Disclaimer: Not mine. No kidding.

By the time he got off the plane at Vancouver, Kirby felt more or less in control again. That is, until he arrived at the highrise where Katja Backovik lived. He called her on the intercom, told her why he was there, and much to his surprise, she invited him up. Kirby stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the penthouse. The doors closed and he felt the slight lurch in his stomach that signaled the elevator was moving.

Kirby chewed his thumbnail, a nervous habit that used to drive Annie crazy. No sooner did he think that, than the elevator car suddenly jerked to a halt and the lights flickered. Alarmed, Kirby started to reach for the emergency button when he sensed a presence behind him. He turned and found himself facing the ghost of Annie. She was wearing a white dress, her skin was pale, and her hair was damp. She smiled at him in a loving way that broke his heart and asked, "Are you my sweet man, Kirby?"

He reached out to her, half expecting his hand to just pass right through her, but he touched her cold face and she leaned into the caress. This illusion of life hurt even worse than the image of her death. Kirby's throat tightened in sorrow. "You're not real."

The elevator doors opened. Annie was gone. Kirby lowered his arm and stepped out of the elevator.

Katja was waiting for him in the parlor. Her stance was dignified, but her smile was warm. Kirby liked her on sight. They sat down, she in a chair, he on the sofa, and talked. As they discussed her husband and the film, Kirby felt a growing kinship with this woman. She had also lost someone she loved, and the pain of it showed through in flickers of her expression. She took him to the room that had been Hans Backovik's editing studio and Kirby saw the way everything was kept pristine, not a speck of dust to be found. A shrine to her late husband.

She talked about Backovik's obsession with La Fin Absolue Du Monde, and his guilt.

"All he did was watch it," she said, staring at the chair the man once occupied, "Like a punishment."

Kirby could almost see him, staring wide-eyed at the editing screen, losing himself in his creation. Losing his mind.

"He stopped by the kitchen on the way to find me," Katja continued in a haunted voice, "In the bedroom...he meant to kill us both. But when he cut my throat," she pulled aside the decorative scarf she wore, revealing a jagged scar, "he only disfigured me. When he cut his own throat, he died." Her smile was full of anguish, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "I'm not sure I got the better deal. I was left to take care of La Fin Absolue Du Monde. I hate that film," she rasped, "And I understand its power. I wish it had never been made."

She looked at Kirby then, almost pleading. "Do you understand what that's like, Kirby? Wanting to do penance for something, but knowing it's too late." The last word came out as a sob.

Kirby thought about Annie, finding her in the bathtub. He remembered how he'd cried over her, begging her to come back, sobbing while he told her he was sorry, so sorry... "Yeah," he said quietly, "I do."

A friendship might have formed then, one based on mutual loss and regret, but then he said something that brought it all to a crashing end before it could truly begin.

"Mrs. Backovik-"

"Please," she smiled, "Katja."

"Katja... Can I watch the film?" He hadn't meant to say that. He meant to say "take the film," but those other words just slipped out and he knew it was too late to take them back. Katja looked at him as if he'd punched her, and all the warmth seeped out of her eyes. She showed him where the reels were kept, just sitting on a shelf in their cases, plain as day. She wouldn't touch them.

"I hate even having it in the house," she said bitterly, turning away.

Kirby walked over to the shelf, amazed at how anti-climactic the end to his search was. He didn't take the reels right away, though. He needed to get something off his chest first. He told her about the cigarette burns, the visions. Katja gazed at him intently, but didn't seem surprised. She knew about the cigarette burns. As he told her more about them, her expression turned to one of resignation.

"You were marked," she told him, "That's how pollute La Fin Absolue Du Monde is. It doesn't just affect you when you're watching it. As soon as you start getting close to it, it rubs off on you. Like you're stepping in quicksand."

She stared at him as one would a man who announced he'd been diagnosed with cancer, knowing that he would soon be gone. "So go ahead, take the film. It's already too late."

For a second, just a brief instant, Kirby was tempted to leave the film where it was and walk away. But then he thought about Matthews, the debt hanging over his head. And he thought about the film itself. He'd told Katja that he wanted to see something extraordinary. He couldn't walk away from the chance to screen such a legend in his own theater. So he took down the reels from the shelf and left. Neither he nor Katja said another word to each other. There was nothing left to say.

Matthews made his move after the last showing. He waited until the last customers left the theater, along with the box office girl and the concession stand kid. Then he pulled up in front of the theater, popped the trunk of his car, and brought out several lengths of chain from inside. Haley was about to lock up for the night when she saw him chaining the front doors shut. She dashed outside, shouting, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm calling in the debt," the older man snapped, "Your boss hasn't gotten my money, so I'm closing this shitty operation down."

"It hasn't been two weeks yet!" Haley cried, "Kirby's gonna be back in just a few hours. He'll have your money then."

Matthews ignored her. He looped another chain around the second set of doors, locking her out completely. Haley's normal wariness of the man was pushed aside by her growing indignation at his treatment of what she considered her second home. She grabbed his arm. "You can't do this-"

The older man shoved her away with such violence that she landed hard on her ass and her teeth clacked together. If her tongue had been caught between them, she probably would've bitten the tip off. Matthews whirled to glare at her and his coat flared open for a second, long enough for Haley to glimpse the gun tucked into his belt. A stab of fear went through her. She didn't dare move from where she was sprawled.

Satisfied that she would no longer interfere, Matthews returned to his task. As soon as the doors were secured, he returned to his car without sparing Haley so much as a glance and drove off.

Haley carefully got to her feet and rubbed her sore tailbone. She went to the doors and tugged on them, hoping there might be just enough slack in the chains for her to squeeze through. No such luck. Her phone was still inside, along with her car keys.

"Fuck!" she growled. At least she had her wallet. She could ride the bus home and call Kirby from there, but she was reluctant to do that. She didn't like the idea of him coming back and finding his theater locked up like this, with nobody here to give him an explanation. She checked her watch. If Kirby's flight wasn't delayed, he should probably be home in a couple of hours. Haley decided to wait for him. It might not be the smartest move, given the nature of this neighborhood, but she didn't feel right about abandoning the theater. She needed to show her solidarity, to the Vogue and to Kirby. It was all she could do for them.

Kirby felt anxious as he watched Bellinger carry the reels away, and at the same time he felt relief. The film was someone else's burden now. And with the two hundred grand check tucked into his pocket, his problems with Matthews would soon be over.

He got into his car and left the mansion far behind him. Even though it was late, he decided to go to the Vogue first. He felt homesick. Along the way he stopped at a liquor store and picked up a bottle of whiskey. He took a few swigs while he drove, in defiance of the law and common sense. After everything he'd been through, Kirby needed something to steady his nerves. If it hadn't been so late, he would've called Haley. Talking to her always seemed to lessen his problems. But he couldn't interrupt her sleep two days in a row. He'd just have to wait until he saw her at work.

The first thing Kirby noticed when he pulled up in front of the theater was Haley crouched down with her back against the wall and her head resting on her knees. She raised her head when she heard the car. The second thing Kirby noticed was the chains on the theater's doors. A surge of anger went through him. He jumped out of the car and stormed over to the doors. He gave them a savage yank, making the chains jingle. "Fuck!" he swore, unwittingly echoing Haley's earlier actions.

Haley stood and approached him with some trepidation. "Matthews ambushed me," she told him, "He showed up outta the blue while I was locking up and put the chains on. I tried to tell him you'd bring him the money, but..." She shrugged helplessly.

Kirby ran a hand through his messy hair in frustration. "Why the hell didn't you call me?"

Haley pointed at the theater. "My phone's in there. So's my car keys."

Kirby sighed. "Alright, I'll give you a ride, then I'll stop by Matthews's place and pay him. We'll be back in business by tomorrow." He beckoned to her. "C'mon."

Haley tugged her sleeves down and started to follow. "Are you pissed?"

"Yeah, I'm fuckin' pissed!"

She hesitated, then asked in a small voice, "You pissed at me?" She had failed to stop Matthews, after all.

Kirby softened. "No, I'm not pissed at you." He reached over and rubbed her arm in a comforting gesture. Haley felt a blush coming on and hurried past him to the passenger door of his car. Before she entered the car, Kirby's phone rang. He dug the cellphone out of his pocket and frowned at the caller ID on the screen. He flipped the phone open. "Hello? Bellinger?" his voice rose slightly in surprise.

Haley threw him a questioning look. Who the hell was Bellinger?

"Wait wait wait," Kirby stammered, "What happened?" A silence while whoever it was on the other end talked. "A-Alright, I'm coming right now." He shut the phone. "That was the client," he explained to Haley, "He said it's urgent, that he needs my help."

"What the hell could he need from you that can't wait 'til morning?" Haley asked.

"I dunno." Kirby looked troubled. "Guess I'll find out when I get there."

"What about Matthews?"

"He can wait a while longer." Something about his tone...it was almost like he was in a trance. Haley felt her mouth go dry.

"I'm coming too," she decided.

Kirby blinked. "You sure you don't wanna go home?"

"My place is nowhere near that rich guy's house," she reasoned, "Taking me along 'll save you time."

Kirby smiled at her, grateful for some reason that he wouldn't be going there alone. "Okay, hop in."

They got into his car and drove off, both unaware that Matthews had been watching from his own vehicle the whole time. He pulled away from the curb and followed Kirby's car towards Bellinger's mansion.