!"

"You really think you're that important?" Stephen fired back scathingly. "You really think I've got nothing better to do than to sit around and think of ways to annoy you? Get over yourself, little girl. You really think it's all about you? You really think it'd crush me if you didn't do what I say?"

By this time, they'd crossed the room and were now in each other's faces in a way they hadn't been since their clash inside her awakening psyche. "You?" Sarah responded. "No. Your ego? Yes! That's what this is about. Every time I turn around, every time I get up from my chair, every time I even think about leaving the room, you're making things difficult and reminding me it wouldn't be that way if I was at the Manor, telling me how much easier on me it would be if I played it your way."

"Damn straight!" Stephen snapped. "I've been doing this a long time, Sarah, and let me tell you, it always works better for all concerned if it goes the way I want it. This is about winning the fight, and saving lives, plain and simple."

"No, this is about your own self-importance, which can't let you compromise about anything, till either everyone agrees with you or has been punished for failing to do so."

"You think I'm enjoying this?"

"Aren't you? Listen to you! You haven't shut up about what you wanted me to do since you got here. Keep the upstart clairvoyant out of the way, keep the little girl in line, keep the agent in her place…"

"Your place?" Stephen spat. "Your place? You haven't accepted your place since the day I met you. If you had, just once, my hair wouldn't be going grey right now. But no, you've got to make such a big deal about how I don't have control over you, and how you can live quite happily around me, flaunting that fact to anybody who'll listen…"

"And you," Sarah returned furiously, "are such an arrogant control freak that your carefully crafted image would shatter like a cheap mirror if you ever met someone who wouldn't bow down and kowtow to your fancy Shadow powers or your American Express card!"

"Someone like you?" Stephen snarled.

"You got that right," Sarah snarled back, right in his face.

Both of them glared electrically at each other for a full thirty seconds.

Stephen broke the glare first and turned back toward the window. "Should've taken the queen off the board myself," he muttered angrily.

"What?" Sarah snapped.

"This is exactly what Khan was talking about," he argued with himself.

"The queen?" Sarah pressed him. "What was Khan talking about?"

Stephen shook his fist in the air, seemed to debate inside his head for a few seconds, then finally spoke. "After the dustup in Washington, Khan sent a flunky to Manhattan to do a small stakeout job, find out how long it would take me to sniff out his plans." He sighed. "It took four hours from the time the flunky got here. I didn't even have to call in reinforcements to take him out. I sent the stooge back to Khan tied up in a packing crate with a note taped to his forehead telling Khan that he needed to practice his chess if he wanted to get the jump on me. And, to drive the point home, I sent him a chessboard." He shook his head. "A week later, he sent another flunky. And after I'd beaten the tar out of him, I found a note to me in his personal effects. It was Khan's opening gambit. We've been playing by correspondence ever since."

She raised an eyebrow. "By 'correspondence', I assume you mean he sends some flunkies to do a job and returns a move with them?"

"More or less. The plans get a little more ambitious each time, and the moves get harder to find. Finally, this last time, I sent his flunky back with a cell phone. That was when…"

Now she got it. "…when he made his threat on my life."

Stephen sighed. "Khan said that my tactics were similar in both the chess game and the fight. He says that I'm too cautious with my agents, and he's doing this to prove it to me. He's showing me that you're a weakness."

Sarah stared blankly at him. "That's what this is about?"

"Yes."

"I'm a bargaining chip between you and your rival?" Sarah's voice was rising.

"No, not a bargaining chip, a gambit," Stephen told her honestly.

"So you're a pair of overgrown bullies playing a childish board game."

"You don't play chess, do you?"

"Never liked it. It seems pointless."

"My uncle told me that if I could master chess, I could master any real life strategic maneuvering. I often play chess with someone I really need to try to understand, because it helps me figure out how they think. The potential for learning about Khan via a board game was virtually irresistible." He frowned at his own overconfidence, which had led to this whole mess in the first place. "If he kills you, he wins. If I go nuts, he wins. If I stop him, I win and we try a new gambit tomorrow. It's a chess game, and he's trying to take a piece off the board."

"The queen."

Stephen pretended not to notice Sarah's tone in her response. "He clearly thinks highly of you."

Sarah pretended not to notice Stephen's dodging of the comparison. "Why not Peter or MJ or Moe?"

"Khan is a lot of things, but suicidal isn't one of them. Taking on Peter is a suicide mission. Taking MJ away from Peter is, too. And Shrevnitz...well, Shrevnitz would just go along with things like every other agent does, so the blow wouldn't make as big a point to me, in his eyes."

"So that just leaves…me?"

"Well, you're not a typical agent. You're a clairvoyant, you're my…friend, you know everything about me, and you never…you don't…"

Sarah completed the thought. "…blindly follow orders like a typical agent."

"That's right. It's a game."

Scene Break

"Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Cranston?" Andrew asked Victor, who was sipping cognac by the window in the drawing room.

"No, thank you," Victor responded. "I'll be heading up to bed shortly. You can knock off early, if you like."

Andrew smiled politely. "While the idea appeals to me, sir, silver tarnish waits for no man."

Victor laughed and finished his cognac, handing the empty snifter to his majordomo. "Very well. Good night, Andrew."

Andrew drew the curtains closed. "Good night, Mr. Cranston."

Scene Break

"You're afraid of Khan," she noted softly.

Stephen was looking out the window, keeping watch again. "When Khan's grandfather first fought mine, it happened because he wanted my grandfather as an ally."

Sarah came over behind him, watching over his shoulder, neither of them looking at each other's reflection. "An ally?"

"My grandfather was not always a good guy." He frowned. "Far from it."

"Everybody's got their darker sides…"

"My grandfather was a warlord who owned half the poppy fields in Tibet in the 1920s and killed peasants for sport," he said quickly, cutting off her feel-good attempt at the knees.

Sarah had to force herself not to draw back.

"Khan and I…our game is played with sort of a mocking edge to it, because we both know that when it comes down to it…"

Sarah finished the thought. "…you aren't really all that different."

Stephen flinched hard just hearing that. "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"The Shadow knows."

Stephen gave a single nod.

Sarah smiled. "You know, people don't talk that way in real life."

Stephen laughed.

Scene Break

Cranston Manor was dark and very quiet. Andrew was polishing silver in the kitchen when the window imploded.

Andrew reacted instantly, throwing the silver dish over his shoulder at the window and rushing to hit the button below the light switch, a button that would sound the alarms and seal all the entrances.

A crossbow pointed through the bars of the broken window as he reached for the switch.

An arrow speared through his hand before he got there.

Andrew hissed in barely controlled pain, trying to hit the switch again, when the room spun. He looked at the head of the arrow, coated with a thick black tar.

He passed out before even hitting the floor.

He never felt the hand take the key ring from his belt.

Scene Break

Stephen seemed a bit more certain of himself now that the darkest of his family secrets was open for discussion. "For your edification, I'm actually not afraid of Khan…"

"Care for a little dime store psychology?" she interrupted.

"No, but I doubt it'll stop you," he returned.

"You're afraid of the fact that you and your nemesis are so alike, and you're afraid all the time of what you could do if you ever sank to his level, because you've got a dark side too, and you're scared of what you'd be willing to do to actually beat him once and for all."

Stephen shrugged. "That's not bad for a dime."

She smiled. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm still not scared of you."

"I know. You're the only one who isn't, and I really can't tell you how aggravating that is."

Sarah grinned merrily.

Scene Break

The Mongol warriors had each taken a group of the keys, and were moving with stealth through the manor, locking doors to private rooms, servants quarters…

Scene Break

"You like people to be scared of you," she noted.

"I'd say the fact that I laugh like a ghoul and disguise myself as something that goes 'bump' in the night might be evidence of such," he admitted with a laugh.

"And it bothers you when people aren't. Like Khan, who isn't scared of you."

"That's because Khan is insane, and I happen to think insane people are inherently scary."

She shook her finger at him. "You take things way too seriously." She grabbed his elbow and pulled him away from the curtains.

"Hey…," he began.

She closed the curtains. "Come on. If he were out there watching this place, you'd know it. Give yourself a break."

"I have work to do…"

"That's your problem. You always have work to do. You're the one who gave me the superheroes and lousy love lives lecture, the 'great power, great responsibility' mantra."

"That's Peter's mantra."

"It might as well be yours." She thought for a minute. "Raise your right hand."

Stephen blinked. "Huh?"

Sarah wagged a finger at him. "Do it."

Stephen gave her a look and raised his right hand. "What are we doing right now?"

"You need to take a vow to something other than non-stop superhero work."

Stephen snorted.

Sarah was unfazed. "Now put your left hand on the…" she looked around quickly, and picked up something at random. "On the TV Guide."

Stephen, snorting a laugh, did so.

"Now repeat after me," Sarah said imperiously. "I, Stephen Cranston, being of semi-sound mind and judgment, do solemnly swear to acknowledge the differences between myself and my enemies, however numerous they may be."

He looked at her. "Have I mentioned that I happen to think that insane people are inherently scary?"

"That's the problem, you think too much. Now, come on, repeat the vow."

A smile was threatening to break through. "I, Stephen Cranston, being of semi-sound mind and judgment, do solemnly swear to acknowledge the differences between myself and my enemies, however numerous they may be."

"And as a part of this vow, I swear not to let my bitter, angst-filled, cynical lake of inner darkness overtake me, working consciously to be a normal person."

"Hey!" Stephen interrupted.

"Ah-ah-ah, repeat!"

Stephen sighed. "And as a part of this vow, I swear not to let my bitter, angst-filled, cynical lake of inner darkness overtake me, working consciously to be a normal person."

"I accept that women cannot be fathomed by shadow powers, and can only be handled by normal millionaire tactics, such as money and expensive jewelry."

Stephen laughed. "I accept that women cannot be fathomed by shadow powers, and can only be handled by normal millionaire tactics, such as money and expensive jewelry."

"And if I break this vow, I accept the judgment of the disapproving circle of friends, the silent treatment I invoke, and the wrath of the TV Guide," Sarah finished.

Stephen was laughing hard now. "And if I break this vow, I accept the judgment of the disapproving circle of friends, the silent treatment I invoke, and the wrath of the TV Guide."

There was silence.

Sarah was giggling. Stephen was chuckling. Sarah started laughing. Stephen cracked up.

Scene Break

Khan and Shan gave each other a nod, and headed for the Master Bedroom.

Scene Break

"You've been a real pain today," Sarah giggled.

"I have, I know," Stephen laughed. "It's just…hard for me not to be in charge. Especially with my agents, especially when they're in trouble. It's just…it's how I protect them."

Sarah smiled and sat down. "No. That's not it at all."

"Oh?"

"Your whole life has been about this. This mission. You told me that once. You just don't know how to treat people like people, only as pawns, agents, enemies, or civilians, never as equals."

Stephen considered. "Yeah."

"Were you really taught to be this way, or did you just never bother to learn how to just be with people?"

Stephen shrugged. "A little of both. It's hard to be the Master of Darkness and let down your guard at the same time." And with that, he turned back to the window.

Scene Break

Khan opened the door to the Master Bedroom. Victor was asleep.

Scene Break

Sarah went into the kitchen and pulled out a large bowl and a bag of chips. "We've got to do something about this," she remarked.

"About what?" he answered, again without turning around.

"About you. You are without a doubt the worst workaholic I've ever met. Listen, if this wasn't a mission, if it wasn't a stakeout, if was just you and me, two friends sitting here, like normal people, what would you be doing?"

"I don't know," Stephen admitted sheepishly.

"Wrong answer," Sarah pronounced, grabbing his arm again. "Sit down."

"I'm keeping watch," he protested.

"Six agents are keeping watch on the area, Moe's out front watching the entrance, and you're in here keeping watch on me. So here's what you do. You sit down, and watch TV with me, and we eat chips."

"Like normal people, you mean?"

Sarah smiled brightly. "Would it really be that bad?"

Scene Break

Khan moved silently over to the bed. There was no sign of Victor having heard anything; he was still sleeping soundly. He looked so old. So frail. Not like the grand warrior who'd once borne the sobriquet "Ying Ko". Not even like the wise sage who was the current Ying Ko's closest advisor. No, he looked like just another pawn in this never ending game.

Scene Break

Stephen sat down. Sarah sat next to him. She turned on the TV and handed him the bowl.

Stephen picked up a chip, took a bite.

Sarah smiled and leaned back. "See? You're almost acting normal, and the world didn't end."

Scene Break

Khan drew his knife.

Victor opened his eyes.

Khan rammed the blade down.

Scene Break

Andrew opened his eyes blearily. He could hear footsteps upstairs, multiple ones, and the occasional clanking of metal. Whatever was going on up there, it was not good. He dragged himself toward the light switch.

Scene Break

The Mongols were moving at a quick march for the foyer. Khan was in the lead with a victorious grin. His Mongols met him there, all of them moving silently.

Khan held up his bloody knife. "My father has been avenged. Our brothers now will be also. Go. Kill everyone you find."

The Mongols drew their swords in conquest.

Scene Break

Andrew hit the switch and collapsed again.

The manor erupted into howling sirens.

Mongols, reacting to preplanned responses, all abandoned their plans and headed for the exits.

The house servants awoke and tried to get out of their locked rooms.

Scene Break

Sarah looked up at him. "See? Now is this so bad?"

Stephen smiled. "No. I guess…"

And at that moment, his pager beeped. He pulled it out.

Its display bore a chilling automated message: 'Manor in Lockdown.'

Stephen paled.

Scene Break

Khan jumped into the jeep. "Drive," he ordered the man behind the wheel.

Shan was right behind him. "We are one man short…," he began as the warriors piled into the transport vehicle.

"Then we had better hurry," Khan cut him off.

No one spoke again.

Scene Break

Forty seconds later, the cab pulled up. Stephen was out and running before the cab had stopped moving.

The final Mongol made it to the door, searching for his ride, and came face to face with Stephen.

For a beat of nuclear shock, they just stared at each other.

Stephen looked at the Mongol, to the manor, back to the Mongol.

The Mongol looked from him, to the cab, to the empty road where his fellow warriors should be…

Stephen drew one of The Shadow's guns and shot him dead, then raced frantically into the Manor.

Scene Break

Sarah caught up to him in the Master Bedroom. Stephen had dragged Victor's limp body off the bed and onto the floor and was now frantically performing CPR…and Sarah could see that he was probably too late.

"Call 911!" he yelled at her.

She rushed off to do so…and to contact someone who needed to know immediately.

Scene Break

Four minutes later, Sarah returned to find Stephen still doing CPR on his uncle's unmoving, graying form. "Stephen…," she began.

"Not now," he barked. "Come on, Victor, breathe…"

Spider-Man landed on the balcony outside Victor's bedroom.

Sarah opened the French doors and let him in.

Peter pulled off his mask. "What the…?"

"Where's that ambulance?" Stephen growled, still pumping his uncle's chest.

"I passed them on the way here," Peter replied, trying to gather what had happened by surveying the scene. Victor was covered in blood, so was his bed, and Stephen was becoming covered in it as well as he continued CPR on what Peter was now beginning to realize was nothing but a lifeless corpse.

"He's survived worse than this. He taught me how to live. He's not gone yet!" Stephen shouted through a haze of hot tears and anger.

"How long?" Peter asked Sarah.

"Stephen, it's been six minutes…," Sarah said.

"He's not dead!" Stephen screamed.

Peter crossed the room, then bent over and grabbed Stephen's arms from behind. "Yes, he is."

Stephen started to fight back, feeling the same panic he'd felt at the age of five when his uncle in shadowy garb had reached for a frightened little boy covered in his dead mother's blood at the scene of a mob massacre…

…and then went limp, collapsing like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The room fell eerily silent as the wail of ambulance sirens approached.

Scene Break

Within minutes, the manor was ablaze with activity. Paramedics had barely walked into the room when they confirmed what Stephen already knew to be true but wished with all his heart that it wasn't…

…Victor was dead, and had probably bled out mere minutes after a long knife had plunged clear through his aorta. He'd likely been dead before Stephen hit the doorway.

Now came the hard part: Making sure the police found what they should find without finding things they shouldn't. To that end, Peter had gathered up the dead Mongol and stuffed him in the cellar for safekeeping, and was now sorting through things with the first detective on the scene…longtime agent Joe Cardona, Jr., who was taking notes and preparing the first of what would be many diversions to direct attention away from the crime scene at the manor until The Shadow could provide further guidance. Cardona had brought with him a special battalion of agent officers who could also be trusted to handle the scene with utmost care.

The paramedics had moved on from the deceased to the living and were working on Andrew when MJ arrived. Police officers started to hold her up, but let her through once she flashed her ring.

Peter met her on the stairs. "What are you doing here?"

"It's all over the news…tell me it's not true," she begged.

Peter sighed solemnly.

That was all MJ needed to confirm the worst. "Oh, God." She felt herself shaking.

Peter took her into his arms, and they shook together. "I know, babe. I know."

She pulled herself together and sighed. "How's Stephen taking it?"

Peter had a pretty good idea, but wasn't sure if he wanted to risk going upstairs to actually find out. It wasn't likely to be a pretty sight.

Scene Break

Upstairs, Stephen had turned to stone.

Agents from the coroner's office had arrived to take away the body a few minutes ago, and now the rest of the upstairs portion of the house was empty as the focus moved away from the scene of the crime. Now, only Stephen remained, staring at the floor, staring at the pool of blood that had soaked completely into the expensive Persian rug…the spot where Victor had lain mere minutes earlier. Tears were running down his face, but he hadn't shifted, hadn't spoken, and was barely breathing.

Sarah quietly came into the room. Peter had hurried her out as the paramedics arrived in an attempt to protect her from what was likely to be a volcanic outburst from Stephen when he finally moved beyond the immediate shock of the moment. But she knew she couldn't just leave him in here by himself and let him consume himself with his own grief.

So she cautiously came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stephen…"

Rage.

Sarah reeled back from the burst of explosive malice that flitted from his brain to hers through the contact.

In the same instant, Stephen erupted violently. "No! You stay away from me! You stay the Hell away from me! This is because of you! This is all because of you! Khan was right about you!"

Peter had practically leapt up the stairs at the sound of Stephen's outburst, and now he was running into the room. "Whoa, take it easy," he urged.

"No!" Stephen roared, and the rage projecting from him was almost stronger than any telekinetic storm he'd ever spun up. "Back off! All of you, back off!"

Now MJ was in the doorway, but not daring to come any further. The rage in Stephen's eyes was a living thing…a dangerous thing.

"Are you all happy now?" Stephen's psychic voice was practically shaking the walls. "Is this what you all wanted--silly Stephen playing the fool in some stupid romantic fantasy? This isn't a game! This is why things have to be done my way! I let my guard down for one minute, and this is what happens!" He whirled on Sarah. "And you! To Hell with you! To Hell with your dime-store psychology, to Hell with your stupid vows, and to Hell with your manipulations! You are the reason he did this! You! If you hadn't been so completely obstinate about getting your way and staying in your house, I would have been here to stop this! To Hell with you!" His eyes focused with determination as he strode toward the doorway. "I have work to do. I don't care where you go or what you do…just be gone when I get back."

Sarah was shaking. She had never seen anything like this.

Stephen flew out the door like an angry wind.

Sarah stumbled out of the room, nearly running in desperation to be away from the whole scene.

Scene Break

The first place Stephen went was the cellar, where he found the body of the Mongol he'd killed. He immediately stripped him of his armor and silks and began searching methodically.

He found exactly one thing…a small film canister, with two blue pills in it. Stephen gave them his most forbidding glare, as if forcing them to talk, then stormed back up the stairs and was heading for the back door.

Peter was at his side a second later. "What you said to Sarah was beyond wrong," he chastised as he caught up to Stephen's breakneck strides.

"I don't care."

"You hurt her."

"Heaven forbid somebody's feelings should be hurt tonight," Stephen spat thickly.

"She didn't do anything," Peter protested, trying to get inside the wall of anger.

"I know."

"Wasn't the impression I got."

"I don't care."

"Well, I do!" Peter cut him off. "I have been through this, in case you've forgotten…"

"Then you know better than to get in my way. I'm off to find Khan."

"You have no idea where he is."

"No, but he did." Stephen gestured over his shoulder in the general direction of the cellar, then held up the pills. "And these will lead me to him."

Now Peter was interested. "What are they?"

"Some kind of over-the-counter pills. He took them out of the bottle so they couldn't be traced."

"So how do you intend to trace them?"

"I have my ways."

Peter steeled himself. Arguing with an insane man was insanity in and of itself, and Peter liked to think he at least had some semblance of his sanity left. "All righty then."

Scene Break

Less than five minutes later, Stephen was at an all-night pharmacy, methodically taking one of everything off the over-the-counter medicine shelves and ripping the packages open with single-minded determination.

Peter was beyond embarrassed. "Stephen, come on, pay for this stuff and rip it apart in the cab."

"Faster this way," was the only response he got.

"This is what Khan wants, you are ripping stuff apart, you're drawing attention, you're not thinking straight, you're emotional…"

Stephen gave him a mad grin. "Oh no, Peter, I've never been so calm in my entire life. Everything is clear now. I know what I want, I know what I've got, I know who to kill, and I know how to find them. Everything else is nothing to me now. I've never been so calm in my life."

Peter threw up his hands, then snatched the Mongol's pills from Stephen.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping." He gave the pills a sniff. "I think I know what they are." He scanned the shelves, then pulled down a box of Dramamine. "I used to get sick on the ferry as a kid."

"They're for motion sickness?"

"Right. Which means your guy's near water. Probably the harbor."

Stephen started marching toward the door, then noticed his partner had stayed behind. "You going to get in my way?"

"No."

"Good. I'm going alone."

"I figured you would."

"Not going to stop me?"

"No." Peter sighed. "See, I understand revenge…it's direct, it's clean, it's over fast. I won't try and stop you. I got revenge for my uncle. I loved Victor too."

Stephen's eyes glimmered dangerously. "Yeah."

"When it's over, I'll be here to try and put your soul back together."

"Fine," Stephen said, not caring.

"The words 'Krazy Glue' come to mind," Peter muttered under his breath.

"Don't come after me," Stephen snapped, tossing a stack of bills at the cashier as the cab pulled up.

Peter followed him out the door just as Stephen climbed into the cab. He stopped the door from closing.

His partner looked at him.

"You aren't alone, Stephen. We'll all be here for you when you get back."

Stephen nodded, then closed the door to the cab.

Scene Break

Khan watched the receding New York skyline. His yacht was moving away, moving slow enough to go unnoticed, but still moving away. But still Khan felt certain uneasiness. On the one hand, he had finally done it. He had distracted Ying Ko, he had killed the old man, he had avenged his father, and if his plan was working completely, he had driven his nemesis' greatest advantages away from him.

That said, Khan also understood that Ying Ko was not a man likely to take such things lying down. Hopefully, though, it would be long enough for him to make his escape. Just in case, though, his backup plan had already been set into motion.

Scene Break

Khan's honor guard was hidden below deck. Eight men in close quarters. Eight men who had fought The Shadow and lost, some of them repeatedly. Eight men who knew exactly what their master had done that night. Eight worried men watching shadows.

In the end, it wasn't important exactly who spotted it first. It was entirely possible that nobody even saw anything. But no one could mistake the feeling they now all had…a feeling of lightning about to strike, a combined dread that only men about to die could sense. It was a surreal, chilling feeling that everyone in the room felt, noticed, understood, and responded to without a wasted moment.

The one nearest to the door bolted to warn his master, when a wisp of black moved toward him, swirled over him, and dropped him like a stone.

Only then did The Shadow become visible…a black hole against dim lighting.

Seven men remained. Seven men who knew exactly what their master had done that night. Seven men who knew their time was up.

The familiar mocking laugh was silent. The Shadow's eyes were dark and cold, as hard as steel. But they were empty. They were dead inside. Just like the Shadow.

Everyone in the room knew it at once. This was not The Shadow claiming revenge, nor a vigilante taking down a criminal. This was a demon child of bitter apathy and a lifetime of training. A brutal union of cold calculation and guilt-ridden rage. A merge of lethal intent and dark memories going back three generations with enough firepower to outfit a small army and enough psychic power to make mountains tremble.

Everybody knew that this fight was already decided. Everyone knew how this would go. There would soon be eight dead men in the boat cabin. One had already fallen, and only one person in the cabin would walk away. This was not to be a fight. This was to be an execution.

The Shadow knew it too. He drew his automatics. "Who's next?"

Scene Break

Khan looked around nervously for a moment, as if realizing something wasn't quite right. He gave a nod to his man at the helm to speed the boat up and gestured for Shan Ruche to follow him below deck.

Barely halfway down the steps, he froze in place and stared in shock.

His honor guard of eight men had been torn apart. The entire cabin had been destroyed. Khan backed up into the moonlight and glanced at Shan. "Did you hear anything?"

Shan felt himself trembling. "No, my Khan."

Khan raised his voice slightly to be heard over the now roaring motor. "Then how did he get onboard?"

"I have no idea," Shan responded, putting his hand against the bloody wall to stay upright as the deck bounced faster.

Khan looked back up the short staircase. The boat was going way, way too fast…

…and that was when it hit him. He traded a look with Shan. "Let's go!"

Both of them raced up to the deck and headed for the helm, looking to the controls.

The driver was gone.

A cackling laugh got their attention, and they both looked up.

Balanced on the sweeping hull of the yacht, looking balefully down at them from behind the controls, was The Shadow.

"WELCOME TO SHADOW HELL!" screamed The Shadow insanely.

Shan drew a blade and handed it to Khan, then promptly put himself between his master and the violent demon that had boarded the boat.

The Shadow vaulted over the windshield, over the controls, and landed a few feet in front of his opponents. "Look into my eyes, Shan. Do you really want to be in my way tonight?"

Shan responded by moving into a fighting crouch.

Khan moved back, giving his fighter space to move.

The Shadow immediately thought up a variety of creative and painful ways to kill Shan Ruche with his bare hands and sent them telepathically to his mind.

Shan's mind was suddenly filled with the images, and he took a scared step back despite himself.

Khan grumbled and projected equally chilling means of death into his henchman's mind if the man didn't step up to the challenge.

Shan didn't particularly like being in the middle of two crazed psychics, knowing full well that he was not likely to come out of this with his life either way.

The Shadow's eyes grew even more maniacal looking as he howled a chilling scream of rage at his opponent, his enemy, the boat, to the night itself.

Shan steeled himself and lunged. One punch snapped the Shadow's head around ninety degrees. A second snapped his head the other way. A roundhouse uppercut rocked the Shadow back on his feet.

The Shadow hadn't even tried to dodge. And that realization chilled Shan to the marrow.

The Shadow lowered his gaze back to settle on Shan. "YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT!"he screamed at Shan.

And with that, he lunged right at his opponent, rolling across the deck with Shan Ruche.

Then The Shadow started smashing Shan against everything he could find, beating the now-defenseless warrior with a vengeance. "FEEL THAT, MONGOL?" The Shadow shrieked with each hammer blow against the boat's walls. "YOU FEEL THAT? YOU FEEL THAT? FEEL THAT?" he howled, shaking Shan back and forth with a shrieking, slavering, howling bellow of mad rage. Finally, he threw Shan's beaten body over the edge of the boat.

And then, there were two…The Shadow, and Kuba Khan.

"Kha-a-a-a-a-n-n-n-n-n!" The Shadow called eerily. "Come and get me, Khan! Come and play. Come and pla-a-a-a-a-y-y-y…"

Khan steeled himself and brandished the knife, slipping into combat stance.

The Shadow hadn't shifted from throwing Shan, was barely looking at him, insanity dwelled in his eyes. "Come on Khan…come on…come on, come and play, come and get me, come and get me, come and play!" he almost sang.

Khan lunged and swung the knife.

The fight was vicious, dirty and malicious. Khan moved with the easy grace of a trained combatant, making parries and lunges, trying to gauge his opponent's game as every blow landed…

…and that was when it hit him that this was too easy. The Shadow wasn't even trying to dodge or block. He wanted pain. And he wanted to inflict pain.

With an instant flashing of black-gloved hands, the knife was gone, and The Shadow pounded Khan with a keyed-up street fighter's rage.

Khan countered with every throwing move he knew, breaking and reversing grappling holds with ease. When throwing his opponent off didn't seem to work, Khan tried disabling moves, swinging for the throat and joints. Every now and then The Shadow would deign to block an attack.

Then The Shadow responded with a high kick to the chin that sent Khan reeling.

The Mongolian warlord was surprised more by the move than the force of the blow. He knows better than that, Khan thought to himself. That kind of blow leaves him open to counter attacks, he knows better than that.

The Shadow moved forward with inexorable steps.

Have I finally pushed it too far? Khan wondered.

Then he got to his feet and made a lunatic lunge to The Shadow's knees, took a feint to the left, and scored a blow to the jaw that snapped the other man's head around to the left, then unleashed a chop to the throat. It was a crushing blow…

…and The Shadow started laughing at him.

Khan stared. He was in trouble and he knew it.

Then The Shadow attacked, using no apparent style or martial arts. This was pure rage, pure spite unleashed.

It took Khan eight blows to The Shadow's elbows to get the grip around his throat loose enough to push him away, but finally the combatants broke apart and grabbed for balance as the boat's engine roared.

Khan was bleeding from numerous cuts; so was The Shadow, but he didn't seem to notice them. Khan looked into The Shadow's mad eyes and found his own death staring back at him. The Shadow had no mercy, and Khan expected none.

The Shadow was grinning like a madman. "So, Khan, tell me…was it worth it?"

"You tell me," Khan grunted, inching backward toward the edge of the boat. "You lost your mentor--you can't get him back. Your entire family is dead. You are alone now. He was the one person in your organization that wasn't expendable. He doubled for you within the network, he covered and controlled your finances, he took care of maintaining the image of your oh-so-important entire family name, and now you have to do it alone. I conquered your line, Ying Ko. I finished you. I avenged my father. I won this one. I won. It doesn't matter if you kill me or not--I've won!" Khan's smile tuned menacingly sly. "Would you like to know what your uncle said before I gutted him like a fish? Would you like to know if he begged for mercy?"

The Shadow roared with rage and threw himself at Khan. He didn't think, he didn't plan, he didn't prepare…he just attacked.

Which was exactly what Khan wanted.

At the last moment, Khan rolled to the left, caught the Shadow by the throat, and rolled once more, putting himself over The Shadow, pushing the cloaked man into the rushing water up to his shoulders, between the dragging lifeboat and the churning propeller blades, planting his knee in the small of The Shadow's back.

His hat was stripped off by the rushing water instantly, the speed of it driving his mouth open, driving water into his eyes. He couldn't even breathe. The Shadow kicked and thrashed, trying to get free of Khan's grip, but to no avail; the warlord had him pinned easily, facedown in the water.

Khan forced The Shadow down harder, savoring his victory. "Can't get free?" he sneered. "Don't worry, you'll see your uncle again soon! I win, Ying Ko! I win! I beat you, Ying Ko! I'm better than you! I'm smarter than you! I'm stronger than you!"

There was a glint of steel and a desperate lunge.

Then, a beat of silence.

Khan's face transformed into a horrified mask of terror, and an instant later he fell away from The Shadow, screaming like he'd never stop.

The Shadow pulled himself into a sitting position, gulping down air. "Maybe so. But at least I know to keep my privates covered in a fight."

Khan curled up pathetically in the corner of the boat.

The Shadow rose malevolently and stood over him.

Khan grabbed at the controls, spinning it to the left.

The Shadow was thrown, buying Khan a few seconds…time enough to grab the radio. "Kill the woman!" he hissed over his pain.

"Yes, my Khan," crackled the voice.

Khan grinned up at The Shadow. "You think you can save her in time?"

The Shadow didn't move. "I don't care," he said finally. "You were right--she was a weakness. You took the queen off the board."

Khan looked up at him in horror.

"Checkmate!" The Shadow hissed.

Khan, in pain, bleeding, defeated, suddenly smiled. "I knew it! I knew you would!" he cackled. "You're just like me after all." His voice turned vicious. "You're a true warlord!"

Something about those words…or maybe it was the sentiment…something in that exchange made him pause.

Don't hesitate! pure Shadow instinct shrieked in the vigilante's mind. Finish this!

Victor would want you to save Sarah, the more rational part of Stephen Cranston's mind reminded him.

After a seemingly endless moment of indecision, The Shadow grabbed for his radio. "Peter! Get to…"

Something spun in from the left side of the boat, smacking the radio from The Shadow's hand and sending it over the side of the boat.

"Oh, come on!" raged The Shadow, turning to see Shan Ruche, still alive and clinging to the side of the boat, leaping from his perch to tackle The Shadow.

By the time he gathered himself, Shan had gotten Khan to the lifeboat and slashed the cables loose, sending the small inflatable boat off the deck.

The Shadow considered his options. It would be easy to run them down with the motorized yacht…

…but Khan's men had gotten the order to kill Sarah.

Let them! something shrieked in The Shadow's mind. Khan! Get Khan! She is weakness, he is enemy!

The Shadow reached for the controls…

…and turned back to the city.

Scene Break

A jeep was driving from the marina to the city when a cab came screaming around the corner, throwing itself in their way.

The four men in armor threw their arms up to protect themselves as the vehicles collided.

The side door opened almost instantly and the warriors within fanned out, crossbows ready.

A mocking swirling laugh cackled forth from the darkness, and the sound of fist meeting face soon followed.

The two remaining warriors regrouped and lunged at the night, swinging back and forth blindly, but in a prearranged pattern, covering everything within their reach.

But none of them thought to look up as another vigilante dropped in on them and started spitting impact webbing into them faster than they could shoot arrows into him.

Seconds later it was over. Spiderman shook his head. "The S.O.B. is persistent, I'll give him that.

The Shadow resolved into visibility across from his partner and gave a nod.

"So what did you do to him?" Spiderman asked.

The Shadow shook his head. "He got away, but it was a long-term win."

"How so?"

The Shadow's eyes flashed wolfishly as he held up a thin knife blade. "Well, let's just say that if he hasn't had kids already, the generational war ends with us."

It took about three seconds for that to track. When it did, Spiderman almost bent double from the image. "Oh…oh…ow!"

The Shadow started to laugh, but quickly stopped, simply falling into a sitting position on the street. "…it…" he began. He wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn't come. The revenge lust was gone now. The rage was gone now. The adrenaline was gone now, leaving him hollow and empty.

Spiderman came over and sat down next to his partner. "You have to talk to Sarah."

The Shadow didn't respond. His head was buried in his hands.

"You have to say something, anything, an apology, an explanation, a 'Dear Jane' even, but you can't leave it like this."

Finally The Shadow nodded. "I know."

"Want me to be there?"

"Peter, I don't want to be there myself." He sighed. "But this has been coming for a long time. The longer I put it off, the harder it'll be."

Scene Break

Stephen stood at Sarah's door, waiting for her to answer his knocking. She knew he was here. Of course she knew he was here. So why was he knocking? And why wasn't she answering?

He knocked again.

"I'm not speaking to you," Sarah said from behind the closed door.

"I have something I have to say," Stephen responded.

"So say it and go away."

He waited three more beats to see if she would open the door, then sighed and decided to get it over with. "It wasn't your fault. It was mine."

"No it wasn't," Sarah said reflexively.

"Let me finish." Stephen took a deep breath and gathered himself. "It was my fault, because I let Khan get to me. He started this whole thing because he wanted to prove that I was too protective of you. He did this to prove that I would sacrifice everything I held dear for the sake of one person. And he was right. And Victor is dead now because I was too busy watching you because I wouldn't order you around. If it were MJ, or Moe, or even Peter, I would have knocked them out if I'd had to and taken them to the Manor bound and gagged, and then I would have been there. But you didn't want to go to the Manor, and because you are you, and for no other reason, I let you stay here, I rewrote all the plans to accommodate you, because for some reason I thought it would be a good idea to let you win this little battle of wills between us. In the end, it wasn't what you did, it was that I didn't want to force the choice on you. It's not your fault, it's mine, because Khan was right. I sacrificed everything I held dear for the sake of one person." His voice was tight and controlled, but the tears that were falling down his cheeks betrayed the heavy emotions of the admission.

Sarah finally opened the door. Tears were on her face too. "So...what now?"

Stephen took a breath. "Khan was right. You were my weakness. You still are my weakness, and still will be tomorrow unless something changes, and changes immediately. Everything has changed. The entire dynamic of my organization, my mission, my life itself has changed. I can't afford weaknesses any more. From now on, you are just another agent. Nothing more. You can't be anything more. Not after this."

Sarah face crumpled, but she nodded, because beneath all her anger and heartbreak, she absolutely knew he was right. And that hurt the worst.

Stephen extended his right hand. "Good night, Miss Branson."

She shook it in businesslike fashion. "Good night, Mr. Cranston."

Stephen turned around and walked away.

Sarah closed the door and sank to the floor of the entranceway.

Scene Break

The cabbie drove for several minutes before starting to speak. "Boss...," Moe began.

"Just drive," Stephen cut him off.

Moe nodded. This was not the time. "Where to?"

"My place," Stephen said. "I need to pick up a few things."

"And then?"

Stephen sighed. "The Manor." He felt himself shake. "I've got to start moving in sometime. Might as well be tonight."

Scene Break

It was after midnight before Stephen made it back to the Manor with two large bags over his shoulders. He shut the door behind him, and the sound seemed to echo forever.

Diane thought this place was a museum, he noted wryly. It's not. It's a mausoleum.

He looked up the staircase, and the memories of the horror just hours earlier flooded back in…running up those never-ending stairs, anxious and scared and angry and hopeful all at once, racing down the hallway, finding Victor's…

...no. Not yet. Stephen pushed the luggage against the doorway to the parlor and aimlessly wandered into the room.

When did this room get so big? he wondered. It had never felt so empty. Any minute now, he expected to see a blazing fire in the fireplace, a cognac on the side table, an oversized cigar in the marble ashtray.

But there was nothing there. Nothing except him. And there never would be again.

"Why?" he asked mentally, not caring how far his mental voice carried. "Why me? Why you? This wasn't supposed to happen! I was the one who was supposed to take all the risks, and you were the one who was supposed to grow old and smoke cigars and sip cognac and trade bon mots. This is not the way this was supposed to go! What am I supposed to do now?" He threw up his hands and paced around the room like a caged animal. "For the first time in my life, I have no idea what to do next! What, I'm supposed to just drop everything in my life and take over your roles, too? I don't know how to run a business! Never wanted to learn, either! That was your hobby! I'm not supposed to be rattling around this so-called palace; this was your home! I'm supposed to be chasing the bad guys, saving the world, and taking all the abuse in the process, and you're supposed to be here to pick up the pieces when it's all said and done! Why aren't you here?" He threw the pillow on Victor's favorite chair across the room. "You promised you'd always be here! When I was five years old, when I woke up from what I hoped was a nightmare of seeing my father shot in half and my mother having a hole blown completely through her, you promised me you would never leave me. You promised!" He knew he sounded completely stupid, but right now, he needed to get all the stupidity and fear and anger and weakness out of himself. It was the only way he would ever be able to get through the days to come. "When I gave my life to this work, I understood it meant really giving my life. But it wasn't supposed to mean giving your life! This mission claims everything I touch, everything I have, everything I am, everything I ever let myself get close to, even you…and I can't do it any more. I can't let it claim anything in my life ever again…and the only way to do that is to give up anything it could ever even try to claim. So I can't have a life any more. Is this what you wanted for me? Is this my real inheritance? Is this really all I have?"

"Master Cranston?"

Stephen spun around to face the door.

Andrew stood at the threshold, dressed in a robe, arm in a sling. "Welcome home, sir."

"Home." Stephen gave a sardonic snort, then immediately realized how rude he was being as he felt the adrenaline ebbing away and leaving only numbness behind. "I'm sorry, Andrew. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I can assure you I'm quite used to it, sir," Andrew said formally. "Would you like something to eat…to drink…anything at all?"

"No, thank you."

Andrew nodded. "I'll take your bags to your usual room, sir. I'll have the master bedroom thoroughly cleaned first thing tomorrow morning…"

"No, you won't."

Andrew looked alarmed. "Sir?"

"You shouldn't be carrying anything, except yourself back to bed," Stephen clarified. "You're wounded, Andrew. You need to rest."

Andrew gathered himself and stood ramrod straight, conveying quiet strength mixed with dutiful obedience. "With all due respect, sir, I am more than capable of carrying out my duties even in this condition. I am here, sworn to your service, for as long as you need me. And I think you need me tonight, sir."

Stephen was far too strung out and emotionally numb to bother arguing the point. "Fine. Don't strain that hand."

"Of course, sir." He turned to leave.

"Andrew?"

The elderly majordomo turned back around.

"How did Victor survive going through this all those times? Grandma, Granddaddy, Mom and Dad…how did he do this?"

Andrew gave a wistful smile. "He did it because he had to, sir, because a lot of things depended on him, and because he still had people he considered friends to help him handle it. If I may be so bold, sir, he handled it the same way you will."

Stephen closed his eyes. "I don't think so, Andrew. I just told one of those friends that it would be a bad thing for The Shadow to have anything resembling friends around." He sighed. "I really screwed that up, didn't I?"

Andrew considered his answer carefully. "It's not my place to make such a judgment, sir. I can't help but wonder, however, if now is the proper time to be sending people away for the dubious sake of a mission that has already cost you so much."

Stephen didn't answer.

Andrew took that as a dismissal, gave a nod, and left the room.

The darkness and silence that the butler's departure left behind was all-encompassing and practically suffocating. Stephen finally opened the humidor and fetched one of his uncle's...my cigars, he reminded himself. Unless Victor put some kind of rider clause on the will that leaves these to Andrew. The thought made him smile for a moment, but the moment lasted only as long as the flame on the match that he used to light the Dominican torpedo.

He sank into Victor's…my chair. In my house. I have to take ownership of all of this now. This is supposedly what I've been groomed my whole life to do, if you believe the society pages. The last Cranston heir. Just what I always wanted to be.

Which didn't make it any easier to contemplate, of course. He sat in the overstuffed armchair and let the cigar burn for a while, occasionally taking a sip from it.

Eventually, he flipped open his cell phone, scrolled down the list of names, and paused at one. Stared at it. Debated with himself a thousand times about whether or not to press the "Dial" key.

And then, he finally did.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang some more. And got no answer. With a sigh, he snapped it shut and closed his hand around it.

"Hi."

Stephen leapt from his chair and whipped around to face the doorway.

"Andrew let me in," Sarah explained with a somewhat sheepish looking expression.

Stephen was too floored to care at that moment. "You…you're here. After that whole thing tonight...after what I said to you earlier...you came here."

"Yes."

Stephen wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or not, but right now he wasn't sure he cared. "Why?"

"Well…I thought about what you said, about how I was a weakness to you this way, and about thirty seconds after you left I decided that it was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard."

"Really?"

"You need a friend more than a pawn. Especially tonight."

Stephen glared. "I don't need anything."

"Also I…I wanted to make sure you knew something."

Stephen gestured to the chair across from his uncle's…oh, whatever.

She acknowledged his gesture and sat down.

He did the same.

For a long moment they just sat there, each wanting to say so much but not really wanting to say anything at all.

Stephen spoke first. "I did a really stupid thing tonight."

She looked somewhat amused. "Oh?"

"I told one of the four people I care about most in the world that we couldn't be friends any more."

Sarah gave a tight, controlled nod. "I did something really stupid tonight too."

"Oh?"

"I got so caught up in being mad and hurt and emotional over someone's perfectly justifiable reactions that I forgot to tell them that I could finally see them."

He looked at her, eyes widening. "You could see?"

She nodded. "Through the closed door. It didn't hit me until I opened the door that I hadn't already opened it to you." She shook. "I could see. For the first time, I could really clairvoyantly see." She looked tearful. "And I hated that I could see, because I could see how much I'd hurt you…"

He came over to her. "Sh-h," he soothed, rubbing her shoulder. "It's O.K. It's not your fault. I did some really stupid things tonight. I let Khan get under my skin enough to make me drive away The Shadow's best agents."

"Stop it," she scolded. "I let someone I cared about walk away because I was too scared to tell them that they needed a friend more than an agent. Especially tonight."

"Especially tonight," Stephen agreed.

More silence. Finally, Sarah dared to speak. "Khan's gambit didn't work," she declared. "I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere."

Stephen didn't answer. He turned away and headed for the bar where he wouldn't have to look at her. Because right now, he wasn't certain he could without losing what little emotional control he had left inside.

Sarah moved to the sofa and made herself comfortable. "I'm going to sit here for a while. I won't talk if you don't want to."

"It's late," he declared, studying the bottles.

"I don't care."

"I'm not going to be good company," he warned.

"Doesn't matter. No one is on nights like this. You shouldn't be alone tonight." She sighed. "None of us should."

He finally looked at her. "Too hard to be alone?"

She rubbed her temples. "Can't get the visions out of my head. I couldn't stop seeing you. And every time I saw you, you looked worse. And I felt worse." She looked at him. "Let's get this out in the open. This is my fault. Don't give me any crap about how you should have forced me to do it your way or how you let Khan get the better of you or whatever. This is my fault. I was stupid. I didn't take your life and your mission and your vastly superior knowledge base seriously. I really thought I understood more about how to handle things than you did. I really didn't know how far this lunatic was really willing to go. I didn't look any further than the way it was an inconvenience to me. I didn't even think about what else might be affected, even when it was one of my arguments against you. You did. And I didn't listen." She raised her right hand and put her left hand on the back of the sofa. "And I, Sarah Branson, being of addled mind and rotten judgment, do solemnly swear that I will never again doubt that The Shadow truly knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men. And if I ever screw up again this badly, I accept that the only way I will ever get out of whatever life-threatening danger I deserve to be in is by the generosity and goodness of the people of the world who understand that with great power does indeed come great responsibility. And if I break this vow, I accept the judgment of the disapproving Master of Darkness, the sticky webs of really big spiders, the silent treatment I so strongly deserve, and the wrath of the…" She rubbed the worn couch curiously. "…buttery-soft overstuffed leather sofa."

Stephen couldn't help the laugh that rumbled out of him. "Drink?"

She shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

He was interrupted from pouring two cognacs by yet another knock on the door. "Yes?" he called.

The parlor door opened and Peter stuck his head in. "Hi."

"Hi," Stephen said in a why are you here? tone.

The door opened further, revealing Mary Jane standing behind him. "We were in the neighborhood…," she began.

Stephen gave them an oh-come-on look.

"No, really," Peter said. "We were, and MJ said--well, actually, she didn't say anything, she just gave me that big eyed 'you don't want to disappoint me now, do you?' look that she gets when she thinks I should do something, and then I said 'Hey! Isn't that Sarah's car?' and MJ said, 'I believe it is, do you think they've made up?' and then I said..."

"Get in here!" Stephen snapped.

They came in. MJ set a box on the coffee table.

"What's that?" Stephen asked.

"Comfort food," MJ offered.

"Comfort food?" Stephen asked Peter.

"She tells me it works," Peter said.

Sarah opened the box to reveal a beautiful cake coated in rich chocolate frosting from an all-night deli. "Chocolate?" she asked.

"Of course," MJ replied, as if there would be any other kind.

Stephen's face had hardened again. Dammit, he still felt like he should be doing everything in his power to keep these people away from him. He glared at the cake box as if it were the cause of everything.

MJ sent an uneasy look to Peter, who sent an inquisitive look to Sarah, who sent a hopeful look to Stephen, who was still staring coldly at the box.

Finally, Stephen spoke. "Anyone want ice cream to go with it?"

Scene Break

Holed up in the freight car that was carrying what was left of Khan's inner circle--essentially, Shan Ruche and a few badly battered warriors who'd survived their encounter with Spiderman and The Shadow on their way to finish off the black queen--back to the western Canadian Rockies, Khan was surprised to hear the throwaway cell that had started this latest skirmish ring. Slowly and painfully, he fished it out of a rucksack and pressed the "accept" button. "Ying Ko?"

"I've come to a decision, Khan," Stephen's unnervingly calm voice answered. "You were right about my agents. They were a weakness. But no more. They are assets now. They are my assets now."

This turn wasn't entirely unexpected. Khan admired that the man had finally developed a backbone about his warriors. "And if you lose them to me?" Khan grunted.

He could almost hear the serene smile in the answer. "Then I will mourn them. But you've proven to me that I can't stop it from happening all the time. An attacking offense is my strongest defense, Khan. The man…the hero you killed last night taught me that."

Khan gave no answer.

"Besides," Stephen continued, "I want them close now. Last night, your intention was to make me crazy. You succeeded. Your intention was to avenge your father. You succeeded. Your intention was to deal me a blow. You succeeded. Your intention was to make me drive away all my closest allies with my own rage. You almost succeeded, except for the fact that they would have none of it. Last night, your intention was to make me feel lost and alone, and they would not allow that. What about you, Khan? When you retreated from our fight to heal your wounds, who was there for you?"

Khan hung up.

Scene Break

"I think you hit a nerve," Peter replied as Stephen snapped his cell phone shut.

Stephen sighed and joined them around the sun room's table. "It was the only thing of him I could hit. Like it or not, justify it or not, we lost this one…and we lost bad."

Everyone nodded and stared quietly at the dishes they'd dirtied with chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream to drown their sorrows and rebuild their bonds.

Peter said it first. "You O.K.?"

Stephen shook his head. "No."

"You will be," Peter promised.

"With a little help from my friends?" Stephen smiled.

"With a lot of help from your friends," MJ responded.

"Or risk the wrath of the TV Guide," Sarah added.

Stephen finally lost it and burst out laughing.

Sarah joined him.

MJ stared blankly at Peter, who stared blankly at Stephen, who was laughing so hard he almost fell down.

After about thirty seconds, the laughter died down. Stephen stared out into space, still trying to take in the notion that the contents of this house, legacy and all, were the only really tangible things he had left in life.

"Do we have any cake left?" MJ asked in the awkward silence that followed.

"I think so," Stephen said, mindful that some things in this house were good things to have left in life. "What do we do when we run out of cake to fill the silences?"

"Cookies," Peter said without hesitation.

"I saw some in the kitchen," Sarah offered.

Peter, MJ, and Sarah gathered dirty dishes off the table and headed out of the room.

Stephen got up from the chair and looked around the room where he'd shared many a Sunday brunch with his uncle through the years. He glanced at the picture of Victor, Alexander, Marie, and baby Stephen that sat quietly in the corner next to a vase of flowers that Victor had always insisted be filled with fresh blossoms even when no one used the room.

His family. A moment in time from so long ago. A moment in time that seemed so far away from this moment right now. The emotional turmoil that had held itself at bay for the past few hours threatened to overwhelm him again.

"If you don't come on, you can't have any more cake," Sarah called, poking her head back into the room.

Stephen felt himself smile. Nothing like an object lesson in having his cake and eating it too to start the day off. "Coming," he said, crossing the room to her.

She put her arm in his and led him to join the rest of his new family.

THE END