Gli Enigmi Sono Tre
Part III
Turandot

Jewel Faulkner
jfaulkne@brynmawr.edu
 
	Intro: Hi, and welcome to part three of the _Gli Enigmi Sono Tre_ 
trilogy!  It took *waaaay* longer than I anticipated to write this.  What can I 
say, stuff happens.  Oh, well, now it's done, and I couldn't be happier--this 
sucker's been weighing on me since I started; I can't *believe* how long 
this took me.  
	You need to have read my "The Child", and the first two parts of the 
trilogy, "La Speranza" and "Il Sangue."  Plus Ryan Stout's "A Taste of 
Things to Come", and seen "Future Tense," or this won't make any sense 
whatsoever.  This is as dark as "Il Sangue", if not more so, so no more 
need be said.
	...Except for everybody's favorite, Legal Stuff!  Christine, Davida, 
Angelica, and Julia de la Cruz belong to me.  Daniel Straussmore, Blake, 
Athena, Tamitha, and Gemini all belong to Ryan Stout, Mars belongs to 
Scott Iskow, Cassy belongs to Scott Mercure, and everyone else is Buena 
Vista's.
	But this wouldn't be one of my stories without a long intro, now, 
would it?  I was searching through one of my books on opera, and, lo and 
behold, I found this passage, and it was so perfect that I simply had to use 
it.  This is from _Opera in the Flesh: Sexuality in Operatic Performance_ by 
Sam Abel, and it fit so *perfectly*...
	"_Turandot_ goes all out in the sex wars.  It is a battle in music, a 
fight for dominance between Calaf and Turandot.  Calaf wants Turandot, 
and she does not want to be had.  From the beginning, the opera presents 
his 'love' in terms of conquest: He cries 'vincero`,' 'I will conquer.'....in 
the libretto, Turandot rejects Calaf's sexual advances before he solves the 
deadly riddles and wins her body.  But in the music...it is already 
consummated."
	And now for the Finale...
	Ha, fooled ya!  I just remembered a few things more that I have to 
do:  A) The warning.  This isn't butterflies and roses here, and I'm serious.  
This is dark.  It even tops "Il Sangue", and had someone told me that while 
I was writing 'Il Sangue", I would have laughed at them and said, "Yeah, 
right.  And how much crack did you smoke this morning?"  This has an R 
rating, of course, and this is a pretty strong R.  This is the end of 
everything, and it has quite a bit of sex and death.  My internal censor was 
far more muted for this than it was for "Il Sangue."  B) I realized that the 
first two stories were amazingly free of opera quotes.  Well, guess what?  
NOT THIS ONE!!!!!  Be prepared for overload!  And why?  It's got the 
same name as a dark little opera, and I made sure parallels can be drawn 
between the characters of the opera and those in my story!  (<g> Surely 
y'all aren't surprised by this?)  The opera quotes are integral parts of the 
story,  I warn you now.
	And *now* for the Finale...

		***		***		***		***	

FINALE:

Turandot:
"Gelo che ti da` foco                  "Ice which gives you fire
E dal tuo foco                             And which your fire
Piu` gelo prende!                        Freezes still more!
Candida ed oscura,                     Lily-white and dark,
Se libero ti vuol,                         If it allows you your freedom,
Ti fa piu` servo.                          It makes you a slave.
Se per servo t'accetto,                If it accepts you as a slave,
Ti fa Re!"                                   It makes you a King!"
Su, straniero!                             Hurry, stranger!
Ti sbianca la paura!                    You pale with fear!
E ti senti perduto!                       And you know you are lost!
Su, straniero!                             Hurry, stranger!
"Il gelo che da` foco,"               "The ice that gives you fire,"
Che cos'e`?                               What is it?

Calaf:
La mia vittoria                           My victory
Ormai t'ha data a me!                Gives you to me!
Il mio fuoco ti sgele:                 My fire will thaw you:
"Turandot!"                              "Turandot!"

		***		***		***		***

	Vida opened her eyes slowly.  They were puffy and feltdried out.  It
was not a pleasant feeling, but, on the whole, she actually felt very good.  
She had read somewhere that crying was good for the soul, but she had 
never believed it; seeing it instead as useless; a sign of weakness...she had 
gotten that from Christine long ago, who never cried; whose tears had run 
decades before.  But now, despite her strange feeling eyes, her breathing 
being unsteady and wavering, and the fact that her nose felt both dried out 
and congested at the same time, she felt curiously better.
	"Better now?" Matt said gently.
	"Actually, yeah." she said, her voice sounding weird to her ears.  
"That...that helped.  I have no idea *why* it helped, since it didn't solve a 
damned thing, but it helped."
	Matt grinned.  "Women."
	"Hey, what's *that* supposed to mean?" Vida said with a grin of 
her own.
	"You interpret as you will." he said, chuckling.
	"I will."
	Matt patted her head.  "We need to talk, Davida."
	"Yeah.  I know." she said, shaking her head.  "I...I shouldn't have 
told you what I did...it puts you in a rather bad position, doesn't it?  Not to 
mention that it put me in the glue...I can't believe I told you that." she said, 
burying her face in her hands.  "Of all the stupid..."
	"It wasn't stupid." Matt said, taking her hands from her face.  "You 
had to.  You've changed, Vida.  You aren't the woman you once were."
	"I wish I could be certain of that.  But I can't.  I don't know...and 
I'm scared.  My being here is endangering all of you." she said flatly.  "I 
shouldn't stay...but I don't dare leave.  I can't leave...and I can't go back to 
who and what I was."
	"So now what?" 
	"Good question." Vida said, brushing her hair out of her face.  
"God, I hate being stuck in limbo."
	"No one ever said life was easy. But I do know this--you need to 
have a talk with Brooklyn."
	Davida stiffened.  "Matt, I don't know if that's a good idea.  I still 
want his head on a stick, that much hasn't changed.  And he obviously isn't 
too fond of me, either.  He hates my face, after all."
	"Regardless--he has to know.  If you really trust me, Vida, do this."
	She was silent.  "All right." she said after a long pause.  Then she 
sighed.  "So this is 'trust', huh?  I wonder if I wasn't better off without it."
		***		***		***		***
	"Christine!"
	The woman stopped in her tracks, whirling around at the voice 
behind her.  "Yes, Alexander?"
	"I was looking for you." Alexander said, running his hand through 
his bright red hair.  "Angelica was wondering where you were, and I said 
I'd try to find you for her."
	"Is something wrong?  Is she OK?" Christine said, her eyes 
widening, the irrational fear of a mother stabbing her suddenly.
	"No, no!  She's fine." he said, raising his hands and moving them 
in an unconscious gesture to get her to calm down and breathe.  "She was 
just worried about you.  So was I, I have to say.  You've been acting 
strangely the last few days."
	"Have I?" she said, raising an eyebrow.  "I was unaware that you 
paid any attention at all to how I acting."
	"Well, I...uh..." Alexander stammered, caught off-guard.  "Look, 
is something wrong?   Like I said, you're been acting strangely."
	"Yes, I know.  Things have taken...unforeseen...directions with the 
Straussmores." she said, narrowing her eyes.  "But this is my concern, and 
I will handle it."
	"Don't kill him."
	She laughed.  "Oh, Alexander, you think too little of me!" Christine 
said, smiling.  "That would be far too...unimaginative." she finished, her 
eyebrows rising on her final word.  Alexander stared at Christine.
	"Sometimes, Christine, I wonder about you." the young Xanatos 
said, frowning.
	"There's nothing to wonder about." she said, tilting her head.  "I am 
an assassin.  Nothing more." she said, and walked away singing cheerfully.  
"Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?  Quem patronum rogaturus, cum vix justus, 
justus sit securus?"	
	What shall I say in misery?  Whom shall I ask to be my advocate, 
when scarcely the just, the just may be without fear?
	Alexander watched the woman go.  "No, Christine," he said to 
himself.  "You are *not* just an assassin."
		***		***		***		*** 	
	He dreamed of her.  It seemed every time he slept he dreamed of 
her.  Of the night  they met, and how her dark black eyes seemed to 
glimmer.  And he dreamed of how easy it was for him to make Julia laugh 
that sweet, rare laugh of hers, not heard from the serious young woman 
until he took it upon himself to make her laugh.  He dreamed of her voice 
whispering gently in his ear 'te quiero--I love you' when he held her...
	Mars tossed uneasily in his sleep.  The pleasant dream 
metamorphosized cruelly into his holding her as she bled to death from her 
grievous wounds, his blood mixing with her own.
	"I'm sorry...I was too late to warn...I..." she whispered hoarsely.  
"Mars, I...too soon, so soon, mi amor...te..."
	"Julia...no, please..." he whispered feebly, his own limbs growing 
weaker and weaker by the second, his eyesight blurring and darkening.  His 
world was spiraling into darkness; his only thought was that his Julia was 
gone...but soon, oh, soon he would be with her again.  The world went 
black, fading into nothingness, and then...and then Fate, in its infinite 
sadism, yanked him away from the welcoming oblivion of death and back 
into the bleak world where all he had was nothing.
	When he awoke his cheeks were wet.  Wet with sweat or tears, he 
didn't know or really care.  He only knew that his Julia was gone, taken 
away from him when he finally had her, taken by an assassin's knife.  By 
Salome, who still lived and breathed while his quiet Julia was gone, forever 
gone.  He closed his eyes.  And when closed his eyes, he could hear her 
breathing and feel her cheek against his arm...
	His eyes flew open.  Gone.  She was gone, and she was never 
coming back to him.  It was that simple, and it ripped him up anew every 
time he realized it.  Thanks to that bitch Salome, everything he cared for 
was gone, all of his dreams and hopes destroyed.  He would never see a 
smile peep forth slowly from that serious face, never see her vibrant black 
eyes flashing at him again, never run his fingers through her impossibly 
dark burgundy hair, never hear her soft voice whisper in Spanish to the 
unborn baby who would never get to live.  All because of *her*.  Salome.  
	Salome would pay for this.  This he swore.  She would pay for this.  
She would hurt like this.  She would know this pain.  By the blood that had 
been spilt, she would pay.
	She would die. 
		***		***		***		***		
	Vida silently waited.  She knew everything was going to hit the fan 
and quickly--she was out, and this was *not* a good thing.  Brooklyn was 
not going to like this.  She had to admire Matt for his bravery.  As soon as 
she had woken up, he had marched her right into the main headquarters, 
and sat her down, telling her to stay put while he went and spoke to 
Brooklyn.  Obeying the authority in his voice, she sat and stayed.  She felt 
like a freak on display--it seemed that everyone knew who she was... and 
hated her.  She felt like shrinking against a wall, but in her head, she could 
hear her sister's voice, telling her to be strong and not show her fear and 
nervousness.  She swallowed it within her as best she could.  Then, all of a 
sudden, she paled and leapt to her feet.  "Christine!"
	The second she yelled out the name, she knew she was wrong.  
Whoever the mysterious human with her sister's face was, it was *not* her 
sister.  The woman was far older, but the resemblance was still 
unmistakable.
	Athena turned violently.  Her eyes narrowed.  "Salome."
	"Not anymore." she said, her head rising.  "I left all of that.  It's 
over."
	"Really?" Athena Maza-Straussmore said, cocking her head.  "You 
expect me to believe that?  Do you even know who I am?"
	"You look like my sister when you do that." Vida said matter-of-
factly, ignoring the venom in the woman's voice.
	"Your sister?"
	"Christine.  Turandot."
	"Great.  I look like an assassin." Athena said sarcastically.  
"Specifically, like the assassin who helped destroy my life."
	"Great.  Is there *anyone* here who doesn't want me and my sister 
dead?"
	"No." Athena said flatly.
	"Fabulous." Vida muttered under her breath, resettling her wings.  
Dammit, what was taking Matt so long with Brooklyn?
		***		***		***		***
	"You did *WHAT*?!!?" Brooklyn yelled at the top of his lungs.  
Matt just barely avoided flinching.
	"She's waiting outside to talk to you." Matt said, keeping his voice 
calm. 
	Brooklyn's jaw just dropped.  "I don't believe this." 
	"Believe it.  She has a lot she has to tell you."
	"You...you deliberately disobeyed me.  Again." Brooklyn said 
angrily.
	"Yes.  I did."
	Brooklyn moved with a speed that Matt wasn't anticipating.  
Brooklyn grabbed Matt by the shirt and lifted him so he was eye-level with 
him.  Brooklyn tilted his head down so their eyes were only inches apart.  
"Stop thinking with your penis and start thinking with your *other* head." 
Brooklyn said in a low, angry hiss, then dropped Matt and began to walk 
away.
	Matt's jaw dropped.  He moved his mouth once or twice, but no 
sound came out.  Finally, he managed to squeak out, "*What*?!!?"
	"You heard me." Brooklyn said, looking at Matt over his shoulder.
	"What are you suggesting here?" Matt said, narrowing his eyes.
	"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Brooklyn said, his own eyes 
narrowing.
	"Yeah, I think you do." Matt said, his voice tight.
	Brooklyn turned.  "Let's see.  That gene-freak is, let's face it, 
beautiful.  And now you're disobeying all of my orders...and all for a pair 
of big brown eyes."
	"Black.  Her eyes are black." Matt corrected without thinking.  Then 
his brain caught up with his mouth and 'D'oh!' echoed through his head 
several times. 
	The look on Brooklyn's face said it all.  "I stand corrected.
	"She's using you, Matt.  Because she can.  I don't know if you're 
sleeping with her or not, and, even more important, I don't want to know.  
All I know is this--you're disobeying me and endangering *everyone* here.  
For all you know..."
	"For all *you* know," Matt said angrily, "She could really want to 
change.  She could be serious.  And more than ever, I think she is.  She 
wouldn't have said and done the things she has if she didn't really think she 
should have left."
	"But we can't trus..."
	"You trusted Julia de la Cruz." Matt said flatly.  "She didn't exactly 
come under the best circumstances, now did she?"
	"*She* was a 'streetrat' who grew up alone and did what she had to 
to survive.  And she hated Xanatos.  His attacks on the free humans were 
why she was orphaned at ten, remember?"
	"You don't think 'Vida didn't do what she had to to survive?" Matt 
said, meeting Brooklyn's angry gaze.  "She was 'born' at Eyrie.  It's the 
only life she knew.  All she was taught.  It was kill or be killed for her, 
Brooklyn." Matt said.  Then:
	"And what about Demona?"
	Brooklyn was silent.
	"Talk to her.  See for yourself.  She wants to be a part of life here.  
She wants to find a way of atoning.  She wants...she wants to have the 
chance to live, Brooklyn.  Can you deny her that?  Can you?"
		***		***		***		***
	"Go on in." Matt said as he came out.  He tossed his chin in the 
direction of the door.  "Be careful, Davida."
	"You...you aren't coming in there with me?" she said, her eyes 
huge.
	"No.  Brooklyn wants to talk to you alone.  And I think that's for 
the best."
	"Matt, I..." she began.
	"You'll be fine.  Just control your temper.  OK?"
	"I'd feel better if you came in with me." she said quietly.
	"You'll be fine." he said.  He smiled and patted her hand.  She gave 
him a wavering smile, and went in.  Matt sat down outside the door heavily.
	This was going to be a long wait.
		***		***		***		***
	Brooklyn felt his jaw tighten when he saw the assassin.  He 
stomped down the hatred he felt just when he saw her face--she couldn't 
help how she looked.  He could *try*  to overlook that--but damned if he 
was going to overlook what she was.  A murderer.  She was a killer, and 
that was all that there was too it.  
	Vida felt a wave of hatred overtake her the second that she saw 
Brooklyn.  She would never be able to forget who he was and what he had 
done.  She knew she would *always* blame him for what had happened to 
her and her sister, and she couldn't help but wonder why they'd been 
rejected, when Mars--as much of a hybrid as they, although he "passed" for 
human far better than she and her sister, with their gargoyle wings and tails, 
did--had been accepted.  It burned at her to ask, but it wasn't the time.  She 
had bigger concerns.  Like the fact that he was looking at her with as much 
animosity as she felt towards him.  Little things like *that*.
	"So." Brooklyn said, determined to find the words he wanted.  He 
gave up.  All he thought of when he looked at the woman was both how 
much she looked like Goliath and how she was the one who had killed so 
many.  God only knew how many assassinations she had been responsible 
for.
	"So." she responded, her voice controlled.  Only sheer will power 
kept it so.
	"Matt says that there's something you wanted to tell me." 
	The hybrid swallowed thickly.  Well, here we go, she thought.  The 
worst he can do is try to have me killed, and that will *not* be an easy task, 
she thought, something in her tightening.  If she was forced into a kill-or-
be-killed scenario, she would kill, and anyone--even Matt--who believed 
otherwise would find out what Salome could do.  "I'm a spy." she said, 
raising up to her full height.  Brooklyn looked at her with no reaction for a 
minute, in complete shock.
	"Excuse me?"
	"A spy." she said again, biting back the desire to be sarcastic.
		***		***		***		***
	Well, that was pleasant as a root canal., Vida thought to herself after 
the unpleasant little confrontation, rubbing her temples.  She felt strung 
out--both fighting the desire to separate that gargoyle's head from his neck 
and having to verbally defend herself against him.  She almost wished he 
would have just tried to hit her; that she know how to fight.  And if he'd hit 
her, she'd have had justification in making him bleed.  But no, he had 
attacked with poisonous words.  Each word had dripped with menace and 
sarcasm, and left her feeling angry.  That jackass, she thought, her thought 
racing.  May he...
	~vida?~
	Vida's head snapped up.  ~'tine?~
	Her sister's 'voice' came to her again; a faint echo on the wind.  
They couldn't communicate too much like this, since her sister wasn't good 
at receiving.  She could broadcast, but her brain wasn't hardwired to receive 
anything past emotions.  ~yes, 'vida?~
	~you ok?~
	~yes.  you?~
	~fine.~
	~so what's happening?  have you found the base yet?~
	Vida paused.  ~i'm in the secondary base.  primary, no.~ she 
thought carefully, not wanting her sister to pick up on her half-truth.
	~tell me in the instant you do.  everything's going too slowly.  find 
the base.~
	~i'm trying.  but it seems like almost everyone here wants me dead.  
they aren't exactly letting me in on anything yet.~
	~excuses, excuses.~ her sister sent with a smile.  ~angelica misses 
you.~
	~I miss her, too.  she doing ok?~
	~angie's fine.~
	~good.  anything happening with you?~
	Christine paused.  Good Lord.  That innocent question had answers 
that Vida would *never* believe...
	~tine?~
	~i'm fine.~ Christine knew better than to let what was bothering her 
slip out--God only knew how Vida would handle *that*.  ~so's angie.~
	~good.  you sure there's nothing else?~
	Christine knew that if she didn't stop this now, she was going to 
spill everything.  And given her sister, she'd probably rush right out of the 
Resistance headquarters and straight back to Eyrie.  And with as much as 
Christine would have wanted to have her sister near her, she knew that this 
was too important.  She decided to focus on business.  ~as soon as the 
ultrapack's upgrades are done, servarius is leading an attack on the free 
humans.~
	~*what*?~ Vida yelped.
	~xanatos wants more mutates.~ Christine said with a shrug.  
	Vida frowned.  ~when?  can you give me anything specific?~
	Christine frowned herself.  ~whenever slowass straussmore gets it 
in gear.  sevarius is all but done with wolf, but straussmore the great and 
incompetent isn't anywhere near done with coyote's upgrade.~
	Vida's frown deepened.  ~what's up with the straussmore-
bashing?~
	~he's...he's getting on my nerves.~ Christine sent carefully.  God, 
she was glad her sister wasn't an empath...
	 ~ahh.~
	~i'm about ready to just go and do the damn upgrade myself.~
	Ahh, Vida thought to herself.  That explains it..., Vida thought.  
Her sister was a complete perfectionist; needing everything organized and 
running smoothly; needing complete control.  And more than anything else, 
incompetence--or what she *perceived* as incompetence--irritated her more 
than anything else.  Obviously, right now she saw Straussmore as 
incompetent, and she was chaffing at the bit waiting on him.  ~that bad, 
huh?~
	~yeah.  listen, i'll tell you as soon as i find out when we'll be going 
after the humans, ok?  try to throw a red-herring at the resistance so they 
don't interfere.~
	~ok.~
	~listen, is there *anything* at all you can tell me so i have some idea 
when you might have the main base? so i can at least start planning the 
offense?  anything?  numbers, ranks, locations, anything?~
	Vida hesitated.  Oh, God.  This was what she had been dreading.  
Dammit, you couldn't lie to an empath...
	~vida?~
	~i'm fine.~ Vida thought quickly.  ~brooklyn, the leader, still wants 
to keep me in a damned cell.  but i'm working my angle--matt bluestone.~
	~vida...~ her sister sent warningly, her eyes narrowing.  ~what do 
you mean, 'working your angle'?  are you sleeping with him?~
	~*no!*  chris-*tine*!~ Vida telepathically 'yelped.'
	~good.~ Christine said, relaxing.
	~but you know i will if i have to.~ she said flatly.  Vida could feel 
her sister tense on the other side.  ~oh, christine, come on.  i was sent here 
for a reason--to get information!  and if i have to sleep with someone to get 
that information, then, goddamn it, i will.  i knew that when i came here.~
	~you should have let me go instead.  angelica and i would have 
convinced them that we were legit far sooner, i think.~
	~perhaps.~ Vida said, feeling the anger she normally did when her 
sister treated her like a child.   She was an adult, and she knew what she 
was doing.  It's not as though I've never had lovers before, Vida thought in 
annoyance to herself.  Hell, I slept with...now is not the time!, she thought 
to herself--if Christine knew that I had done that, she'd kill him and me 
*both*...  ~too late now.~
	~you be careful, ok?  i don't want what's...i...you just take care of 
yourself, ok?~
	~i always do.  'tine, are you ok?~
	~as ok as i ever am.~ the woman said darkly.  ~but i'm not the 
concern here...~
	~you are now.~ Vida said sharply.  ~are you ok?~
	Christine hesitated.  For a split second, she was tempted to say 
everything.  But she couldn't say the words--how could she tell her sister 
that she was losing control?  ~i'm fine, vida, i promise.  but you're trying to 
change the subject; what's wrong with you?~
	Vida paused because while she was worried about Christine, she 
also knew her sister was right.  Good God, how to explain that she didn't 
know up from down anymore?
	~i promise you i'm fine.  but i have to go; someone is 
coming...everything's craxy here, now, tine--mistra mercure-straussmore 
killed tamitha an...~
	~'bout time someone put that vegetable out of her misery.~ Christine 
sent.  ~i didn't think they'd make her suffer for this long; i'd've killed her 
myself that night had i known.  oh, well, spilt milk.  you take care, ok, 
sis?~
	~i will.  'bye.~
	~'bye...~
	They broke contact.  Vida froze--she suddenly had an overwhelming 
urge to call Christine again.  To tell her sister everything; to admit that she 
felt as though she was in over her head, questioning everything she had 
known in her life.  To talk to *someone* about the conflicting emotions 
tearing her apart; to let her sister take over again and tell her what to do.  
She started to call out to Christine--and then she froze again.  What the 
*fuck* was she thinking?  Tell *Turandot* that she no longer knew who 
she was fighting for, but that she had also revealed *all* of their plans to the 
Leader of the Resistance?!!?  And that she had just tried to weasel more info 
out of Christine about the upcoming attacks so she could tell them?  OK, so 
she didn't *know* whether or not she was going to tell them or not, but 
*still*...  Holy shit, she'd be dead in a heartbeat.  No, she thought--she 
wouldn't kill me.  She'd kill everyone here...and deliver me back to Eyrie 
and stand by watching as those butchers Xanatos calls doctors did whatever 
they hell they wanted to do to make me think the 'right' way!  She 
shuddered at the thought--she knew first hand what they were capable of.  
But worse, the way her sister would react...She didn't want to see the look 
in her sister's eyes upon facing her.  She couldn't face Christine yet.  Not 
until she *knew* what she was going to do.
		***		***		***		***
	They broke contact.  Christine froze--she suddenly had an 
overwhelming urge to call Vida again.  To tell her sister everything; to admit 
she felt as though she was scrabbling at slick walls while water closed in 
over her, that she was filled with terror because she was so out of control.  
Everything was out of control, out of whack, her life careening in God only 
knew what directions.  She needed help, and badly.  She started to call to 
Vida--and then she froze again.  What was she thinking?  Asking her 
*sister* for help?  Davida, whom she'd had to protect for so long?  I have 
to solve this myself--I can't let her see me like this anymore than I could let 
Angelica.  That girl would only rush here, insanely, endangering 
*everything* she's done so far, putting us *both* in danger!  No, no, I 
can't tell her.  She has to stay where she is.  I'll figure this out alone.  I 
always do.
		***		***		***		***
	Six nights later, Vida's nightmare came to pass--she had to make a 
choice.
	~vida.~
	The woman's head shot up.  ~tine?  what's up?~
	~everything has finalized.~ the hybrid sent.  ~straussmore finished 
the upgrades.  in three days, we attack.~
	~the free humans?~ Vida sent, feeling sick.  The sick feeling, as 
well as dread--this is the moment--fell on her the instant her sister had said 
everythig was set.
	~yeah.  vida, you ok?~
	~yeah, yeah.  i just wasn't expecting this so soon.  you made it 
sound as thought straussmore was no where near being done.~
	~a week ago he wasn't.  but i lit a fire under his ass.~ Christine said 
flatly.
	~what did you do?  nevermind, don't tell me.  so in three days?~
	~yeah.  think you'll have the information by then and we can do this 
i one fail swoop?~
	~not a chance in hell.  i may be here for *months*, 'tine.  you knew 
that when i agreed to go.~
	~yeah...but that doesn't mean i have to like it.  i miss you.~
	~i miss you, too, tine.  where are you attacking?~
	~there's a large pocket of the humans in the met an hour after 
sunset.~
	~the old opera house or the museum?~
	~opera house.  if it wasn't for the fact that xanatos wants as many 
alive as possible, we'd just nuke the place.  the vermin have been there for 
several years.~
	~ahh.  three nights, you say?~
	~yeah.  sevaruis and the ultrapack.  i might go, i don't know yet.  
we'll see.~
	Vida felt sicker and sicker.  ~if you go...be careful.~
	Christine grinned.  ~what do i have to fear from a bunch of terrified 
little human rats?~
	~still don't like humans too much, do you?~
	~no.~ Christine said in as flat a mental voice as Vida had ever 
'heard' from her sister.
	~they can't help what they are.~
	~whatever.  vida, you ok?  something's different.  are you feeling 
all right?  you're not sick, are you?~ 
	~no, no.~ she said.  I'm just realizing that you're wrong, Vida 
thought.  That not everybody's bad or out to destroy me because I'm 
different.  Sometimes, things and people change.  ~i have been feeling a bit 
tired, though.  mars really hates me, and i getthe feelign he'd stab me in the 
back if he had half the chance.~
	~kill him first.~
	~i can't.  he dies, and everyone turns on me.  besides, i don't think 
he *can* die.  i've been sensing some wacked-out magical energy from 
him.  i think he's immortal.~
	~then watch your back.  you aren't.~  Christine smiled.  ~you're my 
little sister--i won't lose you to some resistance...freak.~
	~he's a hybrid, too, 'tine.~
	~then he's a freak.  so are we.  don't forget that, vida--we're always 
going to be freaks who don't belong anywhere--unless we secure a place by 
blood.  it's the only thing anyone understands.  no matter what they may 
say and do there, vida, don't you *ever* forget that to them, we're 
monstrous freaks who never should have been created.  remember what 
they did.~
	~i do.~ Vida said quietly.
	~good.  oh, and vida...~
	~yeah?~
	~I love you.  watch yourself, ok?~
	~I will.~
	They broke contact.  Vida stared forward, and realized that now she 
had a choice to make--she now had to decide who she was going to betray.
	The Resistance.
	Or her family.
		***		***		***		***
	She didn't eat.  When she slept, she felt as though she was being 
hounded--nightmarish images of her sister, her throat slit, bloody, with one 
finger pointing accusingly at her sister.  "You did this!" the nightmare 
phantom yelled.  "You did this when you betrayed me!"
	"No...no...Christine, I didn't betray you..."
	"You killed me!" Christine roared, blood pouring from the hand she 
cupped over her gaping throat.
	"No...no...Christine, I'll never betray you!  I won't..."
	And then the nightmare would turn into Julia.  "So you betray me.  
So you kill me again.  So you kill all of them, all of those people like me, 
who just want to live and be left alone...you kill me again...or you kill her!"
	The two women closed in her, blood staining everything.  
"Betrayer!  Betrayer!  Betrayer!  Judas!"
	"Noooo..." the hybrid moaned, sinking to her knees.  "I'm not...I 
won't...I..."
	"Judas!  Judas!  Betrayer!" both shrieked.  "Judas!  Betrayer!  
Betrayer!"
	"No, no!  I'm not, I won't!'
	"You will!  You will!  You'll kill one of us!  You'll betray!  Judas!" 
they shrieked, closing in on her, and drowning, their blood...  "Betrayer!  
Murderer!  Murderer!  Judas!"
	She woke up choking back a gargled scream.  "Betrayer!" ringing in 
her ears.  Her entire body was shaking.  Oh, God, what did she do?  No 
matter what she did, no matter *what*, she was a traitor.  Oh, God, did that 
horrible vision mean her sister was going to die in this?  What did it mean?  
Why did she see Julia?  And why was her sister's throat cut?  Oh, God, 
why was this happening to her?  What did she do?  If she said nothing, 
those humans...god only knew.  Xanatos rounded up free humans only 
when he needed to experiment.  What would happen to them?  Could she 
have that blood on her hands?  Could she have her sister's?  She was 
damned no matter what--her sister or those she didn't know?  Was this 
Julia's way of trying to get her to repent for all the death she had caused in 
her life, by giving her a chance to redeem herself by saving all of those who 
were doomed if she stayed silent?  But by speaking, would her sister...?  
Was her sister that sack of gold, or were those faceless humans?
	She put her face in her hands, shaking badly.  Two nights.  She had 
two nights.
		***		***		***		***
	She stumbled through that night and the next.  Tormented as before.  
Christ, what did she do?  How?  Who would she kill?
	"Vida...what's wrong?" Matt asked her when he saw her.
	She jumped a foot.  "Wha?  N-nothing."
	He snorted.  "That's why you jumped a foot."
	"I...I have a lot on my mind."
	"What?"
	"Nothing." she said, shaking her head
	"OK...but if you to talk, you know where I am.  And you know I'll 
listen.  Tomorrow night, I'm heading to the main base.  But if you need 
anything..."
	"I'm fine." she said, smiling faintly...wishing for the voices of Julia 
and Christine to get out of her head and stop tormenting her.  Even when 
she was awake, she could hear them screaming, their voices both shrill and 
gargled with the blood in their throat.  If she dared to close her eyes, she 
could see them, and see the blood...
	Worse, the dream the day before the attack.  Faceless hundreds, all 
screaming "Betrayer!  Betrayer!" at her through their mouthless faces.  And 
what they looked like, their mutated bodies and the blood...She ran, trying 
to escape them...
	And ran into herself.
	"Dead!  Dead!  Dead!" her doppelganger screamed at her.  
"Betrayer!  You're dead!  Dead!  Dead as Julia, dead as Christine, you're 
dead!  Dead as all of them!  Everyone is dead!  Dead!  Dead!  Murderer!  
Murderer!    Betrayer!  Judas!"
	Julia and Christine appeared, and all three of them circled Davida, 
shrieking.  "You killed me!  You killed me!  You!  Murderer!  Murderer!  
Dead, you're dead, you're dead!  We're all dead, because of *you!*"
	"No!  It's not my...I don't...I can't...I'm sorry!"
	"You're dead!"  her doppelganger and Christine screamed.  Julia 
remained silent.  She stepped away from the two, changing from the harpy.  
Her bloodstained outfit changed into a dress of pale rose, and she watched 
as the doppelganger and Christine circled Vida and screamed.  Vida looked 
at Julia and dove, trying to get away from the ones tormenting her.
	"You have a choice." the little human said.  "Me, or them.  But 
whomever you chose..."
	"Judas!  Judas!" all three yelled.
	Julia stretched out her hand.  Christine and the doppelganger, 
covered in blood, stretched out theirs to her.
	Vida reached out and grasped a hand desperately.  And the two she 
did not choose began to wail.
		***		***		***		***
	She woke up drenched in sweat, she jumped to her feet.  She tried 
to calm her shaking nerves.  She began to try to stop the tears she knew 
were coming.
	Then she ran.
		***		***		***		***
	"Vida.  Vida?  Vida, where are you...?" Talon began.  She ignored 
him, running to the computer.  She switched it on.
	"Davida?  What do you want?" Lexington said on the other side. 
	"No time." she said desperately.  "Brooklyn--where is he?" she 
shrieked, her eyes wild, her breathing erratic.
	"What do you want?" Brooklyn snapped.  "I have better things to do 
than..."
	"There's going to be an attack.  In one hour.  On the last free 
humans.  At the Met.  The opera house, not the museum.  Servarius, the 
UltraPack...an...just them." she said, her mouth snapping shut.  She didn't 
know if her sister was going to be there.  And she wouldn't betray her.  
And if she didn't know whether or not her sister was going to be there for 
certain, how could she be betraying the Resistance by not telling them?
	In her mind, her doppelganger and her sister wailed once more.
		***		***		***		*** 
	Brooklyn wasted not time.  "The base you're at is closer.  All of you 
go.  If it's Sevarius *and* the UltraPack..."
	"They've been upgraded, too." Vida whispered.
	"How long have you known about this?" Brooklyn snapped.
	"Three nights, counting tonight."
	"Why didn't you tell us sooner?!!" he roared.  "We could have 
planned a counter-offensive!"
	Vida said nothing--there was no way he could understand the hell 
she had been through.  
	"All of you--including *you*," Brooklyn snarled at Davida, "Go.  
Prove your loyalty now, or prove that you're a traitorous bitch--after 
tonight, there'll be no doubts." he snarled.   "We'll get there as soon as we 
can to help you."
	The video screen went blank.
		***		***		***		***
	Christine stretched languorously when she awoke.  The attack was 
tonight--and after tonight, that bastard would be out of her hair.  Everything 
would be going back to normal.  Oh, what a wonderful...
	She froze.  Her face paled.  She had sensed...no, it had been so 
faint, how could she have...?
	She began to shake.  "No."  she whispered.  "Please God, no, not 
this!"
		***		***		**		***
	"Ahh, Turandot...will you be joining us on this little expedition?" 
Dr. Sevarius asked, grinning that ever-present and disturbing grin of his.
	She raised any eyebrow, surveying the upgraded UltraPack.  Hyena 
glared at her, and Turandot gave Hyena a faint smile that was half-sneer.  
"Why doctor, I am honored you would invite me...but I must decline." she 
said, smiling her predatorial smile, her teeth shining when she smiled.
	"It will be an honor and a privilege to have such a talented and 
beautiful woman by my side." Sevarius said, bowing slightly to her.
	Jackal snorted.  "Still trying to get some after all these years, are 
you?"
	Sevarius just raised an eyebrow, and smile that was polished and 
just slightly insane on his face. "At least I still have something that I could 
get *with*." he said, then laughed his laugh that was just like his smile.  
Hyena cracked up.
	Christine rolled her eyes.  "You have a job to do...I would suggest 
that you go about doing it.  Xanatos..." she said, pointing to a camera in a 
corner.  "Is watching."
		***		***		***		***
	She walked, feeling shaky.  She had covered it well, she knew, but 
she was still in shock.  Certainty was growing over her more and more each 
second.  Oh, God, how could this happen?  How?  It was bad *enough* 
everything that had been happening lately, but to add *this* on top of 
everything else?  She wanted to sit down and let despair overtake her, but 
she knew she couldn't.  She had to do something, *anything*...
	She spread her wings suddenly, and gripped the bo she had picked 
up in place of her sais that night.
	There *was* one thing she *could* do....
		***		***		***		***
	The battle was fast, and bloody.  Vida fought as best she could, 
shocking both Sevarius and the UltraPack by first being there...and then not 
helping them.  But one thing she knew--they didn't have a prayer.
	Maggie was the first to die.
	She ignored the death-cries of the quiet mutate, trying not to even 
think about facing Maggie's children.
	She heard a scream then that she knew would haunt her for the rest 
of her life.
	"Broadway!" Talon screamed.  Broadway had fallen.  And Hyena 
was cackling over him. 
	"Oh, sorry, did you need these?" she said, laughing as she waved 
her hands in the air.
	Skewered on the ends of her...its...fingertips were his eyes.
	Talon roared and attacked her.  But before he could get there, Jackal 
skewered his midsection.  From fifty feet away.
	With a roar, Davida attacked.  She didn't clearly remember what 
happened next--it was all a blank.  She only knew that she fell into a black 
hole within her mind while her body attacked.  Her survival trained asserted 
itself, and before she knew it she was standing over both Sevarius's broken 
body...and both Wolf and Hyena were already dead.
	She was covered in Sevarius's blood, having just slit his demented 
throat when Christine appeared.
		***		***		***		*** 
	Christine looked at her sister.  "Davida...what...what are you 
doing?" she said, her chest heaving.  She didn't want to believe what she 
had just seen.
	"Chr-Christine!" Davida yelled.  Her bloody knife slipped from her 
hands the second she was aware of it, an image of her sister with her throat 
cut appearing in her head.  No, no, *never*, she would *never*...  
"Betrayer!" rang in her head again.
	"You...you....you killed Sevariu..."
	Jackal attacked Davida from behind.  "Bitch!  You bitch!" he roared 
in blind rage, grief for his sister making his world go red.  In a move so fast 
Davida was stunned, Christine leapt and slammed her bo into the side of his 
head, killing him instantly.  Davida paled--she knew Christine could easily 
do the same to her.
	"Christine, I..."
	Her sister shook her head in stunned disbelief, ignoring Jackal's 
body.  "You'd better explain, and explain *now*, how the Resistance came 
to be here.  And *you* kill Sevarius."
	"I...I..."
	Christine went pale as her empathy told her everything.  
"You...you...Davida, how...?"  Her face showed everything, and it 
stabbed at Davida as much as anything else her--the pure disbelief, 
confusion, and pain on her sister's face.
	"Christine, I'm so sorry, but listen to me!  Eyrie is poisoned!  
Xanatos is poisoned!  We have to get away from there, don't you see?  
Come with me, please!"
	"You...want me to...come with...you...you...*traitor*!" her sister 
roared suddenly.  "Betrayer!  Traitor!" Christine yelled, her face a mask of 
rage.
	The other members of the Resistance began to arrive.  Christine 
looked at them, then her sister.
	"Davida." she said, ignoring all of them, her eyes boring in on her 
sister, ignoring the members of the Resistance.  "From here on out...I have 
no sister.  You are dead...Judas." she whispered.  
	"Christine!  Christine, no, please, won't you listen to me?  
Christine!" she screamed, her voice turning shrill.
	Christine turned her back, vanishing into the night as the Resistance 
mourned their dead and Davida collapsed to the ground with a wail.
		***		***		***		***


Der Hoelle Rache kocht             Hell's revenge burns
               in meinem Herzen,                   in my heart,
Tot und Verzweiflung                Death and despair
	flammet um mich her!              flame about me!
...Verstossen sei auf ewig,       ...Disowned may you be forever,
Verlassen sei auf ewig,             Abandoned may you be forever,
Zertruemmert sei'n auf ewig     Destroyed be forever
Alle Bande der Natur.               All the bonds of nature.
...Hoert, Rachegoetter,             ...Hear, Gods of Revenge,
Hoert der Mutter Schwur!         Hear a mother's oath!
	-The Queen of the Night's Vengeance Aria from
		Mozart's _Die Zauberfloete_  (The Magic Flute)

		***		***		***		***

	"Straussmore." a voice said from the shadows.  The man jumped 
involuntarily.  From the shadows, there were two glittering eyes.  Christine 
slid forth, seeming to almost appear from no where.  She was dressed as 
she was when she was acting as an assassin--a skintight black exoskeleton 
of liquid metal.  Only her face and her wings--her wings already had a black 
skin on the back, with dark red on the inner layer--were bare.  
	"What do you want?" he sneered.
	"Besides your head on a stick?  Oh, nothing.  I just came with two 
messages for you.  One.  You failed.  Your UltraPack was completely 
worthless.  Only a few of the rebels were taken out.  Sevarius is dead.  As 
is your granddaughter Tamitha.  She was killed by your daughter in law.  
Mistra." she said with a smile, sheathing her sais.
	Pain shot through him.  "You came to gloat." he said, narrowing his 
eyes as he looked at the smile on her face...and she had come unarmed.  
Completely unarmed.  It rankled him that she thought so little of him--after 
*everything*--that she came without any sort of weapon at all.  He leapt to 
his feet and grabbed Christine.  She didn't even try to protect herself.  After 
he had rammed her into the wall a few times, she smiled coldly.
	"Now, now, Straussmore...is that any way to treat the woman who 
carries your child?"
	Straussmore paled.  "What...?"  he dropped her.  She landed on her 
feet.
	"That," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "was message 
number two.  I'm pregnant.  But don't think for one second that this 
changes anything.  I'll still see you dead.  I'll still be the one to stick a knife 
into your heart." she hissed.  She brushed past him.  He grabbed her arms.
	"You lying little bitch...  It's not even possible for you to *know* 
yet!"
	She glared up at him.  "I'm an empath, remember?  And one thing 
I'll say for my body, I'm regular about things.  Add one late period and one 
sensation of...of an *existence*, and that equals baby.  So I'm not lying, 
Straussmore.  I am pregnant.  And I will see you dead."  She broke his hold 
and glared at him.
	Straussmore recovered from his shock quickly.  Pregnant?  She was 
*pregnant*?  Oh, this got better and better by the second...
	She was still sneering at him, her eyes blazing.  "Never lay your 
hands on me again, Straussmore.  Xanatos protects you so far.  But even 
that protection is wearing thin."
	Even now, she was acting so superior.  Calling the shots.  Rage 
filled him.  "Well," he said, determined to yank the rug out from under her; 
to see that expression on her face vanish, "Seems I still have it.  It only took 
twice with me for you to get pregnant."
	The change in her expression was immediate.  She began to laugh.  
"What?"  she said, then burst into peals of laughter.  "I knew you were 
stupid, but I had no idea you couldn't even count!"
	"Oh, no, my dear.  I can count." he said, smiling at her coldly.  
Something about his expression made her feel cold.  
	"What are you talking about?" she said, narrowing her eyes.
	His malicious smile widened.  "The *day* before that little...panic 
attack of yours." he said, toying with her, loving the look of shock on her 
face.  She covered it quickly, but her face was still going pale.  "I went into 
your room, fully intending to kill you." he said, standing over her.  Her jaw 
tightened.  Dear God...  "But sometimes, intentions change." he said, and 
laid a hand over her breast.  His smile widened.
	He had...while she *slept*?!!?   And with her daughter, who wasn't 
as ruled by the sun as she, in the next room?!!?  "You son of a *bitch*!" 
she roared, fury making everything go red.  Rage blinded her to everything 
except for the desire to squeeze the life out of his body.  Her hands wrapped 
around his throat as she attacked, throwing herself at him with such force 
that he was knocked backwards onto the floor.  She straddled him, her 
hands around his throat, forgetting everything except for killing him, 
everything but the thought of wiping away that mocking smile.  Blind to 
*everything*...
	Including his hands.
	One of his hands grabbed her wrists.  The other slid up her leg, over 
her hip and waist, to her back.  He jammed his fingers under her 
breastplate, ramming his fingernails into the small of her back.  Not 
expecting it, she flinched, her back arching.  Her hands loosened their grip 
on his neck for a bare instant in her surprise, and he used that moment to 
wrench her hands off.  Her talons tore into his neck, but he knew the 
damage was minimal.  He rolled so he was laying on top of her, her legs 
still wrapped around his waist.  Enraged, she struggled to get free from his 
weight, but she was trapped and she knew it.  He had her wrists firmly in 
one hand, over her head.  Because of how she had been sitting on him, 
when he had rolled them over, she found herself with her legs spread and 
him between them.  Her legs were useless now.  And he had her arms.  She 
yanked suddenly and almost got one free, which shocked the hell out of 
him--his right arm was an Athena-unit prosthetic, and he has gripping  her 
wrists as tightly as he could--he should realistically have been crushing her 
wrists, and the fact that she had nearly just yanked her way free was a sign 
that she was stronger than he thought.
	"Nuh-uh-uh." he said darkly.  He grabbed one wrist in each of his 
hands.  He yanked her arms down, hauled her up slightly, and twisted both 
arms behind her back.  She kept the pain from registering on her face.  Once 
he had her where he wanted her, he grabbed both wrists in one hand again, 
knowing that she wouldn't be able to get free.  
	Athena's eyes blazed up at him from her face.  "Get off of me." she 
hissed in utter contempt.
	The laugh was harsh and mocking.  His free hand rose up and 
touched her cheek.  "Or you'll *what*?  She jerked her head away from his 
hand.  He grabbed her jaw tightly in a bruising grip, squeezing so her 
mouth opened.  He kissed her harshly, forcing his tongue between her lips.  
She let out a muffled roar and strained against his hand, freeing her jaw and 
clamping down.  He hissed in pain when her fangs nipped his tongue, 
drawing more blood.  He backhanded the assassin, her head slamming to 
the side.  She spit blood out of her mouth, not knowing if it was hers or 
his, and further, not caring.  She wrapped her legs around him tightly, her 
head clearing enough for her to be able to think--that slap had been what she 
needed; she was going to have to thank him for that later.  She was in a 
perfect position to crush his ribs with her powerful legs.  Just when she 
began to squeeze, his hand slid from the curve of her rear, up her back, and 
unsnapped a small, hidden clasp that was part of what held her breastplate 
on.  Seconds later, it was loose enough for him to get the other two clasps, 
one on each of the sides.
	Shit! rang out in her head.  If he got that thing off of her, her back 
would be completely exposed to him, and there was no doubt as to what 
that would mean.  She began struggling harder to get free, writhing and 
bucking underneath him to try to throw him off enough so there would be 
*something* she could do to get free and out.
	She let out a smothered moan when his hand began tracing light 
circles between her wings.  "Bastard!" she yelled, out of breath, her body 
betraying her by doing things it normally didn't.  She wrenched her arms, 
swallowing the pain, trying to get free.  She began beating her wings, 
hitting him with them.  She tried to wrap her tail around him to pull him off 
of her, but he pinned it with one of his legs.  She had to distract him.  She 
redoubled her efforts so he wouldn't notice her shifting her legs.  She got 
her feet firmly on the floor, then used the muscles in her legs to raise her 
hips.  Something in her thigh pulled, making her world go white, but she 
ignored it, pushing all the harder until her hips raised.   The second she did 
that, she rolled them both over.  Straussmore just barely managed to keep 
his grip on her arms, so she wasn't free--but at least now she was in a better 
position to try.  Instantly, he tightened his other hand around her, she was 
still pressed against his body, unable to rise.  Her legs were *still* spread, 
and she could feel the heat of him against her body.  And she was 
completely enraged at herself, because, with what he had done before, 
despite the fact she wanted to kill him...she also *wanted* him.
	She would kill him for this.  
	She struggled and managed, barely, by swinging her hips, to get her 
legs from around him and together.  Now, if she could just get into a 
kneeling position, she could yank herself free...
	"You aren't getting away from me, you little whore." he snarled.  
He hit a small button on the back of her unhooked breastplate.  She hissed--
dammit, *no*!  Her battle armor was liquid metal.  The button he just hit 
caused magnets in her breastplate to turn on, pulling the liquid metal *into* 
it.  It was how she put it on and took it off.  How the hell had he not only 
known about the three hidden clasps, but the...oh, *fuck*, she thought 
when she saw his smile.  Of course he knew...
	He had designed it.
	He laughed when dawning realization hit her.  "Isn't payback a 
bitch?" he snarled as the liquid metal pooled into the breastplate.  He yanked 
it the breastplate over her head as she struggled against him.  Pretty soon, 
whatever she still had on was gone.
	He wanted to see fear in her eyes.  When he got the fear, he would 
let her go.  He wanted to prove to the bitch once and for all that he was 
*not* someone to be played with.  He may have wanted her--oh, God, did 
he want her--but stronger than the lust was the desire to dominate, and to 
leave her like she had left him, confused and unsure of what the hell game 
he was playing.
	No fear blazed out from Athena's eyes.  Only hatred.  "Let me GO!"
	"Again, I ask...Or you'll *what*?" he said mockingly.  He rolled 
them over, and stood up, yanking her to her feet.  Her thigh screamed in 
agony.
	"I'm not afraid of you." she hissed.  She knew what he wanted.  He 
wanted her fear.  He wanted to see it, to know that *he* had caused it and 
therefore vanquished the undefeatable Turandot.  Well, she was *not* 
going to give him that satisfaction.  Her body may not have been under her 
own control any more, but her emotions were.  She would *not* fear him.
	Rage over took him at the sheer contempt in her eyes.  She was still 
untouchable, the Princess of Death, the Princess of Ice.  "You should be." 
he hissed, his hands tightening on her wrists, twisting them higher up her 
back, making her back arch.  His other hand began tracing her spine again, 
making her back arch for entirely different reasons.  Rage filled her as her 
body began to betray her again.  She wrenched herself again, ignoring the 
pain in her leg and arms, the desperation she wouldn't show on her frigid 
face setting in.  He suddenly slammed her into a wall, her head connecting 
with it violently, the world going momentarily white.  Enraged, she began 
lashing out in any way that she could, with her legs, her tail, her wings, her 
teeth, anything, to try and get free.  Nothing.  Struggling became harder and 
harder as her body started to not *want* to fight him anymore, to let him 
'win' this.  She tried harder, and was defeated by her body, letting out a 
low, strangled moan, both from pain in her arms and thigh, and from the 
unwelcome feeling of lust.
	"Stop!" she moaned.  "Stop...please..." she whispered, 
her head dropping and tears in her eyes.  No tears fell down her cheeks, but 
they shone in eyes that couldn't look at him.  Straussmore let her go, and 
she crumpled to the ground, naked and shaking, wrapping her wings 
around her body tightly.
	"Pathetic." he said, sneering at her.  He turned away from her, to 
regain control of his own body, which was screaming at him to take her.
	"Oh, really?" she hissed.  A second later, he felt her on his back and 
his head in between her arms.  She snorted with laughter.  "'Stop!  
Stop...please...!'" she sneered, her voice a parody of the exhausted one she 
had just used.  "Kiss your *pathetic*," she said, her voice parodying his 
now, "*life* good-bye." she hissed in his ear, about to snap his neck.
	Enraged that she was *winning*, that the bitch had twisted him 
around her little fingers again, he reacted before she could kill him.  He 
threw himself backwards, slamming into a wall, crushing her body between 
him and it.  The breath was knocked out of her body, and he used that 
instant to wrench her arms off of his neck and pull her smaller body off of 
his.  Her injured leg twisted as he did so, and the pain made her vision blur.
	"Oh, that's *it*!" he yelled, losing all control.  "You little bitch!"  
He threw her onto his desk face down, quickly taking advantage of the fact 
that her reaction time was slowed by *something*--he had no idea what and 
he certainly wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth--by grabbing her 
wrists and twisting them behind her back again.  Despite the pain, she 
refused to wince or have it show in any way.  She wouldn't give him the 
satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her.  "Now you *are* mine." he 
snarled.  His free hand began to rub her back again until her breathing 
turned ragged and her body started to move in a way that showed that it was 
affecting her.
	He leaned over her, her trapped arms against his stomach, his chest 
against her back, his cheek against her hair, his lips next to her ear.  He 
laughed in her ear, a harsh, dry sound.  "It must just kill you, doesn't it?" 
he whispered in her ear.  His hand left her back and went lower.  She 
gasped, her entire body shifting abruptly, a low moan tearing itself from her 
lips.  He laughed again.  "It just kills you, doesn't it?  That you, the 
Princess of Death, can't kill me right now.  And that, with as much as you 
*hate* me, right *now*, you *want* me."  She snarled, her brain telling 
her to try to get away from his fingers and what they were doing to her, her 
body refusing to respond.  The hand holding her wrists stayed firmly in 
place, holding her wrists and keeping her arms twisted, but the other left her 
and began undoing his clothes.  "Payback's a bitch." he whispered 
mockingly in her ear.  "But hey, look on the bright side." he said, shoving 
her tail out of his way.  "I learned this from you!" he yelled, and took her 
body on the word 'you.'
	Turandot screamed.
						***	
Turandot:
Son la figlia del Cielo             I am the daughter of Heaven
Libera e pura!                         Free and pure!
Tu stringi il mio freddo velo  You grasp my icy veil,
Ma l'anima mia e` lassu`!      But my soul is up there!
Calaf:
La tua anima e` in alto,         Your soul is up there,
Ma l'anima e` vicino!           But your body is here!
Con le mani brucianti           With burning hands
Stringero` i lembi d'oro        I will clutch the golden hem
Del tuo manto stellato           Of your jeweled mantle.
La mia bocca fremente          My trembling lips
Premero` sudite...                 I will press against yours...
Turandot:
Non profanarmi!                   Do not profane me!
Calaf:
Ah!  Sentirsi viva!                Ah!  To feel you alive!
Turandot:
Indietro!                                Away!
Calaf:
Sentirsi viva!                        To feel you alive!
Turandot:
Indietro!                               Away!
Calaf:
Sentirsi viva!                        To feel you alive!
Turandot:
Non profanarmi!                  Do not profane me!
Non profanarmi!                  Do not profane me!
...
No, mai nessun m'avra`!     No, no man shall ever have me!
Calaf:
Ti voglia mia!                      You will be mine!
Turandot:
...Lo strazio                         ...The tragedy 
Non si rinnovera`!               Shall not be repeated!  Ah, no!
Calaf:
Ti voglia mia!                      You will be mine!
...
Turandot:
Sacriegio!                            Sacrilege!
Ch'e` mai de me?                What is happening to me?
Perduta...                            I am lost...

					***
	*What have I become?*

	Straussmore began to shake.  He had no idea when it started.  He 
had no idea how it started.  One minute he was fine, the next he was 
shaking violently.  
	What have I done?, he wondered.  Disgust filled him.  Not over 
what he had done, but over the fact that, in the same situation, he would do 
it again.  *That* disgusted him.  He had raped her.  There was no other 
really way to look at it.  So what if she was Turandot, the Princess of 
Death, no ordinary woman?  That had by no means been a seduction--he 
had found her one weakness, her one fallibility in that shell of frigidity, and 
violently exploited it.  
	He could still feel the way she felt under his hands.  Her limp 
struggles when she strained underneath him while pinned to the table.  The 
curve of a breast pressed into the wood, visible only because of the sharp 
angle her arms were twisted in and her own twisting body.  The feel of her 
long hair in its thick braided ponytail, ticking him and soft against him.
	He dug his fingernails into his thighs, trying to control his body.  
He was shaking again.  He wanted her.  To reaffirm that she was no 
nightmare phantom, no inaccessible horror, nothing but a woman, flesh like 
everyone else.  To strip away her careful image of untouchability and 
coldness.  It was the only weapon that could be wielded in any way against 
the Princess of Death; the one weakness, the one thing that she could be 
defeated by.  The violated princess.  Once by many, thrice by him.  One 
rape created the demon-princess Turandot, the one who claimed thus that no 
man would have her; three more to make her nothing more than a woman 
again, or at the least to reaffirm that she was nothing more than a woman.
	He snorted as he suddenly thought of the opera Turandot/Christine 
had taken her name from.  Most people who feared her had done so, and 
that was many.  The long ago rape of the operatic Turandot's ancestress had 
created the 'cry that lodged in' Turandot and created her.  Turandot, a 
persona created by the rape of a hybrid named Christine.  Turandot's three 
riddles were solved by Calaf, who then won her.  The hybrid assassin 
Turandot, raped three times by him--but who would never be won.  Who 
would never belong to anyone.  Who would still rail at the bloody world 
and cry that she would belong to no man.  This was not the Turandot who 
would melt under Calaf's forceful advances--she would only grow colder 
and grow ever more into the Princess of Death.  He was no Calaf, and she 
was no Turandot--or perhaps she was Turandot in the purest state; 
unweakened by any, forever the Princess of Ice and forever the Princess of 
Death.  The true untouchable.  She had been conquered in body, but *she* 
would never be.  He had seen that by the way she had left.  He had used 
force, and so she remained frozen forever in a state of extreme sexuality 
beyond touch.  Her body may have been taken, but Turandot was still 
frozen.
	He slammed his fist into the table.  God damn him, what had he 
become?  Turning her into a demon?  She was only flesh and blood, only a 
woman!  Why was she taking over his life like she was, becoming this 
unholy obsession?  He raised his hand to his mouth to wipe it, and froze.  
Oh, God.  He could smell her on it.  He ripped his hand away from him, 
holding it in front of him and staring at it, Lady Macbeth's forever-bloodied 
hand. 
	He was shaking again.  For different reasons than before.  
Different, or the same? he wondered.  Turandot ran through his mind.  
Everything she stood for.  The one who ruined his life by destroying it.  
The one who had laughed in his face.  The one who delighted in his pain.  
The one who now stood for everything he had descended into being--not 
just a killer, but a rapist.  And that was what he was now.  He was 
everything he had hated in people.  Resorting to the worst physical violence 
to prove that he was still a man in the face of the woman--and she was just a 
woman, smaller and weaker, despite her ability to fight and kill--who had 
taken delight in taking everything from him.  In forcing control over her in 
the basest way possible.
	The shaking grew worse.  He was a monster.  That was it.  He was 
even worse than she was.  She was an assassin.  She was created for that 
purpose.  And living here, in the Eyrie, was it any wonder she was the way 
she was?  But him...what was his excuse?  Beyond the programming that 
Xanatos had forced into his brain?  But even then...he had not fought it.  
His life had been over, why fight?  Why fight when they would not let him 
die?  Had he fought, they would have taken the information from his brain 
and used god only knows what methods.  He put his hands against his 
head, raging against everything he had become.  Everything left of Daniel 
*Ares*--the man who had left Xanatos as soon as an android had shown 
him both the truth and eventually love--raged against the programming, 
finally horrified at what he had sunk into being.  He had to win this--he 
couldn't let this go on any more.  He couldn't *be* this *thing* parading as 
a man...
	But then, he was no longer a man.  Half man, half science, he 
was...a freak.  A mistake.  He should never have lived, mush less have 
become the...*thing* that he was.  How could he call himself a man?  Was 
it any wonder that Turandot had laughed at him?  Ridiculed him?  He was 
not even human anymore!
	With a roar, he flung the desk over, his breath raw and ragged.  He 
may be a monster, but what was she?  He could almost her that strangely 
melodic voice in his ear--"She left you, didn't she?".  Could almost she her, 
her hip jutting to one side and a cold smile on her face.  Then he could 
remember her whispered words that day--'My love?'  The monster.  So 
who did she love?  If it was his son, he would....he would what?  His 
hands clinched and his fingernails jammed into his flesh.  Kill her?  Kill 
*Blake*?  Kill himself?  Who was to say that that was not for the best...
	He clutched at his head when the programming began working 
again.  It saw a problem and it responded.  It was as much a survival-
programming and a brainwashing program, and it was not going to let him 
die.  He screamed when it began attacking his consciousness.  He 
remembered this all too well--the pain that was not pain, the headache that 
did not hurt.  He fought against it, but was betrayed by his own self-
loathing, which divided his attention.  He was a monster, yes...
	...But so was she.  She was evil.  Evil personified.  She would kill 
him the second she had the chance.  She was not *just* a woman--she was 
*Turandot*.  She was not weak.  She was evil.  A sadist who had 
destroyed his life and then *laughed* at him.  And worse, who dared to 
want his *son*.  His son, and not him.  The demon with the goddess's 
face.  The demon he had conquered and whom he would kill.  That 
untouchable soul would soon be defeated--he would see her cower, by 
God!  He would conquer!
	"Vincero`." he whispered with a predatorial grin, as Ares drowned 
in the darkness and Straussmore rose again.
					***

Boys:
La` sui monti dell'Est          In the Eastern Mountains, 
La cicogna canto`.               The stork sang.
Ma l'april non refiori`.         But April did not bloom again.
Ma la nere non sgelo`.         But the snow did not melt.

		***		***		***		***	
	Rage swelled in her, burning and hot, making the world a blur.  She 
barely managed to cover her limp, her thigh still in agony.  She was 
furious.  How the hell had this happened *again*?  Why the hell was he still 
breathing?  Only her fear of Xanatos kept him alive.  He knew she couldn't 
kill him, yet.  But soon...oh, soon enough, Xanatos was going to see he 
was of no use, and the second he did, she was going to be there, her sais 
ready to peel the skin from his body while he still lived.  When she finally 
got to kill him, it wasn't going to be a quick death, like she usually did.  No 
nice, tidy efficiency then.  She was going to make him suffer, make him 
regret *everything* and *beg* her to kill him.  She stalked into her room.  
Angelica was with Owen, having a magic lesson.   Angrily, she undid the 
uselessly 'hidden' clasps of her breastplate and got out of her battle armor, 
tossing it to the side.   If Xanatos wanted her to kill, he was going to have 
to get her a new one, one *not* designed by Athens.  She jumped into the 
shower, turning the water on full blast, letting it run over her hurt arms and 
leg.  She allowed the pain she had been holding in for so long to come out, 
and she nearly lost her balance when her leg went numb.  She sighed and 
turned the water off, opting for a long bath because standing was now out 
of the question.  Damn him...She sank below the surface of the water for a 
moment, opening her eyes lazily.  She suddenly wanted to stay under the 
water, to never surface again and have this torment of a life *over*...but 
then she thought of her daughter, and what might happen if she was 
orphaned.
	And then she thought that if she did let it end right now, 
Straussmore would probably think it was because of *him*, and damned if 
she was going to give him *that* satisfaction.
	She surfaced and leaned against the back of the tub, letting her arms 
go limp.  She shook her wet hair out of her face, and sighed again.  She 
was pregnant.  Lord, how do I tell this to Xanatos?, she thought.  The last 
time, he tried to make me get rid of it.  If it hadn't been for Owen...she 
thought, shivering at the thought.  She had wanted Angelica, and she 
wanted this child.  And if Xanatos tried to make her get rid of it...Could she 
kill her own child?
	She shook the thoughts away.  No need to tell him yet.  She had a 
while before it was necessary.  If all else fails, she thought, I can hide this 
for as long as possible...Xanatos communicates via computer, not face to 
face.  He doesn't *have* to see...Stop being stupid!, she told herself.  If 
she tried to hide it and he found out, she could be full term and he would 
still order it disposed of.  No.  She had to think.
	"God damn it." she whispered to herself.  Then she cleared her 
head, not wanting to think about anything...not the baby, not her life, and 
certainly not what had just happened between her and Straussmore.  She let 
herself sit there, trying to make the ache in her limbs go away, and the feel 
of his hands on her body vanish.  Bastard.  The bastard...
	She roared and flung a small bottle against the wall.  It shattered.  
There.  That felt better.  She couldn't go kill something, since she was 
hurting too much to even try, but it was satisfying to break something.  She 
made a mental note to herself that she would have to clean that before 
Angelica came home.  After another hour, she sighed.  She should get out--
Angelica would be home soon, and she finally felt ready to perhaps face the 
girl.  She dried off slowly and wrapped a towel around her tightly, then 
closed her wings over her body.  She quickly cleaned the mess the bottle 
had made and went back to her room, wringing out her hair.  She sighed 
and laid down on her bed, her thoughts still dark, her concerns still 
weighing on her even heavier now that she was out of the bath and had 
nothing physical to focus on.  She looked at the ceiling blankly.  "What's 
happening to my life?" she whispered.  She stood up and limped over to her 
mirror.  She sat down and began combing her hair, hoping that searching 
for tangles would clear her head and grant her some respite from everything 
crashing down on her.  She looked in the mirror. There were lines around 
her eyes.  She snorted.  Well, I always knew I was vain, she thought.  Her 
eyes flicked up to her hair.  A small patch of white was beginning to grow 
in, slightly left of center from her forehead.  She snorted again.  I'll have to 
get Owen to patch me up...what good is a white-haired assassin?
	She sighed again and stared at herself, putting down the comb.  She 
just looked in the mirror, her eyes going out of focus.  She just stared, her 
mind going blank, thinking about nothing, the world growing fuzzier and 
fuzzier...
	"Christine!"
	A voice woke her out of her reverie.  She blinked and turned.  
"What the...Alexander?!!?   What are you *doing* in here?" she roared.
	He held up his hands.  "Whoa, *calm down*!" he said.  "I came 
because Owen wants to keep Angelica a while longer, and didn't want you 
to worry."
	"Why didn't you just tell me via viewscreen?" she hissed, her eyes 
narrowing.
	"I tried." he said blandly.  "But you never answered any of the 
hails.  And I did a scan to see if you were actually in here, and it said you 
were.  You didn't answer the door, either, and I knocked for five minutes 
before I just overrode the lock."
	"Oh." she said flatly.  She didn't want to show how troubled she 
was--how long had she been out?  She glanced at her hair--it *had* been 
awhile; her hair was completely dry.  Damn...  "Well?  What do you want?  
You delivered your message."
	"Christine..." Alexander began hesitantly.  He paused 
uncomfortably.  The hybrid got up and walked over to her closet.
	"Just tell me what you want." she said from inside the closet.  He 
could hear her moving around in it, so he assumed she was putting some 
clothes on.
	"Christine..." he began again.  "I...I'm worried about..."  His 
words trailed off when she came out.  She didn't look like she normally 
did.  Her hair was out of her utilitarian ponytail, and she had on something 
that was completely loose and concealing, nothing like her normal, skintight 
spandex-type outfits that wouldn't get in her way.  
	"What?" she said, wrapping her wings around her tightly.  
Alexander shifted.  Had hadn't seen her in anything like that since...well, 
since before Angelica had been born.  She had gone into a depressive 
recline after she had been attacked, staying hidden away and doing 
everything she could to hide herself.  It was only when she found out she 
was pregnant that she'd snapped out of her depression.  OK, sure, she'd 
snapped out of it by going on a murdering spree, decimating everyone she 
could remember as having touched her, but she'd still gotten back 
to...relatively...well, *somewhat*...normal.  Now...she was dressing like 
she had before, and she had even spaced out like she had before.  What the 
hell was going on?
	He said it in a rush.  "What the hell is happening to you?  Christine, 
I'm worried about you.  Something is *not* right, and I want to know 
what." he said, crossing his arms.
	She said nothing for a while, then turned to face him, her wings still 
wrapped around her protectively, her tail drawn in close to her body.  He 
could detect a fine limp when she moved--what had happened?  "Perhaps 
something is wrong." she said blandly.  "But it is my concern, not yours, 
and I will handle it.  Do not concern yourself in this, Alexander 
*Xanatos*." she said, pointedly saying his last name.  "I am only an 
assassin.  One of many.  I am not *your* primary concern."  She turned 
away from him and walked to the window, forgetting for a bare instant to 
hide her limp.  Alexander's eyes narrowed.  
	"Christine, listen..." he began.  Then she turned and looked at him, 
her dark brown eyes meeting his greenish-blue ones, the expression on her 
face unreadable to him.  The words tangled in his mouth and he gave up, 
feeling as though if he didn't handle this right, something *very* bad was 
going to happen.
	"I," she said softly, "am not worth the trouble.  Do not concern 
yourself.  I will handle this myself."
	"You aren't alone unless you want to be, you know." he said.
	"I am alone." she said flatly.  She turned away from him and looked 
out the window.
	He tried once again, "Christine, look, tell me what's wrong.  
Something's not right.  For God's sake, don't you *trust* me?!!?"
	"Trust?" she said, looking out at the sky.  "Trust is a word an 
assassin does not know.  And I am an assassin, Alexander.  It is all I am.  
All I ever was, and all I ever will be.  I am a weapon, nothing more.  I have 
not forgot that, but it appears," she said, turning to look at him, her eyes 
dark, "that you *have*.  I am a weapon.  A tool, and nothing more." she 
said, unable to keep a trace of weariness from her voice.
	He heard the tremor in her voice.  He went over to her and put his 
hand on her arm.  "Christine, listen to me.  You're not just some weapon.  
You're a person, and you're one who's at the end of her rope.  Maybe it's 
time...time for you to leave this place and this life.  Take Angelica and run." 
he said, staring her straight in the eyes.
	"And go where?" she said, giving up and letting the weariness come 
out, unable to meet his eyes.  "I tried leaving once.  I will never make that 
mistake again." she said flatly.  She closed her eyes for a bare instant, 
remembering the hell she had been through when she and 'Vida had been 
recaptured.  "I am what I am, Alex.  A weapon.  There is no place for me to 
go."
	"Christine, I know a place...people who would take you in." he said 
desperately.
	"No." she said.
	"Christine..."
	"Turandot!" she yelled suddenly.  "Can't you get it through your 
head?  I'm nothing but an assassin!  Anything else you think you see is an 
illusion, a fatal delusion!" she yelled, yanking her arm loose and turning to 
look outside again.  
	"Christine, will you..."
	"The girl who once heard 'the Angel of Music' is dead." she said, 
her voice soft and tinged with hardness; her whispered words cutting his 
off.  "She's dead, and she has been for a long time.  There is only Turandot 
left." she said.
	He started to say her name again, but the words died before he could 
form them.  Everything he wanted to say and do died.  He could see her 
face as a dark reflection against the glass.  He had never seen that look of 
weariness on her face before, making her seem strangely vulnerable and 
childlike.  
	It was not the look of an assassin.
	"No matter what you say, *Christine*," Alexander said from the 
doorway as he headed out.  "I will never believe that you are an assassin 
and nothing more." he finished softly, and closed the door behind him.
	She watched him go through the glass, as a dark reflection.  She 
sighed, staring at the door through the reflection.  Her hand rose and started 
to touch where he had held her arm, then jerked away abruptly and balled in 
a fist.
	"Perche` un di, nella reggia, mi hai sorriso." she sang, the high B-
flat pianissimo and sweet.  She closed her eyes on the note, then she went 
back to staring at the burnt-out city below her.

					***
Calaf:
     Liu`...chi sai?                           Liu`...who are you?
Liu`:
     Nulla sono.                               I am nothing.
     Una schiava, mio signore.        A slave, my lord.
Crowd:
     Gira la cote!                              Turn the grindstone!
Calaf:
     E perche` tanta angoscia           And why did you chose to share
                   hai divisio?                             his sufferings?
Men:
     Gira la cote!                             Turn the grindstone!
Liu`:
     Perche` un di...                        Because one day...
Women:
     Gira la cote!                              Turn the grindstone!
Liu`:
     ...Nella reggia,                         ...In the palace,
     Mi hai sorriso.                          You smiled at me.

					***

	From the other side of the door, Alexander placed his hand against 
the door, closing his eyes as he heard the voice that had given Christine her 
name, the voice that had been compared to the angels in heaven.  The voice 
of an angel coming from an assassin.
	The highest note floated in the air, making a lump rise in the young 
Xanatos's throat.  It floated, seeming endless, then fell an octave and faded 
away.  He stood where he was for a moment longer, then sighed sadly and 
walked away, the voice of the 'weapon and nothing more'  still echoing in 
his ears.
		***		***		***		***
	"Vida?  Vida!  Vida, what's wrong?!" Matt yelled suddenly.  The 
hybrid woman had been sitting talking animatedly a second before, knitting-
-*knitting* of all things--while she did so.  She'd asked him in an 
embarrassed voice before if he could get her needles and yarn, and since 
then, she had been cheerfully knitting.  She lost the stitch she was on, and it 
slipped from her hands.  Her face paled, and her eyes seemed to glaze over.  
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her.  "*Vida*!"
	She looked up at him, her eyes just barely focusing on him.  
"Christine..." she whispered hoarsely.  "Something...my sister...oh, God, 
something is *very* wrong!  I have to get to her. I have to!" she yelled, 
trying to get to her feet.
	"Vida, you..." Matt began.  Then she suddenly stopped.
	"I can't...She won't see me.  She won't...I'm dead to her." she 
whispered forlornly.  Her legs gave out from under her and she wilted to 
the ground, shaking.  Matt immediately ran over to her.
	"Davida, will you tell me what the hell is wrong!"
	She looked at him.  He drew back in surprise at how shadowed her 
eyes looked.  "It's Christine.  Something...something is very wrong with 
her.  I can't...it's not...I can't put it into words you'd understand." she 
said.  "It's a feeling.  I just know."
	"I don't understand."
	She sighed.  "We're linked, Matt.  We always have been.  She may 
have disowned me and swore that I'm dead to her, but she's still a part of 
me and I'm still a part of her.  No matter how far apart we are, we can 
always feel *some* of the other's presence.  The quirks of being psychic."' 
she said dryly.  Her face darkened again.  "I don't know what's wrong, but 
she's bad.  Something is wrong, and I can't get to her to help!  I've never 
felt so helpless before!"
	"You can sense her emotions from *here*?"
	"No.  I'm only a telepath.  I'm not an empath.  I just...I got a flash 
of her.  I saw her...she looked destroyed, Matt!" she said, feeling tears 
sting her eyes.  "I haven't seen her look that shattered in years!  Not 
since...oh, no..." she whispered.  ~*christine*!  christine, answer me!  
christine!~ she sent out tightly.  ~please, answer me!~
	There was silence.  Complete silence.  Vida knew her sister had 
heard it, but there was no answer.  All of a sudden, she felt something shut 
down sharply in her sister and she lost all contact.
	The rejection hit her with a suddenness that her sister's turning her 
back on her hadn't.  That was when she realized that Christine really and 
truly saw her as dead.  Vida sighed heavily, rubbing her temples.  She felt 
her eyes burning.  She had never felt like this before--never had she felt this 
intense level of rejection and abandonment.  She closed her mind to me, she 
thought, feeling the shock wash over her.  She really...it's all over.  "It's all 
over." she whispered hoarsely.
	"Vida, please, will you tell me what's wrong?" Matt said, taking her 
hands away from her head.  Vida looked at him, her eyes wide and full of 
her pain and shock.
	"She closed her mind to me." she whispered.  "My sister is hurting 
somehow, I don't know how, and when I called her, she shut me out." 
	"I don't understa..." Matt began.
	"You can't." she said softly.  "You aren't a telepath."
	"What did you sense?" he said, accepting.
	"No emotions." she said.  "Not even thoughts--not from this far 
away.  What I sensed was..."  she trailed off.  Then she sighed.  "For a 
second, I saw through her eyes.  And I saw her...She was looking in a 
mirror.  And her eyes...oh, God, Matt!" she said, beginning to shake.  Matt 
knelt down by her and took her in his arms.  He could feel her shaking.  
Trembling.  My God, she's really afraid, he thought.  "I...I haven’t seen 
that look  in so long...not since she was...not since before Angelica was 
born." she said, not even wanting to think about that bad point in her 
sister's life...not wanting to think about the blank stare her sister got 
sometimes, tuning out for hours after she had been attacked.  She didn't 
want to remember how helpless she'd felt, watching her sister slowly 
deteriorate after her mind had finally splintered into three personalities, until 
she had been suicidal.  The only thing then that had snapped Christine out 
of it was when she found out she was pregnant.  That alone had snapped 
her out of that horrible downward spiral...And now she was spiraling out 
of control again, and she was alone...
	Because she was dead to her.  To her sister.
	"Vida, you're crying." Matt said, his voice one of pure observation, 
no interpreting or belittling.
	"I know." she said, looking at her hands.  He wiped her tears away.  
She lowered her head even more, her hair covering her face.  "It's over, 
Matt."  She looked up at him.  "I have nothing.  I have no family.  I am 
dead."
	The way she said it sent chills through Matt's body.  Vida stood up 
slowly and walked, each step harder and harder, dragging more and more 
as she walked.  She was struggling, walking as though every step was 
killing her, exhausting her, struggling.  Matt jumped up and ran over to her 
just as her legs gave out from under her.  "I'm dead.  I'm dead, I'm dead, 
I'm nothing...I am dead..."
	Matt grabbed her shoulders and shook her.  "Dammit, Davida!" he 
yelled.  "Stop it!"
	"Don't you understand?" she said, staring at him emotionlessly.  "I 
am dead.  Even if I live, I'm dead." she said flatly.
	He grabbed her shoulders tightly, looking up at the woman.  "What 
are you talking about?  Are you insane?!!?"
	"You can't possibly understand." she whispered.  "Everything I 
am...*everything*...is from her.  She was my life.  She was the only one 
in this *world* who cared about me.  And now, to her I'm dead.  She was 
not just a sister to me, Matt.  She was the one who risked her life for me.  
Who sang to me when I was a child.  Who laughed away her bruises so I 
wouldn't cry when I was little.  Who would have given up her own *life* 
for me.  She was more than a sister...she was a mother.
	"And now I'm dead to her."
	"OK.  So you're dead to her."
	She gave Matt a look that made him feel about an inch tall.  He 
hastily continued.  "But you're still *alive*.  Your lungs are still breathing.  
Your heart is still beating.  Your eyes still see.  You still feel."
	"Emptiness." she whispered.  "Because to her, I no longer exist.  
She'd kill me as soon as look at me now.  I didn't believe it until now.  I 
just couldn't believe it when she said that...but now...when she's so hurt 
and needed someone...she shut me out.  She...she's really rejected 
me...I'm really dead to her..." she finished, silent tears running down her 
face as the pain hit.  She closed her eyes and stood ramrod straight, fighting 
the pain. One she had never expected in her life. The rejection.  Her world 
came crashing down on her...her world was over.  "I'm dead to her."
	"So start a new life."  Matt said blandly.  "Begin again.  I know it 
hurts, I know.  But you have to ask yourself...do you want to die... 
	"Or do you want to live?"
	She looked at him, her eyes wide, unable to speak.  She walked 
away, still feeling the pain of that intense rejection, her arms wrapped 
around her as she paced.  Matt held out his hand and she looked at him...at 
the faint smile he had on his face, a smile tinged with pain...for her.  
Because of her pain.  He was right--she had a choice, and she had to make 
it now.  
	She looked away again, and spoke in a voice that was barely 
whisper.  "I guess...” she began slowly, then reached out her hand and 
tentatively took his, slowly raising her dark eyes to his paler ones, "I guess 
I want to live."
		***		***		***		***
	Christine walked over to the mirror.  She looked at her reflection.  
All of a sudden, she grabbed a chair and flung it at the mirror, not liking 
what she saw reflected in it.  Angrier still over her traitorous sister calling 
out to her.  Goddamn it, what the hell was happening?!!?  Was she *that* 
pathetic that the traitor would try to reach her?  How was she losing control?  
And to that little self-mutated *gene-joke* Straussmore?  Oh, no.  This had 
to stop.  She snarled, rage filling her, driving away the depression.  She 
tore off the loose clothes and stood in front of the shattered mirror naked, 
her entire body shaking with rage, her hair loose and covering her.  Oh, no.  
She was not going down.  Her breathing was erratic as she shook.  Enough 
of this.  She had hit the bottom, and now was time to show *everyone* that 
she was *not* broken.  She could *never* be broken.  She was Turandot, 
goddammit, and she would win.  The Queen of the Night had *not* been 
defeated.
	A smile curved her lips coldly.  "So you think you've won, do you, 
Straussmore?" she whispered.  "Oh, no." she whispered, her eyes glowing 
a faint green that they never had before, a faint, unnoticed psychic wind 
blowing through her hair.  She had let herself be clouded for too long.  
Losing control of her emotions had meant she had been left weak, and this 
was the result.  She had lost.  He took advantage of the fact that she had lost 
her head. She smiled a cold smile.  Perhaps she should thank him--her head 
was clear now, and she knew now what her limits were.  She would not 
lose her head like that again in rage.  
	She smiled coldly again, completely calm as she plucked a sai up 
from the floor.  It glittered in the moonlight, reflecting both the moon and 
the greenish-blue light shining from her own eyes. 
	"The bitch is back."
		***		***		***		***
	Davida looked at Mars and sighed.  This confrontation had been 
long overdue in coming, but that didn't make it any easier now that she was 
in the situation.  "Look, I'm sorry.  I can say it a million times, and I know 
you'll never forgive me.  There's nothing else I can do. Will you just get 
over it?"
        Mars whirled on her, his teeth bared.  "Get *over* it?!!?  You want me 
to just get *over* it?!!?  You unfeeling, murdering bitch!  How dare you?" 
he roared in her face.  Vida stood her ground, unflinching.  "I *loved* her!  
And *you* took her away from me!  You took *everything* away from me!  
How *dare* you stand there and say, 'get over it'?!!?  You have no 
idea...death and life mean *nothing* to you, you little sociopath!  You can't 
even *begin* to understan..."
        "No, I can't." Vida said flatly, cutting off his tirade.  "I've only been 
disowned by my sister, so I've lost her, lost my niece, discovered my 
whole life was a wretched waste built around lies, and now have to live 
with the guilt of all those deaths on my head.  Oh, yeah, I'm coming out of 
this smelling like a *rose*." she said sarcastically.  "Mars, the only reason 
you're still hurting is because you won't let her go."
        "You don't even know what her name was."
        "Julia."
        Mars looked at her in surprise.  She sighed.  "You think about her all 
the time.  I'm a telepath and I picked up on it."
        "You didn't have to kill her." he snarled.
        "Oh, you think that, do you?" Vida shot back.  "If we'd left *anyone* 
alive who wasn't supposed to be, it was our *necks*.  Christine'd kill for 
the hell of it--she was programmed to be a weapon, and she *is*.  She 
knows it was her only purpose for being created, and part of her is so dead 
inside that she no longer cares.  Me, I work on that whole 'pain is bad' 
thing.  I don't *like* pain.  And if I failed, I got pain by the shitload.  
Torture's no fun, Mars, and eventually, if you're tortured for long enough, 
you'll kill your own *family* if you're told to, to make it never come back 
again!" she said, narrowing her dark eyes.  She pulled her hair back, 
searching along her scalp with her fingers, then pulling her hair out of the 
way.  "See that scar?" she said, indicating a small, perfectly round scar 
normally buried under her hair.  "*Once* I fucked up.  I left someone alive 
who wasn't supposed to be.  My punishment?  Direct electronic stimulation 
of the brain.  In my pain receptors.  The thinking man's torture.  
        "It went on for hours." she said, her voice emotionless and her eyes 
dull.  "You have that happen for a while, and you'll cut whoever's throat 
you're told to, to make sure it never happens again."
        "Maybe *you* would." Mars spat out.
        Vida's eyes narrowed.  "You say that, and you have no idea.  *You* 
can't even begin to imagine.  If I passed out, they waited until I woke up 
again.  They drugged me so I couldn't move, but I was still awake.  And if 
you hit the right part of the brain, you can't scream.  No screaming, no 
writhing in agony, no messy blood to clean.  A very efficient torture, thanks 
to the 'wonders' of science.  Hours and hours of feeling like you're going 
to die and *wanting* to die so it can all end, but knowing physically there's 
not a *damned* thing wrong with you.  Not being able to so much as 
scream."  She laughed bitterly.  "Amazing what a few shots of electricity 
will do.  You just *try* to imagine what it would feel like to feel as though 
you're being ripped apart from the inside out and your skin is on fire.  
Multiply that by a good factor of thirty and maybe you'll be *close* to what 
I went through!  You have that go on for a goddamned night, and *then* 
you tell me I had a fucking choice!" she screamed.  "I'm sorry your wife is 
dead, but wishing me in hell isn't going to bring her back!"
        "You...had...a...CHOICE!" he screamed, clipping every word save 
the last, which he roared in her face.
        "You don't get it, do you?" she said angrily.  "I was living in a 
constant state of terror!  This isn't some game I'm playing or some lie I'm 
telling you to win your sympathies!"
        "Right."
        "You little bastard." she hissed.  "You don't believe me?  Fine." she 
said.  Then she grabbed him.  "Believe *this*!" she roared.  She 
telepathically shoved part of her memory onto him.  Mars screamed in 
agony at the sudden pain that felt as though it was ripping through his entire 
body, and fell to the ground when she released him, shaking.  "*That* was 
twenty *seconds* of the hell I went through! You try that for *six* 
*goddamned* *hours*, and *then* you fucking *tell* me that you won't 
do whatever you have to, to make sure that it never happens again!" she 
roared.  "*Then* you fucking tell me that I had a *choice*!" she yelled, 
tears burning in her eyes.  She turned and all but ran out of the room, 
shaking, leaving Mars shaking on the floor and staring after her 
soundlessly.

		***		***		***		***

	TIME: Approximately one year before

	"I'm going, Mom." Tamitha Straussmore said with a finality in her 
voice that shocked her mother.
	"Tamitha, are you insane?" her mother said back, narrowing her 
eyes.  
	"He's my *father*!" the girl shot back angrily.  
	"He's my husband!"
	"Dammit, Mom, I have to do something!  I have to try!" Tamitha 
said, shaking.
	"I lost a husband." Mistra said softly.  She reached out and touched 
her daughter's arm.  "I don't want to lose you, too."
	 Something in the young woman softened, but she hardened her 
heart against it.  "You won't.  I promise, I'll come back.  And you know I 
always keep my promises." she said with a forced smile.  "If you really 
want this, Mom, come with me!"
	Mistra shook her head.  "Tam, he made a choice.  He chose to stay 
with his father."
	"Yeah.  With Turandot having a knife to his throat, he had the 
choice of going or dying.  We escaped only by the grace of God, and you 
know it.  Dad stayed behind to make sure we got out.  And them you left 
him.  It's been too long; we have to get him and my grandfather *out*."
	Mistra bit back her thoughts--it was too late, didn't she see that?  
The second Xanatos got a hold of them, he'd had programming forcefully 
put into their brains.  Daniel and Blake weren't the men they had once been.
	"Tamitha..." she began.
	"You can't stop me." Tamitha said, raising her head.  She looks like 
her grandmother, Mistra thought, the thought surprising her.  So how much 
of Demona was there beyond the facial expressions?  And how much of 
Blake, whom she could see clearly in her daughter whenever she looked at 
her?
	"You're right." Mistra said with a sigh.  "I can't.  But I can beg you 
not to go. I don't want to bury anyone else."
	"You're so sure I'm going to die if I do this, aren't you?"
	'Yes' was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back, opting to say 
nothing.
	"Mars is coming with me.  Just us two.  A surgical strike." she said, 
checking the energy level on her laser gun.  It was small, and it was 
powerful.  "We get in, we get out."
	"And if they don't want to go?" she said, thinking of what she had 
last heard of what her father-in-law had been up to.  It was almost 
inconceivable that he could have had anything to do with that massacre, but 
he had.
	Tamitha smiled.  It was a smile Mistra had never seen on her 
daughter's lips--it was most definitely from Demona.  "*That* is not an 
option."
				***
	The look on Julia's face was almost enough to make Mars back out.  
"Do not do this." she said in her gruff voice.  She was never one for talking 
much, and her voice showed the years she had spent doing little or no 
talking at all.
	"Julia...I already said that I would." Mars said, sighing.  He patted 
his wife's hand.  "Don't worry.  My magic will keep me safe--it has so 
far."
	"And if tonight your luck runs out?" she said, her dark eyes meeting 
his, no emotion on her face.  "You would leave me alone?" she said.  Her 
accent was coming out even stronger than normal.  That alone showed how 
upset she was.
	"Julia, I promised.  Tamitha can't do this alone."
	She let out a stream of quick Spanish that he knew from her 
expression wasn't a glowing compliment.  In fact, unless he missed his 
guess, she had just made a very derogatory statement about his promise and 
what he could do with that promise.
	"Julia..." he tried again.  She turned her eyes on him again; her 
dark, flashing black eyes.  
	"Don't say another word." she said, cutting him off.  "Just go.  I 
know I can't stop you.  Just go." she said, setting her jaw.
	"I have to go, Julia.  Do you want me to send Tamitha into the lion's 
den *alone*?"
	"Neither of you should be going.  It is craziness." 
	"But we have to try."
	Julia sighed.  "I should expect as much of you." she said, shaking 
her head.  She smiled faintly.  "Why do I put up with you?'
	"Because I make you laugh." he said, swinging her into his arms.  
Her eyes flew open and she clutched his shoulders.  
	"You're crazy!"
	"Yup."
	Julia bit back a laugh.  She made her face stern.  "I'm too big for 
you to do such things to!  Put me down!"
	"Oh, you're not that big, yet.  Wait another month or two." he said, 
spinning with her in his arms.
	"You're incorrigible!" she said, trying to bite back a smile.
	"But you knew that already." he said, kissing her neck.  He gently 
put the pregnant woman down.  "I'll be back sooner than you think, Julia.  
I promise."
	"Easy for you to say." the diminutive woman said, her hands on her 
hips.  "You get to *do*.  I just sit and wait and worry."
	"Don't worry about me.  You just worry about that little girl." he 
said, patting her stomach.
	"It could be a boy." she said, raising an eyebrow and smiling 
faintly.  They had this same argument over and over again, and she loved it.
	"Nah.  Next one can be a boy.  I want a little girl this time."
	"So, naturally, this will be a boy." she said, her smile widening.
	"Probably." Mars said, shrugging good-naturedly.  He kissed his 
wife gently.  "I love you, Julia.  You know that.  And you know nothing 
can stop me from coming back to you.  It took me too long to break through 
that exterior of yours and get you--I'm not about to let you get away from 
me so soon." he said, running his taloned hand through her dark auburn 
hair.  Her hair was such a dark red it was almost brown, but red still 
showed up in any sort of light.  He had never seen anyone with hair that 
color before, and she said the only other person she had seen with that color 
hair was pictures of her grandfather.
	"Good." she said, and hugged him.  She couldn't imagine her life 
without him.  He was the only one who could make her laugh...and before 
Mars, it had been an unendurable time without laughter.  She hugged him 
tightly.  "Good luck, mi amor...ti quiero."
	He ran his hand down her back, holding her tightly.  "I love you, 
too, Julia.  I'll be back soon."
				*** 
	"They know." Lexington said flatly.  Brooklyn looked glanced over 
at Demona.
	The look on Julia's face was terrible to see.  "What?"
	"I just got a commmunique' from Fox.  Somehow, news of Mars 
and Tamitha's plan into the Eyrie has been discovered.  Fox called trying to 
tell them to abort, but it was too late.  We have to warn them."  Lexington 
immediately began pushing buttons.   "We can't. warn them." he said in his 
metallic-tinged voice.  "It's too late.  They're inside Eyrie.  If we try, 
Xanatos could piggy back a signal on ours and discover the base."
	"Don't tell me this." Julia said, shaking.  "Get them out!  Do you 
hear me!" the pregnant woman yelled.  "Out!  They're in there blind!  They 
have no idea that..."
	"It's too dangerous." Brooklyn said, closing his eyes tiredly.  
Dammit...
	"Well, send someone to help them!  You can not just leave them 
there!"
	"Fox said that Xanatos had sent the Sisters to deal with them."
	The silence that hung in the air was thick and palpable.  The Sisters.  
	"No." Julia finally whispered under her breath.  Then she jumped 
up.  "You can't leave them there not knowing!  The Sisters will kill them!"
	"And anyone else we send." Brooklyn said grimly.  
	"We can't just...if you don't send someone, I go myself!"
	"Julia, calm down." Brooklyn said.  "If we send someone in, 
you're not going.  You're six months pregnant."
	"'If'?" she said, raising her eyebrows, her face hardening in the way 
that they knew far too well.
	"If." Brooklyn said, setting his jaw and not giving in to .  "The 
stakes have just gotten too high.  I don't want to lose Mars and 
Tamitha...but I also don't want to send people to their deaths.  I'll ask for 
volunteers, but I won't send anyone in."
	"I'll go." Demona said, her eyes glowing.  "I'll go in alone.  No 
matter how hard they try, the Sisters *can't* kill me."
	"Be careful, my love." Brooklyn said, touching her hand.  "They 
may not be able to kill you...but if they capture you..."
	"...They will find out why my name is Demona." she said, tossing 
her head.  "And that is my granddaughter out there."
	"Any other volunteers?  I'm not sending anyone alone." Brooklyn 
said, setting his jaw.
	"I said I am going." Julia said, narrowing her eyes.  "And don't 
give me that 'you're-six-months-pregnant' crap.  That is my *husband* out 
there.  I can't sit here and wonder and worry and...I just can't." she said, 
blinking tears back.  She cursed her hormones to herself.  "Either you let 
me go or I go on my own." 
	The look on her face let all of them know the woman was serious.
	"Julia, listen..."
	"I survived on the streets alone for nine years.  Almost half of my 
life, I was alone.  I won't be again.  If I can survive that, and break into this 
place undetected, I can still get into the Eyrie.  Besides," she said, a harsh 
smile twisting her lips, "The most dangerous animal is a mother protecting 
her child.
	"I am going, Brooklyn.  The question is whether you want me to go 
with your knowledge or without it."
	He cursed under his breath.  Demona took the choice out of his 
hands.  She knew Julia as well as anyone did--something about the tough 
little human who had been alone for so long had appealed to her--and she 
knew that Julia was dead serious.  If she wasn't sent, she'd go anyway, 
and there wouldn't be a damn thing they could do to stop her, since she 
could escape from anything, as she had proven time and time again.
	"Come on them.  We haven't got any time to spare."
				***	
	"We're splitting up." Mars said in Tamitha's ear.  "Whoever finds 
them first, push this button and call the other." he said, tapping his wrist 
communicator.  "No talking--just hit the button.  I've got it configured to 
flash red.  We'll meet here."
	Tamitha nodded.  "All right." she said nervously.  She took one last 
look at Mars, and took off in the opposite direction.
				***
	"When we get in close enough," Demona whispered, "I'm going to 
try and contact them.  *Stay* *out* *here*.  Do you hear me?  I need you 
to warn me if someone is coming."
	"You don't have to baby me..."
	"I'm trying to get out of here." Demona snapped back.  Julia said 
nothing.  "Do I have your word you'll stay here?"
	"No." Julia said, staring down the gargoyle.  Both of them set their 
jaws, and both of them knew they would be ramming into a brick wall.
	"You stay here, human." Demona said, barely able to keep a smile 
off of her lips.  Julia de la Cruz-Mercure had never been one to tangle with.  
Maybe that was why she liked the little human so much.  She never asked 
anyone for help, unlike most of the humans.  She would have made a good 
gargoyle, Demona thought, looking at the human.
	"You bring them out of there, gargoyle." Julia answered, raising her 
eyebrows.  They had a moment of mutual understanding, and Demona 
spread her wings and flew off.
				***
	Davida looked at her sister.  "Four of them, now.  Three inside, one 
out."
	Christine smiled coldly.  "I've got the three in here.  You take out 
the one outside."
	"You sure?"
	"Completely." Turandot said with a feral grin.  Salome went to a 
window, spread her wings, and took off into the night.
				***
	Demona found Mars first.
	"Demona!  What the hell...?" he began.
	"Where's Tamitha?"
	"We split up.  Demona, what are you *doing* he..."
	"Fox contacted us after you left.  Xanatos knows about you and 
Tamitha.  He's sent the Sisters."
	Mars cursed under his breath.  "We have to get out of here, 
*now*."  He pushed the button to call Tamitha.  "We're set to meet, now."  
He gave Demona the location quickly.  Then he looked at her.  "Did you 
come alone?"
	Demona hesitated for an instant.  "Well..."
	Mars felt an irrational fear stab him.  There was no way in hell 
that...  "Where's Julia?"
	"Waiting outside.  She insisted, and you know how she is when she 
gets an idea in her head.  She said we had a choice of her coming with me 
and us knowing or her coming on her own."
	"God *damn* it!" Mars hissed.  "You meet Tamitha.  I'm going out 
for my wife and getting her the hell *out* of here."
				***
	Turandot watched as the pair split up.  ~salome!~ she sent out on a 
tight band.
	~yeah?~
	~one of the resistance is going out after his wife.  take him out.~
	~ok.~
	She shut down the thoughts quickly.  Her head pounded slightly for 
an instant, then stopped.  She smiled as she watched the Resistance 
gargoyle--Demona--stalk through the building.  'Demona,' she thought with 
a sneer.  Time for the 'demon' to meet the Queen of the Night.
				***
	Vida watched as the woman waited.  She called up the woman's 
face from her mind...she was one of the Resistance, that much was clear.
	And also clear was that she was pregnant.
	Salome tightened her grip on the knife in her hands. She had a job to 
do.  And she would do it.  She knew the stakes.  She had leaned them long 
ago.
	Her face hardened, and she attacked without a sound.
				***
	Tamitha saw the blinking light and felt a sigh of relief begin to heave 
through her.  *Yes*!  Mars had them.  Time to *go* and *now*--the Eyrie 
creeped her out the longer she was there.  She wanted to get back to 
headquarters.  She skidded into the place, and froze.
	"Demona!" she yelled in surprise.  "Wh-where are Mars and my 
fath..."  Her words trailed off as she paled.  She watched, horrified, as 
Demona fell to the ground.  From the shadows, she hadn't been able to see 
the sai sticking from Demona's chest, the three points sticking out from 
between her breasts.
	"Not very demonic, was she?" a voice said from the shadows.  The 
voice was low and melodic...and filled her with terror.   From out of the 
shadows stepped a woman who looked exactly like a young version of her 
grandmother, Athena...save for the square jaw, the wings resting on her 
shoulders, and the tail curving at her feet.
	And the smile on her face was one that Athena could never even 
begin to have.
	"Y-you're one of the Sisters." she whispered, her face going 
bloodlessly pale. 
	The strange hybrid stood with her hip cocked to the side, her human 
legs a sharp contrast to the gargoyle wings and tail.  "Give the hybrid a gold 
star!" she said in her strangely melodic voice.  She smiled again, and her 
right hand began to glow a strange, greenish-blue light that slowly 
coalesced into the shape of a blade.
	Tamitha began backing away.
	Turandot began to sing.

		***		***		***		***
Turandot:
In questa reggia                                  In this palace
...Un grido disperato risorno.            ...A desperate cry rang out.
E quel grido                                        And that cry
...Qui nell'anima mia si rifugio`!        ...Lodged in my heart!
Principessa Lou-Ling,                        Princess Lou-Ling
Ava dolce e serene                              My sweet and serene ancestress,
...Oggi rivivi in me!                           ...Today you live again in me!
Pure nel tempo che ciascun ricorda,	  At the time, as all know, 
Fu sgomento e` terrore                       War brought horror
E rombo d'armi.                                 And the clash of arms.
Il regno vinto!  Il regno vinto!            The kingdom was conquered!
...La` nella notte atroce                       ...In that cruel night
Dove si spese la sua fresca!                When her young voice was 
                     voce!                                             stifled!
...Io vendico su voi!                           ...I take vengeance on you!
Su voi quella purezza,                         On you for her purity,
Quel grido e quella morte!                   Her cry and her death!
...L'orror di chi l'uccise                      ...Hatred of the one that
                                                                    murdered her
Vivo nel cor mi sta.                             Lives on in my heart.
			

		***		***		***		***

	"Little Straussmore." a melodious voice said from behind Blake.  
He jumped to his feet and whirled around, his eyes narrowing.  *She* was 
there.  The bitch.  Turandot.  His eyes swept over the assassin--her hair 
was down, and she looked so much like his mother that it was almost 
frightening.  Except, of course, for the expression in her eyes.  Athena 
would never have been capable of what she was feeling.  She wasn't 
dressed in either her standard battle armor or partial armor, consisting of a 
partial metal breastplate and black knee-length leggings.  All she wore was a 
simple black bodysuit, with a loose belt.  On that belt were her two sais.  
And her hair was streaming down her back.
	"What do you want?" he said carefully.
	She smiled faintly.  "Oh, nothing.  I just came with a message to 
deliver to you."
	"Well? Spit it out."  Blake's gaze locked in on Turandot.  "You little 
*bitch*." he snarled under his breath.
	"You and your father really do need to get out more.  Expand your 
vocabulary." Christine said with a mocking smile.  She rose to her feet, her 
eyes locking with his.  He fought the temptation to look away; he would not 
look away first.  She walked towards him, her eyes never leaving his.  He 
refused to back down, no matter how close she came.  Soon, she was 
standing barely inches from him, still staring at him, so close he could feel 
her breath against his chin and he was almost painfully aware of her 
physical presence.  He could feel sweat on his palms and over his lip, but 
he refused to move.  "Now, you listen to *me*, little Straussmore.  If I see 
hide or *hair* of you near my child ever again, I will make certain that you 
know *precisely* what your precious little Tamitha felt, because I will 
destroy you.  Do *not* doubt me." she hissed, her eyes narrowing.  "I had 
no problems destroying her mind, so don't doubt for a *moment* I would 
have any trouble destroying *yours.*"
	"You psychopathic little *monster*." Blake said, staring down at 
her--she was a few inches shorter than he was, but she was the one doing 
the intimidating.  His hands clinched into fists.  He was tired of this.  Of 
dealing with her.  She was a little *monster* who had killed his child, and 
he was doing *nothing*!  Nothing!
	"Watch yourself, little Straussmore." she said, her eyes glancing for 
a brief second at his clinching fists.  "Unless you *want* to join your child 
in the afterlife.  Oh, wait...but you didn't know she was *really* dead, did 
you?" Christine said with a vicious smile.  "Your precious little wife 
snapped her neck.  I heard it from my sister.  Tamitha is dead."
	For far too long, Blake had been telling himself that his daughter 
was dead.  Her mind had been destroyed, after all, leaving her as nothing 
but a soulless husk.  But at least she had been alive, and, where there was 
life, there was always hope, no matter how foolish and impossible.  When 
Turandot coldly pronounced her words, everything in Blake shattered.  She 
was *dead*.  Hope he hadn't even realized that he still nursed died in a way 
so painful he almost couldn't breathe.  He staggered back, reeling.  It hit 
him at once, in a pain so sharp and intense that he wished his heart would 
stop beating and his lungs stop breathing.
	Christine smiled to herself.  Blake noticed her tiny smile.  "You 
goddamned little bitch!" he roared, lunging at her throat.  She didn't move 
until the last second, when she flowed past him inhuman grace.  She 
slammed her elbow into the small of his back, and he went down.
	"You forget yourself." she said flatly, staring down at him.
	He rolled over and looked at her, his eyes burning.  "This is all your 
fault, Turandot.  You killed my child!"
	"No, your wife did that." she said with a smile.  "Had your 
daughter not attacked Eyrie, I would not have touched her.  So, in a way, 
this is all *your* fault.  You allowed her to leave with her mother.  *You* 
did not leave here and go to them.  *You* made it so the girl still had hope 
that she could 'save' you at least, if not you and your gene-freak father.  If 
you wanted her to live, you either should have brought her or cut all ties, 
but you couldn't bring yourself to do it."  She knelt down by Blake and 
leaned close to him, her lips near his ear.  "I didn't kill her." she whispered.  
She leaned a little closer, and her next words were even softer.  "...you 
did."  She stood up, leaving Blake on the floor, his eyes shut in his 
emotional agony.  Christine empathetically tasted his pain, finding it sweet.  
She savored it for a moment, then she stepped over Blake's prone body and 
left.
		***		***		***		***
	Angelica sighed heavily.  She hated it when Mommy went out.  Her 
mother would never tell her why she was going out.  Now she was alone 
and bored.  Mommy had been going to play with her, but she'd had to 
leave, saying it was business and she was sorry.  That didn't make Angelica 
feel any better.  She knew her Mommy loved her, but she wished she was 
around more.
	"Hello, Angelica." 
	The little girl looked up from her crayons.  "Blake!" she said, 
grinning happily.  She started to go to him, but then she remembered her 
promise to her mother.  That, and something felt...strange about the man.  
There was a weird determination.  "You--Mommy said I can't see you any 
more." she said nervously.
	"Oh?  Why?"
	"M-Mommy didn't say why.  She just said for me to not be around 
you, and I have to do what Mommy says."
	"Because you know she'll kill you if you don't, right?"
	The little girl's eyes widened.  "No!  My Mommy would never kill 
me!  I do what Mommy says because she's my Mommy!  Mommy loves 
me!"
	Blake snorted under his breath.  "Your mother doesn't know what 
love is.  You're a good little girl, so you do as she tell you to.  But if you 
weren't a good little girl, she'd slash your throat from eat to ear."
	Angelica's eyes got even larger and her lip began to tremble.  
"You...you're lying!" she said.  "My Mommy would never kill anyone!"
	"Oh, really?" Blake said, kneeling down to the child's level.  
"Angelica, because I care about you, I'm going to tell you this.  But you 
can't tell your mother you know, or she'll kill me.  Your mother is a killer, 
Angelica. Whenever she puts on that black exoframe of hers, it's to go kill 
someone for Xanatos.  She's killed children before.  *She's* the one who 
killed my daughter..."  
	Angelica's eyes widened.  He was telling the truth!  Or what he 
thought was the truth!  She could tell because his mind was saying so to 
her!  No, it couldn't be!  Her mommy couldn't be a killer!  Her Mommy 
wasn't...she couldn't be...but Blake was telling her the truth, and saying 
her Mommy had killed Tamitha who looked like she did...
	"And one day, " he said, getting up, "if Xanatos told her to, she 
might kill you, too.  But if you trust me, Angelica, I promise, I'll keep you 
safe from her.  I won't lie to you, like she did."
	Blake left the little girl then.  Angelica stayed on the floor, her breath 
hitching, watching silently as the door closed behind him.
		***		***		***		***
	Mars stood up slowly, shaking his head.  Every part of him hurt, 
and in ways he had never imagined.  And that had only been a few seconds.  
An eternity.  Is it possible she's telling the truth?, he wondered.  Had she 
*really* gone through *hours* of that hell?  Only a few seconds had passed 
for him, and he felt wrung out.  But physically fine.  It was only a ghostly 
memory, because he hadn't actually been hurt.  For those twenty seconds, 
he wished he was dead--but he was physically unhurt.  Good Lord, he 
thought to himself.  Six *hours*?  How could she have survived...but she 
wasn't physically harmed.  So it just went on and on..., he thought, 
shuddering involuntarily.  He closed his hand into a fist.  So this..., he 
thought wryly, this is what sympathy for the devil feels like.
		***		***		***		***
	Straussmore packed his things away--his work was done, and 
Xanatos was *finally* letting him leave Eyrie.   He picked up a box and 
turned around.  Then he dropped it back on the table.  "Where the hell did 
you come from?" he said, his eyes narrowing.
	Christine smiled, her expression one of faint amusement.  "I've 
*been* here for the last ten minutes.  I knew you were unobservant, but 
good lord!   If I'd wanted to, I could have killed you by now."  she said, 
still with a smile on her lips.  She shook her hair out of her face and stood 
there, staring at him, with an expression of bemusement on her face.  
Straussmore glared at her.  She pulled out a sai slowly from the belt around 
her waist, and began turning it around in her hands.  His eyes were drawn 
to the glittering blade.  "You know," she said, sitting on his desk, still 
holding the sai, "I believe we got off to the wrong foot...lately.  I have to 
remedy this." she said, smiling coldly.
	Wait...her hair was *down*?  It was completely down.  It was 
usually pulled back into a ponytail and braided.  And she was not decked 
out in her full body armor--she was wearing a one-piece skintight black 
unitard that molded to fit her body far too well.  It  was of no protection 
whatsoever.  Hell, he could tell that it didn't even *cover* her back.  
Straussmore felt a knot of dread in his stomach.  Something was very, 
*very* wrong...  He was on edge, and needed to get back on firmer 
footing. "As I recall, the last times you were here, more happened than you 
intended.  And if you will excuse me, I have to be going."
	"Oh, no, stay."  On the word 'stay', the sai in her hand was 
suddenly buried in Straussmore's wrist, and into the table, pinning him to 
it.  It took a long moment for the pain of all three prongs going through his 
arm to hit him, but the second it did, he found himself choking back a 
scream.  "I insist." she said with a smile.
	"Are you...forgetting Xana..." he managed to get out from his 
gritted teeth, fighting the nausea he felt rising over him in waves.
	The tip of the other sai traced his check, then ran down to lightly 
trace circles on his neck.  The sharp point of the sai was fingertip-light on 
his skin, leaving a ghostly, tingling feel on his skin, where the point had 
touched.  "Oh, yes...Xanatos.  He said that I can't kill you.  Yet."  She 
took the sai away from his neck, and he visibly relaxed.  
	That was when her sai sliced off his hand.
	He screamed in agony as the blade sliced cleanly through his wrist, 
severing his hand from his arm.  She smiled down at him.  
	"But he said *nothing* about not hurting you." she said with a 
smile.  She slammed one sai through his severed hand.  She lifted it and 
looked at the hand twitching on the point of her sai. "This is a warning, 
Straussmore."  She smiled again.  "The second I am able, it will *not* be 
your hand on this sai." she said.  She flicked the sai and his hand fell off of 
it.  She smiled and suddenly dropped her foot down on it.  There was a 
sickening crunch of bone, and Straussmore felt even more ill.  That 
was...is...my hand...  He tried to pull free, but she had driven the sai in his 
arm into the table as well--it was buried in his wrist up to the hilt, all three 
prongs in his arm.  She came over to him, and trailed the bloody tip of the 
sai in her hand down his chest.  His uninjured robotic right arm came up 
and grabbed her by the hair--all he could think about was snapping her 
vicious little neck, pain blinding him to the obvious idea of ripping the sai 
out of his wrist.  She looked at him coldly...then whirled and dislocated his 
shoulder as she forcefully ripped him off the table and threw him across the 
room.  The sai stayed where it was in the table.
	Straussmore, unfortunately, did not, and nearly passed out from the 
pain as his arm was pulled through the three prongs.  Part of his arm, he 
knew from the feel, had stayed in between the prongs...
 	She walked to the viewscreen.  "I need a medic to Dr. 
Straussmore's office.  Now." she said, then flipped it off.  She looked at 
him again.  "We must do this again... only then, it'll be hand to hand.  
You'll still--heh--have a disadvantage, but I plan to enjoy this.  It will be 
fun to slash your throat with my bare hands." she said with a grin.  "And in 
case you think I can't..." she began, smiling sweetly.  She picked up his 
severed hand, held it gingerly in one hand, then shredded it with her talons, 
insuring that it couldn't be surgically reattached.  "...I most certainly *can*.  
Good night, dear doctor." she said, and vanished into the shadows as he 
passed out from loss of blood.
		***		***		***		***
	She walked calmly, feeling some small measure of redemption over 
her prior meetings with Straussmore.  She had now firmly set the ground 
rules *back* into place and established herself as the one who made the 
rules.  He had been in control for too long, and it was time to show him that 
what he had done was in no way wise...or without repercussions.  Sure, he 
could simply regrow the hand, or use a robotic prosthetic, but her point had 
been made, and that was the main thing.  She was not someone to *ever* be 
trifled with.
	She felt like singing.  She hadn't in a while, she admitted to herself.  
Well, that had to be rectified.  She checked the time--Angelica was having 
another magic lesson with Owen.  He had admitted to her that the child was 
quite skilled, and likely would make a very powerful sorceress when she 
grew up.  That made Christine happy--if the girl had magic, it was likely 
she wouldn't have to wallow in the filth and blood her mother did.
	She sat down at the piano in her room, leaving the door open.  She 
played chords as she warmed up her voice, singing scales and vocal 
exercises.  She warmed up to an E-flat above high C and stopped, seeing no 
need to go any higher.  She fingered chords while she searched for an aria 
to sing.
	She settled on "Un bel di`"--"One fine day"--from _Madama 
Butterfly_.
		***		***		***		***
	Vida sat down quietly and began brushing her hair.  Her world was 
rather quickly falling apart.  She brushed her hair, not even noticing the 
movements that quickly became automatic. Her eyes unfocused slightly as 
she began to stare out into space.  It was all over.  She was dead.  Dead.  
Her sister had...after everything that Christine had done for her, 
*everything*, she had repaid her sister like she had...she had turned her 
back on the only one who had ever *really* cared for her and risked her life 
for her.  She had paid her back by this--betrayal.  She was shaking now.  
Her sister had tried to get to her that night, when they had tortured her.  And 
she knew that it was only her sister's intervention that had stopped it as 
soon as it had--it may have been hours, but she had been spared a great 
deal.  She closed her eyes--her sister, who had immediately taken the blame 
onto herself, saying she had not trained Davida as she should have.  And 
her sister, who had saved her before that, from a fate Davida didn't even 
want to think about...but couldn't help *but* think about for some reason.  
And shake.  Her breathing became erratic as she tried to *stop* thinking 
about what had happened.  It was a horrid, fuzzy, confused memory, and it 
filled her with more terror than anything ever had in her life.  I betrayed her, 
she thought.  The one person who risked god only knows how much for 
me...and now I'm alone.  It doesn't matter what Matt says--her, I'll never 
be anything but a monster.  Mars and Brooklyn certainly proved *that*.  
They all would just as soon kill me as look at me...and the one person who 
would risk death to protect me I turned my back on.  And now I'm alone.  
That night when I was little...when they nearly killed her, and she still got 
free to try and save me...was she too late?  I can't remember...she saved me 
from a lot, but...but...
	"NO!" she screamed aloud, dropping her brush and burying her face 
in her hands.  She didn't want to think about it.  But when she closed her 
eyes, she could see her sister's face on that terrible night when Davida had 
still been a child--Christine's face was a mask of blood, both her own and 
that of the scientists and guards who had gotten in her way.  That was the 
night she was first nicknamed the Princess of Death; the night she'd killed 
over fifty people and then literally ripped Schulery to shreds in front of her 
still five-year-old sister.  
	And I've betrayed her., Vida thought, shaking.  She killed him for 
me, risked her own life because they already wanted to kill her for her 
escape attempt with me, and she didn't give it a second thought.  When I 
screamed out to her, she came.  He would have...And when I was tortured 
because I left Alex alive, she...
	I don't deserve to live, she thought, filled with self-loathing.  And 
shaking.  Fear.  Completely irrational fear.  She wanted her sister, and now 
her sister would ever come again.  And she was alone, alone in this place 
where they all wanted her dead.
	She jumped to her feet and ran.  Blindly.  She ran headlong into 
Mars and blindly kept going, banging into walls.  She paid it no mind, and 
just kept running.
	Mars rubbed his arm where the hybrid had banged into him.  What 
the...?  He frowned suddenly.  Something, he knew, was *wrong*.  She 
had run from him before, tears in her eyes, as she remembered the hell she 
had been through.  He had needed to think, to recover, when she ran into 
him.  Blundering.  Seeing nothing.  And her face...
	Mars's frown deepened.  He had seen that look before.  Only once.  
On his own face, after Julia had died.  And he remembered how he had felt 
then--at the deepest pit of despair and in a depression so dark he prayed he 
would never fall into it again.    
	Christ.  The look on her face terrified him.  Not because he was 
afraid of *her*, but because he knew what it meant.  Now he had a choice 
to make.
	"Forgive me, Julia." he whispered to himself, and took off running.
		***		***		***		***
	Alexander felt as if the breath was going to be torn out of his body.  
It was a strange feeling, he had to admit, one he was not used to.  He would 
have closed his eyes, but doing so would have meant not seeing.
	She was playing the piano.  He didn't recognize what she was 
playing at first, since he came in halfway through.  After a moment, he 
placed it as the adagio of the Moonlight Sonata.  Christine had no idea 
anyone was there from the looks of things.  Her eyes were closed, and her 
entire body moved with the music.  He had never heard music played as she 
did--he had never heard her play like *this* is a long time, not since he was 
little more than a boy who'd had to grow up very fast.  If he closed his 
eyes, he could remember the first time he had heard her play that piece--eyes 
closed like they were now, her wings folded so they didn't get in her way, 
her hair loose and flowing down her back and at her sides like a dark 
waterfall, never still because she was never still, her delicate but deadly 
hands seeming to flow seamlessly over the keyboard, graceful as her 
fingers caressed the keys, seducing music from the innocent looking keys, 
her face seeming both childlike and adult at the same time, with pain written 
all over it.  His breath had been just as taken away then by the sound as it 
was now.
	The music faded away...and was replaced by something else as she 
began to sing.  He knew a bit of Italian and translated the beautiful aria as 
she sang: "This secret, undeclared love, so great that all of these torments 
seem sweet to me."
	She finished on soft notes--'Let me suffer every torment as the 
supreme offering of my love for him'--her eyes closing as she sang the 
higher notes, letting go as she focused on only the music she played and the 
ethereal sound coming from her throat; on the physical act of playing and 
singing, her hair falling down her arching back, her shoulders tensing as the 
higher notes floated from within her neck, out of her open mouth, into the 
air; relaxing only as the notes faded to nothing.  On the highest notes, the 
ones most yearning as they created more musical tension by getting further 
and further from the note that would resolve all of the chords and bring the 
fulfillment of the piece, she tilted her head so he could see part of her face.  
He stared at the hybrid's face as she sang--until her hair covered her face 
when she leaned forward--feeling as though every syllable, every note, 
every pitch, was enveloping his body in the sound, wrapping around him, 
flowing into him through his ears and so invading him sweetly.  Her voice 
seemed both diffuse and directed at him.  When she sang the highest notes; 
the notes that, from the expression on her face, what he could see of it, 
seemed be either be sending her to the depths of despair and pain or the 
heights of rapture--the expressions were the same--he felt as though he was 
drowning in that floating sound; as though all of him was being taken in by 
it and held by it; it held him in a grip more potent than anything had ever 
held him before, leaving him with an ineffable longing he couldn't express--
the need for the chords to resolve, for the music to reach it's climax, for the 
impossibly soft and beautiful note to finally end and reach the tonic, the 
point where all of the chords are resolved and the musical fulfillment 
reached.  His hands--his nails--dug into his thighs unconsciously as he 
listened, every muscle tense as he was caught up in the complete tension 
and climax-seeking fulfillment of the music as the note lasted what was both 
a torturously long time and--when it ended and fell to a lower pitch--all too 
brief a time.  When she hit her note, and the music began to end in it's 
gentle anti-climax, he let out a shuddering breath he hadn't even realized he 
had been holding. 
	Then she turned and looked at him, her dark eyes inscrutable.  
"Yes?"
	"I..." he began, tongue-tied. Had she known he was there all along, 
he suddenly wondered, but had chosen to ignore him until she was 
finished?  He was surprised, and forgot what he had come to say.
	"I haven't got all night, Alexander." she said, her right hand running 
through her hair to brush it out of her face.
	"Why did you start wearing your hair down?" he said suddenly.
	She blinked.  "What?  My hair?" she said in surprise.  She 
shrugged.  "I just decided I liked it better down." she said, glancing down 
at her hair.  Of all the random...  "Why?"
	He turned red.  "I just wondered."
	She gave him a strange look, then shrugged.  "Did you want 
something?"
	"Dad wanted to talk to you." he said.  
	"Why didn't he just contact me himself?"
	"Who knows why my father does anything." Alexander said flatly, 
barely keeping a sneer off of his face.  Christine looked at him closely, and 
he squirmed slightly under her gaze.  It was dangerous around her--she was 
an empath, and had a way of knowing things that she shouldn't.  If she 
knew for a split second...
	She frowned slightly, then looked away.  He was hiding something.  
It was making him nervous.  She decided not to push to find out what--after 
all, he was the son of Xanatos, and it was not her place.
	He barely managed to keep the sigh of relief to himself when she 
stopped gently probing his emotions.  He hadn't even realized she was 
doing until she stopped, and he felt a strange emptiness in his mind.
	"Very well.  I'll go see him now." she said, rising slowly.  She 
headed out, and he watched her leave.
		***		***		***		***
	He didn't expect to find her.   When he had seen Mars...
	"Davida!  Thank God." he said, sliding next to her.  He didn't know 
how she had found this place...he thought wryly that Mars would find it the 
height of irony that she had found what had been Julia's hideaway, when 
there were too many people around--that woman had never really fully 
gotten used to being around people again, and too many of them made her 
burn out and she would quietly slip away and come here--it was one of the 
few isolated places that had a view of the night sky.  
	He was not surprised that she had found it.
	"Go away." she mumbled.  She wouldn't even look at him.  She 
started out at the sky, wind blowing her hair out behind her and ruffling her 
wings as she sat on the rooftop.
	"No." Matt said flatly.  Mars had scared him--when *Mars* came 
running saying that something was wrong with Davida, he had felt a fear 
he'd never expected.  He had seen how devastated she had been when her 
sister had truly cut off all communication only a few hours before.  And 
with as badly as he guessed that badly-timed confrontation with Mars had 
gone...
	"Please.  Please leave me alone." she said again, her voice very 
slow and very careful.
	"And I said no." Matt said back, sitting down next to her.  "I'm 
worried about you.  Mars is worried about you."
	She made a rude sound and ducked her head so he couldn't see her 
face.  "No one cares about me here." she said flatly.  "Not you, and 
certainly not Mars."
	Matt frowned angrily.  "Would I be here if I didn't care?" 
	"You would just as soon see me dead." she said, frowning and 
shaking.  "Now please leave me alone."
	"Why?  So you can kill yourself?" 
	In shock, she looked up at him.  She covered it quickly.  "What I 
chose to do is my business.  And if I *choose* to die, I will do so." 
	Matt grabbed her arm roughly and twisted it so the pale inner arm 
was visible.  "Look at yourself, Vida!" he yelled, twisting her arm so she 
could see it.  While she had been there, she had been scratching roughly at 
her inner arms, and so they were red with welts and in many places 
bleeding.  "You're hurting yourself."
	"Maybe." she said, yanking free.
	"Why?"
	"Go away!"
	"I am not going *anywhere* until I have the answers I want." he 
said flatly.
	"I want my sister." she muttered flatly, wrapping her arms around 
her shoulders, then rewrapping her wings around her.  She seemed to 
shrink slightly.  "I just...I want my sister." she whispered.  "You wouldn't 
understand what I'm feeling right now.  I need her...I need her now, 
and...and I'm dead to her." she said, quiet tears streaming down her face.  
She wiped them away angrily.  For someone who had gone through her life 
without crying, she was doing a lot of it today.  She felt like she was on an 
emotional roller coaster.  And now, when everything else in her life was 
falling apart, all she could think about was a night of terror when she was a 
child.  It had been decades ago; why was it haunting her *now* of all 
times?  A half-remembered, fuzzy nightmare that she didn't *want* to 
remember.
	"Why won't I understand?" Matt said, crossing his arms.
	"You just wouldn't." she said flatly, not looking at him.
	"Try me."
	She stayed silent.  Finally, Matt began to speak.
		***		***		***		***
	"Father!" Gemini yelled, the second she saw him.  He smiled 
weakly.
	"I'm OK." he said.  
	"Who did this to you?"
	"Who do you think?  Turandot." he said, sneering.  He looked at his 
bandaged...stump.  It would have to heal before a new one could be 
regrown, but that was all right.  He would do a bit of engineering on it 
first...
	Gemini snarled, her red eyes flashing even redder in her rage.  "The 
Princess of Death, eh?  We'll see."
	Straussmore smiled.
		***		***		***		***
	Matt spoke flatly of the world before.  Of the time before Xanatos.  
His words were low and soothing, taking her mind away from that vague, 
undefined terror her sister had saved her...had she saved me?  Or am I 
blocking it out?  It was all so fuzzy...from when she was little.  He talked 
about her biological parents, Elisa Maza and Goliath, how one day that had 
left, and how the days had stretched into weeks, the weeks into months, the 
months into years, and the years into decades.  Would they ever return?  
Matt didn't know.  If they were alive, he knew they would.
	"Why?" Vida asked.
	"They just will.  It's who they are.  They will return.  One day."
	"If they're alive."
	"Death is the only thing that can stop them from coming back."
	"How can you believe that?  It's been so long!"
	"Because it's who they are.  They won't abandon the ones they care 
for."
	"What were they like?"
	"Elisa...you're a lot like her, in some ways.  I can believe that 
you're her child--you stand the same way as she does.  And sometimes you 
get the same look on your face.  Elisa was independent, very.  Street smart.  
And sarcastic.  That woman could be sarcastic, oh yeah." he said, shaking 
his head.  "But she was a good woman.  Loyal, and would fight to the end.  
Someone you'd want on her side.   A great cop.  She had the cop's instinct, 
all the way.  Sometimes the way she *knew* things..."
	Vida snorted.  "So *that's* where we got it from." she said with a 
snort.  Matt smiled faintly. 
	"You never know."
	"What about Goliath?"
	"Quiet.  Very quiet.  But profound.  He *did* have a tendency to 
pour on the philosophizing, though." he said, rolling his eyes.  "He was a 
born leader.  He took charge without thinking about it.  He was a natural 
protector, even more so than most gargoyles.  But sometimes...it was as 
though the weight he seemed to bear so well would catch up with him, and 
he would vanish for a while...not *really* vanish, but stare out into the 
world for *hours*.  Or vanish into the library and read, far away from any 
hu...contact with other living beings."
	Vida's eyes widened.  "Christine!" she said breathlessly.  "My 
sister!  She's...she's like that!" she said, grinning.  "Only she wouldn't 
read, she'd go find an opera to listen to!  Or she'd vanish off somewhere to 
sing.  Christ, Matt, I wish you could hear her sing--she has a 
*voice*...Owen Burnett named her Christine because of that voice--he said 
she must have heard the Angel of Music to sing like that, and so he named 
her Christine after the girl in _The Phantom of the Opera._  But that 
quietness...that's her.   She's so private...and God, is she always in 
control!  But when everything seems to weigh on her, she'd just tune out 
for a while.  And, oh, she was protective.  She saved me from so much 
*shit*...she...she would...she would...to make...to make sure I was 
OK...she..."  Vida began to cry again, struggling to talk.  "She...she 
protected me from so much...and I...and I just...and she..."
	She put her face in her hands and began to weep uncontrollably, her 
entire body shaking.  Matt quickly wrapped his arms around her and let her 
cry.
	"Vida...Vida, for better or worse, your old life is over.  I wish to 
God there was some way I could make this easier for you...but what's done 
can't be undone.  You did what you felt was right, and saved God only 
knows how many people.   Your sister...you have to face the facts, 
Davida...your sister has chosen her own life.  She's chosen to stay at Eyrie.  
You...you chose to stay here, because you knew it was right."
	"She stays because she's afraid to leave.  And she's been there so 
long...how can she leave?"
	"You left." Matt said flatly.
	"You don't understand...how could you?  You weren't there.  In 
that place.  She'll do whatever Xanatos tells her to.  She's afraid not to.  Or 
she was once...I don't know if she's still afraid of him, or if obeying has 
become part of her.  And she...Matt, I worry about her. I have for a long 
time.  And now...I just have to believe she'll be all right.  She's a survivor, 
my sister...Whether she wants to be or not.  For her, it won't end until she 
*chooses* for it to end...be it our relationship," she whispered, hearing her 
sister's words--" I no longer have a sister, Davida.  You are dead."-- echo 
through her head, "Or it her life."
		***		***		***		***	
	The second she left her father's side, she went in search of the bitch.  
	She was not hard to find, on her way to see Xanatos.
 	"Hello, Turandot."  Gemini snarled.  "I'm going to kill you." she 
said with a smile.  
	"Oh, really?" Christine said, raising an eyebrow and cocking her hip 
to the side, and in the maneuver looking exactly like the mother she had 
never known.  "That'll be a neat trick."
	Gemini attacked, Bowie knife in hand.  Christine watched as she 
approached, not even moving, as the gargoyle attacked with deadly 
accuracy.
	Or, rather, what would have been deadly accuracy, had Turandot 
been there.
	"What the...?!!?" Gemini began.  How the hell had...What was 
going on...?
	She heard Turandot laugh.  Gemini whirled to see the assassin 
behind her.
	"Bitch."
	"Yes.  I am." Turandot said, smiling sweetly.  She cocked her head.  
"You, my dear little clone, are too slow.  Too sure of yourself.  You think 
that just because you’re immortal, you can be sloppy.  You've lost your 
edge.  If you ever had it."
	"So did you." Gemini said with a mocking smile.  "After all, my 
father ..."
	"Your father," Christine said, overriding Gemini's words, "Gave 
me back my edge.  Hey, when you see him, you can tell him that.  I had 
been going soft."  Christine's eyes narrowed.
	"I'm not soft any more."
	Gemini attacked, hissing.  Christine watched impassively as Gemini 
got closer, then went into fighting stance, instead of dropping to the ground 
suddenly, as she had the first time.  She met Gemini head-on, grabbing her 
talons and sending her flying backwards.  Gemini flipped her body and 
used her legs to propel her off the wall back at Christine.  Christine dodged 
Gemini's talons and grabbed her wrists.  She fell on her back, raised her 
legs, and used them to propel Gemini over her.  She was surprised by not 
only Christine's maneuver, but her speed--coldly efficient and so fast it 
looked as though she hadn't even moved at all--and was unable to recover 
before slamming into the floor.  She knew she only had a split second to be 
up before...
	"Too slow, little clone." Christine whispered, and snapped 
Gemini's neck.
	The entire confrontation took less than two minutes.
		***		***		***		***
	Straussmore heard a loud thump and felt a body drop onto his lap.  
He opened his eyes, a smile on his face.  "Ah, Gemini, I see you..."  The 
words died in his throat.  He looked down to see Gemini's body, her head 
lolling in a way that could only be achieved by a snapped neck, and 
Christine smiling at him.
	"Gemini's all broken." 
		***		***		***		***
	In the time it took for him to look down at Gemini's body then back 
up, she had vanished.  Straussmore snarled to himself and waited.  Soon, 
Gemini opened her eyes groggily.
	"Oh, damn it." she said, rubbing her neck.  She got off of her father 
slowly, still dazed.
	Straussmore made a fist with his hand.  "Are you all right, Gemini?"
	"Fine except for my pride." the clone said, shaking her head
	"Turandot, the Princess of Death." Straussmore whispered under 
his breath.  She had been defeated in one respect--Gemini was immortal.
	He frowned suddenly.  She *knew* that Gem was immortal.  She 
*knew*.  So why the hell had she left her still intact?  Why hadn't she 
destroyed her mind?  What was she planning?
	"You know I should be a slobbering idiot right now." Gemini said 
suddenly.
	"Yes, I know." Straussmore answered, his eyes narrowing.
	"What's she planning?"
	Straussmore snarled.  "That, I don't know.  But we have got to find 
out.  Get Cassy." he said, tilting his chin to the door.  "I want the two of 
you to take her *out*."
	A smile began to grow on Gemini's face, but her father's next 
words stopped it cold.  "But I want her alive."
		***		***		***		***
	"You're late." Xanatos said flatly.
 	"I was...detained." she said, her voice just as flat.  She stared at the 
computer screen in front of her.  David Xanatos, the same as he had been 
the day she was created.  She knew the reason she did not age--her gargoyle 
genes helped out by the magic of a fey.  But his?  She *knew* that Owen 
did not use magic for Xanatos; he had told her so himself.  He didn't even 
see Xanatos in the flesh.  How could he use magic?  "You wished to see 
me?"
	"Is it true?" he said flatly.
	"Is *what* true?" she said, feeling a touchy of icy fear stab her.  Did 
he know about her pregnancy...?
	"That Davida has defected."
	She almost let out a sigh of relief.  "Yes.  She has."
	"And why did you not kill her?"
	Christine froze.  Why *hadn't* she killed Davida?  
"Because...because she is my sister."
	"Not good enough." Xanatos said with a sneer.  "Christine, I 
thought better of you."
	"I'm sorry.  I should have.  It was...it was just a momentary 
weakness." she said desperately.  
	"Not good enough." Xanatos said frowning.  "Surely you know 
better than to be blinded by emotions.  Perhaps you should be taught again 
what happens if you displease me?"
	Terror shot through the hybrid.  Dear God, no.  She knew what 
would happen.  "I will not make the same mistake again, you know that.  If 
I find Davida, I will kill her."
	"But you were sloppy.  You should have killed her the second you 
discovered that she had turned against me.  I've lost members of the 
UltraPack as well as Sevarius because of your sloppiness.  I'm not happy 
over this turn of events.  And you will be punished for your inaction."
	Her breathing went haywire.  Punishing her was one thing--she 
deserved it for it stupidity--but she was pregnant.  She blurted it out.  "But 
sir, I'm pregnant!"
		***		***		***		***
	Mars remembered all to well what the scene had been like when they 
had arrived to help out the others at the Met.  The blood...Broadway, all but 
dead, the gaping black chasms filled with crimson where once his eyes had 
been...
	But what he remembered the most vividly was the scene with 
Salome and Turandot.  He didn't know what had made him look up at that 
moment, but he had--and he both heard and seen most of the confrontation.
	Now he was confused.  Before he had been so sure of himself and 
what he felt for that witch...but now everything was topsy-turvy and 
upside-down.  He needed to think. 
	He wandered aimlessly, but some inner pull lead him to what had 
been Julia's place--she had often gone there when there were too many 
people around.  He had no idea how she had found it...and after he knew 
about it, he wondered how anyone could have not have.  She had often 
needed to see the stars, and she could there, without worrying that she 
would be attacked.  he hadn't been there since she died--her presence was 
too much there, and all the memories he had of her were bound up too much 
with that place.  That was where he had first said that he loved her--it 
managed to tear at him when he thought about it, how she had looked that 
night...
	"What are *you* doing here?" 
	His eyes flew open when he heard her voice.  Salome.  How dare 
she be *here*?  He sighed--his anger was half-hearted at best.
	"I could ask you the same thing." he said flatly.
	"I found it.  No one ever comes here.  I needed to be alone." she 
said just as flatly.  She turned her back and looked back out at the stars.
	Mars started to leave, then stopped.  Something burned at him.  
"Salome...why?"
	"I told you, my name's not Salome!" she yelled angrily.  "And why 
*what*?  Why did I kill your wife?  Why did I..."
	"Why did you fight with us?" Mars said, his voice overriding hers, 
even though he whispered his words.  "Why did you warn us about the 
surprise attack?  And if you knew about it for so long, why did you wait so 
long to tell us?"
	Vida wilted slightly.  "Because...because..." she began, trying to 
find the words.  "It took me so long because I had to choose between 
people I didn't know and my sister.  Because telling all of you would be 
passing the point of no return--I could never go back home if I did that."
	"So why did you?"
	"Because...because I had to." she whispered.  "No more death. No 
more killing.  Not for nothing.  Not to help the man who destroyed the 
world and, more than that, destroyed my sister.  Not when I didn't know 
what I was fighting for anymore. Not when I knew there was more than 
everything Xanatos said life was."
	Mars frowned.  "So why did it take you so long?"
	"I was scared out of my mind.  Saying something meant my life was 
over.  That everything I had was gone.  Forever.  Betrayed.  I had to decide 
between the ones I loved and what was right.  And it was the hardest thing I 
ever did...and as glad as I am I made the choice I did, I still wish I could go 
back and make a different one.  But I wouldn't, I don't think...I don't 
know.  I don't know what I'd do if I had known what Christine'd do...but 
part of me knew.  So I...I just don't know.  All I know is that while, yes, I 
saved a lot of people, a lot are dead, too, because I waited so long.  And I 
know that my sister will never forgive me for having the strength to do what 
she wanted to do for so long--leave Xanatos.  Or forgive me for leaving 
her, when I knew it had reached a point where she could never leave.  I 
betrayed her. The woman who was both sister and mother to me my entire 
life...I betrayed her trust by telling what she had told me in confidence.  
And I betrayed her by switching sides.  I almost wish she'd killed me 
instead of just leaving me like that...Better I die than live with the 
knowledge that I repaid *everything* she did for me like I did.  I knew this 
would happen but...but I didn't."
	"Why did you help us, then?"
	She looked at him.  "I agonized over this.  And I had nightmares.  
My sister with her throat cut, screaming I had betrayed her...and your wife, 
too.  Screaming at me through her slit throat, saying, "If you don't kill her, 
you kill me.  You kill me again." she said, mimicking the way the phantom 
had spoken.  "The last nightmare, though...she gave me the choice. "You 
have a choice.  Me, or them.  But whomever you choose, Judas!'"
	Mars had paled.  The way she had mimicked Julia's voice--Julia had 
a very particular way of speaking--her words were always short and 
clipped, and often with grammar that was almost frighteningly correct.  She 
hadn't spoken for years after her parents had been murdered in front of her, 
but she had read a lot--and so when she did speak, it often had a strange, 
text-book correctness to it.  And mixed in with that strange properness, 
there was often something glaringly *strange*--verb tenses that were not 
quite wrong, but also not quite *right* somehow, picked up from listening 
to how people spoke and her intense reading--times when she couldn't 
remember which was right or wrong, so she did the best she could.  
Salome--somehow--had managed to mimic her way of speaking exactly.  
But how...?
	"How...how did you know what Julia spoke like?" he said, his 
voice sounding strange.
	His cousin frowned.  "That was how she spoke.  It seemed really 
strange, the way she said things--her words were very short, and strained, 
in their way--like she wasn't used to talking."
	"She wasn't.  She hadn't spoken for nearly nine years when she 
came to the Resistance.  She only started talking before she came, because 
she knew she'd need to express herself--but she was never very good at it.  
She was silent most of the time.  But she...she was always a presence."
	Vida was silent.  "Mars...I'm sorry." she said, her words strained.  
For the first time, though--he believed them.
	"I know."
	They fell silent, and looked at the stars.
		***		***		***		***
	Lexington had been monitoring the conversation from the Resistance 
headquarters, relishing the look on the bitch's face; seeing it pale while her 
expression remained frozen.  Then she had dropped the bombshell.  
Pregnant?!!?  He shut off the AI of the Xanatos program and began to 
respond to her directly.
	"Pregnant?" he said.  The computer morphed his voice and face into 
Xanatos's, so she heard and saw Xanatos, not Lexington, the mastermind 
behind the program.
	"Yes, sir." she whispered, lowering her head.
	"And who is the father?  Or do you know?"
	Her face tightened and a look of rage momentarily crossed her 
beautiful face, before vanishing, replaced by her normal icy gaze. "I know."
	"Well?" he said, looking her over.  Beautiful or no, he would never 
forget that she was the monster who had nearly killed him so many decades 
ago.  Because Brooklyn ordered the clan to get rid of the freaks.  
Brooklyn's orders, and Lexington was the one paralyzed as a result.  And 
what good was a paralyzed gargoyle?  And of a clan led by someone who 
had no idea what he was doing?  Lex went to Xanatos after that...and the 
rest was history.  "Who?" he said, glaring down at the woman who looked 
so much like Elisa Maza.  And mustn't forget the traces of Goliath in her 
face...and her hair...  He purposely kept her ageless, so every time he 
looked at her, he would remember what she was, what she had done, and 
who had caused her to do so.
	"Straussmore." she growled under her breath.
	"Oh-ho." Lex said with a cold grin.  "As it gets interesting.  Funny, 
I could have sworn he *hated* you."
	"The feeling," she said, narrowing her dark eyes--those were Elisa's 
eyes, all right, Lex thought to himself, as was the expression on her face--
"is mutual."
	"Oh, really?  Not too terribly mutual, seeing as you're...unless..." 
he began.  His eyebrows raised.  "And things get interesting..."
	She said nothing, a muscle in her face twitching.
	"Well, what am I to do?  You're pregnant.  I suppose I could order 
you to get rid of the child...that *would* be a good punishment for your 
failing me as you did." he said flatly, enjoying the look on her face.
	Christine paled and swallowed thickly.  "I-If that is what you wish 
for me to do..." she began, struggling to get the words out, her face 
completely expressionless.
	"I'm still thinking." he said, cutting off her words.  Her shoulders 
slumped in relief, and her eyes closing for an instant was the only give 
away on her face of the overwhelming relief she suddenly felt.  She looked 
up at Xanatos.  He was looking at her strangely.  There were times, she 
couldn't figure out why, when for the *life* of her, she was sure she 
wasn't talking to Xanatos.  There were little differences that nagged at her.  
As well as a slight delay, almost unobservable but obvious to someone who 
trained herself to observe people and behaviour, that glared out and 
unnerved her.  Ah, well.  She should be used to it by now.  She didn't 
think she'd ever figure out Xanatos.  They had had a strange relationship 
for years.  She hated and feared him, and both of them knew it.  She was 
loyal out of fear.  That alone bound her to him, a dangerous but  strong 
bind.  Besides, if she was not here, were would she be?  The *Resistance*?  
They'd kill her in a heartbeat--after all they had tried before she had even 
become Turandot, all because she was a little hybrid-freak.  She knew that 
here she and her child were safe, or relatively so.  There was no place for 
her and any like her--it was her station to be a *thing* and nothing more.
	Lexington suddenly smiled.   "Well, seeing your state, I won't 
punish you--this is enough, don't you think?  But..." he began, before 
Christine could start to breath again, "I am *not* happy about this.  At all.  
You can give birth to the child--but I'm giving it to it's father to raise.  You 
are an assassin, Christine--and children are a weakness--a *softness* that 
an assassin is not allowed.  I never even should have allowed you to have 
Angelica.
	"So here it is, Christine--you will have that child.  As soon as you 
are no longer able to perform up to your old standards, you will go to 
Athens.  You will take Angela with you.  And when you have the child, you 
will return here.
	"Your children will remain there."
	The screen blanked out and, without a sound, Christine fell to the 
ground.

					***	
Turandot:
Figlio del Cielo,                          Son of Heaven,
Padre augusto,                            August Father,
No!  Non gettar tua figlia            Do not throw your daughter
Nelle braccia dello straniero!       Into the arms of a stranger!

Emperor Altoum:
E` sacro il giuramento!                The oath is sacred!

					***

	Christine sighed heavily.  "I have to go, Alexander.  There is no 
'but' about this.  I have been ordered there by your father, and I will go."
	"Christine, you know you'll be killed of you go." he said flatly.
	"In all likelihood, yes." the very pregnant hybrid said flatly--she 
was only days from her delivery date at that point, but she had kept 
working, with a desperation only he had seen, as the months passed...Now 
he knew why she had been like she was--who wanted to go to their death?
	"Christine, please.  For the love of God stay away from there!  
Leave here and *go*.  Take Angelica and run like hell.  Christine, you 
can't..."
	She looked up at him, her eyes dull. Everything was out of control.  
It had reached a point where she no longer cared.  No longer *wanted* to 
rage against having the nightmare she called a life over.  She had lost her 
sister, Angelica was terrified over her now and gazed at her with what could 
only be animosity now, and she knew that the child she carried would to 
lost to her the second she had it--why fight anymore?  It was all over, and 
she no longer cared.  "Good-bye Alexander." she said softly.  She hoisted 
the sleeping Angelica onto her shoulder, and looked at the heir to the 
Xanatos empire.  "Addio." she sang softly, one hand gently touching his 
arm.  "Addio, senza rancor."   When she sang, he raised his hand to touch 
her arm, but stopped just short of actually making contact with her.  His 
other hand touched her hair near her cheek.  A sad smile touched her face 
for the barest instant, and she kissed his cheek, near his lips.  She stepped 
away, carrying her sleeping child.  She stopped and turned to face him for 
an instant, then her face hardened and she walked away.
	Alexander watched her go...and *knew* that he would never see 
her again.  "Christine!" he yelled out.  She turned.
	"Yes?"
	"Christine, listen, I have to tell you that I..."
	"I won't  forget anything you've done for me, or tried to do.  Thank 
you for all of it....And good-bye...Alex." she interrupted gently, the sad 
smile on her face again.  "Senza rancor--without bitter regrets."
	"Christine, listen, I...!"
	She was gone. 
		***		***		***		***
	Christine stood outside of Sparta.  The moment of decision.  To run 
or stay?  She could do what aleaxander had said--run away.  Flee.  Now.  
Get herself, her daughter, and the child she knew she was going to have 
very shortly as far away from Sparta...from Xanatos...as she could.  Run.
	She sighed, and looked at her daughter.  The girl slept uneasily, 
even in her sleep pulling away from her mother.  Christine frowned.  She 
touched Angelica's head with her cheek, and the girl flinched.  Christine's 
eyes closed in pain, and, softly, under her breath, she began to sing as she 
stared at the building and her inevitable death.

		"Sola, perdutta, abbandonata		[Lost, alone, abandoned
		In landa desolata!  Orror!		In this desolate land.  Horror!
		Intorno a me s'oscurra il ciel.		Around me, the sky darkens.
		Ahime`, son solo!			Alas, I'm alone!
		E nel profondo deserto io 		In the depth of the desert,
 			cado,					I fall,
	Strazio crudel, ah,			Cruel torments, ah!
		Sola, abbandonata, 			Alone, abandoned,
Io, la deserta donna!			I, the deserted woman....
	Tutto dunque e` finito.			It's all, then, finished.
	Terra di pace mi sembrava 		This seemed to me a land of 
 		questa!				peace!
	Ah, mia belta` funesta			Ah, my fatal beauty
	Ire novelle accende--			Stirs a new fury within me--
 	Strappar da lui mi si volea;		They would take me from								him;
	Or tutto il mio passato orribile 	Now all my horrible past
 		risorge, 				resurfaces,
	Ah, di sangue s'e` macchiato!		Ah, blood stains it!
	Ah, tutto e` finito!			Ah, it's all over.
	Asil di pace ora 			Refuge of peace,
 	La tomba invoco...			Now I seek the tomb...
	Ma...non voglio morir!  		But...I don't want to die!
 	Non voglio morir!			I don't want to die!
	Amore, aita!"				My love, help!]

	She closed her eyes once more, steeled herself--no, she would not 
run away; she would die as she had lived--and set her face, then went 
inside.
		***		***		***		***
	"Father, listen to me!" Alexander said, slamming his fist into a table.  
The computer monitor jumped, but David Xanatos's face never changed.
	"Was that necessary?"
	"Why are you doing this to her?" he said angrily.  "You *know* 
damned well Straussmore will kill her.  You know it.  So why?"
	"Who are you talking abo...ah.  The hybrid.  Christine."
	"Yes.  Christine." Alexander said, staring at the face of his father 
through the monitor.
	"She brought this on herself."
	"How?"
	"She should have killed Davida the second she found out she was a 
traitor.  Instead, she let her live.  That was an unforgivable mistake."
	"Because she wouldn't kill her *sister*?!!"
	"Yes." 
	Alexander stared at his father, his jaw dropping.
	"Why are you so upset, anyway?  She's only an assassin."
	"Because...I...she doesn't deserve to die because she couldn't bring 
herself to kill her sister."
	"Ahh.  I see.  You were sleeping with her, is that it?" Xanatos said, 
an eyebrow raising and his lips quirking into a smile.
	Alexander's jaw dropped again and he turned bright red.
	"If that's it, calm down--I still have her genetic samples on hand and 
can grow you a new little concubine..."
	Rage suffused Alexander's face.  "You son of a bitch!" he roared.  
His father's face darkened.  "No, I wasn't sleeping with her.  But I...but no 
one deserves what she's had to live through!" he roared.  "How can you 
reduce her to a 'genetic sample'?!!?"
	"Watch your tone of voice, Alexander." David Xanatos said, his 
face darkening. 
	"I can't even...you aren't even a man anymore." Alexander said, his 
face a mask of self-righteous rage.  "You're a monster.  An unfeeling 
monster bent on taking over the world and living forever.  I wish to God I 
wasn't related to you!"
	"Well you are.  You are my son and my heir, and you'd better 
accept it.  What, do you want the *Resistance* to win?  They'd kill you.  
And if they didn't," Xanatos said, leaning forward and looming menacingly 
through the screen,  "I would.  
	"Forget about the little hybrid." Xanatos said, his face settling back 
to normal.
	Alexander glared at his father, the expression on his face identical to 
the one on his father's. 
	Xanatos grinned suddenly.  "Alex, my boy, I'm not as heartless as 
you seem to think.  Watch." he said.  Xanatos opened a screen to Sparta.  
"Straussmore."
	"Xan-Xanatos!" the mutated scientist said in surprise.  "Is 
something...?"
	"My boy is a little nervous about Christine's treatment at Sparta.  
So, even though I don't need to, let me make something clear, to relieve his 
fears.  Turandot is my best assassin.  I will lose enough time with her 
pregnancy.  I don't want to waste time growing a new assassin, whose 
temperament I can't be sure of.  Christine is to remain alive and in *perfect* 
health.  The child is yours to do with as you see fit, but Turandot is not to 
be harmed in any way, shape, or form...and I will hold *you* personally 
responsible if she is.  Understood?"
	Straussmore's face darkened.  "Perfectly."
	"Good." Xanatos said, and ended the transmission.  "There.  All 
better now?  Your precious little concubine will live."
	"She's not my...but her child..."
	"...is not yours so why do you care?  I am letting her live, 
Alexander.  Do not push my patience further." his father said with a hint of 
threat in his voice.  "Oh, and Alex..." he began, a faint smile playing on his 
face, "Turandot was the one to kill your mother."
	He ended the transmission, leaving Alexander to stare at a blank 
screen with an unreadable expression on his face.
		***		***		***		***
	Alexander just stared off into space for a long time.  There was no 
way that...was his father telling the truth?  Did Christine kill his mother?  
Why?
	He didn't know if he could face her right now.  He knew what she 
was.  He knew.  She told him constantly that she was as assassin and to not 
forget that.  And now it hit him.  She was a killer.  She had killed his 
mother.  Didn't she?  She did.  Why would his father lie?
	He put his face in his hands, his hands digging into his orange-red 
hair and tightening his hands until he began to pull at it.  
Goddammit...could this happen?  Did this happen?  Why?  Why would she 
kill his mother?
	He slammed his fist into the table.  The computer jumped, and he 
looked at it.
	His mind whirled.  In all likelihood, it was possible.  Probably, 
maybe.  His mother died on Avalon, trying to get him back from there.  
Why would she kill his mother?  What good would it have done?  Or was 
his father lying to him, trying to break him away from 'his concubine?' 
	He shook his head angrily.  Goddamn this...all of this...Could he 
believe his father?  Why would he lie?  Especially since it would be so easy 
to call him on a lie?  Was this a typical Xanatos manipulation?
	He thought about the images he had seen of his mother--a red-haired 
woman with a mysterious smile and that tattoo that he had mimicked for 
himself.  He had watched the old videos of her in the Pack, and wondered 
about that woman, if she was really like the women on the screen, 
memorized her vocal inflections, the way she moved, everything--spent his 
entire life imagining if she hadn't died and had been there, to be his mother.  
He couldn't complain too much; he'd had Owen around him his entire life, 
teaching him to use his magic and watching out for him.  His father hadn't 
been around much, and he had to admit, that had hurt when he was little.  
But he'd found other things to do...
	But he hadn't had his parents.  Was it all because of *her*?  
Christine?  Had his father thrown himself into his quest for domination 
because he had lost his wife?  Was that why he never looked at his son, 
who looked like his wife?  Was *all* of that Christine's fault?  Had that 
bitch destroyed his life and destroyed his father?  Why?  And if she had, 
why the hell was he helping her?  He should leave her to the lions!  Let her 
get what was...what was coming...what was coming to her...
	He heaved a sigh, closing his eyes heavily, all but shaking now.  
Oh, God.  What was he doing?  He had been thinking the same damned 
thing that he remembered some of those scientists saying.  One of them, 
gloating about what hey had done...before she was well, laughing about 
having finally taken 'the bitch' down a notch or two.  "She got what she 
deserved, the slut." he'd said.  "'Bout time she remembered her place--
she's just an experiment, after all.  Not even human.  It doesn't feel like we 
do."
	He remembered being furiously angry when he had overheard that.  
Christine had *not* deserved what they'd done to her.  Jesus Christ...he 
could remember seeing her...finding her after.  It was an image he knew he 
would never be able to get out of his mind.  Good God, that woman had 
been through hell.  Suddenly discovering that the nightmare assassin of his 
childhood--"Be good, Alexander, or Turandot will come after you." his 
father used to tell him--was no more some evil phantom than he was.  The 
terror of the nightmare phantom his father had implanted in him about the 
evil Turandot had all but vanished when he had found her.  And he had 
stayed with her.  Seen the 'demon' cry and collapse.
	She was 'human'.  Maybe not completely, technically, but she still 
felt.  Her emotions were no different from anyone else's.  She had suffered.  
And now...now he was going to...leave her to die?  to have the only thing 
in the world that she cared about taken from her?  Even if she *had* killed 
his mother and taken her from him...did her children deserve for him to do 
the same to them?
		***		***		**		***
	"Fox?  Is something wrong?" Lexington said when he saw 
Alexander.
	"I need to talk to Brooklyn." he said flatly.  Lexington snarled for a 
faint second, then he led Alexander to Brooklyn was.
	"Fox?  What's...?" Brooklyn began.
	"No time." Alex said, cutting him off.  He glanced around the room, 
and didn't know whether to be glad or wince at the people in the room.  It 
was an interesting bunch, he had to admit--Brooklyn, Athena, 
Matt...Davida.
	"Alex?!!?  What the...you're...you're *Resistance*?" the hybrid 
said in shock, her eyes huge.  Alexander nodded once, not able to meet her 
eyes.  Now things got sticky; how the hell did he tell *Vida* of all 
people...?
	"Christine.  How's my sister?" she said, grabbing his arm, her eyes 
huge.  "Just tell me how's she's doing.  And Angie.  I..."
	"That's why I'm here." Alexander said grimly.  "Sit down, Vida.  
All of you, you'd better sit down."
	Davida paled.  "Alexander...say something.  Anything.  But say it 
soon."
	Matt put his hand on the hybrid's arm.  She was grateful for him 
being there, feeling ready to faint at any second.  "Alex..."
	"Christine...Vida, I wish you would sit down.  Athena, I think you 
need to, too."
	Vida sat.  Athena just looked at Xanatos.  "Alexander, what is going 
on?"
	He looked at Vida.  "Your sister is pregnant." he said flatly.  He 
turned to look at Athena.  "And Daniel's the father."
	Athena sat.
		***		***		***		***
	She felt as through the floor had literally been pulled out from 
underneath her.  Android or not, the news knocked the wind out of her.  
Daniel...and *Turandot*?!!?
	"How?" she croaked.
	"Damned good question." Alexander said, heaving a sigh.  "Since 
they hate each other.  Of this, there is no and has been no doubt.  All I 
know is this--around the time she must've gotten pregnant, since as it 
stands now she's less than a week away from giving birth--*something* 
happened.  She..."
	Vida paled.  "Oh, no." she said, her stomach wrenching inside of 
her.  That night...when her sister had...when Davida had reached out, it 
was because *something* was wrong.  That image of her sister in the 
mirror, her eyes looking dead...  She looked at Alex.  "He...he raped her, 
didn't he?" she said flatly, putting it all together.  "She'd never say if it 
happened, but that's what happened."
	Athena's eyes narrowed.  "How the hell would he go about that, 
may I ask?  Are you forgetting that a) I don't think Daniel, even at the 
monster Xanatos made him, could do that, and b) even if he could, the 
woman in question is *Turandot*?!!?" the android roared.  Davida jumped 
to her feet.
	"Oh, like Daniel Straussmore's a fucking saint!" she roared angrily.  
"Listen, sister, your husband's a psycho."
	"Because of Xanatos!" Athena roared back.
	"Ha." Davida said flatly.  "Daniel Straussmore was a nutcase 
*waaaaay* before Xanatos got his little meathooks in him.  Your husband 
did all of the engineering on *himself*.  All by his little lonesome.  Uh-uh, 
honey, your husband's a crackpot."
	"And your sister is a psychopath!"
	"Ladies, *please*!" Matt yelled.
	"Shut up, Bluestone!" they both yelled at the same time.
	"Why is it," Matt said to himself, scratching his head, "That 
whenever I try to stop these kind of fights, I always get told to shut up?"
	"Athena!  Davida!" Alexander hissed.  Davida responded instantly to 
his voice, which was exactly like his father's.  Athena shut up as well, 
although she still looked like at any moment she would tear the hybrid 
woman to shreds.
	"We don't have time for this." Alexander said.  "Because after she 
has that child, she's coming back to Eyrie.  And my father has ordered her 
to come back--but she has to leave Angelica and her baby at Sparta."
	Davida fell back into her chair.  "Please, *please* tell me you're 
lying." she said flatly.
	"I wish." he said grimly.
	"If...if she has to leave her child..." Davida began.  "Alexander, it'll 
kill her."
	"If Straussmore doesn't kill her first."
	"I can't believe he slept with her..." Athena whispered to herself.  It 
hurt.  God, did that hurt.  And it hurt more because she knew what 
Turandot looked like--Turandot could have been her doppelganger, only she 
was younger in appearance.  Turandot *must've* seduced him.  It was the 
only explanation.  There was no way that Daniel, no matter what, could 
have...
	"I don't know the specifics of what happened between them." 
Alexander said flatly.  "I only know what I saw.  And what I saw was all 
but tangible animosity between them, and between her and Blake."
	"Do you blame them?" Athena growled.  "She killed Tamitha and 
destroyed our lives.  She delivered them to Xanatos."
	"Athena, will you listen to me?  there's something you're not 
seeing, and that's what was happening at Eyrie.  Good God, I don't even 
know if I can explain it all...Blake did his damned to take Angelica from 
Christine."
	"Why?" Davida asked in confusion.
	"To hurt her.  She took his child from him, so he's taking hers.  
And it doesn't hurt that Angelica's almost a dead-ringer for what Tamitha 
looked like when she was that age.  I've even heard Blake slip once or twice 
and call her Tamitha.  And make no mistake, with as much as *everyone* at 
Sparta hates her, she doesn't have a prayer in hell of coming out of there 
alive."
	"Thank God for small favors." Brooklyn said dryly.
	Davida jumped to her feet and whirled on him, her eyes glowing in 
the faint, not-quite-gargoyle way they did when she angry.  
"You...you...that's my *sister*!" she roared, tears filling her eyes.  "God 
damn you, Brooklyn, that's my *sister*! Damn you, I won't let her die 
there!  I won't!  I won't let them kill her!"
	"Are you forgetting she said she wanting nothing to do from you 
ever again?" Brooklyn asked her flatly.
	She wilted a bit, then surged back.  "You really are a prime bastard, 
you know that?  It doesn't matter.  It *doesn't*.  She's my *sister*, my 
flesh and blood, my family, and that's all I care about!  I don't care if she 
never talks to me again!  If she hates me  I'd rather she be alive and hating 
me for the rest of my life than dead!  Dammit, I won't forget that before she 
turned her back, she killed someone *on* *her* *side* without thinking to 
save my life!  I won't let her die!" she roared.  A transmitter flew across the 
room from her undirected rage manifesting itself in her unstable telekinesis.
	"Whoa, watch what you do with that!" Matt yelled when it missed 
his head by a few inches.
	While that was happening, Alex went to the computer and slipped in 
a small disk.
	"I found this." he said quietly.  "I didn't look at it--I knew I 
wouldn't want to.  But I pulled this anyway, just in case.  I see now I have 
to show you what it was like between them.  This was a day months ago, 
when I noticed Christine was limping and just...not herself.  That 
something was wrong.  I checked to see where she had been, and the 
computers tagged her as having been with Straussmore before she went to 
her quarters.  I...I pulled them that day, because I wanted to know what the 
hell had thrown her so much.  But I could never bring myself to watch 
them.  I...I don't think I really wanted to know what had happened.  I made 
a copy of the video files and put it on this disk, so it wouldn't be filmed 
over."
	They turned to the screen.  And watched.  
	"I'm going to be ill." was all that anyone said by the end, and that 
was Davida.  Her quiet, stunned words broke the stunned silence.
	Athena was shaking.  It was all she could do.  She tried to stop; 
willed herself to stop, and nothing.  Her finely-tuned and controlled android 
body simply refused.
	Alexander rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly, feeling sickened 
himself.  His next words were quieter.  "The next night, she...cut off his 
hand." he said flatly.  "She was under orders not to kill him, so she didn't.
	"Things are bad." he said hoarsely.  "He's going to kill her.  And 
you haven't seen what she's been like these last few weeks.  She *knows* 
she's going to die.  She's given up.  Pushing herself past all limits to try to 
keep from having to go.  But she had to; she couldn't keep up her old pace, 
although she tried.  She's going to her death.  Oh, yeah, Dad said she 
wasn't to be harmed and he would hold Straussmore responsible for any 
injuries she got...but one thing I know, if you don't because you weren't 
there, is that she'll die.  If she looses her children...even if the 
Straussmores let her out alive, and even if she stays alive...she's going to 
be so dead inside that the Turandot you hate now will seem like the Sugar 
Plum Fairy in comparison."
	Athena spoke quietly, her words measured.  She was in shell-shock 
from what she had just seen and learned.  "I knew this day was 
coming...that one day, we'd all have to face each other.  Good God, what's 
happened to him?" she burst out with, slamming her fists into her legs, tears 
in her eyes.
	"So what do you want us to do?" Brooklyn said flatly.
	"Get her out."
	"One thing, though--do you think she'd come?" Davida said, 
clearing her head.  "Yeah, you've got us all thinking with our hearts now.  
But there's bigger things at stake here.  Turandot is a killer.  She would kill 
all of us.  There is no denying that.  She would *never* join us.  And what 
about all the people she's killed?  I don't like this, either, but she's an 
sworn enemy.  She won't come." Vida said sadly.  "You don't know her 
like I do.  She'd die first.  We'd have to keep her here against her will, and 
that wouldn't last two seconds.  She'd be out of here, with God only 
knows how many dead behind her, hightailing it to Eyrie, hoping she'd 
please Xanatos enough for him to let her keep her children."
	It was Athena who spoke next.  "I don't give a rat's ass for that 
assassin." she said flatly.  "But what I do know is that this all has to stop.  
Daniel...he's become a monster..." She choked on her words, then 
continued.  "And I can't let that go on.  That...*thing* that looks like...hell, 
it doesn't even *look* like him anymore... is a lie.  A perversion.  And it 
has to stop.
	"Brooklyn, I'm leading a team into Sparta.  And no, you can't stop 
me so don't even try.  I'm not going for the assassin.  I don't care if she 
lives or dies; in fact, I hope the bitch rots in hell.  But I can't let that 
perversion claiming to be Daniel Straussmore to destroy the memory of 
someone who was once a good man.  A man I love.  I can't let it continue to 
do the things it's done.  He needed to be stopped, anyway.  This'll take a 
big chunk out of Xanatos, if we can take out Sparta.  And we *will*.  This 
is a family affair, just we will go." she said, her eyes narrowing and a steely 
edge entering her voice.
	"I just want my sister." Davida said quietly, lowering her head.  "I 
don't care about memories of men or stopping evil...I just want my sister.  
My niece.  That baby...I just want them safe.  I don't care about anything 
else anymore." she said as quiet tears began to fall unnoticed down her face.  
Matt went over to her and knelt by where she was sitting, wrapping his arm 
around her tightly.  She leaned against him, shutting her eyes tightly, trying 
to stop her tears.
	"In three days," the goddess of war whispered, "We attack."
		***		***		***		***
	"Davida...wait." Alexander said when everyone began to trail off 
after the meeting.
	"Yes?" she asked, looking tired.
	"I...I have to ask you something.  We need to talk.  Alone." he said, 
his eyebrows knitting.
	"I know a place." she said softly.  She led and he followed as she 
went to the pace that had very nearly become 'hers', as it had been Julia de 
la Cruz's before her.  She had just found it and liked it, now it had become 
hers, and sometimes she could almost feel another presence, and she 
wondered if maybe part of Julia was still there.  Then she would look out at 
the night sky and let it go.
	"Davida..." Alexander began hesitantly.  "When...when all of 
you...the attack on Avalon." he said quickly.  "I *have* to know...did 
Christine kill my mother?'
	Davida felt as though she had been hit in the solar plexus.  Years of 
expecting and dreading this question had not prepared her for it.  "Alex..." 
she began.
	"Yes or no."
	"You have to understand tha..."
	"Yes or no." he said tightly.
	She lowered her head and began to speak.
		***		***		***		***
	She had gone into labor only minutes after she had arrived.  
Straussmore's attitude had been no-nonsense.  He knew what he was doing 
and she had had a child before.  After several hours, she gave birth--and as 
soon as she did, the sun rose and she fell asleep, knowing that she was 
never going to see her children again after the sun set that night.
		***		***		***		***
	Alexander left at sunrise, feeling stunned.  Everything was different.  
Everything.  Now he knew the truth.  About everything.
	He couldn't stop shaking.  So now he knew.  And he wished to 
God he was ignorant.
	Yes.  Christine had killed his mother.
	On his father's orders.
	And Davida had been given her own secret task for that attack on 
Avalon to retrieve him, also from his father.  Her own target to kill in the 
ensuing battle on Avalon.
	She had been supposed to kill *him*.
	Davida had lowered her head when she spoke.  She hadn't been able 
to do it.  She couldn't kill a baby, and he had been a baby then, or very 
nearly.  Barely a toddler.  the orders had been secret, only she had been 
told.  But Christine knew them, just like she knew Christine's orders.  
Make it look like it happened in the battle.  A tragic accident stripping him of 
both wife and child.
 	Only he hadn't counted on Davida not being able to kill a child.  
"Christine knew.  She knew.  She was there when I was standing over 
you...you were so tiny.  And that knife I had was so big...I was shaking.  I 
put the knife away.  And Christine...she rushed in.  I thought she was 
going to kill you for me.
	"But she didn't.  She watched me.  Then she sighed heavily and 
picked you up.  She looked at me and said, 'I got to Alexander before you 
did.  You were never alone with the child.  *Were* *you*?'  I looked at 
her, not understanding, and she said it again, more forcefully.  That was 
when I understood.  *She* hadn't been ordered to kill you.  Only me.  
How was she to know?  And it was supposed to look like an accident, but 
she had you the whole time, how could I fake an accident to kill you?"
	"But...but she killed my mother!"
	"Yeah.  And I understand why.  I didn't until we got back.  Your 
mother was dead, but you were alive.  I failed, even though it looked like an 
almost perfect attack, with the 'unfortunate' death of  Fox." she said 
harshly.  "Xanatos," she said, almost shaking, "was *not* happy.  And I 
was...punished.  Tortured because I let you live.  And now, Owen was 
there, and, as Puck, he had been charged with watching over Alexander.  
So you were allowed to live.  And Christine...she watched out for you, 
Alex.  It was subtle, but she did.  She was *not* going to let you die in an 
accident your first few weeks and months at Eyrie.  I know you don't 
remember it, but she was there all the time at first, and only backed away 
when Xanatos ordered her to--after those first three months, she didn't see 
you for *years* by Xanatos's orders.  Christine had eyes everywhere, and 
she saved your life at least twice those first few months.  After that, Owen 
watched over you and she went about what she had to do because she knew 
Owen'd protect you.  She would never say that she watched out for you, 
Alex--in fact, she ignored your presence when she was ordered to--but she 
did what she had to do because I have to believe that she didn't like the fact 
that she had to kill Fox.  She didn't like Fox, much, but that was back when 
Christine was still...well, just before.  When she was still capable of 
standing up to Xanatos in some way.  Keeping you alive was her small way 
of telling Xanatos to fuck off.  That he couldn't control her completely--
some part of her would rebel.  That...that she wasn't so dead inside back 
then.  What she was still burned at her then--Christine wasn't meant to be a 
killer, Alexander."
 	"I know." he said softly.  Davida looked at him closely, her 
eyebrows knitting for an instant, then she shrugged it off.  
	"How do you...?" she began, a touch of uncertainty in her voice.  
She decided to let it go--sometimes, it was better not to ask.  "It burned at 
her--to this day, I still think that keeping you alive was her way of atoning 
for killing your mother the way she had to."
	"Christine...are you *sure* she knew I was supposed to be killed?"
	"Yes.  She knew.  She took the blame for me not doing as I was 
told when she found out from Xanatos, saying she had not trained me 
correctly.  She tried to protect all of us.  Yes, Turandot killed Fox.  But 
make no mistake, Alex...." she said, looking at him, her eyes dark.
 	"Christine saved you."
	So now he knew the truth.  He knew that his mother had been 
murdered.  By Turandot.  The assassin for his father.  But that she had also 
saved his life and tried to protect her sister.  That...*that* was why his 
father had cultured in him when he was young a fear of her--because if he 
had stayed around her, she would have made sure he lived. Why, he had no 
idea.  Guilt over his mother's death, repugnance over what Xanatos had 
become...who knew?  He no longer knew how he felt about anything 
anymore, especially about Christine.  He only knew two things.
	His father had to be taken down.
	And he had to see her again.
		***		***		***		***
	When she woke up, she saw all of them--Straussmore, Blake, and 
Angelica.  Her baby were nowhere in sight.
	"Say good-bye to your mother." Blake said to the child, tightly 
holding the nearly-human girl's hand. He squeezed her hand, then released 
it and nudged her towards Christine.
              Angelica looked at her mother, fighting the desire to hide behind 
Blake.  "G-good-bye, Mommy."
              Christine remained silent.  She watched as they sealed her in the 
cell, no expression at all on her face.  She watched as her daughter turned 
away from her and ran to Blake.  Her face remained stoically frozen.
	"Enjoy your new home, 'Turandot'." Straussmore said mockingly.  
"My hands are tied, so I can't kill you...but you're going to be here for a 
long, long time...unless, of course, you have a little...'accident.'" he said, 
and left laughing.  Blake just looked at her, cradling her daughter.
	"Payback's a bitch." he mouthed, and left carrying the child, who 
didn't even look at her mother.
	Christine stood in the empty room, the force field sealed tightly.  
She knew that there was no way for her to leave.  Her face never changed, 
but softly, darkly, under her breath, she began to sing as she looked at the 
exit her daughter had so quickly passed through without a second glance.

"Sono andati? Fingevo                       [They've all gone?  I pretended
              di dormire                                       to sleep
Perche` volli con te sola restare.         So I could be alone with you.
Ho tante cose che ti voglio dire,          I have so much I want to tell you,
O una sola, ma grande come               Or only one thing, but it's as big as
              il mare,                                            the sea,
Come il mare profonda ed infinita...   As profound and infinite as the sea...
Sei il mio amore e tutta la mia vita!"	   You are my love and my entire life!]

	She stood, her face emotionless, but the sound undeniably filled 
with emotion.  When she finished, she simply watched the entrance.  Then, 
silently, she sat down and started out into space with the same frozen 
expression while one tear slid down her face.
		***		***		***		***
	Angelica had been unable to close her ears to the sound of her 
mother's voice--it carried even as Blake took her away.  She felt tears 
burning in her eyes--that was Mommy, and Mommy was hurting.  
But...but Mommy was bad.  Blake said Mommy was bad, and Mommy had 
done so many bad things...
	"Sweetheart, I want you to stay here until I come get you for dinner, 
OK?" he said, ruffling her hair after he put her down.  "And after dinner, 
you can go see your little sister. OK?"
	She frowned slightly.  "Can I see her now, please?  Please?"
	Blake frowned slightly, then nodded.  "I don't see why not.  
Gemini is watching her now."
	He held out his hand and the girl took it without second thoughts, 
her hand tiny in his.  He led her down the hallway, to where her baby sister 
was.
	"She wanted to see her sister." Blake said as soon as he saw 
Gemini.  Gemini shrugged. 
	"Fine with me."  She glanced over at the baby who was sleeping.  
The baby looked too much like her namesake, Athena, for her own good.  
Amazing how that face keeps going, she thought--Elisa Maza may be gone, 
but there'll always be someone who looks like her...
 	Angelica went over to the crib, and looked in.  "Ohhhh!" she 
breathed in.  The baby was so tiny and delicate looking...She reached down 
with a finger and traced the baby's cheek.  "She looks like Mommy!" she 
breathed.  The little girl sleepily opened her eyes, then pursed her lips and 
went back to sleep.  Angelica frowned slightly.  Her little sister.  She 
looked like Mommy.  Mommy, who was in a cage.  Mommy who was bad.  
Her frown deepened and she resettled her small wings.  Mommy who sang 
to her.  Mommy who played with her.  Mommy who taught her to play 
piano.  Mommy who taught her how to speak all different languages.  
Mommy who loved her...
	Mommy who killed people.
	She shook her head.  She didn't know what to do.  Blake had told 
her the truth, and Mommy hadn't...but Mommy loved her.  So did Blake.  
But what was she supposed to do?
	Her jaw set.  One thing she did know.  She had to know, one way 
or the other, if her Mommy loved her.  And if her mommy loved the baby 
sleeping in the crib.  It didn't matter what Mommy did...it only mattered 
how she felt.
		***		***		***		***
	She froze when she got outside of the room her mother was in.  
Now she lost her courage.  She was scared...very, very scared.
	"Angelica...Angelica..." Christine called out from behind the force 
field.  
	The girl froze, then peeped into the room.  "Blake said I'm not 
supposed to go anywhere near you.  Because you'll do bad things to me 
like you did to Tamitha."
	"Angelica, I love you." her mother said, her eyes wide, her child's 
fear of her stinging her as nothing ever had before.
	Angelica tentatively stepped forward, terrified out of her mind.  She 
had been told so many terrible things about her mommy...but she had to 
know...  She dared to reach through and shield and touch her mother's 
hand.  Christine's hands wrapped tightly around her little girl's and she put 
the child's hand against her check.  Angelica suddenly felt completely 
engulfed in her mother's love.  This was Mommy.  Mommy.  Mommy may 
have done bad things, but Mommy was Mommy and her Mommy loved her 
more than anyone else in the world, even more than Blake did.  "Oh, 
Mommy!" she yelled, wanting to run in and hug her mother,
	"No, my little angel." Christine whispered, stopping her daughter.  
"Oh, I missed you so much.  I want to...  Honey, will you do something 
for me?"
	"Yes, Mommy.  What?"
	Christine looked her child straight in the eyes.  "They're going to 
kill me."
	"I know."
	"Bring me my knives.  My sais."
	"Yes, Mommy."
	The girl started to run.  "Wait!" 
	She stopped and turned back around.  "Do...do you know where 
your sister is?  They wouldn't let me see her.  Not once."  She closed her 
eyes.  Straussmore had just *taken* her child from her.
	"Yes.  I know.  And...And I'll bring Athena to you, too."
	"What?  What did you say?"
	"Athena.  That's her name.  That's what Dr. Straussmore calls her, 
at least."
	Christine narrowed her eyes.  "I should have known as much..." 
she muttered.  Obsessive little bastard.  "Can you bring her?  Please?  I just 
want to see her..."
	"I will." the child said, and left.
		***		***		***		***
	Angelica came back, holding her sister carefully.  A simple spell had 
been all that was needed to make sure Gemini didn't sound a warning--
Gemini was now fast