There was a longing tug in his chest as he passed the place where Peter had been pointing. He quickly slammed on the brake, causing Arthur to grab the boy who had refused his advice to place on a seatbelt not ten seconds ago. "Matthew! What the hell-?"

"Before you start screaming at me, there's something there," Mattie cut him off, watching the empty hole with curious eyes. He placed the car in park and jumped out, slowly making his way to the hollow ground. He peaked inside: under a light dusting of snow was a small boy, soaked thoroughly, his violet eyes half lidded and slowly falling.

"Arthur! Get over here and help me!"

They stood an arms length from each other, staring each other in the eye. It was over; everything they could have hoped to achieve was done. What was there left for either of them to do? Alfred still had a life; he still had some years ahead of him. Ivan was long overdue for eternal peace. Still, Alfred felt a pang in his chest. He honestly didn't want to see Ivan go. His will was done; he had no purpose any longer.

"It is finished then," the eighteen-year-old ghost affirmed what they were both thinking.

"Yeah. What happens now?"

Ivan looked out to the darkness as though someone was calling him, "I guess my time in-between this world and the next is over. I don't belong here anymore. And as much as I'd love to wait for Chief Pavneli to cross to my side, I am sure he will get what is coming to him soon, yes?"

"You shouldn't even ask," Alfred scowled, "I'll make sure he gets something for what he's done. Preferably lethal injection, but twenty-five-to-life works fine too." He looked up to those deep amethyst eyes as he thought about everything he had gone through. "Thank you. Thank you for keeping Peter safe, freeing the children . . . this," he chuckled, "You're the real hero. Not me."

"You showed me that I could do more. I was scared, even in death, but I could do something if I tried. You gave me courage. Spasibo comrade, you truly are a hero to me and my sisters." Again he looked over his shoulder to a sound only he can hear, "I must go now. I thank you, with all my heart, Alfred F. Jones." With that he turned and began walking into the darkness.

Alfred felt a swelling pride in his chest as Ivan slowly faded away into the black as it slowly became brighter. He may not have been able to save Ivan, but he was able to set him free.

Alfred's eyes fluttered open, wetness covered his face. Had he been crying? The soft whine that escaped his throat told him he had indeed. Still, the pride expanded his heart as he remembered what had happened. No more fear . . . no more disappearances . . . and it was thanks to Ivan. He smiled before getting to his feet. The room looked like any other; no one would have guessed that a magic battle between good and evil had ever taken place. The water that polled on the floors from where the ice had melted was already beginning to freeze over. He looked to the ceiling for a brief moment before walking out. The words, "You're welcome" on his lips.

Matthew watched in despair as the light in the child's eyes faded while Arthur drove with Peter in the front seat. The second person he had ever seen die, and a child no less. He felt ill, but pushed it aside as he lifted the white sheet over the boy's face. He didn't know who he was, but Arthur looked absolutely shocked to see him and still with vital signs. Matthew had never though cryogenic sleep was possible in nature . . . perhaps he had been wrong? Either way, the boy was now dead.

Suddenly the car lurched as Arthur pressed the brake a little too hard before easing the rest of the way down. "Alfred!" the Englishman exclaimed in relief.

"Hey, didn't I say I'd be back?" he laughed.

"I highly doubt you would have found your way," Matthew sighed, "Peter took us the way he said he escaped, but when we reached the 'rock' he told us about, it was really a grave."

"Yeah, frozen over. I saw."

"Not frozen anymore. The kid was still alive when we found him, oddly enough, but I couldn't help him," Matthew frowned. He hated having to see people die. How did preachers do it?

Alfred's eyes went round before he peeked into the back where the boy was and listed the cloth covering. His expression darkened for a moment before he smiled again, this time with much more melancholy, "It's what he wanted, don't worry. Besides, I think it's time for him to be reunited with his family."

"Aren't you going to call Yekaterina and Natalya?" Arthur asked as he saw Alfred getting dressed in a black suit with a matching hat. He wore a spotless white shirt underneath as though he was going to a funeral.

"I will," he assured his cousin, "but I need to be the one to see the families. I just feel like it's my job."

Arthur nodded in understanding. The living were more important than the dead, and Alfred needed closure from whatever he had seen at the facility three days ago. So far, the survivors had all been interviewed for the past few days. All of them asked that no one knew they were alive since it would reach the media. It was something Alfred had suggested.

In Canada, the facility was being excavated; children were being pulled from the ice that the others had talked so extensively about. Some were even still alive by, what the experts said, where improbable circumstances. A Miss Elizabeta Héderváry, age twenty when placed in the ice, was still alive two years later. Alfred couldn't help but laugh with Gilbert as he practically giggled himself to death with tears streaming down his face.

Police Chief Djavakhi Pavneli was convicted guilty for assisting a kidnapper and murderer. When the police went to storm his house to place him under arrest, they found him hanging from his ceiling with a note of condolence pinned to his shirt. He received no pity from those who had worked beneath him and it was a simple burial that no one attended.

Alfred knocked on the final door, in the car behind him sat Yong Soo who was fussing with Meimei's new pink dress that she had rumpled up from fidgeting on their way to the house. The door opened gently before closing again and the sound of a chain lock sliding preceded the door opening up wider.

"Alfred-kun," a small Japanese young man exclaimed as he bowed slightly, "I haven't heard from you for a while. How have you been?"

Alfred smiled and returned the bow, "I've been on the craziest rollercoaster ride of my life and I'm glad to finally be back home. Is Yao in?"

"Yeah, I'm here," the taller brother called before entering the foray, "What are you doing here Alfred? Aren't you on a case?"

"Just finished it and it is actually why I am here."

"Really?" Kiku asked shyly.

Alfred smiled before turning to the car and motioning with his hand. The door burst open and Meimei ran out with tears in her big, dark eyes, her arms reaching out to her older brothers. Behind her, a little shyer than the younger, Yong Soo followed, playing with his sleeves self-consciously. Yao and Kiku were speechless, but reacted nonetheless. Yao ran forward and scooped up the small girl and held her close as he lifted her off the ground in a hug of sheer joy. Kiku followed after, but instead tackled Yong Soo who laughed despite himself. They were all crying. They were all smiling. It felt like a good time for Alfred to go.

"Thank you Alfred, thank you so much!" Yao cried his thanks, snuggling close to his little sister.

Alfred smiled back, "It wasn't me who saved them, I just brought them back."

"Then send our deepest gratitude to whoever did save them," Kiku beamed, "And thank you Alfred, regardless of how little you feel like you did, you have brought us back together. We never dreamed of anything like this happening."

Alfred bowed his head in gratitude, "I will tell them. Good bye."

He could see them waving in front of the house as he drove off; just one of the few families who had said the same exact thing. He always felt like crying when he saw the reunions, but it was not for him to cry. It wasn't for him.

Katyusha knew when she got the phone call, that her brother had been found. They both knew he was dead, but Alfred said he'd tell her everything when they arrived at the morgue. She waited patiently, resolved that whatever happened, she wanted to see her brother; even if he was no longer there. Natalya sat beside her sister, holding onto her hand tightly with reassurance.

"Katyusha, Natalya," Alfred greeted them with a firm handshake, "Do you want to talk now or-?"

"May I see Ivan first?" Katyusha asked with such a pleading look that Alfred could not say no. He led them to the room where the boy was being held while he waited for a set funeral date. Katyusha gasped in surprise, not expecting the young boy who lay in nice clothing in the coffin, his face calm and serene. She reached out to touch him, as though wondering whether he was real or not, before finally grazing his cheek gently.

He felt so cold; he was so still, his face so pale. But he looked as though he could be asleep. She allowed a choked giggle as she saw the scarf she had made him all those years ago still snuggled around his neck. Though worn, it was lovely on him.

"He was frozen for the past eight years and still alive when the Canadian police found him. Sadly, there was nothing they could do for him," Alfred explained solemnly. He was taken aback by the strong embracement that trapped him. Katyusha hugged him tightly, tears in her large, blue eyes.

"I never expected more than bones Alfred; you have already given me so much more. Even though he didn't live, I thank the Canadian officers with all my heart for doing what they could. And you Alfred," she placed a kiss on both his cheeks and one on his forehead, "I thank you with all my heart and soul. If I could, I would have heaven singing your name for the rest of eternity."

He smiled at her thankfully, "I could never ask for that."

"I would give it anyway."

~One Year Later~

Alfred sat in the front of the auditorium beside Arthur, Peter, and his brother who had driven all the way from his home for the performance at request of Yekaterina. Though he didn't admit it, Alfred could tell he was attracted to Katyusha, and it was for more than her bust. They were absolutely smitten for each other. On the other side of Arthur was Francis who discretely held his lover's hand. The two had never looked more at peace together than now. Natalya sat between Alfred and Matthew, holding Alfred's hand. No, they weren't together, but she saw him as her brother and, by now, he did too. Outside the first snowfall of the year flittered down from the overcast sky.

Alfred was no longer a police officer. He had resigned from the force to become a private detective, specifically for missing persons. Arthur was the new Police chief since Alfred had been their first choice. The American had recommended his cousin for the job because he was more diligent than Alfred could ever be with paperwork. The lights dimmed and Katyusha walked on stage.

"Thirteen years ago my brother, Ivan Braginsky, disappeared a day before his birthday on December twenty-ninth. Last year, he was found and returned to us by former police officer Alfred F. Jones and his family who, in the process, reunited many other families who are back together today. I dedicate this performance to them who brought back hope to where there was none and brought light and dissipated the darkness of our despair."

A cello started with a piano joining in, followed closely with a violin. Natalya leaned close to his ear, "We found this in Ivan's room. It had your name on it." Surprised, he opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Katyusha's voice.

"I close my eyes, the lantern dies
The scent of awakening, wild honey and dew.
Childhood games, woods and lakes,
Streams of silver, toys of olden days.

Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.

The flowers of wonder and the hidden treasures,
In the meadow of life, my acre of Heaven.
A five-year-old winter heart in a place called home
Sailing the waves of past.

Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.

Rocking chair without a dreamer,
A wooden swing without laughter.
Sandbox without toy soldiers,
Yuletide without the flight.

Dreambound for life.

Flowers wither, treasures stay hidden
Until I see the first star of fall.
I fall asleep and see it all:
Mother's care and colour of the kites.

Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven.
Meadows of Heaven."

Alfred gave her a standing ovation with Natalya and his brother. The rest of the auditorium responded in kind, her voice as breathtaking as ever. Alfred turned with a sense ofdéjà vu. There, standing unseen in the aisle was Ivan clapping, very much pleased. Violet caught blue and the both smiled to each other.

"Thank you," the ghost said, fading from view and disappearing before Alfred could say anything.

'No,' he thought, 'Thank you.'

Fin