"Me firsty!" she announced and headed off with a wobbly-skippy-walk in that direction, leaving him stunned and still kneeling on the lawn. As she passed Bunny she paused and said, "Hi, BunBun. Sid all better now?"

Bunny gulped. "Y..yes," she stammered, looking into Joimus' sweet, innocent little pink face. A sudden thought struck the rabbit. "Joimus," she asked, smiling kindly, "how old are you, dear?"

Joimus giggled, pirouetted clumsily, and proudly held up three fingers.

"Oh my God," Sid exclaimed. "I KNEW it could get worse!"

********************************************************
Bunny quickly elbowed him in the gut. "Shhhhh!" she said. "Fred would never curse in front of a child!"

"A CHILD!" he blustered. "The woman's 33 if she's a day!"

Bunny silently tapped her own skull and made a little twirly motion with her forefinger. "And it's YOUR fault, remember!" she added.

Joimus was doing a little hoppy, knee-crossing movement."I gotta GO!" she chirped.

"Where do you need to go, my dear?" Sid asked, trying to be a bit more Freddish.

Joimus pointed a finger toward the yellow farmhouse. "Potty!" she said brightly and quite pleased with herself.

Sid's jaw dropped a bit. He looked at Bunny. "She's means the...bathroom?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow extremely.

Maximus had gained his feet and come very, very warily up to this little groupling. "I'll take her," he said softly, his jaw working, his lower lid twitching.

"You most certainly will NOT!" the Countess announced firmly.

"Why...why not, Pat?" he asked.

"It's hardly...appropriate...now," she huffed and taking Joimus by the hand, led her across the yard.

Maximus stood there, silently watching Joimus and Pat walk away, then turned and with one quick motion grabbed Sid by the neck band of his red cardigan. "Of all the things you have ever done, Sid, of all the plots you have plotted to keep me and Joimus apart....this is the worst!"

"But...but...," Sid protested, "it was an accident! I didn't know what would happen to her!"

"Pah!" Maximus spat, giving Sid a bit of a rough shove backwards as he released his hold on the cardigan and stomped off toward the house.

"Hurry, Aunt PittyPat," Joimus said, her bouncing increasing.

The Countess sped up a bit. She had taken Joimus in in her hour of need before, back in the days when the Pittsburgher had swum from Calais to Marseilles, completely around the Iberian Peninsula that long, exhausting night. (See: Elder Epi "The Russketeers") She squared her shoulders as they crossed the porch, glaring at Hando who sized up her innocent, pink charge a bit too interestedly. She would not fail her now. Holding open the screen door, she said, "Come, my dear," and the two of them entered the house side by side. "Let's use the one off the kitchen so you don't have to worry about the stairs," she said kindly.

Alex came up to Pat as she waited in the kitchen. "Doesn't she need, um, help?" he asked.

The Countess grinned. "She said she was a big girl and could manage alone."

"Whew!" Alex chuckled, "Thank heaven for small favors."

"You can cut the levity," Maximus rumbled behind him. "It is not funny."

"Sorry, Maximus," Alex apologized. "It's just we've never had, um, potty time in an epi before."

"Oh, Mathymoose," Joimus laughed, coming into the kitchen, her tights twisted a bit far to the left, "me wuv you, Mathymoose!" She ran to him, arms wide, then stopped short. "You not wet now, Mathymoose?"

He closed his eyes tight briefly, then smiled, "No, no longer wet." He sat, then, in a kitchen chair and she plopped herself in his lap, immediately proceeding to a serious examination of his beard and moustache.

"You so fuzzy!" she giggled. Then she traced her fingers on the embossed wolf's head high in the center of his cuirass. "Big dog," she announced.

"Yes," he agreed, "I like dogs."

"You gots?" she asked.

"Not now," he said, remembering how his last canine had disappeared sometime during the heat of the battle in Germania. Absently and from sheer force of habit, his thumbpad caressed her arm. Pat put her hand firmly atop his, shaking her head 'No.' By now it was getting quite late. Joimus yawned hugely then burrowed her cheek into his wide fur drape. Within seconds she was fast aleep, her long pink hair almost completely covering her face. Maximus leaned his cheek down atop her head, combing his fingers through her hair.

Pat started to protest, but he looked at her so forlornly that she remained silent. Instead, she turned into Alex's arms, needing to feel his body pressed against hers, needing to know that everything was as it should be between them. Terry, standing in the doorway that led to the dining room, blinked back tears as he watched the General stroking Joimus' hair. His right arm, circled about annsmac's shoulders, tightened a bit. "Look how close they are," he whispered, "yet how separated."

Very carefully Maximus stood, the sleeping Joimus cuddling herself deeply into his arms. Carrying her toward the staircase, he said softly to Pat as he walked by, "I will pass the night in the chair, but I cannot leave her by herself."

Pat, remaining in Alex's arms, nodded silently, understanding.

He pushed the bedroom door open with his boot and lay her gently on the bed. Her fingers had curled deeply into his fur drape, so he shrugged it off and arranged it over her, tucking more of the fur up under her chin. She stirred a little and, opening her eyes not quite halfway, smiled up at him as he bent over her. "Mathymoose, I wuv you so big." Then she drifted off to sleep again. As he stood there, the moonlight streaming in through the large window, he thought he might literally break in half. He sank heavily to a sitting position on the floor beside the bed. His emotions had run a gauntlet of agony hour after hour. He was so tired, so drained of strength, yet still so full of pain that he buried his face in the bedcovers, fisting his hands into them as his whole frame shook with silent sobs. Then he slept, his left arm flung out toward her across the bed. Sometime in the night, as she moved in her sleep, her hand found his and she curved her fingers around it, holding on.

Downstairs, on the porch, and in the yard, everyone was very quiet, very reflective. Watching Maximus had affected them all...deeply. Jack stood, tipping his head back against one of the porch posts, his eyes closed, yet a deep crease furrowing his brow. Juditha took his right hand, caressing it with her fingertips. "Don't blame yourself, Jack," she said in tender concern.

He looked down at her, his jaw working. "But I do," he said sadly. "WHY did I have to mention the sponge? WHY?"

Himself, passing by, commented, "Best not to cry over compressed sponge, Aubrey. It's a philosophy that has worked for me."

Phyllis, gathering her shawl from the back of the porch swing in order to accompany Himself on a late night stroll, narrowed her eyes. It was good she loved Himself in spite of himself, though he did make it rather hard at times

Marti sat at the desk near the living room fireplace. Jeff watched as she shuffled through stacks of yellow notepads, mounds of computer printouts, little piles of handwritten notes. "I give up!" she cried, pounding both fists on the desktop. "I can't find it ANYWHERE!"

"What have you lost?" he asked, worried that she might have bruised her hands.

"I haven't LOST a thing!" she cried, her desperation beyond its limits of bearing. "How can I lose something I've never SEEN?"

"Then...then," he asked, truly confused, "what IS it you are searching for?"

"The %$#&@# PLOT!" she almost shrieked. "There MUST be a plot somewhere! Everything on Enchantments has a plot!"

Annsmac, cuddled on the couch with Terry, asked, "Did you read A More 'General' Storyline?"

"Yes," Marti growled, "what's your point?"

"Was there a plot?" annsmac continued.

Marti thought about that a long moment. "Nooo," she replied, almost under her breath.

"Was it on Enchantments?" annsmac pursued.

"You know it was!" Marti grumbled.

"I rest my case," annsmac said with a smile. "Besides," she then added, "if there were a current plot, it would be being written by a three-year old and we would all be making mudpies and fighting over the tire swing."

Jeff came up behind Marti, massaging her neck muscles. "Tight," he said, then taking her hand, pulled her up out of the swivel chair. "I think you need...comforting," he grinned.

She sighed, turning away from the desk. "IS there a tire swing?" she asked, cocking one eyebrow at the young plumber.

"I do believe I saw one on the live oak," he chuckled, adding, "Are you in a swinging mood?"

She lowered her lids considerably. "There are things I've never done on a tire swing."

"Really?" he asked. "What?"

She smiled again. "Come with me," was all she said.

By standing atop the dining room table and with the liberal use of Vaseline, Franki had managed to detach Nash from the chandelier. By the time she had ungarlic-lumped his nose, it was quite red and swollen and she decided the application of a pork chop would be the only way to relieve that. She led him into the large, country kitchen where she found Pat and Alex hugging near the pantry and Ute already in the process of making a late-night snack for the hungry Jeffrey out of small balls of cantaloupe she had soaked in soy sauce. Placing the now brown balls carefully in an artfully-arranged bed of shredded carrots and slivered almonds, she set the plate in front of him.

He looked from the plate up into her face, his eyes shining with delight. Not only had his beloved forgiven him and disposed of the awful black crowe feather, but she had made him his favorite snack in all the world! Taking her fingers, he pressed the back of her hand to his cheek. "Oh, my Ute," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, "have you any idea of the treasure you are to me?" She did, of course, but a wise woman never admitted it. Freeing her hand, she took the grocery list pencil and quickly sketched a diagram of the house on a paper napkin, marking her room with a large "X". "What's this?" he asked as she handed it to him then walked out of the room.

Looking back over her shoulder she chuckled, "Eat swiftly. It's a treasure map."

Lachlan had finally staggered his way out of the cornfield and when he saw Wanda standing alone by the sweet peas, almost gasped in his great relief. "Wanda!" he called, and she turned, smiling at the sight of the sudden moongleam off his uniform wings.

"You never returned for breakfast," she said as he came up beside her, "and now it is almost midnight."

"Next spring remind me to plant less corn," he sighed, "I thought I'd never make it out of the field."

"Next spring?" she repeated. "Lachlan, you know very well that by next spring it is much more likely that you will be building igloos in northern Alaska than be planting corn in eastern Pennsylvania."
   

Of course she was right. He just hoped there were no volcanoes or maneating prairie dogs involved. Shuddering briefly, he shrugged off the thought, then decided it would be better for the moment to be IN the moment, so reached out to touch her red hair in the moonlight. As he studied her face, he saw traces of sadness lingering about her eyes. "Is it the loss of your fireant collection?" he asked softly.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"I saw some strange battlefield deep in the cornfield where they met their doom. I rather fell into it, in fact."

She looked closely at him then, horrified at the small pieces of fireant corpses that still clung here and there. "Lachlan!" she cried, "You...you...come to me in the night...bearing upon your person the legs, the antennae, the very Dufor's glands of my...pets??"

Quickly he stripped off his uniform jacket, tossing it aside. Narrowing her eyes, she pronounced. "You need a bath!" Lachlan, it seemed, needed a LOT of bathing.
           

"OK," he agreed, grinning, already starting to sing "Once a jolly swagman...." as they headed toward the house. Alas, in their need for, um, cleanliness, they had both forgotten. When they arrived at the upstairs bathroom, the outer wall was completely missing and the tub still overturned.

"Marti's!" Wanda said. "She won't mind. She's, um, busy...on the tire swing."

Andy sat beside Anna on the porch steps, holding her hand between both of his. "I had so hoped you were going to walk in the clouds with me," he said longingly, "but instead I found myself propelled most unwillingly into a dark and gloomy cellar."

"Do you still have the anti-frost fanning wings?" she asked hopefully.

"Both sets," he nodded. "Do you want to light the smudge pots and fan the grapes even though it's quite warm tonight?" he inquired.

"I don't believe there are vineyards in The Village," she replied, "but we could fan the corn!" She looked at him almost shyly. "I've always wanted to...fan...with you."

Reaching under the porch swing, he pulled out the four large, white wings, then helped Anna slide her armstraps up just so. Laughing, the couple ran across the lawn, their wings glowing in the moonlight.

"My God," Himself remarked, seeing them from some distance, "but the moths in Pennsylvania are HUGE!"

"You should see a Texas moth," Phyllis responded, hooking her forefinger through the piece of flannel cuff about his wrist and pulling him deeper into the shadows of the old pump house.

Zack watched as Susan Guildford knelt in front of her poppy bed by the red, white and blue farmhouse. When the plasma column had sucked the corncircles upright, it had had no effect on the more distant blue poppies. He knelt beside her, running his palm across her back. "Susan," he said, "there's one thing that I've learned through a long and often chilling history of episodes, and that's that, no matter what, you always end up with at least one blue poppy."

Turning her eyes from the delicate plants crushed in intricate patterns, she looked at him fondly. He was right. Standing together, she brushed the soil from her hands. The night was warm, the moon was full, Maximus was, as usual, suffering some great torment, but she was right beside her Zachary. "You so fuzzy," she said, running her hand down his long hair and onto his beard. He laughed, pulling her to him, tipping his chin to tickle her face with his fuzziness.

Creeping softly past the first row of stalls so as not to disturb Egan's, um, grooming of Diz nor a bit further down whatever it was that East and Beck were doing with the empty oat sack, Sue finally stopped, bent down and filled her hand with stable dust. A single shaft of moonlight shone through a small hole in the roof, illuminating Cort's beautiful face. With great, artistic care she curved her fingertip through the dust and applied it to the offending "X" on his cheekbone. With a heavy-lidded look she said, "I'm glad she's gone!"

"Who?" he asked in that obtuse way males often displayed.

"Blue Joimus," she growled, "the pink version is much better." Once satisfied that all traces of the horrid "X" were safely removed, she rested both palms on his chest. "But enough about her," she continued, giving him a sudden, sharp push that sent him off-balance and backwards into the hay. She grinned. "Let's make hay while the moon shines....to give an old expression new meaning." Then she laughed, pleased at her own humor, and let her whip fall unheeded beside her black boots as she...well, as she did...things...Sharon Stone never even thought of.

"I know they're here...somewhere," Braddock said, a bit frustrated, as he and Jewelie searched for his shoes.

"With the crop circles gone, it's hard to tell where you might have left them, Jim," Jewelie replied, "and I'm very tired."

"What about your flipflops?" he asked.

"Truly," she said, sighing, "I don't care if I ever see them again." She sat down in the cornrow, patting the earth next to her. "Come...sit," she said, "and watch the moon with me." He, too, was tired and after watching Maximus was in great need of being close to Jewelie. They leaned against oneanother for a while, looking at the moon sailing high above the stalk tops, discussing the day's events.

"I heard the nameless new guy made a brief appearance," he remarked. "Soon I will no longer be the newbie."

"I'm glad," she said seriously. "Perhaps then you will be safer."

"I doubt it works that way," he replied, pressing his lips together grimly. "Look at Maximus. Two and a half years ago the epis had their beginning with him boarding the Orient Express. Has his longevity, epily-speaking, made him suffer less?" She, alas, knew how true his words were. "And even Terry;" he continued, "it was on that very train that annsmac first discovered the K&R agent's equipment. Think of what has happened to that since."

"Oh, Jim," she cried, burying her face in his shoulder, "I can't bear to think of it!" She shuddered then, recalling how Jim had nearly been deleted so early on in the game. "When I saw your outlines hanging over Himself's arms there in the wheatfield," she said, "I thought I would expire from the sheer horror of it."

He smiled at her with great tenderness. "Look at the moon," he whispered. "Its light is mantling around us like a glowing shield. We are together...now...you and I." Tipping her chin up with his fingers, he kissed her brow, her nose, her cheek, working his way slowly toward her lips.

Buggie and Biebe snuggled together on a chaise in the den of the yellow farmhouse. "Do you think he can do it?" Buggie asked.

"Who do what?" he replied, being male and, thusly, having no idea of her thought process.

"Sid," she explained. "Do you think he can truly be Fred?"

"Perhaps he can be the Fred with the hockey mask," Biebe answered, thinking nightmarish thoughts were much more likely.

"Oh, I hope not!" she exclaimed, having forgotten about the 'other' famous Freddie. "Besides," she added, "Sid's Fred is Presbyterian. I don't think they often carry butcher knives and chainsaws."

"One hopes," he said, turning off the TV with his toes, then looking down at her, eyes all sparkly. "I know the chaise is not a snowbank," he chuckled, "but, I, too, have hopes."

She laughed, pleased. She had hoped he had hopes.

In the kitchen, Franki pulled out a pork chop. Wouldn't you know it would be frozen. Holding it, she looked at Nash. Perhaps she could...bend...the chop just enough to make it fit over his nose? She tried, but it was too stiff...way stiffer than the mathematician had been a bit earlier. Holding it out, she said, "John, I'm sorry, but it's quite frozen and they don't seem to have a microwave."

Tired of a lack of personal love scenes, he took it from her, placing it on his chest under his white tee, then pulled her to him, wrapping his arms about her, pressing her close. "Then I guess we'll just have to thaw it with body heat," he whispered, nibbling at her ear.

"All right! All right! %$#$%$#@#!" Ando muttered. "It's MY %$#$% turn!"

"WHO are you talking to?" Hando asked, walking closely beside her both because he actually wanted to and because she had his left suspender firmly in her grip.

Noticing that their names had finally appeared on the computer screen, she growled, "No matter now," and continued swiftly around to the back of the yard where the large house completely shadowed it from the touch of moonlight. Satisfied, she let go of his suspender with a sharp snap.

"Ow!" he said, but he smiled. A little pain sometimes...added...a bit to, um, things. He backed her several yards through the darkness till she stumbled over an unseen rake and fell flat on the lawn. He let himself topple with her and they rolled about a bit. "The dew is falling," he commented, feeling its wetness through his TWP's. Ando, however, had little interest in what was falling. All she cared about, wanton former Welshwoman that she was, was for things that were rising (though she was, admittedly, not quite able to believe that that had just been typed!).

"Have you more stories?" Berti asked Bud as they wandered along the edge of the woodlands.

"I am quite quercused-out," he laughed, "at least for the moment."

Thinking suddenly of Wanda for some reason, Berti remarked, "I hope Lachlan found his way out of the corn."

"I'm sure he has," Bud replied, "but let's find our way into the woods," he added, recalling a place they had passed that morning where the pine needles had lain thickly. With great care he guided her through the trees, the moonlight puddling the ground in little scattered pools of light. An owl hooted hauntingly as they passed its tree and a small doe watched them from behind some scrub. "It's so...different... from LA," Bud commented, enjoying the peace and the lack of gunfire and squealing tires. They sat together on the pine needles, their temples leaning one on the other, his arm around her shoulders, just listening for a while to the night sounds of the forest. At the same moment, they both sighed deeply in contentment, then looked at one another and smiled.

"I like this epi," she said, cupping her palm around the curve of his cheek.

"Me, too," he agreed, lying back, pulling her onto his chest. "Me, too," he repeated, almost a whisper as his lips parted softly, seeking hers.

Eryn's pouch of beads had sprung a leak and several had fallen out onto the lawn near the gate to the small dirt lane that ran past the yellow farmhouse. She and Colin were both on all fours, trying to recover them, not an easy task as the grassblades were thick and a bit tall, everyone having been occupied with other matters of late than mowing. The top of her head inadvertantly bumped his chin as they reached for the same bead at the same time. He sat back, laughing, rubbing his chin slightly. Eryn sat on her heels, looking at him. "I'm frightened," she said, startling him.

"Eryn! What do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward.

"This...this...epi," she said, "it's...it's...not natural."

"Are they ever?" he remarked.

"That's not what I mean," she continued. "It's this particular one. It's like some oasis in the Sahara. Everyone is way too... together." Her eyes widened as she continued, gripping his hand tightly, "I fear it may be some calm before the storm."

"Joimus and the General are not really together, Eryn," he pointed out. "Maybe, then, there's hope that it will not all fall apart."

"Oh, Colin," she cried, "promise me...PROMISE me... that you won't go to the beach!"

He laughed softly, indicating the farmland stretching for miles in every direction with a nod of his head. "Do you see any beaches?"

"Not here...not now," she whispered, "but things...change... so quickly. One never knows."

"I promise," he said, pulling her onto his lap where she comforted herself by stroking his left sideburn.

Sid and Bunny sat on the top rail of the fence. Idly, he pulled splinters out of the wood, flicking them into the darkness with his fingernail. "It's hard," he said, looking at her seriously. "Fred is only one amongst so many, many...others."

"I know," she agreed, "but your programmer seems to have made special provision for him somehow. He knew an ultimate failsafe might be needed to save the world."

Sid placed a palm on his chest. "I feel him...here," he whispered, "yet I don't know what to do with what I feel."

"You made the tear," she pointed out. "There must be something very strong in his influence."

"I didn't know about potties, though," he sighed. "Shouldn't I know about potties?"

"I'm sure, given time, that potty knowledge will come more naturally to you, Sid," she said affectionately. "Biebe could help you. He knows a lot about potties, I expect. But I wouldn't ask Terry. From what I understand, he was always gone during those years." She leaned her head tiredly against his shoulder. "It's so late," she sighed, closing her eyes.

Not really requiring sleep, he put his arm around her and sang softly, "It's a beautiful day in the epihood...."

Despite Ando's best efforts to prevent it, morning came. In the upstairs bedroom, Joimus stirred and stretched a bit. The curtains had not been closed and so the rising sun sent its rays directly into the room. She became aware of something in her hand and looked toward that side of the bed. Mathymoose was there and she had her fingers curved around his large hand. He was still asleep. Freeing her fingers, she looked around the bed and grabbing a large pillow, bashed him in the head with it. "Wake up, Mathymoose!" she chirped then bashed him again.

Startled, completely disoriented, he leapt to his feet, instinctively drawing his sword. "Waaaaaah!" she wailed, frightened. The Countess burst in the door, horrified by the sight of the groggy General standing beside the bed, gladius slightly swinging, while Joimus' shrieked and pulled the covers over her head.

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