"Are you all right?" asked Jason. Horror twisted through him at the bloody mess that shredded Gray's wrist and lower left arm.

"Yeah, I—" He clutched his arm, as if trying to shield it from view. "I just—needed some fresh air."

"Can I come up?"

Gray nodded absently. Jason wasn't sure if it was the best call, but he had to do something.

As Jason walked up the steps, Gray backed away until he was leaning against the opposite railing. He looked from side to side, as if trying to see a way to escape.

Jason spread out his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know that." His voice quavered, belying his words.

Jason gestured to his arm. "You need medical attention."

Gray glanced at his arm as if he was surprised it was a part of him. "It's nothing."

"Gray—"

He flinched, as if he expected Jason to tear into him. Jason took a step back, leaned against the railing, slick with rain. He'd have to tread carefully—or just call Connie or Tasha. But in a way, he felt it was his responsibility.

"Tasha's worried about you."

"I don't know why. I'm hardly an asset."

"Not just as an asset. As a person."

Gray looked down, then tentatively caught Jason's eyes. "I understand that even less. And why you'd be concerned about me. You should want this." He grasped his arm.

"I don't. I want you to get better, Gray."

"That's not even my real name. It's a name I'm unworthy of. Besides, why would you want me to return to the way I was? Even if I could. That person tortured you mercilessly."

A twinge of phantom pain flashed across Jason's back, where the whip had slashed…. He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to become the same person. I want you to become a better person."

"Even if I wanted to, how could anything good come out of—this?" He raked his fingernails across his arm, ploughing through the bloody gashes.

Jason leaped forward, then caught himself, stopping in the center of the gazebo. "Please, don't do that to yourself."

"I deserve much worse. I deserve to go back to the cell, let them—" He choked. Closed his eyes, shuddering.

Jason ripped a piece off the bottom of his shirt. "Please, let me help you." He approached carefully, holding out the cloth.

"I don't want help," he said sharply, looking up. Then he said more softly, more anguished, "I don't want to need help."

"There's no shame in needing help."

He grimaced. "I suppose I'll have to get used to it. It's better than…my other option. I just…don't know if I can do this mission at all. If I can't even let myself be touched—if everything scares me—if I keep having nightmares….How much of an asset can this be? I'm more of a liability."

"You know how to be an agent, even if you've…been out of the game for a while. It's just too bad you had to go back in the field this soon. But Gray, those symptoms you mentioned don't make you weak. It just means you have PTSD. I should know….I went through it too."

"I thought I was immune to the effects."

"No one else would be able to go through what you did without having the same symptoms."

He tipped his head. "How much did Tasha tell you. About what happened to me." His voice was dark, strained.

Jason pursed his lips. "She…said you were tortured horribly. Much worse than I was. I can't even imagine what you went through."

"You don't want to," he said in a barely audible voice. He snatched the cloth from Jason's hand, wound it quickly around his arm, some of the blood seeping through the white fabric.

He turned away, looking out at the garden, the colors dulled by the mist of rain. He stood there for a few minutes; Jason wasn't sure what to do. He longed to give him the comfort of a human touch that did not hurt, but he didn't want to startle him either. Jason wasn't sure how to help him. His mission would be separate, too—pursuing illegal weapons sales instead of human trafficking. At least that would not be as sensitive an issue for Gray.

"If there's anything I can do, just let me know. If the mission gets to be too much for you, I'll take it on instead."

Gray whirled around. "I do not want to be that helpless."

"You're not recovered yet. Some things will be hard until you're better."

"I have to go on this mission. Whether I'm ready or not."

"All right. I won't take your place. But I'll help you if I find out you're in trouble. Don't hesitate to call me."

A puzzled expression crossed Gray's guarded face. "I don't understand why you'd want to help me. But I suppose I do need it…till I'm back on my feet. Until I can be an agent again." Longing haunted his eyes. "I don't know if I can. But I'll have to try to keep from being afraid—at least enough so I don't go running off like a coward just because some innocent boy ran into me. Even if I have to resort to this in private." He grasped his arm.

"Gray—please don't hurt yourself again. I can't possibly know how you feel, how deeply this has impacted you so you feel like you have to hurt yourself. But it's not going to make things better. I'm no expert—but see if you can find constructive ways to deal with it, instead of destructive ways that'll only hurt your mission."

Gray's eyes sparked. He nodded.

"And –if you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me."

"Thank you, Jason." A small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. "I think that the best way for me to get over this is to be an agent. Or at least, try to. It's in my blood; it's all that I am. Without it, I'll always be broken. If I can even get some semblance of what I was ….Until then, I'll try to find constructive ways to….deal with this. Even though I don't even deserve to be an agent again—I never was one in the first place, really—I was always capable of becoming this—this pathetic creature that can't even cope with—couldn't even defend himself when—" He took a deep breath. Looked down, pink suffusing his cheeks. "I will try—try to keep above this, deal with it—but with all this—mess inside, I can't make any promises."

He clung to the railing for a moment, his head leaning out in the rain, droplets dripping off of his blond hair. Then he turned and without a glance at Jason he strode out the gazebo and down the steps, avoiding Connie even when she offered him her umbrella.

Jason's heart swelled with love for her at this simple, kind gesture. Even if she hadn't forgiven Gray, she was making an effort. And that, Jason knew from experience, was hard. It became easier, but the hardest part of forgiveness was not acknowledging it but going out of your way to help the one that needed to be forgiven.

He strode out of the gazebo and popped up his umbrella again. He walked down the path and joined Connie, stunning in her white dress. He kissed her cheek when he reached her; she laughed, gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Then she twined her hand in his and they walked back through the garden toward the palace.

Jason called Tasha and told her they'd found Gray. As they neared the palace, the rain poured harder, gusts of wind pressing against their umbrellas. Gray walked slowly ahead of them, getting drenched by the rain.

They stepped into the entryway and shook the water off their umbrellas before closing them. Tasha dashed in, soaking wet, her umbrella inside out. "It's turning into an actual storm out there."

They walked into the brightly lit front hall. Gray stood near one of the statues. Tasha hurried over to him, spoke to him in low tones. She led him down the hallway of private suites.

A man in a black suit and tie walked up to them. "His Majesty would like you to join him for breakfast."

"We wouldn't miss it," said Jason. They followed the man to the left. A door opened onto another grand room with an elegantly painted ceiling, images of war and peace swirling across it.

The king and queen sat at the head of a long mahogany table, as glossy as a dark mirror. Stefan lounged with his arm draped around the back of the chair, his ruffled shirt open at the collar, his dark curls spilling to his shoulders. Luna leaned forward, her arms leaning on the table, her face alight with excitement as she spoke.

"Welcome!" said James, lifting an arm and beckoning them closer. "Don't let the setting fool you; we're very informal here, as long as it's not a state dinner."

The queen gave a gracious smile. Luna waved vigorously. Stefan regarded them with interest as they approached.

Jason sat down to the left of Stefan, and Connie sat down at his side.

"Did you find your companion?" asked the queen.

It took Jason a moment to figure out she was talking about Gray. "Yes, we did. He's all right."

"Good. Will he be joining us?"

"I'm not sure. He…he has to get into some dry clothes first."

"It's too bad your visit had to coincide with the rainy season," said the king, "although we can't help what time of year our Centennial falls on."

Stefan leaned forward, resting a ruffled sleeve on the table. "The man I ran into…."

"Gray."

"I didn't hurt him, did I?"

"No, he's all right. You just…startled him, that's all."

"I'll try to be more careful next time. What happened to him, anyway?"

"It's a sensitive issue, so I don't think he'd want us talking about it."

"Sure." Stefan leaned back as if satisfied, but curiosity smoldered in his dark eyes.

"We were just talking about the festival," said Luna. "You're coming, aren't you?"

"We'd love to," said Jason.

"When does it start?" said Connie.

"It kicks off tonight. There's gonna be fireworks! And James is coming. I mean, the prince."

"You can call him James, you know," said the king. "You practically grew up together."

"I know, it's just confusing. He used to be Jamie but he doesn't want to be called that anymore." Her lower lip pouted.

James looked at Jason. "We used to call my son Jamie to distinguish him from me. But now that he's sixteen, he thinks Jamie is babyish and so he wants to be called James. I suppose I'll have to choose another name. Which will be confusing for the people, but…c'est la vie." He smiled. He had hints of gray in his hair that he hadn't had seventeen years ago, and carried more cares in his face, but he also seemed happier, more fulfilled. Though there was still an undercurrent of sorrow, nearly muffled by an all-encompassing joy and a less rough and reserved demeanor from his days as an exile in the Czech mountains. He was now fully king, with a confident but not proud manner, easy, approachable. He'd grown into his role, become a king that Muldavia could be proud of. A twinge of happiness pierced his heart for having had a small role in bringing this king to power and toppling the communists that had smothered the country.

"You are King Roderick," said Darya, looking at him with affection. "So you could take on that name." She whispered in his ear. He laughed. Laced his fingers through hers.

"You may call me Roderick, I suppose. Although I associate it with my father. Or you may choose from among any of my other hundred names." His hearty laugh echoed through the room.

Three men in identical black suits entered, bearing silver trays. They set the trays onto the table, lifting the lids, revealing breakfast food of all kinds. A delicious smell wafted through the room; Jason realized he was hungry, especially after their excursion this morning.

Two more of the servants set plates and silverware in front of them. Connie gestured to her fork, mouthing, Is this real silver?

Jason replied, Probably.

Roderick bowed his head, and the others followed suit. He prayed for the meal and for the state of the nation. He thanked God for Luna's grandfather's recovery, and for the fact that Jason and Connie had joined them.

Then everyone dug in. Jason snatched up two large sausages, several potato rolls, toast, cheese, strawberries. He picked up one strawberry and lifted it to Connie's lips. She bit into it, closing her eyes. "Mmmm." Juice ran down her chin. She hurriedly wiped it away with a cloth napkin.

"These strawberries are really good," she said. "Where are they from?"

"They're from the Dakaley district," said the king. "The best strawberries in the world, in my opinion."

The sausages were plump, juicy, with just the right amount of spice. He was so hungry that he dove into the whole meal and barely looked up until his plate was empty.

"Have all you want," said Roderick. "There's more where that came from. Privileges of being a king. Although—I find myself longing for the simplicity of the Romani camp, or the stillness of the mountains….I do like to treat my guests, but overall, I really try to keep my personal expenses as austere is possible. Still, there are these accusations of corruption….."

"Against you?" said Jason, unable to believe it.

"Sometimes I think they're right. Not the corruption but the fact that this institution really is antiquated. We have a republic with an unelected monarch. I've democratized the country to a certain extent, but it's not enough. To still have royalty in this day and age, inherited by blood…It would be okay if it were just symbolic, like in England. But I have entirely too many powers. I'm considering stepping down soon. The problem is, half the country supports the present system, and half does not."

"It is…difficult to balance the two sometimes," said Darya, looking sympathetically at her husband.

"A monarchy has many inherent weaknesses. A democracy is much more stable, and much fairer to the people."

"It does seem like a necessary step," said Jason. "Although…if you had a democracy, there's no guarantee the president will be a good one."

"True. But he would only be in power several years, as opposed to a lifetime. Even though I came to power with the people's support, I do not feel like I deserve this position. The time has come to end the monarchy, while there's still someone in power who does not wish to be in power. Although I don't think James would abuse his position when he became king, I don't want to give him this burden either. I plan to present my proposal to Parliament at its next session."

"I am not entirely certain that's a good idea," said Darya. "There are many things we need to accomplish before we can destabilize the country with elections."

"Sometimes a little instability is needed to reform old systems. My rule has been a transition period between communism and democracy. It's provided the necessary stability."

"This is…a particularly sensitive time."

"When isn't it? Besides, it will take several years before elections can take place. I will make the necessary reforms between now and then."

Darya nodded, her brow furrowed. She was beautiful, noble, elegant; red-blond hair cascaded over her shoulder, contrasting with her dark red velvet dress.

Stefan leaned forward, shoved his plate to the side. "Uncle James, we're not always straightforward with you. We want you to think you have created a utopia, and we're living well and free. But there's a point where…it's too much to bear."

Alarm spread across the king's face. "What is it?"

"The countryside is in trouble. Crime has reached the roads. We were safe at first, but now—the people blame the Romani for their problems. They're afraid of us like they used to be under the tyrant. We've been harassed, abused…That we could bear; we don't want to trouble you with something we can handle. But now—you know our cousin Karima?"

"Yes, she married someone from another kumpania."

"She had two daughters. But they were attacked one night and stolen—we think. We've heard of others attacked and stolen. It's not just because they hate us. They're selling us."

Roderick stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. His eyes flashed. "How do you know this?"

"We don't know it. Except Aunt Jael thought she saw some Romani girls being bundled up into a van one day. It was in a bad part of Rakima, where there have been lots of disappearances."

"There's already too much trafficking going on in the country, and if they're enslaving Romani—a minority I'm supposed to protect—"

"They're also attacking Turkish people."

"It's not even like you're immigrants. Both minorities have been an integral part of Muldavia since the beginning." His face was flushed with anger. "I'll do everything in my power to help you. It's true, I do get a bit sheltered here in this palace…."

"We did try to keep it from you. No one else comes to the aid of Gypsies." Bitterness seized Stefan's voice.

Darya turned to the king. "You need to be careful how you handle this. Some are already calling you 'Gypsy-lover'."

"Let them."

"It's just that…with the situation as it is, you need to be careful how you present your image."

He flung out one arm toward Luna. "These are our family."

"We'll help them in every way we can. But we should not announce it to the country. That way, we won't tip off the criminals that you're onto their plan."

Roderick nodded, eyes narrowed. He turned to Jason.

"You're here to investigate human trafficking, right?"

"We're searching for the boy of a client of ours."

"That's why you're consulting with Saul and Kris. And Tasha and Gray are chasing the weapons angle of Yavesh."

Jason nodded.

"That's why we need you to stay in power," said Stefan. "No one else would help us like you do. No other ruler would care about us like family."

"Your family saved me when no one else would. I will not abandon you. But I cannot stay in power forever. You must trust the people—"

"Trust the people who are attacking us?" Stefan stood. "If you abandon us, perhaps we should just take care of ourselves like we always have." He strode out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Luna giggled nervously into the silence. She looked at Jason. "Family gets into arguments sometimes."

"Especially me and Stefan," said Roderick. "This time, he's has a point. I cannot abandon him." He looked at Darya, who seemed a little shaken beneath her composure. "Perhaps I should postpone the vote. At least until this crisis is over. The last thing we want is chaos. If order is breaking down even in the countryside, where it's usually peaceful…." He looked down at his empty glass pensively. Then he stood. "Excuse me." He bowed swiftly, then strode from the room.

"Thank you for joining us," said Darya. "Excuse me." She followed her husband, leaving just Luna, who fiddled with her fork then stood.

"I've gotta go call my mom. I'll see you later!" She skipped out the door, her green dress flying.

Connie looked at Jason. "I'm…not really sure what to think."

"When I was shot, Stefan's grandparents took care of me. I might not have been brought up in their camp like Roderick, but I do feel like I owe them. While we're looking for Ben….we might find evidence about the ones who were kidnapped. Just as long as I don't get in the direct sights of Yavesh."

"I don't want you to get hurt. They…tortured that agent that Kris told us about. It was too much like my dream."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to run headlong into danger like I used to. Most of all, I don't want to put you in danger." He caressed her hand softly with his. She pressed her hand to his cheek, kissed him. Kept on kissing him—He pulled away reluctantly.

"Let's go back to our room," he said, breathless, and her hand snugly in his, she followed him back down the hallway to their luxurious suite.