(*Author's note: I'm really starting to get tired of writing these. Tired. Tired. Tired.

All right, now that I'm done whining, I do have some business to attend to: 1) Thanks GoldAngel2 for beta reading this chapter for me; 2) Thanks GoldAngel2, Axa, Wolfwood11 and dark angel matoko for reviewing since the last time I've updated (because it's good to know that other people are enjoying my hard work).; and 3) To answer dark angel matoko's question: that's what I'm going for (although that really depends on whether Cathy and Jet want to cooperate with me :) )

I think that's everything. So, on to chapter 5! *)

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Jet stared down at the phone receiver in his hand as he tried to remember Doctor Gilmore's number. He'd made a point of writing it down before he'd left but since he didn't have that paper on him and since he had no idea where said paper was, it wasn't doing him much good now.

He knew he should have memorized it - he hadn't because he figured that he didn't have so much stuff that he'd lose track of some paper. If he remembered correctly, his thinking on the subject had been: 'What's the point of memorizing it now? By the time I need to use it, I'll have forgotten it anyway.'

He had already tried using his internal receiver but everyone had been out of range. Not really a surprise considering that New York, in addition to being his old hometown, had the extra bonus of being very far away from Japan. At least, he'd counted it as a bonus when he'd decided to come back here.

At the moment though, it was turning out to be a problem instead. He was on his own unless he could contact Doctor Gilmore and he wouldn't be able to do that until he remembered what the phone number was. It wasn't like he could call information if he couldn't remember either. He seriously doubted that an operator would be able to help him with this.

Jet could just picture how that conversation would go: Hi, I need the number for a Doctor Kazumi living in Japan. Japan. What do you mean you can't help me? Well, why the heck don't you have Japanese phone numbers!?

No, he didn't suppose that would be helpful.

Unfortunately, about the only thing he could remember about the phone number was that it was long and complicated. Frankly, he was feeling less confident about actually remembering it as the minutes passed. The dial tone had already been replaced with a recording of a woman telling him that if he'd like to make a call, he should hang up and try again. He hung up the receiver and his mind began to wander.

Maybe going so far away had been a mistake. He could berate himself and ask what he 'd been thinking, but he had several answers to that question already. The simplest answer was that, being a natural loner, he had needed some time away from everyone and since Black Ghost was gone, his friends would not need him for a while.

The actual answer was a bit more complicated than that - he had only the fuzziest understanding of it himself. Thinking deeply about other people's motives was something he did often; his own motives were something that he tended not to think too much about. The fact that he was giving them serous thought now . . . Well, he could only attribute that to wanting to take his mind off the fact that he'd be completely screwed if he couldn't remember that phone number.

The need to get away had started, like many of the things in his life had started, with Black Ghost. After Black Ghost's defeat* and after the festivities were over, Jet had found it hard to adjust to the peace afer spending so much time fighting. It was like he didn't know what to do with himself now that his life was his own. After a bit of soul searching (a phrase that Jet normally scoffed at but found apt to describe his thoughts at the time), he'd figured out what was wrong.

To put it simply: he hadn't felt like himself anymore. He could remember the way he used to be and it had seemed very different than the way he was now. It wasn't unexpected (considering what he'd been through), but it had been unsettling none the less. In all the ways that mattered, it had seemed like the old Jet Link was gone.

And he hadn't been sure whether or not he should be happy about that. It wasn't as if he'd been one of the good guys in those days - certainly he hadn't done much worth being proud of now that he was looking back on it. The fact that he'd ever been so proud of his old 'accomplishments' (which had included things like stealing fruit and writing obscene things on walls) left him with an acute feeling of embarrassment.

Of course, not everything he'd done back then embarrassed him. He'd been a good fighter and luckier than some in that respect - he'd had the skill and the speed to take care of himself. And when his fist couldn't help him, he'd had a quick wit to fall back on; he could remember quite a few scrapes he'd gotten out of because he could come up with a quick lie.

It hadn't been an easy life or even a good one for that matter. Though he hadn't been in a position to appreciate it then, that life had begun to wear him down. It'd been hard, living day by day, always watching his back because everyone around him was just waiting for an opportunity to betray him. Even the members of his own gang, people he'd considered friends before he'd understood what that word was supposed to mean, had to be kept at arms length.

He sometimes found himself wondering, not often because having such 'what if'y thoughts annoyed him, what his life would have been like if those Black Ghost operatives hadn't picked him up that night. He couldn't go so far as to say that he was grateful to Black Ghost, but he could see the irony in the fact that he'd probably be dead by now if it wasn't for them. Or, if not dead, then a hard, bitter man who trusted no one and probably not even himself . . .

Jet smiled sadly. Maybe it was for the best that the old Jet Link was gone.

Happy or not, he'd had the serious problem of not knowing who he was. Was he just 002, a cyborg soldier who fought impossible odds to free the world from evil, or was he more than that? He'd quickly realized that there were no answers to that question where he was and that the only way to find those answers was to be on his own for a while and see just who Jet Link was now.

See if he even existed anymore.

So, after about a week of tip toeing around Doctor Kazumi's house, he'd packed his things and booked a flight to his old home to find out. He'd left them a quick note so they'd know that he hadn't been kidnaped or anything (they were his friends and he hadn't wanted to make them worry) but he hadn't told them where he was going. He hadn't wanted to be found for awhile - assuming that they'd look.

It hadn't been his proudest moment, running out like that. He couldn't even comfort himself by remembering that he hadn't been the only one who'd planned on leaving. While 004 and 008 had talked about going back to their home countries, he doubted that either one of them would have left without saying good -

That was it! The phone number had come back to him and he quickly punched it in before he had a chance to forget it again. As the phone began to ring, he could only shake his head. His mind sure worked strangely sometimes, no doubt about it.

"Kazumi residence." The voice sounded a bit tinny and there was a slight echo from the transcontinental line, but he'd know that voice anywhere. And, considering what he knew, he was more than a little surprised to hear it.

"00 - Albert? Is that you?"

There was a short pause before Albert answered. "Yes it is. And if this is Jet, I'd say that you have less reason to sound shocked than I do."

His tone was light but his words made Jet feel a little guilty anyway. "I guess you're right about that."

"I usually am."

His voice didn't hold even a hint of self-consciousness and Jet couldn't stop the smile from coming to his face. Some things never changed - Albert wouldn't be Albert is he didn't sound at least a little smug.

"What are you doing there? I thought you were going back to Germany?" He knew that he should probably just ask Albert to hand the phone to Doctor Gilmore so he could get this leg business sorted out, but he couldn't help himself. He'd missed Albert (indeed, he'd missed everyone from the Dolphin) and it was nice to hear the voice of a friend.

"I did. It just didn't work out the way I'd planned."

When it didn't seem like he was going to offer anything else, Jet figured that it was time to get to the point. "Is Doctor Gilmore there?"

"You just missed him. Doctor Kazumi took him to Tokyo and they're not supposed to be back for hours."

Well, so much for talking to Doctor Gilmore. Now what? He guessed he could call later - but that was stupid! All he had to do was tell Albert instead - he'd trusted the man enough to watch his back in a fight; he certainly trusted the man enough to pass on a message.

He must have taken too long to answer for Albert spoke first. "Not that I'm not happy to hear from you - and I'm sure Doctor Gilmore will be thrilled that you finally called - I'm getting the idea that this isn't a social call."

Jet could feel a little guilt creeping up on him."You're right; it isn't." He only wished it was. He knew that he really should have called sooner and he hated the fact that the only reason he'd picked up the phone had been that he'd needed something.

"So, what's the problem?"

He took a second to pick his words before deciding that there was no reason for him not to level with Albert. "I need help. I damaged my leg."

"How bad is it?" Albert sounded a little concerned and Jet didn't blame him; it wasn't often that he asked for help - even if he was injured he usually didn't ask for help. Doctor Gilmore usually forced it on him.

"Pretty bad," he paused and tried to remember what it had looked like. "The skin over the right knee is gone and I'm leaking something pink."

"Pink?"

"Yeah, I can't remember what it's for though."

Jet could almost hear Albert's shrug. "You've got me." Then his tone became a bit softer, "Are you going to be all right until we come for you?"

'Not like it would make any difference if I wouldn't be,' he thought darkly. He didn't say it out loud because there wasn't any point in blaming his friend when this mess had been his own fault. After all, if he'd been a little more careful at the hotel - actually paying attention to what was going on - this wouldn't have happened in the first place.

"Yeah, I think I'll be okay. Just don't wait too long."

"Well, that depends on how long it takes to get where you are. Where are you?"

After making sure that Albert had a pen, Jet told him the address to Cathy's apartment. While he would prefer to be back in his own apartment by at least this afternoon, he wasn't sure how stubborn Cathy would want to be about it. She could be pretty darn stubborn when she wanted to. Of course, he could be pretty stubborn too.

Once Albert had finished writing, he asked, "So, how did you do this to yourself?" Considering the situation and the person involved, there was only the slightest suggestion that there was anything teasing about the question.

Jet thought about drawing the story out before deciding that there were a few things that he didn't really want to talk about yet. Like Cathy or Jimmy. He couldn't have said why, but he wanted to keep them to himself. At least, for the moment.

"I was saving this woman from a fire when I got caught in an explosion."

It took Albert a second to answer. No doubt he was shocked that Jet had turned down an opportunity to brag about it. Jet usually saw no point in being modest - modesty was just something you used to fish for praise. And Jet had never needed praise to know that he'd done a good deed. "Is she all right?"

"Yeah, she's fine. Not a scratch on her."

Albert must have heard the relief (rather than pride) in Jet's voice. "Is she a friend of yours?"

Jet didn't really want to talk about her but he knew that Albert had this way of telling when people were lying to him. So, he settled for a truthful answer. "Not exactly."

"Ah," he replied knowingly. Jet wondered, a bit flippantly, just what it was that Albert thought he knew.

He didn't ask because tonight was starting to catch up with him and he just wanted to get this phone call over with so he could go to sleep. "So, when can you guys come for me?"

If Albert was surprised by the sudden change of subject, he showed no sign of it. "I don't really know. I don't think that it'd be more than a couple of days." After a short pause, he added, "If you want, I can have Doctor Gilmore call you when he gets back."

"That'd be great." It was bad enough that he was making one long distance phone call on Cathy's phone and he was sure that Doctor Kazumi could afford the costs of a second one better than Cathy could. On the phone base was a card that had Cathy's street address and a phone number. He assumed it was hers, although he wasn't sure why someone would put their own phone number on their telephone.

Jet decided not to question his luck and just accept it.

He gave Albert the number and asked what time it was over there. It had occurred to him that there must be quite a time difference between New York and Japan and he wanted at least a few hours of sleep before he had to talk on the phone again.

"It's about 3:50 in the afternoon here." As if understanding why Jet had asked, he went on, "I'll make sure it's a decent time where you are when he calls."

"Thanks." He stifled a yawn -

- but hadn't stifled it well enough. "Why don't we call it a night? I'm sure that we'll have a chance to catch up later."

"Yeah. Goodbye, Albert."

"Goodbye, Jet. And good luck with that woman of yours."

Albert had hung up before Jet could protest she wasn't 'his'. What was it with people thinking there was something between him and Cathy anyway? First that girl at the hospital and now 004 - who next? He couldn't remember saying anything to give them that impression.

Well, it probably wasn't his fault anyway. That girl just jumped to conclusions and as for Albert . . . he probably thought that it was his duty as the older man to tease him about women. That was all there was to it, he was sure. He considered it a while longer before deciding that it didn't really matter what they thought; what was important was what he thought about it. And, honestly, he felt too worn out to even start trying to figure that mess out.

He decided not to even try. Hanging up the phone, he closed his eyes and stopped thinking about it.

There were certainly other things to think about. A couple days before they could get him? That was less time than he'd expected but more than he would have liked. As far as he was concerned, the sooner he was back on his feet, the better. He hated being like this: helpless. He hated it more than he hated most anything else. Hated . . . it . . .

Jet opened his eyes quickly before he could dose off. He looked at the closed kitchen door and wondered what Cathy was doing in there. She must be bored out of her mind! While he felt a bit bad about chasing her out of her own living room, he figured that it was probably for the best that she hadn't been in here for the phone call; he doubted that she would have appreciated being referred to as "this woman."

"Cathy!" When his call received no answer, he tried again. "Cathy!" She had said to give her a yell, right?

He waited for a few seconds, listening before calling louder. "Cathy!"

Still nothing. "Cathy!" He was starting to feel concerned and, as he called her name again, he hoped that she was all right.

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To be continued . . .

* Which happened in "The Last Battle."