(Five)

"Where is he?"

Wolverine looked up from his reports at the sound of Charles Xavier's voice. Logan had brought his laptop down here from his office to get some quick work done while keeping an eye on things here in the Lab. He hadn't expected the Professor back so soon, but still had heard the man coming, mechanized chairs did not make for stealth. With everything that had been going on outside this place, Charles had been quite busy. He had left to attend to some business but as promised, had now returned to the Lab for an update.

"Gonna hafta be more specific, Chuck. We ain't all mindreaders, ya know," Logan teased with gruff humor.

"Where is Remy?"

"He's in the waiting room with Karen. He didn't make out so well with the kids, he's takin' it kinda hard. He's in there tryin' ta regroup."

Charles nodded and made his way to the waiting room. This room was annexed off of the main Lab for better privacy and had a couple of sofas with small tables. The door was half closed for privacy, but the Professor sensed the two people in there well enough. Remy was trashed, quietly sulking and simmering on a small sofa while Karen tried to soothe him. She wasn't doing so well, Remy was politely but stubbornly ignoring her every attempt to comfort him.

Charles gently bumped the door, announcing his arrival. Karen looked relieved to see him, but Remy was a static blank, never a good sign. "I came to see how you were doing," the Professor said, addressing the poor exhausted thief.

Remy was slouched sidways on the sofa, a hand over his eyes. He wouldn't look at his mentor but said, "Je suis bien. I'm okay."

Karen rose, obviously in a rush to get out of there. "I'll leave you two alone." She smiled and left as quickly as possible, shutting the door behind her.

Charles wheeled a little closer. "I heard you had some trouble."

"No more dan usual. Dey'll come around. Dey always do," Remy said with more enthusiasm than he felt. The way he figured it, there was no way out of this pit he had been tossed into. On the other hand, how could it possibly get worse? It could only get better, right? He was barely hanging on and wasn't sure how he could possibly pull this off.

The Professor was far too wise not to see it. He started with the basic questions, trying get his X-man back at ease. "How is Seth?"

"Bien. Fallen took him home. He'll sleep better dere."

"Why don't you explain to me what happened today."

Remy nodded and went through the morning's events, explaining Seth's condition and how he had missed it. Kimble had been selected by Seth for the cure and then all hell broke loose. Somehow in the mix of all of this Babette had taken her own life, right on cue. Just in time to fuck this up all the more.

Gambit had foreseen none of this and he was now taking all the blame for the whole thing, that he should have prevented it somehow. Remy was calm as he spoke, but it was a facade. The Professor couldn't help but notice the shake in Remy's hands, though the thief did his best to hide it. He was wiped out and deeply in pain, both emotionally and from his injury. Remy had a high tolerance for pain as did all the senior staff, but he'd had more than his share for one day.

Charles listened to the story Remy gave him, matching it up with what Aiden had written. Of course he had taken the time to read most of the files that Seth had provided, he had trouble enough figuring Kimble out, he needed all the help he could get with the newcomers. He nodded and asked, "How do you know this Shemusk is a real condition and not one of Aiden's invention?"

Remy shrugged, having wondered that himself. "I don't, but I know Set' was sick and dat 'e's better now. 'Enry's got de scans to prove it. Whatever Kimble did, it helped him."

"But at what cost?"

Remy didn't answer that, it was impossible. Instead he reached into his pocket for a fresh stick of gum. Again his mind flashed with a hot desire for a cigarette, but he knew better than to smoke with the Professor here. His voice was soft yet strong as he spoke, " 'Member back when Kim firs' come to be wit us? How screwed up I was for a while?"

"Yes, all too well."

"Well, when I ended up in N'awlins after my papa died, I ran into Trishnar and 'is kids. Don't know exactly what they done to me, but I was better after, I really was."

"Aiden makes mention of this in his diary."

Remy shuddered a little. He was a private man and disliked the fact that some of his intimate affairs were now out in the system for the clever to find and read.

"All your secrets are safe with me, Remy," Charles assured, sensing this. "As a telepath, I am well trained in tight lips. I couldn't be where I am without that particular talent."

Remy nodded, popping his gum as a nervous habit. It wasn't really Charles' discretion he was worried about, others could have access to that file and the rest of what Aiden'd had to say. "Anyways, de upside bein' dat Aiden 'elped me out. I can't blame all dis on 'im."

"Kimble is easily swayed by those around him."

"If dat was true, why Gambit have so much trouble convincin' him he ain't so bad?" the thief tossed out in irritation, his eyes flashing with barely restrained self hatred. He wasn't happy to be here having this conversation. He didn't like the low thread of accusation that hung in the air, he was feeling much too guilty to just shrug it off.

The Professor sighed, not wanting to argue. "Look, all I want to know is if you can still control these Siskans. There is too much going on without worrying about their antics. You know how bad it's been outside after Jael's last stunt. The rioting and violence is growing worse. So many mutants are being brutalized and they have no place to go now that the schools have been demolished. It would be better for me to concentrate on solutions for that then having to worry about your children." His voice was calm and not accusatory as he spoke, but the words were too painful to have no affect on the poor damaged thief.

Gambit's eyes flashed in instant fury, a swift loss of control. "Quoi? You t'ink you can do better dan Gambit, you go right ahead, patron!"

Charles shivered inwardly at the ice cold steel in that. He could see the tiny thread that Remy was hanging on to, that the man before him was strung out from all the stress he had been through of late and on the edge of cracking. Of course Remy had been like this before, playing with that edge in some kind of sick game most of his life, and had never fallen off of that thread, but that thread was a very narrow one indeed.

"I never meant to say that you were not capable, Remy. I just need to know that you can do it, that your heart is still willing. Kimble is in a bad way."

"Bien sur, Gambit don't need you to remind him."

Charles squinted, looking harder. Remy wasn't letting him in as he had before, but that shiny reflective surface was cracked, not so impenetrable as it had been. Just one blink of the eyes, not even a second of time, and Charles realized that some of that reflection was a tear dripping down from one crimson eye. The thief had turned his head away, trying to hide it, protecting his vulnerability.

Charles wasn't that blind. "Remy..."

Gambit shook and broke down right then and there, all pretense of inner strength gone. "What you wanna 'ear? Set' was all fucked up an' Gambit missed it! Babette broke down so 'ard she take 'er own life, an' Gambit never saw it comin'! Kimble's all broke apart again an' Lin done... done... whatever de fuck you wanna call dat! Gambit lost 'im! 'E's gone! What de fuck am I suppose' to do now? I done everyt'ing already! I ain't even got nuthin' left to try!" Remy sobbed, choking on every word. He was still turned away, his hand back over his eyes and his head down as he tried desperately to calm himself.

"No, he's not lost," Charles said, moving forward to lay a hand on Remy's shoulder. It hurt to see this complicated man break like this and he knew it wouldn't have happened in front of anyone else. He shared a bond with this young man almost as close as father and son, something that had only grown since the thief's return from Antarctica. It was true a lot had been dumped in Gambit's lap, the thief had spelled it out well enough. Too much, apparently. Skye was missing, Babette had taken her own life, Aiden was refusing to cooperate with him, and his favorite Siskan of them all had broken and shut down, shut him out. Of course of them all, Kimble's retreat had hurt the worst.

It was clear on the man's face after he took a moment to regroup. He looked back at his mentor, his eyes red and his face flushed. His voice was cracked and broken as he said with a little more calm, "All dis time, I t'ought Kim needed me, but I t'ink I was jus' foolin' m'self."

Charles gave him a squeeze, seeing the thief's loss of faith in his own abilities. He had crashed and needed some encouragement, not an accusation. In spite of the day's destruction, Charles was sure Remy could find a way out of this and he was quick to respond, "You were not fooling yourself. No one can explain what it is you two share, but I think it's obvious the two of you need each other. For good or for ill, it just is."

"What am I gonna do?"

"Well, perhaps you should what Aiden has written in his diary. I am not so nieve as to think you haven't gotten your own copy. How far did you get?"

Remy looked at him, busted, but didn't even try to hide the fact that the Professor was right. "Jus' to when Meckland came and took him from de Muzla."

"Well, then I'm a little further along than you. Do us both a favor and read. Aiden seems well enough, given all he's been through. Maybe there's answers there if you're clever enough to find them."

Remy nodded and wiped at his face, trying to regain his composure. It was an impossible task, he was trashed. "Go home," Charles ordered fatherly. "Sleep and then read. Learn what you can."

Gambit shambled to his feet, wrestling the crutches under his arms. This only added to his personal humiliation. Bad enough that he couldn't control his unruly children or his emotions, but his body was once more crippled. He closed his eyes on another wave of disgust and self pity.

Charles lay a hand on his, insistent now. "Nothing that happened today was your fault. Don't try and blame yourself. You need help, Remy. You can't handle four Siskans on your own."

"T'ree," Remy corrected softly, choking down the lump in his throat.

"Three. Get some rest, Remy."

Gambit nodded and shuffled off, heading for home.

Remy wasn't sure how he made it home, he was lost in a fog of misery and pain. When he got there, he was alone, he had arrived before Molly returned with Angel from school. It was just as well, he wanted to be alone. He chugged down a couple of Henry's painkillers and fell into bed, crashing almost instantly.

He didn't know how long he slept, only that it was deep and black, dreamless. He only started to become dimly aware when he felt a familiar and comforting weight beside him and soft, gentle fingers running through the thin wisps of his bangs. Sound was trickling in, there was the easy music from the kitchen, Molly had tossed in an Alison Krauss CD, one of their favorites. As if on cue, the one song they had claimed for themselves was playing and Molly was quietly humming along. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of it, it was as if it had been written for them.

It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart

Without saying a word you can light up the dark

Try as I may I can never explain

What I hear when you don't say a thing.

The smile on your face

Lets me know that you need me

There's a truth in your eyes

Saying you'll never leave me

The touch of your hand

says you'll catch me if ever I fall

You say it best when you say nothing at all.

All day long I can hear people talking out loud

But when you hold me near

You drown out the crowd

Old Mister Webster could never define

What's being said between your heart and mine.

The smile on your face

Let's me know that you need me

There's a truth in your eyes

Sayin' you'll never leave me

The touch of your hand

Says you'll catch me if ever I fall.

You say it best when you say nothing at all.

Molly knew he was awake, but she let him be, touching him gently until he finally gave in and pulled her closer. Henry's pain pills be damned, the touch of his wife was better than all of that. She giggled softly as he nuzzled her, he had managed to find at least a tiny spark of playfulness in spite of the day's misery.

"What you doin'?" he grumbled softly against her neck. "Wakin' up a boy from a sound sleep."

Molly signed into his hand. It's suppertime, silly. Time to eat.

Suppertime? Kimble's nightmare episode with Seth had happened first thing that morning, Remy had slept the whole day away. Not that it mattered any, his Siskans were trashed. It was just as well for this day to end so he could start all over again fresh tomorrow.

"What you makin'?"

Can't you tell?

He grinned and made a show of sniffling loudly. "Hmm.. Fried chicken... Best be askin' Set' to come by. He ate jus' about all of it last time he was 'ere."

She laughed and gave him a squeeze, and then he felt her carefully running her hands over his skin and then his leg, checking him. " 'M okay, chere," he said, laying his hand over hers. "It only 'urts jus' a little bit."

Liar, came her reply fast enough. His skin was very warm and the bandage a little tight. He wasn't infected, he had no reason to doubt she could smell it if he was, but you don't get punctured like that without a great deal of pain. He wasn't going to fool her. Let me help you up.

He shifted on the bed, struggling just to sit, and felt a bright lance of pain rip through his leg. Yeah, this was going to be fun. He grunted as Molly helped him sit up and get his legs situated, noting with some surprise how she handled him very easily. She was much stronger than he was in spite of the gender gap, but it wasn't often that she ever had a chance to show him. She got him up and helped him with his crutches, making sure he was steady before stepping back.

He swayed a bit on his feet, his head starting to ache a little. He wasn't moving really quickly and Molly came closer, taking the time to just stand there and prop him up a bit on his crutches. He let her, leaning against her shoulder and simply smelling the sweetness of her hair. He would be lost without her, he knew that. In his deepest pain, she was here, his foundation, his rock. He would have been a basket case long before this if he had been left on his own.

He whispered that he loved her, though he knew he had no need to actually say it. He was weak now and in pain, and in moments like that, knew he would be leaking vibrations all over that she could feel. She turned her head to meet him in a kiss, just easy comfort and love, something he deeply appreciated. He could have done that all night, but she laughed and broke it off. Food's getting cold.

"Hmm.. Dis better dan food."

Angel misses you. She's worried about you.

He closed his eyes. Yeah, Angel. Being linked to Kimble, she must be miserable and a bit needy right now herself. He got moving, hobbling along on his crutches with an ease that was becoming just a little too familiar. He didn't want to get that used to being broken. He had only just come out from the hallway when he heard Angel laugh and come closer. "Uncle Remy!"

"In de flesh, fille. 'Ow you doin'?"

"I'm okay," she replied, her bright smile oddly out of place. Remy had figured she would be in tears or moping around, but she was acting as if this was just an ordinary day. As if her father hadn't walled himself away from the world and left them all behind.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Daddy's just sleeping, Uncle Remy. Don't worry about him. He'll be all right."

Remy blinked, startled. "Uh, d'accorde, petite. If you say so."

"Molly says we can go see him tomorrow."

"Firs' t'ing. I'll take you m'self."

"Okay, let's eat!"

Remy just looked at Molly, who simply shrugged. Remy shook his head and made his way to the table, his eyes never leaving Angel's face. He was used to using her as a barometer for Kimble's tempestuous stormy moods. It hadn't failed him yet and watching her at ease made him wonder if there was something he was missing. After supper, he would take the Professor's advice and read Aiden's files, maybe there was something there to explain all this.

Full of good food and the company of his two girls, his spirits rose enough for him to pop his lap top and take another look at Aiden's files.

Remy hadn't read far when he saw that the Professor was right. Aiden was helping him if he wanted to or not, there were things in here he had needed to know. Maybe Aiden had known this all along and was simply waiting for him to catch up.

This is the hardest part to write, but I know that if I am to have your complete understanding it must be done. I won't give you all the details, I don't think I can. Already my hands begin to shake as I write this.

I hate pain, I think you already know this. In our brief time together, you saw what pain can do to me. You had slapped me in an attempt to rouse me, but it does so much more than that. It makes me return it in kind or with even greater cruelty as you saw. It makes me behave like them, the Chuckfet. And why not? It was they who taught this violent, aberrant behavior to me.

So, I hate pain. When I told you never to hit me again, I meant it. I lived in a world made of pain on levels impossible to describe to one who has never lived there. It doesn't take much to return me there and I fear that someday, I'll go back into that nightmare and never return.

Never hit me again.

Remy paused in confusion, thinking, when would Kimble have hit Aiden? That was very unlike Kimble, in fact Remy could think of only one time when the pilot had ever lashed out at him like that. It was back when they were lovers briefly, while Remy was waiting for Molly to grow a little older. Kimble had wanted their loveplay to go a bit rougher than the thief was used to, had just about outright asked Gambit to rape him, to force him, something Remy could never do. They had argued and Kimble had struck him, a deliberate provocation. Of course Gambit wasn't about to fall for such a flimsy ruse, he was much too clever, and had stomped off instead, looking for a place to cool off. Later, Kimble had come to him all apologetic and it never happened again. In some things Kimble learned quickly.

/ A shattered vase, ripped up clothes. Sound familiar? Shi'ow-ri questioned softly. / We both know something happened there that hasn't happened again. /

Remy nodded. Earlier in the text, Aiden had mentioned there had been some sort of misunderstanding when he and Kimble had first coupled. Whatever it had been, they both had gotten over it. Remy knew Kimble had a thing for pain, that he liked things rough, enough that he might go overboard with someone he didn't know all that well. Looked like he just got his answer as to what that misunderstanding must have been.

Yet as bad as pain is, I like fear even less. Fear with the notion that I have no control over what is happening to me. Even as a gladiator, there were rules and ways to scratch out a living such as it was. You could still control something of how you were treated by your behavior, by your ability to conform.

With Meckland, there was never any such thing.

Meckland wasted no time in bringing us home to his ship. The ship was a large vessel and home to this Dognan Lord, he had no permanent residence but traveled from place to place, making a living out of salvaging wrecks of other ships he found along the way.

Meckland brought us deep inside his ship and down to his Lab. It was really a workshop but I call it a Lab because all he did there was experiment on us. He was laughing the whole way, unable to contain his excitement now that he had his prize.

We were able to figure out from his mad ravings that he had just learned of the Game. He didn't get all of it, I guess his feeble brain stopped processing the rest after he learned that the Rogues were the most powerful of us. Unable to locate a Rogue for himself, he decided to try and make one on his own. It was fairly common knowledge to those in the know that Rogues were made more powerful by breaking them and melting them. You had to be careful how you go about it, though, and he had found some of Quishnalay's old notes. Using those scribbles as a guide, he began his work on us in earnest.

First he had to be sure he could control us so he placed a large Siskan restraining collar on us in addition to the restraints the Muzla had provided when they gave us over. There was no way that Krishnak or Kain with all of their great strength could break us free. Once he was satisfied of his own safety, he next turned a Havertest gun on us.

Did you ever wonder how we get powers? I mean we all know that it seems to occur, but not the why of it.

But I know.

It has to do with the sources of energy we are assaulted with. A Havertest gun discharges large bolts of Ristle energy. It melted us, and then altered us, see? We woke, screaming, and unconsciously sent a volley of spikes back at Meckland in our anger, the first time we had ever manifested such an ability. Where did those spikes come from? It wasn't hard to figure out. Pilots make the Ristle. The strongest of them make the spikes and shields, and these are the ones used to power the Havertest guns. We had become as telekinetic as the source of the energy that had been used to melt us.

Well, wasn't Meckland surprised! He got himself pegged nicely, all sore and bleeding. It wasn't much of a deterrent, in fact it only egged him on. He had added to our powers after all. Time and time again, he blasted us, hoping for more powers to awaken in us.

When the melting produced nothing further, he took to whipping us with a lash and beating us with his own hands.

I don't want to dwell on this overmuch, just the memory of it is enough to sicken me. I'm quite drunk right now, I'll have you know. It's the only way I can keep my hands steady enough to write. Some of the effects of violence you may already know. There is nothing worse than that closeness of a hostile fleshly body to your own, burning with a murderous intent directed at you. It's an intimacy in its own. Our codes demand our desire for the warmth of another, so a personal beating is a double betrayal.

Meckland learned to let our energy levels stay low, making sure we hadn't the strength to fight or the ability to conjure spikes to throw at him again. We needed to be full strength for that, unfortunately. He also dumped us into the skin of a ten year old boy, destroying all the others we had, essentially trapping us in this small frame just as the Muzla had done at first. Then he began to break Krishnak down. He started by yelling and screaming, working up his own anger. Then he started slapping us. Krishnak covered his face, but couldn't protect the body. When Meckland moved on to kicking us, Krishnak fled and Kain took over the body in an attempt to free us from the assault. He was too weak, however, to do much more than howl back at our would be Master, prompting the man to strike us with his fists.

Never had we been dealt such a beating, not even once in the Muzla ring. We had been defeated there, yes, but never with no return to the one doing it, and never to such a degree. Gel blood poured from our wounds and still he continued to strike. Dognan men are far more powerful than ordinary Siskans and even more so than any of the fighters we had ever opposed. The pain was a wall of black, threatening to wash us away.

Control of the body passed from one personality to another freely in a chaotic nightmare of self destruction, our voices changing as we screamed. What Meckland must have thought of this, I can only imagine.

Remy closed his eyes, horrified as usual when he would read such a thing. Yes, Kimble would know of this level of cruelty. Once in a dark lonely night, Kimble had confessed to him that one time, when Sabretooth had been his Master, the man had whipped him with a belt. Lin had been created that night, the beginning of Kimble's fourth shattered personality. If Remy had thought that had been the worst it could be between a Siskan and his Master, he had clearly been wrong.

We never did gain any more powers for all of Meckland's trouble, we could make spikes and form weak shields, that was our limit. He was successful in shattering us deeply. We broke and broke, screaming curses he could never have deciphered, not that he cared. He continued to torture us with abandon, it's not like there would ever be a penalty for this. I mean we were not real, not flesh and blood.

I don't remember much of this time, bless the Spirits. The shattering we suffered was quite severe and the ghosts of us simply piled up, crowding out everything else. It got to be too much for us. Finally one of our selves, I don't know which one, figured out that if we made a big enough shield, Meckland couldn't get in. Our shield making was crude at that time, don't get me wrong, but still quite effective. Meckland still had to charge us now and again to help us heal and keep us alive for the next day's beating. The next time Meckland gave us enough of a charge, we formed the shield as quickly as we could, a trick that paid off. Locked away in this bubble, we found the first real measure of safety we'd had since we come.

The shield was small but quite sturdy, just a bubble big enough for one small child. We locked ourselves away inside and then it was blessedly quiet for the first time since Meckland possessed us. The body went into a low powered, dreamlike state. A well deserved rest that saved us, saved what was left of our shattered psyche.

"Oh, really?" Remy found himself speaking aloud. "Now did Kim figure dis trick on 'is own or did you tell 'im, you petit connard?"

Aiden had known a Siskan could do this! Not only that, he had done it himself! Remy was beside himself with fury. The least Aiden could have done was tell him this to allay his fear.

/ No, then Aiden would have lost his little bargaining chip, Shi'ow-ri whispered. / He was trying to use this knowledge to get what he wants. He was betting on the hope that you hadn't read this far. /

Well, at least the trick hadn't paid off, Aiden was still in a holding cell. The best Remy could hope for was that if he continued on, he would find out how the sphere could be overridden or worked around. Obviously someone had gotten Aiden out of it eventually.

It was there that the first of the premonitions came to me, the Dreamer.

I was part of the gallery of ghosts that plagued the body, had been from the beginning of our Muzla gladiator phase. I was growing stronger over time though I had no desire to jump into the body, not then. As a ghost I felt no pain. What I did was dream and tell stories and sing songs of comfort to the body when it was quiet, I was an escape I guess you could say.

But what happened in the bubble was that the dreams I began to have were not of my own creation. I saw things I could never have imagined. I saw a great war. I saw battles where thousands would die. I saw the death of children, Angels I now know. Our Angels. I saw you, Kimble, but not as you are now. Always it was your pretty female face, the one you will always be to me. The face of your soul and one no Chuckfet skin could ever hide. It was the only thing that gave me peace in those strange dreams of unspeakable horrors. After all, I couldn't imagine what such a war would ever have to do with me.

I don't know how long we were in the sphere, only that there was peace for us finally. We had achieved our ultimate escape and there was only blessed silence and uninterrupted dreams.

Until...

"Command Override Quishnalay - !"

There was a sudden rush of air and then the warmth of blankets and slender arms around us. "Hey, kitten," came a soft voice into our ears. "Welcome back."

Remy sighed with relief, happy to get his confirmation that Kimble would be all right. Kimble had walled himself away, and he would either come out on his own, or could be coaxed out with a Command Override. It hadn't escaped Remy's notice that Aiden had not provided the entire Override, the Dreamer was still hedging his bets. There was no way Remy would be able to use the code to wake Kimble himself with it. Of course, there might be consequences to waking Kimble early, as the thief was about to read next.

Kain howled and came awake violently, wrenching control of us. How dare Meckland do this to us? How dare he wake us up from our peaceful slumber?

"Easy, kitten," came that same soft voice. "There ain't no need fer alla of this noise. Ain't no one gonna hurtcha. M' name's Asher an' I'm here ta helps ya."

Yeah, like we would even believe that! Kain surged forward and all was a blur of snarls, bright light and warm air. Somehow we were out of Meckland's Lab and outside in a fabulous garden of flowers and trees. I was a ghost here - me, the Dreamer. I watched as our body struggled to break free from the strange person holding it, unable to interfere. I could only look on and observe.

It's hard for me to describe Asher, I have such hopes that you two will meet and it would be a crime to spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say that until I met you, I thought his was the strangest skin I'd ever seen a Siskan crammed into. It's always odd to see blended skins, coverings of mingled animal and human. Suffice it to say, it would be a challenge for him to perform with a client. Someone had gone out of their way to put him in a skin that no one could easily use.

The human parts of him were very youthful in appearance, looking no more than that of a adolescent boy, strange for Siskan to appear so young. I doubted that it was by his choice, judging by his other oddities. His eyes were a dark grey, his hair silver but not from any attempt to counter the adolescent look of him, but simply just another color of many. His hair was wispy and thin, just reaching his shoulders. He has some height, but his build is slight, he does not possess the heavy musculature and broad shoulders of a grown man.

It didn't stop him from being in charge though, he had Kain held quite nicely. Being a ghost I had nothing to fear from him, but I thought I saw his eyes move from Kain, up to me.

"Care ta gives me a hand, Dreamer?"

I guess he had looked right at me! It certainly was a shock - no one other than the personality driving the body had ever been able to see any of us. "What can I do?" I asked in confusion, shaking with fear.

"Takes the body and talks ta me. Yer buddy Kain here ain't got the mind fer discussion."

What a shock, hearing that voice. It was Kimble's voice, but lower in pitch as Asher was clearly male. What was going on? I just stood there, uncertain of what to do. I mean, first we were in the safety of the globe and then we were out here with the strange Siskan guy who looked like some kind of freak. I had no idea where here was and for all I knew, Meckland was pulling some kind of trick.

Asher squeezed Kain all the harder, the guy was frothing at the mouth, completely rabid in his rage. He was putting up quite the fight and though Asher was obviously a lot stronger than he looked, he was beginning to tire. The only advantage he had was that Meckland had left us in the skin of a ten year old boy, Asher was bigger than us in size. Still Asher was calm and collected as he looked up at me. "You been liberated, Trishnar's yer Master now as he is mine. He tooks ya from Meckland's lab. That sick fuck ain't never gonna hurts you again."

"Father?" I called out, deferring to the wisest of us. "What should I do?"

Father was there all right, standing in front of the group of us ghosts on the outside. He was being protective, holding the others back. I couldn't help but wonder why if Asher could see us all, he hadn't spoken to him instead of me.

"Cause he's too scared ta takes the body, he always has been," Asher answered as though he could read my thoughts. "Now, come on, Dreamer. Gives me a hand."

"Who are you?" I demanded first.

"M' name's Asher an' I'm a Siskan likes you. We're from the same clutch. If I wasn't wrasslin' ol' Kain here so hard, you'd see I gots a Mark jus' likes you, only Grey."

"What do you want?"

He smiled up at me, his grey eyes nothing but gentle. "I wants ta helps ya. Cain't do that if y'all are fightin' me."

I will tell you that Asher can be a pretty persuasive guy. There's something to his stillness, to his lack of extreme emotion. He can convince folks into doing just about anything and I was no exception. He just made everything sound so reasonable.

I swallowed and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath before diving at the body, struggling to take control of it. Now this was the first time I had ever dared such a thing. The body had always belonged to Kain or Krishnak pretty much, except during that mad time with Meckland, but all the same, not once would I have dared. Why would I want to feel such pain?

Kain fought me, not wanting to relinquish control. I thought I had it momentarily, but then Krishnak butted in, taking advantage of the distraction and booted me out. He fought Asher with renewed vigor and a lot more skill. He was the Gladiator after all. Asher lost his battle and was forced to release his prisoner. He jumped back, dodging a blow, graceful as a dancer, but that and nothing more. He was no fighter.

Kain didn't charge, but took up a fighting stance, wiping leftover drool from his chin from Kain's tantrum. It didn't matter that he was in such a small skin, he was no less deadly. His eyes were mean and hard, taking Asher wouldn't break much of a sweat.

It was only then that I saw a flicker of movement to the right of us. Yes we were in a large tropical garden, but there was also an expansive lovely house here, not all that different from the enormous Plantation house palace I would later live in. There was a large wooden porch that ran the length of it and someone was there, watching the proceedings from a distance. I recognized him as a Dognan Lord, but it was not Meckland. His shine was completely different, regal.

"Any time yer ready, Dreamer," Asher said, still wanting me to jump in.

Right. It hadn't worked out so well the first time. Krishnak and Kain were simply too strong.

Krishnak wasn't about to give me time to think twice on it. He dove at Asher, but then...

"Command Override Quishnalay - !"

And blackness.