A.N: In case you're wondering, my title for this chapter has nothing to do with the bands Evanescence or Nirvana, though I like both pretty well. I simply thought it would be a wonderful description of the chapter, since "evanescence" means fading and "nirvana" means paradise.

Fading Paradise.

Sums the events of this chapter to a tee.

Oh, and FF Net is not playing nice, so where you see -:- know that I meant to use a hyphen.

Chapter 31

Alexia shut her eyes; tried to shut out the pain. Not that it would help anymore than it had the past hundred times she had tried, but what else could she do? The beast was cruel and untiring; his blows powerful and painful. Really, there was nothing she could do except just wait. Wait and suffer. Damn Veronica to Hell for her actions. Hope Alexandra was doing something to get her out of this.

Alexandra...such a good-natured little child. Doomed for failure if her personality could not be altered. Alexia had never harbored high hopes for her since discovering her true nature. How was she faring with Veronica? Would she be able to sway the insane sorceress's mind?

Maybe. Veronica was foolish and weak of mind. Alexandra was sweet and insanely benevolent. The sorceress had already shown a fondness for the child; in fact, she'd been much more generous to Alexandra than the rest of the family combined. Given this, there was a chance Alexandra would be able to persuade her to let her parents go. She was the one Veronica would listen to the most. If not...Alexia forced the thought from her mind. Alexandra would succeed. She was an Ashford.

Then again, so was Veronica.

Well, a little hope was better than none.

Now Nosferatu stopped to lift his ugly mug towards the ceiling and cut loose with a meaty bellow. Since this was not the actual monster and instead merely a farce imitation conjured up by Veronica based solely on the twins' memories of the creature, it was very doubtful that the being doing the dirty work was experiencing any real pain. This was not a T-Veronica carrier. This tornado of tentacles was compliements of magic; possibly the very same type of magic that had brought Alexia and her brother back from the dead.

Back from the dead...here Alexia's memories were shrouded in fog. How did that happen, anyway? Try as she may, she could not make sense of the fragmented bits of information floating around in the dark caverns of her conscious and subconscious.

Likely it was Ash who had given Philip and his men the order to perform the rite. Much as she hated to face the facts, he would have been the only one besides Alexis who would've cared, and Alexis had not been in a position of power at the time. That would also explain how the men had known where to find them.

What it didn't explain, however, was just how Philip and his men had been able to bring two people back from the dead. It was unnerving. She had asked Ash about it upon occasion, to which he had only shrugged and replied that he did not know how Philip had done it, only that he claimed he could do it, and had offered to do so for a modest price. Having nothing to lose, Ash had all too eagerly agreed.

As for being dead, Alexia's memories were even more limited in this area. She remembered the split-second flash of intense pain-:-that would have been Chris's linear launcher hitting it's mark-:-and then...nothing. Blackness. That had been followed swiftly by a drifting sensation, like floating forever in the darkest reaches of space with no perception of up, down, or any other earthly direction. If she'd experienced any thoughts during this event, she'd long since forgotten them. The next thing she remembered with any amount of lucidness after being killed was waking up with Alfred in the frozen ruins of the Antarctic base, where Philip and his men had been waiting for them with supplies. Once the men had been sure the Ashford duo were stocked up and ready to go, they had simply taken off-:-never to be heard from again.

Peculiar.

Hours of being chained by her wrists and ankles to a bare stone wall whilst a monster of her own doing lashed the stuffing out of her-:-while an unpleasant experience-:-did give her time to think.

How were they able to bring us back? Where once she had dismissed the question as being unimportant, now it gave her something to focus on besides the pain, and for that she was grateful. The words from earlier blazed again through her mind:

" Is that really him? " Alfred pressed, horrified.

Veronica's eyes lost their fire and returned to their usual violet. " Of course not. Even I cannot resurrect the dead."

That statement spoke volumes right there. Veronica may not be able to bring people back from the dead, but something out there could. That being the case, it was only logical to assume that the something that could was more powerful than Veronica. Alexia hated operating on guesswork and speculation, but sometimes that was the only way to operate. Besides, Veronica herself had pretty much confirmed the existence of an opponent known as Discord that she at least viewed as being formidable. Another ray of hope. If Discord was Veronica's enemy then she was Alexia's ally. If ever she got free, Alexia was going to be seeking her out.

Whap!

The once-proud Ashford mistress swallowed a cry and recoiled automatically as another tentacle viciously slashed a bloody path across her thigh, tearing through flesh and fabric alike.

At least Veronica had had the decency to make it so that clothing regenerated along with flesh. Being beaten at all was bad enough, but being beaten naked would be most undignified. Especially in the eyes of her brother.

Alfred. Forcing herself to ignore the intense pain wracking her bruised and bloodied neck, Alexia turned to look upon her twin through a messy curtain of matted blonde hair sticky with blood.

There, only a few arm-spans to her left, was Alfred. It was like looking at a well-dressed rag doll suspended from cold iron chains. It had been ten minutes since the beast had obeyed it's internal clock and switched victims, so all his flesh and clothes had had plenty of time to mend and heal. Nevertheless, his limp, broken form was still awash in drying blood; a grim reminder that more pain was on it's way. With his head bowed and body statue-still, were it not for the occasional soft whimper or twitch of a finger, Alexia would have mistaken him for dead. Every now and then he'd mumble some incoherent gibberish, but his words were so faint they were swallowed by the much-less-quiet roars of Nosferatu.

Ashame, really. She'd tried for awhile to communicate with him via telepathy, then given up. Either Alfred couldn't hear her or else he was too weak to reply. At first she had been angry with him, but time...and Nosferatu...had dulled that anger considerably. Such emotions were always eclipsed by agonizing pain. Besides, it seemed like such a waste of energy to be mad at someone while you were being eviscerated alive.

Alfred swung his head lifelessly to one side, and a small, almost undetectable whimper escaped his lips. His eyes were shut tightly; his face drawn into a pathetic display of defeat.

He is weak. Alexia thought to herself, He cringes under the blows like a dog under a whip. Still, I wonder what he is thinking? Even with the aid of the T-Veronica virus, Alexia had never been able to read minds. At best she could sense emotions, but only if the person was nearby and the emotions were strong. Usually when she was around Alfred she'd feel a warm flood of love and devotion emanating from him. Sometimes happiness, but that was an emotion that had become less and less frequent over the years. She did not know why.

Now, without the effects of her virus, Alexia was forced to experience the world through normal human sensory, and that did not include the ability to read emotions as strongly as before. Even so, she did not need extra abilities to tell what her brother was feeling right now: crushed.

Alfred was crushed in every sense of the word. His mind, body, and spirit were all broken and subdued. Listless, he hung from his chains-:-a living corpse. Slow, shallow breaths escaped his mouth and nose in an almost steady rhythm. Much as both of them wished it, unconsciousness was out of the question here, and Alexia knew he was still aware.

She couldn't tell exactly what was racing through his mind, but whatever it was, it appeared to be disconcerting.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Alfred had lost all hope that it would ever end. Veronica and Alexandra would never return, and he and Alexia were doomed forever to Nosferatu's beatings. This really was Hell. Unable to die, unable to live. In all his years of barbaric torture, even he, master of the Rockfort infirmary and exectioner of hundreds, had never been able to come up with a method of torture this cruel.

Not that you would have winked at the chance. The Voice scolded from nowhere, reading his thoughts.

Alfred didn't bother this time with a reply. It was like arguing with Alexia, only minus the physical results. Also, ( and he hated himself for admitting this ), The Voice made a lot of sense-:-much more than he did on even his most sane days.

So strange. It claimed to be him, or an aspect of himself, yet it showed no signs of insanity and frequently spoke with a diction that put Alexia's to shame. Calm and commanding, it's voice carried an inner strength Alfred could only dream of. To argue with it was to argue with reason itself. It was a battle of wits and Alfred was unarmed against wisdom and common sense. Therefore, he'd taken to ignoring this nagging voice whenever he could-:-mentally drawing himself within his own little private corner of anguish. Not that it helped very much.

Alfred drew in a deep breath and nearly gagged on the foul air. Everything about this place stank of death and decay. Slowly, he turned a curious eye to Alexia. Surely she must be holding out better...

Or not.

Alexia's broken, bloody form hung limply to his right. Nosferatu was having a grand 'ol time beating the evil out of her. Never before had she looked so helpless, so fragile and weak.

Her cross is heavier than yours. The ever-helpful Voice observed, Still think a kind word would be ineffective?

Alright. I hate to sound weak, but I'll try it. It was one of the few things The Voice had said that Alfred actually agreed with. If he couldn't help her physically, perhaps he could at least reach out and lend his mental support.

((Alexia?)) He waited a moment. When there was no reply, he added, (( I love you. No matter what happens, I'll always love you. ))

Several seconds slipped by in silence. Alfred waited anxiously. For a moment, he feared that the regenerating magic had worn off and his sister was, in fact, dead.

She wasn't, however, and her sudden unexpected reply hurt by far worse than any wound Nosferatu could inflict, (( Fool, is this any time to be wasting your thoughts on such absurd notions as love! )) her words exploded in his head with the force of an atomic bomb, (( Love can't save either us! You're even crazier than I had previously imagined. If you love me, then get your head out of the fantasy world and concentrate your efforts on saving us! ))

Ouch.

Alfred felt his heart spill onto the floor. (( Sorry. )) He retaliated, and for once it was his own words unaided by The Voice, (( I just thought you might like to know that someone cared about you. My apologies.))

Alexia was silent. She'd never admit it-:-even to herself-:-but the remark stung. She did take some comfort in knowing that Alfred cared about her. Why had she snapped at him like that? He hadn't been doing anything wrong. She'd been angry and frustrated and she'd lashed out at one of the very few people on earth who actually cared anything at all about her.

For just the faintest, briefest of instances, a strange alien emotion found it's way into her consciousness: guilt.

Alexia shrugged it away. This was Alfred. No matter how badly she may treat him, he'd always come back begging for more. That was the way of things.

Pitiful. The Voice never missed the opportunity to add it's own two-cents' worth, She's even more screwed up than you.

I don't understand. Alfred sobbed, testing his bonds and finding them still unbreakable. The metal was now the same temperature as his skin, and that was ridiculously cold. Any normal person would have been dead by now. Why does Alexia hate me?

She doesn't hate you. The Voice answered, and for once Alfred was glad to hear what it had to say, She just has a problem showing any emotions other than hatred, fear, anger, and indifference. Hatred and fear are remarkably similar. If all the range of emotions a human being could possibly experience were arranged as notes on a flute, fear and hatred would be slightly different pitches of the same note.

Alfred was thoroughly confused. You're saying Alexia fears me? The idea was absurd.

Not at all, The Voice went on, she just takes you for granted and uses you every chance she gets. She could never respect you enough to fear you.

-Flash-

This trip back in time was different than the others. Rather than merge with the consciousness of his victim, rather than being forced into attunement with the person's sensory, Alfred's spirit was able to just kinda float freely above the head of the next target.

And that target was...Alexander Ashford.

What? I have to see things from this wanker's perspective now? You hate me that much? Just kill me and get it over with. Alfred was less than thrilled. He'd never held much respect for his failure of a father. The man was an insult to the Ashford name.

The impudence of an ignorant mind. The Voice scoffed from somewhere unseen and unfelt, Just watch and see. You may be surprised.

Before Alfred could argue or come up with a snarky retort, some otherworldly force pushed him down-:-straight into his father's mind. Unlike previous episodes, this time Alfred remained aware of who he was and was not. However, he was now a prisoner trapped inside his father's head; capable of feeling his emotions and sensing his thoughts without his host being any the wiser of his presence.

Through Alexander's eyes he explored the grounds of one of the family's oldest estates; a dilapidated old castle which had been abandoned for over a hundred years. A young scientist, he was curious as to the Ashford family's origins and had been searching for secret passages which might lead to hidden rooms. His hopes had not been particularly high-:-a hundred years was plenty of time for thieves to come by and ransack the place-:-but the building's unusual location near the coast of the Antarctic Ocean in one of the coldest places in the world ensured that it would not get many visitors. While searching down in the basement he'd accidentally bumped against a wall sconce, and a stone-covering slid away to reveal a secret door disguised to look just like the wall. Following the stairs down even deeper into the earth, he'd come upon a small room filled with shelves containing the most bizarre paraphernalia: among which were assorted witchcraft items such as spellbooks, herbal remedies, potions, bones, Indian fabrics, rare precious gems, ancient scrolls, and a 'dragon's' claw. Most remarkable of all, however, was a small glass vial containing a sample of blood labeled Veronica Ashford.

The scene shifted to the inside of a top-secret lab. No time was lost in getting that sample of blood under a microscope. What he saw contradicted everything he knew about DNA and changed his life forever.

Despite the fact that it was well over a hundred years old, and despite the fact that ice-crystals forming inside of the blood cells should have destroyed them, Veronica's cells were very much alive. More, they were dividing at an insanely rapid pace, with 'dying' blood cells constantly being absorbed by the living and reincarnated as parts of new cells.

Totally enthralled, the young man kept his earth-shattering findings to himself. No one else could know about this-:-especially not his father, Edward. The hearts of men were greedy. All they had to do was get wind of Alexander's miracle, and they would come like vultures and steal the sample away; use it to further their own names.

The next three years were spent studying Veronica's miracle blood. Thankfully Veronica had procreated, and Alexander was delighted to discover that all legit Ashfords descended from her carried traces of their ancestor's special DNA, himself included. When examined under a microscope, his own blood shared many of the same features as Veronica's, only on a much, much more minute level. Interbreeding with more normal individuals had clearly diluted the stock.

While this was immensely interesting, it didn't explain where the cells got their mysterious life-force or why they never died off or decreased in number. One small breakthrough was made when glycoproteins were discovered in the nuclei of the cells. These proteins, most commonly found in species of polar fish, acted as antifreeze and prevented the formation of ice crystals in blood cells.

The DNA proved to be an enigma onto itself. The fact that the cells weren't behaving at all the way they were supposed to hinted to the possibility of extra DNA helixes.

But how many? Why? Where had they come from, and how was such a thing possible? And, perhaps most importantly of all: what would a creature containing a whole body-full of this wondrous blood be capable of?

Seeking the answers to these questions became the ultimate goal. There was no other meaning to life, no other care. All there was was the obsession. Every waking moment of his life was dedicated to the legendary Veronica; to learning everything he could about her and unraveling the bizarre mysteries of her blood. He had every book and portrait of hers brought to him. Every knickknack and item she had owned, or was rumored to have owned. Any shred of evidence could provide invaluable clues. He combed the old journals and documents of the past Ashfords and their servants, searching for answers.

There had been little to go on. The elusive Veronica evaded detailed mention with ease, and even those who had lived with her described her as a mysterious entity. Among the things that were mentioned, descriptions of her intelligence, flawless beauty, and extreme intuitive abilities graced many a page in the diaries and journals of her family and associates. She was, it seemed, perfect; or as close to being perfect as one could ever hope to get.

But Veronica remained a puzzle, and there were still so many pieces missing. Although numerous diaries had been found, the diaries of Veronica's husband and Veronica herself escaped detection. Very little writing could be attributed to Veronica's hand. It was fact that she had founded the Ashford family, but where she came from and how she had come by such wealth was a mystery. There was speculation, of course, but none of the wild tales seemed credible.

For as much information as there was about her life, there was even less about Veronica's death. The only clue to be found was in the writings of a servant named Idabell Radcliff who stated that Veronica died on the night of August 15, 1832, in her manor located along the western French coast just south of the city of Brest. Despite the fact that the Ashford Mistress couldn't have been over 30 years old at the time, no further information about the death was available other than the fact that it had been sudden and unexpected. Nobody knew for sure the fate of the body, but rumors persisted that Veronica's husband had been so devastated by this sudden loss that he had had it frozen and preserved in an icy tomb beneath a sheet of ice in a secret location somewhere off the frigid coast of Antarctica...

A blink of time's eye and 3 more years had passed.

Now Alfred experienced Alexander's frustrations and dismay at being no closer to solving the Veronica riddle than he had years ago. The sample of blood defied science and refused to yield it's secrets. More, the competition in the field of viral research was heating up, and his father often required his assistance in secret projects.

Whenever he could, he whiled away the hours confined in a top-secret Umbrella lab examining slides of the crimson elixir under a powerful microscope. In spite of his best efforts, he was unable to keep his doings completely secret and entered the lab one morning to find his father poking around, coming dangerously close to stumbling upon life's work.

A distrustful character, Edward had suspected his son of stealing a sample of the T-virus virus and tinkering with it privately behind everyone's backs. Alexander had been quick to deny this and had tried to lure him away, but Edward's unwavering curiosity led him to peer down the microscope and discover Veronica's incredible blood.

How amazed he had been!

Rather than scold his son for keeping secrets, the old man had congratulated him for his scientific breakthrough and demanded to know everything there was to know about the blood and it's origins. He also requested half the sample for himself.

This whipped Alexander's mind into a maelstrom of worries; he knew his father was a bad man with an evil purpose. The only ambition Edward served was his own twisted desire to create a virus capable of yielding the most deadly, powerful monsters in the world for biological warfare. He and Spencer had already created a devastating virus responsible for the creation of several grotesque monsters. With Veronica's blood at their fingertips, who knew what the limits were? Even the best of Umbrella's scientists could not hope to understand the nature of the powerful weapon they would be playing with.

Fearful of what they might do with even a drop of the magical elixir, Alexander refused his father's request.

But Edward had been determined to have the blood at all costs.

In a fit of anger, he pulled a gun on his own son, and Alexander had had no choice but to defend himself. In the ensuing struggle for possession of the firearm, Edward got knocked face-first into a portable table filled with no less than a dozen flasks full of dangerous chemicals, including nitro and glycerin. The resulting fireball explosion left him dead and his son wounded.

The truth never surfaced. The official story was that an accident had occurred in the labs. The Veronica sample survived the explosion intact and Alexander continued his studies on it, and began working on isolating the intelligence gene.

A sneeze, and months had gone by.

Now Alfred entered his father's mind a year before the birth of Alexia and him. Life was not being kind to the only surviving Ashford. Failure followed failure and Alexander struggled to keep the Ashford name near the top of the business.

During this time he decided he needed an heir.

All he had ever wanted was to revive Veronica. However, her body could be found and that dream was finally laid to rest. Opting for the next best thing, he decided to create Veronica's child.

Gathering the preserved egg from a female of his choice, he carefully isolated the intelligence gene and tampered with it until the results were to his liking. Then, very carefully, he injected the little egg full of genes taken directly from Veronica's blood. Once that had been accomplished, he fertilized the egg with his own gametes in order to further increase the volume of Veronica DNA and swiftly implanted his creation into a surrogate mother.

Nine months later...

Alexander stood by his wife's hospital bed as she went into labor. His excitement was dampened by the difficult birth. Though he hadn't known it at the time he had chosen her, Katrina had never been the shining example of a healthy young woman. Certainly not healthy enough to safely deliver the twins discovered in her womb months prior. She died in the middle of giving birth to her daughter, and the doctor had to rip her open to save the boy.

Alexander had been surprised when he had first learned that his wife was going to have a double-birth, and from this could only conclude that the egg had already begun to split into two prior to fertilization. He held both infants in his hands even before they had been cleaned up, affectionately dubbing the girl Alexia and the boy Alfred. Noble names for noble children...

So that's what really happened. Alfred had reached a new level of amazement. Ever since discovering the dark truth about their births, he and his sister had always been certain that their father had murdered their mother once she had expired in usefulness. Clearly that was not the case. Alexander had not really loved Katrina-:-Alfred could feel his father's emotions as if they were his own-:-but there had been an attachment and her death brought sorrow.

Another truth that he and Alexia had been ignorant of was the real reason behind their father's failures. Contrary to what he and his sister had believed, the fall of the Ashford name was not on account of Alexander's ineptness. The fact of the matter was that Edward had tied the family so strongly to the prosperous Umbrella Inc. that it's fate was intertwined with the company's. Alexander had been plenty competent; he just hadn't been working on the right projects. Keeping his real project a secret from everyone else caused him to be viewed as a failure, but in truth what he had been working on had been far more spectacular than any virus Umbrella could conjure up if they had a hundred years to get it right.

He wasn't such a failure after all. Alfred's voice was quiet and meek even in his own head. He couldn't believe it. Everything he'd thought-:-everything he'd known-:-had been wrong.

No, he wasn't. The Voice agreed, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, Alexander was not a righteous man by any criteria, but he was not evil. Compared to you and your sister, he was a saint.

Alexia was wrong. The truth was shocking.

Alexia has been wrong about a lot of things, The Voice replied softly, you've just refused to see it. Having an IQ of over two hundred does not make one an expert on all matters physical, mental, and spiritual. Even the greatest intellectuals in history have been wrong about things. Nobody in this world is ever right all of the time. A lot of people aren't even right most of the time.

But how can...

-Flash-

Alfred was cut off midsentence as time once again whipped into overdrive and the years flew by. This time he was not lucky enough to take a back seat in the action-:-as time flew forward, his soul merged with his dad's and Alfred became Alexander; just as he had became all his other victims in times past.

He was in a basement. Dark shadows drifted hauntingly across barren walls. The gray stone floor was hard under his back. There was a musty smell in the dank air; like old books left to rot for many years. The lighting was very dim. He could not feel his hands or feet, nor any other part of his body. Now and again he would find the strength to twitch a finger, but that was it. His eyes were staring up at the ceiling, and he could not change his head's direction.

How long he had been like this, he did not know. So many things he could not remember, so many questions to be asked. Something he was supposed to know...

They'd been hiding her. They hadn't wanted him to find out.

Hiding...hiding who?

His mind was a graveyard of fragmented memories.

He tried to move, but his body was dead under his command. There was no escaping whatever held him prisoner. Only a miracle could free him now. But did he have any reason to hope for miracles? Any gods that existed surely could not forgive the crimes he had committed, the atrocities he had allowed to take place.

Footsteps approached from off in the dark. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait for the wolf to approach and pray that it was not hungry.

The creature's head and torso finally came into view, and Alfred found himself staring straight into the frosty eyes of...himself. Impossible! That's me! I was fifteen. I remember this!

Chaos reigned supreme.

The moment was incredibly brief.

Present Alfred quickly slipped back into the mind of Alexander, and again two souls were as one.

Young Alfred was clearly having the time of his life. An evil grin slithered wickedly across his pale features. " You're awake. That's great." His voice was calm, but there was no hiding the murderous undercurrent lurking just below the surface.

Alexander/Present Alfred's eyes moistened with tears as recognition dawned and the memories came rushing back. Suddenly he could remember it all: the secret room, his children cradling their newborn daughter, the sharp sting as his daughter pricked his arm with a needle filled with fluid...

That was it! The needle! Alexia must have shot him up with some kind of a paralyzing solution. That was why he'd blacked out. That was why he was helpless to move.

It was too wretched to be true.

They'd turned on him! All their lives he'd done nothing but be a good father. His children got whatever their hearts desired. The best education in the land was made available to them. He'd moved mountains just so they could have their way, and how did they repay these kindnesses? By lying, scheming, and inbreeding behind his back!

Now he'd gotten them angry, and the danger was very real.

Alexander's lip quivered. He was afraid of death, and even more afraid of his own children.

" Why are you doing this to me?" His voice came out in a weak, pathetic tremble.

Young Alfred sneered, his face scrunching up into a hateful mask of disgust. " Because! " he hissed, " You were going to take her away from us! You stupid old fool."

Alexander blinked like an owl. He felt his fear turn into anger. " She's inbred! You..."

" She is my daughter! " Young Alfred shrieked, voice trembling with rage. He balled a fist and smashed it into Alexander's face before proceeding to kick him repeatedly in the side. Alexander cried out in pain. " You messed it all up!"

" Alfred! Calm down. He's useless to us beaten." Alexia's authoritative voice called from somewhere just out of sight.

" He's useless to us anyway!" Young Alfred spat, eyes burning down dangerously on the limp figure before him.

Alexander/Present Alfred was mortified. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be murdered by his own children, his own flesh and blood! Fear set in full-throttle, and now he began plead.

" I wasn't going to harm her, I swear!" It was true.

" Yes you were." Young Alfred growled, not buying, " You don't care about anyone. You don't care about us. We were nothing but an experiment to you, weren't we? Isolate the intelligence gene."

Alexander's face paled in horror. How did they know? He'd worked so hard to keep his research secret. " No! No you don't know everything! It was so much more than that...I love you! "

" Your mockery is an insult to my intelligence." Young Alfred snorted, " You don't even know what that word means! Alexia and I were just a failed experiment to bring Veronica back. Come on now, Father," the word was spat, " like you always said, telling the truth is good for the soul."

" No...you and Alexia weren't just..."

" Stop lying! " Young Alfred's foot shot out again, sending another bolt of pain through Alexander's ribs. " It was your blunders that killed Grandfather! You can't do anything right, can you? You're nothing but a failure."

Failure! The word stung. They didn't know. They couldn't possibly know. If only he'd said something sooner...a million replies came to mind. Sadly, they all but vanished the second he fished for one to use.

On impulse he shouted " At least I don't shag my own sister! "

For a split second, Young Alfred froze, taken aback. Then his face relaxed into a carefree smile. " Oh, am I supposed to be offended? " He snickered in that girly, high-pitched way of his, " For your information, Alexia is very..."

" Finish that sentence and I shall use you instead of him! " Alexia's voice was a shrill hiss.

That shut Young Alfred up. Alexander watched as his son's eyes shifted resentfully from him off to something he couldn't see in Alexia's general direction.

" There. It's ready." Alexia said of something Alexander could see. There was a rattle of glass and metal and a general shuffle as objects were moved on a table. Then footsteps.

Never before had Alexander/Present Alfred felt so alone, so utterly betrayed and helpless. She was going to do it. She was going to kill him.

Of course, it had to be her. It wouldn't have been right any other way. The curse of Veronica's blood was to be his undoing. A cruel irony, a savage twist of fate. It was all sinking in.

His heart sped up as his daughter's uncaring visage came into view. A needle filled with some nasty-looking violet-red liquid was grasped firmly in her right hand.

" Should have isolated the loyalty gene, Father." She purred, taking the uncapped tip of the needle across his wrist in a playful manner, " You will be a great test subject for my new virus."

Alexander's heart froze mid-beat. He didn't want to die!

In that last crucial second, his fearful eyes settled upon Young Alfred. He didn't know why, but somehow he knew his son was different. " Son, please! You don't have to listen to her! "

The plead was wasted.

Young Alfred did nothing to stop the needle's descent.

-Flash-

Back to the present.

Alfred kept his eyes squinted shut, felt the tears sting his cheeks through the corners of his eyes.

Tears?

Had he been...crying? The concept was almost foreign. It was a display of weakness, and a most disgracing one at that. Alexia forbade it. Once, when they were young children, she had caught him crying and slapped him for it, calling him a weak and pathetic excuse of a person. To this day she still did not know that the tears he had shed had been for her, because he'd heard of a horrible accident involving a young girl down in the labs and was worried it had been her.

To cry is not weak, to cry is human. The Voice offered gently, She was wrong to scold you for it.

From much too near, the air shook with Nosferatu's rage. Alfred didn't dare to open his eyes. He could all too clearly hear the effects the tentacles were having on his sister; sickening smacks and wet crunches betrayed a horrible beating.

Poor Alexia.

To Alfred's surprise-:-and relief-:-The Voice had no witty retort or smart comment to make on that thought. That was a welcome change. So much pain-:-an overwhelming wave of sadness swept over the former Ashford master, and he was at a loss to explain why.

Screw sadness. Screw pain. Screw living. He just wanted it all to stop. The nothingness he had felt in death was preferable to this hell. Heck, even the cruel and inhumane punishments he had served his victims were preferable. God, he'd never imagined...

You see the suffering you have caused? The Voice was firm but not unkind, Not just to your victims. Many people that you killed either directly or indirectly had friends and family who missed them dearly. How would you feel if one of your family was taken from you?

Please, stop. If translated to spoken words, Alfred's voice would have came out feeble and subdued, You've won okay? Just let me be.

Another sickening slap, and Alexia cried out. She was just as helpless to escape as he was. It seemed wrong, somehow, that they should ever be on equal standings. She was the queen and he was merely the faithful soldier...

It really isn't healthy to think in terms like that, The Voice broke in, reading his every thought, You are in no way inferior to Alexia.

Alfred sighed inwardly. He was too weak to offer any response, too tired to argue. Barely breathing, he sagged in his chains. Waited for the monster to get back to his turn, as it inevitably would.

You feel regret. The Voice sounded slightly amazed, even elated.

Maybe. Alfred ventured, unsure. What he wouldn't give for even a fraction of The Voice's strength. Maybe I had some...less shining moments. Maybe I was just a little too cruel in some circumstances. I never really thought about it when I was doing it...it seemed so natural. I didn't care how the victim felt. But... now Alfred's mental voice wavered, tinged with doubt, even if I wanted to change-:-which I don't-:-but even if I did, it's too late. Nothing I can do or say will ever change what I am: a killer.

It is never too late, The Voice whispered soothingly, Things are never that hopeless. You don't drown by falling into the water, you drown by staying there. Yes, you are a killer, but you don't have to be one forever. You have the power to change that. There is still good in you...Alexia has not washed it away completely.

Alfred was confused. I don't understand. How can you say there is good in me after running me through the past? If you really are what you claim to be, then you know what a monster I am. I deserve to die. The only people I ever cared about were my family and myself.

There is good within you. If you didn't have this spark of light, you would never be able to feel for Alexia or your children. It was very noble what you did for Alexandra. That's the kind of self-sacrifice Alexia could never indulge in, because she could never understand it. You have a greater capacity to feel, to comprehend. Even so, the veil of ignorance has yet to be lifted.

Alfred's eyes remained tightly closed. Soon Nosferatu would come back around to his turn, and he'd found it helped a little if he couldn't see the source of his pain. Thinking about the monster now, he couldn't help but to think of the man he had once been. Alexander had never been that bad of a guy. Sure, he had never been that good of a guy, but he wasn't the Height of evil. More like the Diet Coke of evil. Alexander's last words as a human raced again through his mind: " Son, please! You don't have to listen to her! " At the last moment, he had called to Alfred for help. He hadn't thought anything of it before, but now something about that struck a chord.

Alfred felt like a jackass. For the first time in his life, he regretted standing by idly while Alexia did something deeply immoral. Something he could have prevented. The Voice was right: it was he and Alexia who had placed themselves in this mess, not Veronica. And with that knowledge came a certain truth, a startling truth he never imagined.

In a whisper so quiet it was barely audible, Alfred Ashford said something he'd never dreamed he would ever say, " I'm sorry. Father, please forgive me."

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

The change in scenery was instantaneous. Black oblivion brightened into an unnaturally brilliant cerulean sky. The warm rays of a golden sun bathed the beautiful, vibrant courtyard in an ethereal glow. Everything was neat and well cared for. Songbirds sang in harmony from the branches of bushes and trees, and brightly colored hummingbirds buzzed from flower to flower. A gentle spring breeze that was neither too cold nor too hot caressed the healthy greenery, bringing with it the pleasing scents of a dozen fragrant flowers and whisperings of paradise.

Wow. Where am I? Alfred looked down and saw that he was in his own body and dressed in the same clothes as before. He was sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of a gorgeous white stone well; the same one he and his sister had played around years ago before either of them had been quite as far gone. It seemed newer now, brighter.

Actually, the entire area wasmuch brighter than he'd remembered. Alfred had to blink a few times-:-the glare of the courtyard was blinding in it's brilliance.

At the same time, he was beginning to feel another sensation above, below, around, and within him; an overpowering sensation which tingled the very essence of his soul: love. Pure, unconditional love. It was everywhere around him: in the flowers, the sweet songs of the birds, the warm breeze, the rays of the sun. Everywhere. It encompassed everything-:-the very atoms the place was composed of.

The emotion was incredibly powerful. It was as if all the evil in the universe had been destroyed, leaving only this shining, happy place. Not one cloud darkened the sky. Not a single flower looked anything less than perfect.

Alfred was completely overwhelmed. For the first time ever, he was totally at peace. Totally sound of mind and body. Pain did not exist in this reality. The horrific events of Majika Island and his agonizing karmatic trips through the past were nothing more than a distant memory. The love of this place was overwhelming.

For a moment, he just sat there, allowing himself to take it all in. Never before had he experienced such bliss; such warm, unifying love. He never wanted to leave. For once, the world was perfect.

Suddenly, a shimmer of light some 15 feet directly in front of him and halfway down the polished stone path sparkled into existence. Alfred squinted as the purest, whitest light of all blazed into a brilliant sphere, expanding bigger and brighter until he was forced to look away from the burning luminosity. A human figure appeared in the center of the glow. A few seconds later, the light faded to a far more friendly intensity, and when Alfred looked back he was shocked to find himself staring at his mirror image.

Well, maybe 'mirror image' wasn't the exact term-:-the man standing before him looked like him in every way down to the most minute detail, but unlike him this other Alfred was dressed from head to toe in a pure white gentlemen's outfit, and there was something different about the way he carried himself.

Alfred's first thought was that he was seeing another Past Alfred, but that idea vanished quicker than it had came. Past Alfred could never hope to radiate the warmth, love, and forgiveness this version did.

White Alfred inclined his head slightly to one side and offered Well-Sitting Alfred a kind, gentle smile. At that angle, the sunlight glinting off his straw-blonde hair gave him an almost angelic appearance.

" We meet face to face at last."

Alfred recognized The Voice immediately. " You're the voice! "

White Alfred chuckled good-naturedly. " Yes. I am the voice that's been bugging you. Actually, I'm you're Higher Self. I am you minus your imperfections and hostilities. The veil has been lifted, and a beam of sunlight penetrates the abyss. I am the light of your soul, your beacon in the dark. Veronica's magic has lent me the power to temporarily appear to you in your thoughts, and I shall not waste this opportunity." Here Higher Alfred paused, regarded his flawed counterpart.

Alfred's eyes fluttered with awe and amazement. This was incredible! He opened his mouth to ask the first of a million questions, but no words found fruition at his lips. All he could do was shake his head. For the first time since appearing here, a mildly negative emotion was starting to surface in his mind: confusion.

" Be careful," Higher Alfred warned softly, his voice completely lacking of the snobby, high-pitched tones his double could not help, " This world is of my doing, but you can bring your own emotions in to shape it. Then it will not be so inviting."

Bollocks. Wouldn't want thatAlfred lowered his head and stared at his feet. That giddy, wonderful feeling he'd been so overwhelmed with upon first arriving here was beginning to dissipate. Now he remembered Majika, and what was happening in the one tower of 'Castle Ashford'.

" Why do you insist on playing these games? " Alfred whined, his voice much less pleasing than Higher Alfred's, " If your aim is to confuse me, then you're doing a bloody good job of it. You speak in riddles. Why have you chosen to show me this...place? "

Higher Alfred's face fell into a sad half-smile, though his eyes continued to radiate warmth. He looked deeply concerned.

" I am showing you this because you have asked me too." He started towards the well, and Alfred let him approach. " Listen." Higher Alfred sat next to his counterpart, gazed deep into those liquid sapphire eyes. " If you treat a man as he is, he will remain as he is. If you treat him for what he could be, he will become what he could be. You have caused a lot of pain and suffered greatly for it. But the truth is, no matter how much you suffer, it will never be enough. The sins are too many and their weight too great."

" Cheers." Alfred sighed. It was a real challenge not to let his emotions shine through too strongly and ruin the paradise Higher Alfred had created. " Have any other earth-shattering truths? Because that one does absolutely zero for my confidence. I thought you said nothing was ever hopeless."

" I did, and it isn't," Higher Alfred continued, " you can never suffer enough, but you can try to make amends for what you have done."

Alfred shook his head and made a face of disgust, as if the very idea was out of the question. " Make amends? You must be joking." He ran a hand over the rough lip of the well, enjoyed the warmth radiating from the heated stone, " You know what I've done..." he stopped, arched an eyebrow at Higher Alfred, " know what we've done. Hey, you're found of riddles, how do you justify that? I could be a good little boy scout from here until doomsday. Wouldn't matter. It wouldn't fix a sodding thing, and you know it."

" It could," Higher Alfred answered gently, " if you give it a chance. It's this fatalistic attitude of yours that's holding you back. Admitting you're wrong and then doing nothing to change it is like admitting your car needs gas and then not getting any. It is no sin to try and fail. The only sin is not to try. You're so close to the light, yet you lack the courage to step out into it. Why? "

" I thought you had all the answers." Alfred sneered sarcastically.

Higher Alfred was not offended. " This quality of yours I lack. I am merely trying to get you to be true to yourself. You know that what you did was evil, and a part of you does yearn to atone for your past misdeeds. I can feel it. The thought has crossed your mind even before Veronica ever entered the equation. Yet fear has been holding you back. Fear of loss. All fear is fear of loss. What do you fear you will lose? Speak freely. Ignoring the problem does not make it vanish."

Alfred cast his eyes to the ground, unable to meet his higher self's gaze. His brow drooped, and his face softened in sadness. A single fugitive tear streaked down the side of one cheek.

" Alexia." The sheer helplessness of Alfred's tone surprised even himself. He shut his eyes lightly, stifling back more of the tears he never imagined would form. Slowly, in a voice so soft it was little more than a hushed whisper, he continued, " If I try to make amends, if I change my ways, I'll lose her."

Gingerly, Higher Alfred rested a hand upon his other self's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Had Alfred looked up in that moment, he would have seen the emotional torment he was experiencing reflected on the face of his doppelganger.

" I am afraid you have already lost her." Higher Alfred said somberly, " Alexia is...not yet ready to go down the same road as you. Here is where your paths must part. Choosing to hold yourself back for her sake would be like choosing to remain in kindergarten when you are ready for first grade."

" I love her."

" As do I," Higher Alfred replied kindly, " but standing still for her sake will help neither of us. Life is learning. Some lessons are learned quickly and passed easily. Others are hard and painful. Sometimes the hard way is the only way. Alexia is beyond our help. She refuses to listen to reason. She must find her own way."

" Maybe I could help her..."

Higher Alfred drew back his hand. " You will fail. She will not listen to you and may even try to kill you. I'm sorry, but it is not our place at this point in time and space to help her. She refuses to be helped. To attempt to do so will lead only to disaster."

Alfred jerked his head up abruptly, tear-brimmed eyes flashing with anger. " How can you say that? Veronica hit us both with the same magic, shouldn't her higher self be helping her out as well? If it happened to me, why not her? "

" I'm afraid it doesn't work that way."

" Why the bloody hell not! "

" Because you had already begun to change long before Veronica zapped you. In your case, all it did was sponsor those little trips through the past and help bring me out. Alexia was not as fortunate. Her karmic debt cannot yet begin to be settled because she does not possess the capacity to feel for her victims even if she is forced to see through their eyes as you were. She would not understand. It would be like spanking a week old baby for crying. Needless torture that would only serve to further embitter her. "

" You're saying she's a lost case? If she's in that much trouble she needs me! "

" No! Don't you understand? As much as Alexia is holding you back, you are holding her back. You have to let go. Don't you see? By letting go you are forcing her to open her eyes. That's helping her. Alexia is not yet able to love anyone, but she does care about you-:-she's attached. For now, attachment is the closest she can get to love. As long as she has you tying her down, she cannot evolve spiritually. Don't you see? A person who is receiving handsome alimony checks has no need to go out and look for a job, and therefore misses many opportunities for self-growth. On the same note, Alexia can't learn some of the most important lessons she'll need with you around. Sometimes loss is the only way to gain. The veil of ignorance and the curtain of evil act as a double barrier between her and her higher self. No communication can take place except on only the most minute levels. Alexia is what is known as a black entity. In essence, she is almost soulless. A tiny golden spark remains, but it is but a flicker of light shrouded in a dark fog."

" If she's sooo evil," Alfred drawled, rolling his eyes, " then why hasn't she killed me yet? Why are Ash and Alexandra still alive? We've all done things to make her angry at some point. "

" Because," Higher Alfred explained simply, " evil or not, no one ever wants to be utterly alone. The other Ashfords are all she has in terms of people that halfway care about her. Alexia may not be able to reciprocate love, but she sure does crave it. She gets this love from you, Ash, and Alexandra. Even Alexis loves her to a certain degree. If she were suddenly to lose all of you, she would completely lose what remains of her rational thinking processes in addition to her last spark of goodness. Isolation can do terrible things to a person. Topple kings, crush heroes, destroy warriors...even the mighty are fallen."

Alfred surrendered a weary sigh. So hard to argue with logic. As he had so often heard throughout the course of his life, not being liked didn't stop the truth from being true. Perhaps it is time I leave Alexia. I would be helping her out in the long run. She's strong. She can manage without me.

Alfred turned his gaze skyward. Blinked again in the bright sunlight. For being an ethereal place, this mental heaven teemed with images and sensations which felt all too real. He could even see a few insects crawling about on the blossoms and leaves of the plant life, just as they would in a real earthly setting. He didn't want to leave, but he knew better than to think his stay here was going to be permanent.

Higher Alfred followed his counterpart's eyes, taking in the dreamy, surreal setting and exhaling softly. This truly was paradise, but merely a temporary one. He was going to miss it here. Then again, I will return someday.

" Have you made up your mind? " The question was directed at Alfred. It was semi-rhetorical-:-since Higher Alfred was merely an aspect of Alfred, he already knew the answer.

Alfred bowed his head, sunlight streaming gold off his straw-colored locks. When he spoke, his voice had never sounded so sane and reasonable. " I will try. Alexis and Alexandra believe in me, so I guess that's one reason to at least make the effort. It will just be so hard..." he trailed off, unsure where he wanted that thought to go.

Higher Alfred sent him a warm smile. " Don't worry. I will always be within you during your darkest moments. Always have, always will be." The smile slipped, " However, I must warn you that when you awake back in the torture room you will again resume your unhinged, cruel persona. You will remember very little if any of the talk we shared here. This memory will fade from your conscious mind, and only your soul will remember."

" What! " Alfred gasped, horrified, " You mean to tell me that I'm really..."

Higher Alfred nodded sadly. " Among other things. The truth is that even if your body is...full of mental problems, your soul never is. You're in spirit form right now, so you are perfectly sane and many of your cruel tendencies have been suppressed. The brief period of ecstasy you experienced up here made you forget your problems on earth. When you awake, you will not consciously remember me or being in this wonderful place. Your former personality will again take hold."

For the first time, the cheery skies began to darken with clouds. The happy songs of the birds were reduced to nervous twitters. A light rain drizzled the area. Flowers sagged and lost their luster as the breeze got colder and the animals sought shelter.

" If I'm not going to remember any of this, then what is the point? " Alfred groused, feeling his spirits dampen with the approaching rain.

Higher Alfred scanned the skies nervously before returning his attention back to Alfred and replying, " I said only your conscious mind would not remember. Your soul will never forget a instant of what went on up here, or the change you decided to make. Whether you realize it or not, this will affect your actions in waking life. Call it an epiphany if you will, or a spiritual awakening. I will be with you even if you don't realize it. Like I said earlier, I am you. A part of you you used to largely ignore, true, but by agreeing to try to change you have invited me to have a bigger influence in our life. When you awake, we will be as one once more. No more The Voice, as you were fond of calling me, and no more trips into the past."

" What about Nosferatu? "

" Your epiphany has set you free. Think of it as a release on good behavior. That apology you gave him...that was all the spell required to be broken. It doesn't matter that the monster wasn't the real Nosferatu, only that your apology came from the heart."

" Alexia is in trouble." Alfred groaned then looked away, crestfallen. He wished he knew what to do. If only things had been a little different. If only his beloved sister weren't so stubborn.

The rain fell harder. All around the flowers began to wither and die. The once bright sky was smothered with murky clouds. The birds ceased their chirping altogether and huddled together tightly in their leafy havens. Even the dazzling white stone of the well itself could not withstand the impending disaster; it's once blazing image was now faded and marred. Chill winds heralded the arrival of the approaching storm.

In the midst of this growing gloom, Higher Alfred's stunning white aura shone as brilliantly as before-:- an ubiquitous light in the darkness. Though his outward expression appeared sad and contemplative, his ocean blue eyes sparkled with hope. At last. It's about time. Speaking of which...

Their time here was quickly waning.

Higher Alfred turned back to face his less-than-perfect doppelganger, who was still sitting motionlessly on the lip of the well; a forlorn look in his eyes. It was time to say goodbye. Well, not goodbye in the traditional sense of the word, since they would always be an inseparable part of each other, but goodbye in the not-talking-out-loud-to-an-aspect-of-yourself-anymore sense.

" Well, we'd better get moving then. Veronica's magic here is ending and my ability to manifest in this way is likewise restricted. Very soon I will revert back to being the small voice confined to the back of your consciousness. Remember, reject hatred without hating. Forgive those who have wronged you..."

At Alfred's funny look he chuckled and added, " or at least try not to kill them, okay? " he awarded his counterpart a lopsided grin, " You know, do unto others as you would have them do unto you and all that clichéd crap. I'll be there to help when you need it, but whether or not you choose to listen to me is entirely up to you. And please..." Higher Alfred wrinkled his nose by way of disgust, " don't pander to the illusion that Alexia is your better. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

Alfred was just about to ask how he could possibly remember this advice if he was doomed to forget everything said up here anyway when a blazing flash of light split the air between them like lightning. The world faded silently into a white oblivion.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

I'm sorry. Father, please forgive me.

Alexia's head whipped around at the metallic sound of chains snapping and clanging against bare stone. To her utter amazement, an unconscious Alfred dropped to the floor in an unceremonious heap; his body twitching and spasming out of control.

Nosferatu was there instantly. Throwing his head back in a terrible, shrieking scream, he loomed over his fallen prey and...froze. It was as if a switch had been flicked. Bowing his head, the inhuman monster moaned quietly and swayed from side to side, as if in a drunken stupor. The violent, ever-lashing tentacles so well adapted for cutting flesh slowed to a sleepy pace and sagged to the floor like limp vines, barely even twitching. One razor-tipped appendage slithered to within an inch of Alfred's nose. Though he was easily close enough to deal out some serious damage to the frail form sprawled out temptingly before him, the Nosferatu beast hesitated, unsure.

" What gives? " Was a phrase Ash so often used whenever he didn't understand something, and it was pretty much the condensed version of the thoughts running through Alexia's mind now. Thinking that maybe Veronica's magics had worn off, or that maybe the torture was finally over, the ex Ashford Mistress struggled and thrashed violently in her chains, hoping to snap them the way Alfred's had.

No such luck. Whatever miracle had saved her twin was not doing any favors for her. Even using all of her strength she could barely wiggle the taut chains hugging her body so tightly to the wall. An angry frown darkened her features. Alexia was not a happy little scientist. Desperately, she surveyed the scene before her, searching for any possible clues as to why a magic-induced demon would suddenly have a change of heart.

Then an idea presented itself: Moments before he fell, he screamed something about forgiveness. Maybe if I employ the same technique I will be spared as well. It was worth a shot.

Fighting back all of her pride and self-consciousness, Alexia sucked in a deep breath and shouted, " Father! I am sorry as well! Please accept my most sincere apologies! " It took all the willpower she possessed to manage that small outburst. This had better be worth it. The words left a bad taste in her mouth, and she felt ridiculous for stooping so low.

After waiting about three full seconds, she again tested her bonds.

Solid as ever.

This was getting frustrating.

Off to the other side of room, Nosferatu showed no indication that he had even heard her; a fact which greatly annoyed the queen of the anthill. Where was the point in dishing out a tearfully moving apology if the recipient didn't even grace you with the decency to listen? She may just as well have been apologizing to the ceiling. Alexia rolled her eyes. The only time I shall ever apologize to him, and the wanker doesn't even glance my direction. This is folly. What was I think...

" The difference is that he really meant what he said, and you did not."

" I beg your pardon?" Alexia was caught off-guard. Instantly, her eyes shifted to the source of this new yet oddly familiar-sounding voice.

At first she thought she was seeing double. There, standing not twenty feet directly in front of her, was a fine-featured, blonde-haired man who appeared to be the spitting image of her twin brother, and Alexia was forced to quickly glance back at her fallen sibling lest her eyes deceive her. They hadn't. Her Alfred was still laying motionless across the floor, out like a light. Nosferatu remained perched menacingly over him-:-the scariest Halloween statue. Neither figure budged an inch.

When Alexia looked back, this new, cleaner Alfred had not moved either, allowing her to take a good long look at him. For all the world, it looked exactly like Alfred Ashford. The face, body, and build were all perfectly identical, minus the blood of course. Outwardly, the only difference in appearance was the pure white uniform this Alfred wore which vaguely resembled Unconscious Alfred's usual style. He also glowed with a faint white aura, a fact which both surprised and intrigued Alexia.

Yet there was something more, something that went beyond physical appearances. Alexia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew instantly that this Alfred was different than the version she was used to. He was too confident, too self-assured. The straight, no-nonsense posture with which he conducted himself suggested that he was strong and unafraid, two traits the real Alfred could only envy.

" Who are you? " Alexia snapped in greeting. It was one of those rare instances in life where she had absolutely no idea what was going on, a fact which infuriated her immensely.

Higher Alfred merely shook his head, a pitying frown shadowing the edges of his mouth. " I'm someone who loves you more than you'll ever know and wishes you'd come back to the light. Continue down this path and you are destined for failure."

Alexia snorted in disgust." Who are you to be giving me morality lessons? I know better than anyone else how to care for myself! " It never occurred to the former child prodigy how silly those two sentences sounded when shouted from the lips of a tortured woman hanging from chains in the tower-equivalent of a dungeon.

Higher Alfred sighed wearily. She looked so helpless tied there to that wall by her own selfish pride. Messy, blood-caked hair hung in limp clumps against the backdrop of an equally as bloody face. Alexia's mouth was set in a hardened line; her ice-blue eyes spewed poison. Clearly this was not the visage of someone open to reason. If only there were more he could do. If only Alexia would for once, just once, put aside all of her hostilities listen from the heart.

Of course, this being Alexia, there was a better chance of life on Mercury.

Still, he had to try." Alexia, please," there was so much sadness packed into that one little word that, despite her initial fervor, Alexia could not help but to listen, " just listen to me. You have to let go of your hate. It is never to late to change things for the better. Life is what you make of it, and right now you're making yours a living hell. All along you've had the power to make it better, yet you choose the hard, painful road. Why? Why do you choose to live this way? With each day that passes you're destroying yourself. Do you have any idea how painful this is to watch? Keep it up and you'll be your own undoing."

For a moment, Alexia just hung there, gaping in disbelief at the apparition before her. This couldn't be right. Sure, it looked like the real Alfred, but it certainly didn't sound like him, and not just in the context of the words. The real Alfred could never get his voice to sound so level and steady, so unannoying. In fact, this Alfred barely possessed any traces of a British accent at all. He even sounded faintly Swedish, as absurd as that was.

" You're not Alfred," Alexia hissed irritably, " merely an illusion conjured up by Veronica."

Higher Alfred was not offended. " Your heart deceives you, Alexia. You hide from the truth even when it is standing at your front door. You cannot keep hiding forever. To prolong the inevitable is to prolong your own suffering. You want it to end, don't you? "

Alexia was, at least for the moment, speechless. Never before had she been so completely dumbfounded by another person, much less her own brother. If she'd had her doubts before, now she was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that this version of her devoted twin must be an imposter. Alfred didn't talk like that. That inferior soldier-ant of a brother lacked the sharp wit and diction with which this faux Alfred conducted himself perfectly. Furthermore, ( and this was perhaps the most important detail ), Alfred would never, ever try to convince her to change her ways. He loved the bloodlust as much as she did. Reveled it. Embraced it. This...this White Alfred sounded more and more like a hopped-up version of Alexandra every time he spoke. Briefly, her eyes flickered to the left, where the real Alfred, her Alfred, lay motionless on the floor.

Thankfully, he was still breathing, but now his breaths were long and drawn, as if he were in a deep sleep. Or a coma. Alexia concentrated her thoughts towards him.

(( Alfred! Alfred wake up! ))

No reply.

Whatever had happened, it had left Alfred out cold and Nosferatu in a dazed dream-like state. While it was nice to see the Master of Pain standing around impersonating the Washington Monument, it would be even nicer if the real Alfred would please wake up and get to work freeing her. For loving her so much, this false Alfred would rather lecture her than help her.

Alexia felt like throttling him.

Any minute now Nosferatu could decide to snap out of his stupor, and once he did it was back to being beaten to within an inch of her life. Literally. With friends like that, who needed Chris Redfield?

Still, if he was going to insist on hanging around, she may as well at lest try to get him to make himself useful. Turning back to Higher Alfred, she said, " If you care about me so much, then why don't you free me? That abomination's not going to stay like that forever and..."

" I can't free you." Higher Alfred cast his eyes to the side, no longer able to meet his sister's gaze, " The chains which bind you to the wall are not made of iron and steel but of hatred, pride, and cruelty. You and Veronica alone have the power to break them. Open your eyes to the truth-:-you are your own worst enemy. Veronica could never treat you worse than you treat yourself."

" Enough! " Alexia barked, " You speak utter nonsense! Of course these chains are real. They hold me here, do they not? If you really love me quit playing with metaphors and tell me what to do! "

" I have been telling you what to do." Higher Alfred returned sadly, his soft voice only a few notches above a whisper, " You haven't been listening. I can give you the instructions, but I can't force you to follow them. You must do this on your own, of your own free will."

" Do what on my own! "

The moment had finally arrived. Nosferatu apparently realized that he was standing around like a stiff and decided to get back to doing what he did best. Stepping away from Alfred, he began moving towards Alexia, and her fears intensified.

Higher Alfred clearly did not plan to help. His barely there, ghostlike image was already dematerializing; breaking apart into the individual light photons. He took so long answering that at first Alexia feared he would fade into nothingness before he had the chance. But no, he locked eyes with her one last time, his expression grave and sincere.

When he spoke, his words were so gentle and his voice flowed so smoothly that he didn't sound like Alfred in any respect. " Open your heart. Embrace the truth, and try to set right what you have made wrong. Learn to love yourself and others as much as I love you. I pity you, Alexia, and pray that you will find the way."

Then he vanished. As simple as that.

Alexia looked on with a grudging air of disbelief." Well that wasn't very helpful." She grumbled.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Alfred awoke to the sounds of torture. Something big with a nasty temper was stomping around and beating on something else, and it wasn't being quiet about it either.

Huh? Where am I? Alfred's dazed mind struggled for coherent thought. He was laying on his side against something cold and hard...a stone floor.

The memories jumped back to him in an instant: Ash's fencing lesson, the teacup, Veronica, Majika Island, torture...torture! Alfred leapt to his feet in a hurry, his adrenal glands having been jump-started by the brutal array of images assaulting his mind.

He had to help! He had to get free and...wait. He was already free.

Alfred stared in amazement at the broken metal cuffs dangling from his area of the wall. How had that happened? It seemed unlikely that Nosferatu would suddenly have a change of heart. Not that he was complaining.

" Alfred! Do something! " Alexia's voice snapped his mind back to more pressing matters.

The monster! He'd almost forgotten about it.

If Nosferatu knew he was free, he didn't seem to care. The monster was far too busy giving Alexia her fifty lashes.

" Hey! Over here! " Alfred called loudly, hoping to draw the beast's attention. The Tentacled Terror ignored him.

Alexia rolled her eyes. " You're going to have to do better than that, Brother Dear."

Alfred nodded sadly. Of course. He couldn't stop Nosferatu. No-one could, except..." I'm going to find Veronica and make her free you!"

" Come again? " Alexia could not believe her ears. Why was it that everyone and their sister thought that bringing that damned Veronica back would make things better? Have they all gone mad? She's the bitch who put me here! It made no sense. No sense at all. Then again, Alfred has a better chance of convincing her to save me than he does of getting Nosferatu to stop on his own. " Er, go ahead." She was too tired to argue anyway.

Alfred nodded seriously and gave a proud soldier's salute. " I will not fail you, my queen. I promise." He turned on his foot and disappeared out the door.

Alexia gave a disheartened sigh. Now she had a daughter and brother pushing for her freedom. For some reason that thought did little to comfort. Silently, she gauged her chances for freedom.

Alfred was fiercely loyal to her, she knew, but sadly he was lacking in every other department. Alexandra, though fiercely loyal and a heck of a lot stronger and braver than her father, became distracted too easily. This was not looking good. I don't know which is worse...being beaten from now until doomsday by this walking salad shooter or having to depend on a pair of incompetents to free me. What a depressing thought.

Like it or not, if Veronica did show up, Alexia was going to have to beg for her mercy.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

A/N/R: Whew! And there you go. Next chapter will be a light-hearted relief from all of this dark stuff. There will be humor, and...Wesker! And he will get to do something evil. ((Nods)) First Hylen piece will also be found.

A single tear fugitive tear streked own the side of cheek.

See any problems with the above sentence?

It's an un-beta'd sentence!

We have the classical symptoms of missing words, mis-spelled words, wrong words ( thanks to my spell-check automatically assuming what word I intended to type ), and repeated words. These evil typo trolls drive me nuts! They can take the best stories and maim them! Sadly, being the writer of this fic, many of these are near impossible for me to detect before I post. After all, while a writer is good at spotting the errors in other stories, this is much harder to do for your own fics. You already know what you've written, so your eyes tend to gloss over the small stuff. In this case there is only one thing to do:

I would like to formerly announce my desire for a volunteer beta to catch these little quirks for me. :D Your reward for doing this will be my eternal gratitude and beta-ing credits for each chapter you beta. I will also repay you in the form of fanfic favors if you'd like. :-) I'm not going to hold you to strict time-frames...as long as you think you will be able to get the material back to me within 3 to 4 days it's okay by me. I do realize that most of my chapters are kinda longish and people may need extra time, but it's worth it to me to not have a piece of work that's riddled with random typos.

So...if you'd like to apply for the job, email me with the link now provided in the top of my bio or state so in a review. Be sure to leave me with your email so I can get in contact with you. I will gladly accept more than one beta so the pressure won't be on just one person all the time.

Thanks, and please review!

Shady-777

Synch 14: You are absolutely right. Thank you.

LegendarySuperNamek: Heheh, yeah. I have a different view on chaos as well. I just needed something to fit with the story, so voila! As for your question about Discord, it will definitely come to light later on. At this point I am deliberately leaving the reader in the dark.

Sych77: The idea to add Circe came when I was playing my "Age Of Mythology" game. I've always been fascinated by Greek Mythology. I know quite a bit about all the various gods and goddesses. I thought Circe would be a nice touch because, hey, she's another sorceress, and I've always wanted to write something about her! Thank you as well for the complement on Veronica-:-I have some interesting things in store for her. ( And the reader! )

YamiYumes: I love to surprise! Thanks for the review.

Shaoken: College is evil. Really. I used to update once a week before I enrolled. Now I I am happy if I can update once a month. Thanks for reading.

Overshadowed Malice: Thank you so much for the in-depth review! ((hugs)) I'm frightfully sorry I haven't been about on AIM much, I will try to be on more over the next few days.

Jenny: Wow! A non-RE fan reading my saga? ((faints)) I am flattered! Thank you so much for bringing your grumble to light. I hate Mary Sue and try to avoid her. Are you sure it's Alexis and not Alexandra that's got you on edge? Of all my characters, I've always thought that Alexandra is the most Mary Sueish, and I am doing that on purpose as a plot point. However, this is not the case with Alexis.

So...are you sure it's not Alexandra? If it really is Alexis, please do let me know in another review. ( Or email, whichever you prefer ) I am really trying hard not to Mary-Sue her, and if you help me pinpoint what I am doing wrong I will definitely try my damndest to fix it. Once again, thank you so much for being honest. (( hands you a snack of your choice))

Savage Worlds: Thank you! I am well known for miraculously resurrecting the Ashfords. They died in the games, but I really, really didn't want them to, so I just used my author powers and wrote them back. That's the fun thing about fan fiction. Just because characters are dead doesn't mean they have to STAY that way. Yep. This is definitely more fantasy than science-fiction, though I am trying to blend the two.

Sci-Fi-Reader: Thank you! Good luck with your fics! V

IhavetheT-2Virus: You're always much too kind. ((melts)) Anyway, Veronica and Wesker will be in the next chapter. Promise. I was going to have them in this one, but I kinda got carried away with other things. Sorry.

The Terrapin: Valerian? It's the name of a sedative, actually. ((blushes)) I knew I had heard it before, but I didn't know where. Then one of my friends mentioned it, and I was like, Ooookay. But I liked it, so I kept it. It was partially inspired by my mother's name, actually. Her name is Valerie.

Aha! Nice insight. Very nice insight.

I'm not planning on getting more mice. I barely have time for the ones I have.

Serpentia: Erm, something tells me you're an Alexia fan. You'd never guess it from reading these, but she's actually one of my favorite Resi characters. I don't want to give much away, but I will say that Alexia will eventually get off the rack and kick someone's ass.

Kisu-Ayla: Hylen piece Number One to be found next chapter!

Deviljin17: Thanks. I'll have a look.