Where they walked, no one recognized Jeff, although a few people stared at Evelyn as she held her dirty, ripped dress closed with her folded arms.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked when they reached an empty street corner.

"Yeah," he answered.

"I... I got him in time?"

"Yeah, you got him in time."

"Bastard," she muttered, swiping hair from her face. "Thinks he can control people..." Then, seeming to realize who she was talking to, her face flushed red. "No offense."

How strange she was. There was something about her that reminded him of the Florida beach, where he had tried to escape from his past mistakes and sins. Maybe it was the dusting of freckles across her nose, like grains of sand, or the blue in her eyes, like the sea reflecting the sky.

She noticed him staring. "What is it?"

"I never thought I'd get to meet you in person."

"Well, you wouldn't let me visit you."

"My visiting list was full."

"Yeah, right."

"I was afraid you'd gotten the wrong idea about me."

She turned towards him. "I'm not stupid, you know. I was never 'in love' with you. Your letters were sappy. You laid it on way too thick. I knew you just wanted money."

"Not just money," he murmured. "I was lonely. I needed someone to talk to about something other than what I did, but I knew no one wanted to just have a simple conversation with me. So I pretended I was someone I'm not." He sighed. "My lying always did more bad than good."

"Well, you don't have to lie to anyone anymore," she pointed out. "Back there, when I said I loved you, I really should've just said thank you."

"Did you mean it?"

"You surprised me. I really thought you were going to do it."

"I thought so, too."

"Then why didn't you?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "It wasn't like a voice told me no, or anything corny like that. I certainly had it in me to do it. I just... didn't. It's hard to explain."

"You had to have a reason."

He turned to face her, walking backwards down the sidewalk. "I was compelled by otherworldly forces beyond my control which made me act against my nature, I guess. Is that a good enough reason?"

"Maybe if you were insane," she said. "But the jury decided you weren't. I'd love to believe you had a change of heart, though."

For a few moments they were quiet.

"You never answered my question," Jeff remarked. "Did you mean what you said?"

Her brow furrowed in annoyance, but she smiled. "Don't you go getting the wrong idea about me. I'm a married woman."

"What was it Martin called us? Brother and sister?"

"Brother and sister, Luke and Leia, anima and animus, so on and so forth." She waved her hand. "Lots of words. We're nearly there."

The sky was moonless, starless, cloudless, and the neighborhood around them was dark. She grabbed his hand to guide him, and he didn't shrug off her grasp.

At last, they reached a small brown townhouse fenced in by a brick wall covered in overgrown ivy. There was a warm yellow light shining through the downstairs window.

He let go of her hand. She turned to him.

"You're leaving me now?"

"This is where you wanted to go, right?" he replied, confused by her reaction. He was used to people hurrying to get rid of him. "What else am I supposed to do?"

She pursed her lips. "It just seems a little anticlimactic."

Silence followed. Jeff looked around, his fingers twitching at his sides, then crossed his arms over his chest. "Why are you just standing around? Why don't you go in there and see your husband?"

"I don't know." She smiled falsely, chewing her lip. "I'm a little nervous and afraid. Why do you care?"

"Well, don't start crying," he said. "You're going to be okay."

She laughed, a short, muffled snort that stuttered and stopped abruptly, leaving her forlorn.

He found that he couldn't stand it anymore. I'll just walk away, he thought. Leave her behind. She's where she needs to be. I've got to get going on my own way.

But instead he unfolded his arms, reached out and pulled her in.

"Sorry I'm no good at this stuff," he said.

Evelyn quietly returned the embrace. He'd done more than enough already.

He hugged her close once more before letting go. "Bye, Evie," he said, backing away onto the sidewalk.

She raised a hand to wave to him. "Bye, Jeff."

There was little else for him to do but keep going in the direction they had been headed. He'd been to Chicago before, but didn't know the city as well as others. The best he could hope for was that he would either reach a recognizable landmark, or find someone willing to help.

"Jeff!" someone called.

He stopped and looked around for the source of the voice. There were a few cars parked nearby, but the houses were still dark and there were no signs of life.

"Jeff!"

Familiarity gnawed at his memory, but he knew it couldn't possibly be true. Swallowing his fear and suspicion, he asked, "Who's there?"

"It's me!"

The voice was right behind him. He whirled around, eyes wide, his heart pounding.

It was his brother David as he had been when he was young, a dark-haired child with an open, friendly face and a winning smile. Jeff's shock hardened into cold hatred and disbelief. Without another word, he turned and kept walking.

"Wait!" David exclaimed, scurrying after him. He had no shoes; his bare feet slapped against the pavement. "Where are you going?"

He ignored the boy's cries, crossing the street at a brisk pace. David struggled to keep up.

"Come on, wait for me!" Little notes of trembling fear leaked into his voice, as if tailored to weigh on what remained of Jeff's conscience. "Jeff, please! I don't know what to do. I'm scared..."

Jeff was practically running by then, trying to escape the cries of his baby brother. There was no way it could possibly be the real David. David was a saint compared to him. He never would have wound up in a place like this...

He slowed, panting slightly. Behind him, he could hear soft whimpering, forcibly stifled, but clearly in pain. Slowly, agonizingly, Jeff turned around.

There was a trail of bloody footprints leading back the way they had come, and David was trying not to cry, because he always wanted to be brave.

"Why aren't you wearing anything on your feet?" Jeff asked, still breathless. "Where are your shoes?"

"I don't know," was the choked response from David's weeping mouth. "I want to go home."

Jeff shut his eyes, grit his teeth, and picked up the boy. David clung to him, his sobs beginning to quiet as the pain dulled.

The rumble of an engine forced Jeff back to reality. Martin's white truck drove up to the curb, and Martin's head leaned out the open window. His baseball cap was missing, exposing a head of shaggy long hair of a common and yet indescribable mousy color.

"I believe I owe you a train ticket," he said. Then, cocking his head to the side, he asked, "Whatcha doing?"

Jeff realized his arms were holding nothing but empty air.

It must have been incredibly late, because there was no one at the train station. The softest sounds were amplified by the endless tunnels of silence, and the lights constantly flickered as trains sucked the electricity whenever they passed.

Jeff hung back a few feet as Martin bought his ticket, looking at the posters on the walls, most of them advertisements for products. One had a picture of a smiling President Carter; next to it an anti-drug PSA read "Coming DOWN from a high is HELL."

"Phone call for Jeff Dahmer."

Jeff blinked. A tired-looking woman was holding out a telephone, the tightly curled wire snaking out from behind the glass.

He looked at Martin, but he was busy and didn't seem to notice. Jeff took the phone and raised it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Jeff?"

His eyes widened. "Mom?"

"Jeff, where are you?"

"I'm at the train station."

"Lionel told me what happened. I don't care what you are or what you did. Whatever it is, I accept it. I only want you to be happy."

Though he wanted desperately to believe, he knew it was all a trick. "You're not my mother!" he shouted, his voice hollow and cracking. "My mother never cared about making me happy!"

"Oh Jeff, honey, that's not true," Joyce crooned. "Lionel was always disappointed in you, but I love you, Jeff, just the way you are."

He felt a tear trickle down his nose, stinging salt and bitter brine. After everything he'd been through, only now did he begin to cry.

"All I ever did was hurt you," he whispered.

"How could I not love you? You were my baby. Please come home, Jeff. We can be a family again."

The tears fell in a steady stream, trickling down his face. His throat had closed, silencing him, except for small strangled noises, because it hurt to breathe.

Martin pried the phone from his hand. "C'mon. You've got a train to catch."

But the levee had broken, and he couldn't hold back the flood even if he tried. Jeff hid his face, a grotesque mask of grief, and stood frozen in place, rooted to the ground.

Air rushed past as the train entered the station, ruffling hair and clothes and making the lights flicker. Pistons hissed as the doors slid open, waiting.

Martin grabbed Jeff's arm. Jeff pulled back.

"I can't do it," he sobbed. "I won't go."

"Then what will you do?"

"I want to go back—"

Back to his friends who he could make laugh, if nothing else, and to a house with both parents. Back to his childhood, when he waited for his father to come home, and the nighthawk he'd helped save would come at a whistle. Back to the cradle, when he was nothing but possibilities, and death was but a dream.

"It's too late for that." Martin shook his head. "Don't give up on me now, kid."

Like a petulant child, Jeff dug his heels in, but Martin was stronger and infinitely patient. He half-dragged, half-carried Jeff across the platform and through the automatic doors. Finally, he deposited him in a seat by the window.

"Please don't leave me here all alone," Jeff pleaded.

"No can do, Jeff. Where you're going, I can't follow." Martin glanced back out the doors. "Besides, somebody's got to keep Sam from getting to you."

Sam. Sam, who had reminded him of David from the start. The last remaining pursuer, the final piece of the puzzle, the most enigmatic and crafty of the three boys.

Martin reached into his pocket.

"Here—you'll be needing these."

Blinded by tears, Jeff hardly saw what it was that he had dropped into his lap. His fingers closed around his glasses, won back from whatever forces had sought to render him helpless.

"Martin—" But it was too late. The doors slid shut again, and the train started to move.