Papa sat in a rocking chair. Anya squatted on an exercise ball, looking up. Papa looked out into the hall, at the edge of the mural. "I didn't think I would see a day when you would have this on your wall," he said.

"I've made peace with it," Anya said. She sniffled. The man who had been Twilight rose and closed the door. He sat back down, idly handling Georgie's medal. "I always talk about Becky, but I don't really remember her, except how she died. What I do remember isn't that good. I think I was like a pet to her. When she knew she could die, she just… forgot me."

Papa shook his head. "I do remember her," he said. "She loved you, the way a child loves. She would have learned to love you better. And don't forget how the leading families raised their children. Boys like George and Bill were trained to live or die as heroes. Girls like Becky only knew how to be saved." He dropped the medal.

"So," Anya said. "What did they tell you?"

"Once military intervention was approved, WISE's highest priority was to disable Berlint's air defenses," he said. "Eden Academy was our most promising target. It wasn't just tied into the warning system, it was a hub within the network. What we needed was to disable at least 5 hubs simultaneously to bring down the grid. The alarms still went through, of course. But it took a minute longer for fighters to scramble, and three minutes more for civilians to receive warnings. Because I had prior knowledge of Eden, I led the team. It must have been the primary objective of my mission."

"Could an alarm have been sent after you cut the hub?" Anya asked.

"Only with a bypass that only a technician could perform," Loid said. "Again, it was a difference of minutes. It might not have mattered. By the time a general alarm sounded, Marten's squadron was in Berlint air space."

"You opened the sewer grate, didn't you?" Anya said.

"Yes," Loid said. "I saw you and George. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could have done."

"Did you ever feel like you- did it?" Anya asked.

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Everyone knew about Marten," he said. "He was supposed to be taken care of. Sylvia knew command had considered allowing him to carry out his plan, in part. She opposed it in the strongest terms. But I did not know. I had no way to know."

"If you knew," Anya said softly, "would you have still done it?"

"I wish I could change it, but I had no other choice," Papa said. "If we had failed, the war could have escalated to a nuclear exchange. Even after Eden, we saved thousands more lives than were lost, both in Ostania and Westalis. I did not do what I did so a madman could murder children."

"Papa," Anya said, "I can undo it. I know, because I'm not me. I'm 9 years old. I came here from the past. So did Sylvia."

"So," Papa said with a sigh. "You still believe that. All right. What do you think changing the past will do to this future?"

"I don't know," Anya said. "Maybe this place will continue to exist. Maybe it just fades away. All I know is that Sylvia says she remembers being here. She says that means everything that leads to this place is already going to happen. But she's not just letting me go back, is she?"

"No," Papa said. "I suppose not." He turned his head at a sound from the living room. In the time it took to rise, a newcomer stood in the opened doorway. "Sylvia," he said. He stepped back. "I always loved you."

"I love you too, Twilight," Sylvia said. She fired.

Anya rose to her feet. "What the fock did you do?" she screamed.

A voice came from the hall: "Aunt Sylvia?" It was Rebecca. Sylvia swiveled on pure instinct. Again, she fired, this time twice. Before she could turn back, the exercise ball bounced off her head. Anya's fist followed right behind. The mind that directed it was a violated innocent. The rage that drove it was the fury of a wife and mother. The sheer momentum allowed Sylvia to sidestep just enough. Anya's arm drove straight into through the print and into the plaster. Her body slammed into Sylvia's. For a searing instant, she saw Rebecca lying still on the floor. She turned her head, just as Sylvia managed to press the gun awkwardly to her chin. She turned her head toward the print, and for a timeless moment, she lived in its world.

There was the castle, with the same profile as the Founder's Hall of Eden. There was the coming of the dragon, so vast it looked like a black cloud filling the sky. There were the stick-figure people who crumbled and melted in the torrent of its fiery breath, including Becky and Bill fused in a single lump. Then came gallant knights with the helmets of soldiers and firemen, marching bravely to the aid of the wounded and dying. In the air, angels rose hand in hand into heaven, led by Damian on his griffin, and Becky's jet, and a squad of firemen still hanging from their truck. Over all, the dragon grappled with the angel in shining armor, its horn in her heart and her lance in its throat. Beneath them, a pink-haired girl sank into a pool of her own tears.

Anya snapped back into herself, to find the muzzle still burning her flesh. "Do it, dog focker," she hissed. She snapped her head back and delivered a butt that staggered Sylvia. The gun flew from her adversary's hand. Sylvia lunged after the weapon. Anya pulled her hand free and raced after her. She burst into the den, and then froze, staring down the muzzle of Sylvia's gun.