LOST IN THE EMPIRE

PART 17: THE FINAL CHAPTER

Rachel lay on her side, propped up on one elbow, halfway between sleep and contemplation, her body curled slightly to encompass Cort’s head as he lay full on his back, nestled into the niche her reclining arm and bosom created.  His eyes were closed, succumbing faster to drowsiness than she, both of them settled into comfortable silence in the shade of some low laurel trees which formed a natural-grown arbor around and above them.  She had spent a good few minutes caressing his face and forehead, dropping light kisses where needed and then some, until Cort was tucked perfectly under her embrace, kissed and stroked to peace.  Now her hand had slipped up into his hair to cup

A bee buzzed through their little arbor, fleeing from the bare sunshine that emblazoned the garden where they lay, or perhaps dive-bombing for something sweet in a place otherwise devoid of herbs and flowers.  The tinkle of a water fountain was behind their arbor, emitting the same enticing sounds of refreshment the other three corners of the garden made in the Portico of Livia.

The question of why was not something she had even thought much of since confessing her heart to him in the sparse room above Redemption’s saloon.  She had not gone in planning to say it, not until the moment he took her hand and kissed it had the words even found their way to her lips.  But once she did, it had felt then as if she had been storing those words away since before she knew what time was and had finally found the one person they belonged to.  There was no ‘why’ to it at all.

The sunlight filtering through the laurel leaves was darkened to a purplish green, the grass beneath her cool.  Other citizens made promenades past their little arbor, unable to keep from glancing in, as if they were new statues to be admired.  Rachel ignored them, though, looking down at her…husband…she found herself smiling at him, thinking of a ceremony to come, but also thinking how it would all be an after thought, a summary of what they had shared already.  He called her ‘home,’ and that was the beginning of marriage, she supposed. 

She let her lips fall to his forehead again, lingering for one long blessing, this time taking it from him instead of giving it, a drawing up of who he was through his skin to hold in her.  A passing couple strolled by, causing her to break the moment.  They talked of Livia as a model wife, virtuous, strong; they made their way to the domed colonnade that stood in the center of the garden, arms filled with offerings, sacrifices to be made before marriage. 

Cort’s hand reached up to her face, startling her a bit in her watchful reverie, pulled her mouth to his for a deeper kiss.

“You had a look on your face,” he whispered when their lips parted. 

“A happy look, I hope,” she said.

“I’m not sure.  I think you’re worrying again.”

Rachel unlocked her elbow to lay her head on the grass next to his, so her words would reach his ear in private. 

“You should know by now that’s what I do best,” she joked.  He turned so that his green eyes met hers mere inches away.  “I was thinking happy thoughts,” she added to reassure.  “I was also watching that couple take sacrifices to the temple there in that colonnade.  Dee said that it was a pre-nuptial tradition in Rome to burn offerings to Livia, out of honor to her good example.”

A grin played over his face.

“Is that why you got the bee in your bonnet to come here instead of going back to our room?  You were thinking about our wedding?”

Rachel looked at his hand lying on the ground between them, the scars from his trial in Redemption still visible as a cuff. She put her hand upon the scar, encircling it with her fingers, wanting very much for this moment, with its perfect air, its perfect sound, its perfect peace to go on forever, in the shadow of an august Roman woman who had understood something Rachel had yet to experience.

“You asked me why I love you,” she said after a few moments, and fixed his close gaze with her own.  “I can’t put it into words, Cort.  I guess I’ve been trying to think of all the poetry I know, and it doesn’t fit us.  I’ve been trying to find some context, and all I can think about is what you said.  You called me your home.  Well, you’re home to me.  Wherever you go, that’s where I rest, where I live.”  Rachel slipped her hand into his and snuggled closer until their noses touched and she could feel his breath, their hands wedged between them.  She closed her eyes, breathing his presence in long draughts.  “It’s like having those stars to guide you, Cort.  Without them, everything becomes… aimless wandering.  That…is why I love you.”

A few moments passed before Terry picked up the electrodes and wires he had been tinkering with his free hand and moved them to the side, his other hand slid to a firmer grip around Deidre’s, holding steady.  He acted as if he accepted her words without reproach, but he didn’t recapture her gaze.  Instead, he turned to face the slant of sunlight as it radiated from behind a large cumulus cloud moving like a dreadnaught into the sky and fell diffused into their room from the window.  Their table was against the wall beneath the window so they could sit and peer out and watch the bustle of people below, or watch the smoke from offerings rise up into the brownish air of the city. 

Deidre’s thoughts flew back to their first night out to dinner, sitting as they did at a table, where Terry gingerly offered an opportunity at something she could have had no imagination for, no preparation, sitting as they did while holding hands across the table.  She had been giddy from the wild swing of emotions she had experienced in a matter of days, the memory of the candles on the table and the fragrances of that night still vivid. 

What an awful romantic you are, Dee! 

It seemed that little place in Peru was eons ago.  Yet, here they were once more, sitting across from each other, her hand clasped in his, both of them feeling something, but not at all certain of its consistency.  She opened her mouth to ask him if he recalled that night and Terry turned away from his reverie at the same moment, ready to speak himself, and they laughed softly, knowing they were remembering the same thing.

Deidre realized she was fidgeting her feet, planted the soles firmly to the ground; fought the urge to grasp a stray strand of her hair and twirl it obsessively.  She had this reaction whenever tired or nervous.  Right now, she felt both, not to mention insecure, partly for breaking the one rule she had made for herself long before Terry came along : not to give love away so eagerly, or unsolicited.  Partly, because she knew that now that she had said it, she had no intention of taking it back.  And since Terry was so good at being unreadable, his seeming disinterest gave her a slight pang of fear that he would attempt to make her eat her words.

So she chose to focus on the long fingers entwined with her own.  Those hadn’t flinched a bit, had they?  Or was he holding on because he didn’t want to lose his chance to set her straight?

Would he ever say that he loved her back?  He had just said that he knew…he knew, but…but…

“Sid really did a number on us, didn’t he?”  she asked quickly, suddenly, unable to take the thoughts bouncing around in her head any more.  Go to default subject of insecurity.

Terry only nodded.  Now his gaze was fixed steadily on her. 

“I haven’t heard those words in a long time,” he finally said.

Deidre shuffled her feet again, the flashing smile on her face almost too fierce for the moment.

“What do you mean?  I said them two hours ago…well, more along the lines of ‘Sid’s a jerk, a loser, a low-down duplicitous dog…what’s the British term?  A prat.  A git, a …”

“Not those words,” Terry intoned, the hand holding hers pulling ever so slightly to keep her from rattling on.  His gaze captured hers at last.

Deidre swallowed.

“I…I…know I probably said them too soon…if you’re uncomfortable, then…” she stammered, feeling caught between the hammer and the anvil.

Terry rose to his feet and pulled her up with him, until he was standing over her, the edges of their bodies just touching. 

“Say them again, Nolia,” he demanded, his head bent down, his voice not quite a whisper.  Urgent.

Deidre stared up at him, unbelieving.

“I haven’t…?  I mean, I don’t want to push….”  She found it hard to speak.

“I want to hear them.  Until now, I was afraid I wouldn’t like hearing them, even from you…but now that you have…”

Deidre felt her insides split, torn between joy and unrequited longing. 

“And…you?” she whispered.

A small smile quirked up the corners of his mouth and eyes. 

“Daredevil.  You first.”

Deidre felt a slow smile creep over her face. 

“I love you, too,” Terry blurted, before she was able to repeat her confession. 

Nor did he let her have the breath to do so for several minutes, possessing her mouth with his. 

Light from the oil lamp cast her room in gold, flickering every now and again from a light breeze that managed to find its way through the small window of her room, such as it was stationed in the second level of Livius’ domus.  Brianna Lachliel sat on her bed, staring down at her sandaled feet, her mind now a blank, having marched through all the little lists she had made for herself: lists of chores she’d had to complete, lists of obfuscations she’d had to create to keep up the appearance of a dutiful, grateful servant; lists of plans, contingencies she would have to go through if Terry and his team did not…did not…

She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands, wishing this line of thought wouldn’t degenerate into emotion, reprimanding herself for self-pity.  The more time she had spent with Terry, Deidre, Cort and Rachel, the more she had relaxed her guard, felt more sure that they would do what they could to take her along.  No man left behind.  Sid, however, remained obstinate about his own timeline for departure, turning their confrontations into verbal battles that left them all frustrated and desperate.  Everything they did hinged on his ability to step out of the movie with or without them.  Terry seemed to be the only one who thought Sid would follow through for them. 

She lay back onto the padded cot to watch the lamplight make odd patterns on the ceiling, trying to imagine what life would be like if the worst should happen.  She had it good here, “life” in Rome as background for the movie proved to be true to the time, at least, but there was a certain level of stagnation that she had already noticed.  Livius never really seemed curious about her long bouts of absence away from her duties, the other servants never really seemed to develop their own sub-community within the household.  Nothing automated, but no real evolution either.  And if she didn’t get out of here, she’d become part of that stagnation.  Perpetual loop, which had to be madness for those aware of it. 

Which led her to the origins of her first purpose, to take the chosen subject and pull him for vicarious purposes.  Mikol had hired her, flattering every pride she had of self-reliance and cunning, appealed to her ambition with promises of her own band of mercenaries, a subversive group she sought to nourish against the petty overlords of her home.  She had become a rogue and sought a rogue to gain an upper-hand she thought would interest Mikol as well.  But now…

She had been trapped, for what reason she wasn’t entirely certain.  But Mikol had gained a distinct advantage and the pride of being “his best” was all for naught.  She had been so blind to everything but what she wanted to see that the entrapment now felt somehow…fitting.  She should have known she would end up here, and the flame of revenge that she had focused towards those who held her home in tight control was now turning its face to whatever means she had of striking back at Mikol. 

And then there was Maximus.  Maximus!  Was Mikol really interested in him?  Brianna rolled over onto her side, her stomach cramping with emotional nausea.  Mikol had played her so well!  She had thought Maximus would become part of her plans, be given to her.  Except now…retrieving Maximus seemed even more imperative than ever, if only to keep Mikol from getting what he wanted.

There was no lesser evil in this, though, she thought.  The alternative was that Sid would gain what he wanted.  Considering his astonishing lack of concern for the welfare of Terry and Cort, now, despite the warning Mikol was not just interested in the gladiator, Brianna physically hurt inside at the thought of Maximus under the aegis of the nanotechnic creature. 

Persuading Terry and Company to take her with them became more than just about getting away from the Perpetual Loop. 

Brianna found herself tossing and fidgeting, growing angrier and more anxious.  Why hadn’t something happened yet?  What were they waiting for?  All this floundering around knowing who wanted what but never quite sure when the hammer would fall?  Terry had said their own retrieval policy dictated they wait till the end, for the full flowering of the character.  To do otherwise would destroy whatever integrity had made the character appealing in the first place.  But Brianna knew Mikol, had seen his own retrievers in action.  Mikol didn’t care, was deliberate in pulling as soon as possible.

So why hadn’t he come after Maximus by now?  The image of the baffled faces of Terry’s team hadn’t left her since she first met them.  If Dimetri had been retrieved, and she hadn’t, and Mikol knew they were still within the film, why hadn’t….

There was something so very wrong about all this, Brianna knew, and she lay staring up at the ceiling with teeth gritted, hands clenched, a sudden desire to upend Livius’ concept of her as a cool and collected stoic making her shake.   

If she got left behind, it might be the only way.  Disrupt every internal loop until she burst out by sheer will….

“Livius desires you to come to the atrium,” the adolescent squeak of Livipor announced at her doorway.  Brianna rose from her bed, a rush of light-headedness making her sway.    Flipping back the fine woven cloth that made her door, she followed Livipor down the stairs to the first level of the house.  The torches and lamplights that filled practically every corner and nook of the houses around them turned the night air a gold haze.  Music sounded not too far off, pan pipes and voices laughing.  The smell of meat wafted to her before she reentered the house, making her stomach growl.

“I have come,” she said as they passed into the atrium, a cool room smelling slightly wet because of the stored rainwater in the pool  There was only one torch lit in this room, turning the shadows into black space that made the room seem bigger than it was.

Livius stood in the torchlight, looking greatly amused, if not a bit befuddled.  Another figure hung back in the shadows, but it took Brianna all of two seconds to see who it was.  The tilt of the head was unmistakable.

“He says he is kindred to you, Brianna,” Livius was announcing.  “And in his joy of finding you, wishes to extend an invitation to attend the games tomorrow.”

Sid stepped into the wan light and smiled his best smile at Brianna.

“Cousin,” he said.  “It took me a while, but I have discovered your refuge at last.”

^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^

She flicked the briefest glance toward Livius then her years of training kicked in.

"Cousin," she replied, applying a bit of sweet startlement to her tone for Livius' benefit, "I am...most...surprised to see you," she paused, raising her hand delicately in his direction, then added, "here."

"As am I, Cousin," he smiled, showing his teeth. "As am I."  He took her hand, leading her toward the waiting, watching Livius.

"I have gone to some expense to locate my dear Cousin who was taken from the bosom of our family while traveling through Africa." He looked Livius in the eye.  "You can only imagine my great delight when I was informed late this afternoon of her whereabouts. I trust she has been well...taken care of?" He turned his cool gaze back to Brianna.

"Quite well, Cousin," she replied, trying not to clench her teeth. "As you see."

"I will be attending the games tomorrow and was hoping you might do me the honor of accompanying me so that we might...catch up...with one another. Is that something you will consider, my dear?"

She looked at him levelly.  What was he up to? Was it the old 'keep your friends close but your enemies closer' gambit? Well, that worked two ways. She forced a smile, "Most certainly, Cousin. I will accompany you with," she turned to the Roman, "Livius' consent, of course."

Livius looked back and forth between the two, thinking something he did not reveal. "Of course you may attend. I have business elsewhere on the morrow and will not be attending myself."

"Good," Sid said, pleased. "I shall come for you an hour prior in case we decide to stop by and view the...gladiators." 

What WAS the man up to? She felt her skin crawl just standing so near to him even though he had freed her hand. "On the morrow, then," she said.

Maximus lay on his cot, not sleeping much, his mind circling round and round the upcoming match. Commodus, aware of his existence, had arranged for him to fight again, to fight alone, not with his fellows from Proximo's stable of gladiators. That, in itself, meant he had made...plans. Maximus knew Commodus too well. In the dim light, he raised both hands close to his face, slowly flexing his fingers then clenching those of his right hand as though he held his sword. "Let it be what it will be," he whispered.

Cort, asleep, rolled onto his side, moaning slightly. He was running through dust so deep it covered his ankles, swallowing his steps, sucking at his boots. "Rachel!" he screamed, but no sound came from his lips. Even sound had been cloaked in the dust.  She was standing alone, her wrists bound to a pole. His heart pounded wildly as he watched the tiger approach, beginning its crouch. "RACHEL!" he screamed again, trying to make his stride longer, trying to lift his feet from the clinging, smothering dust. He felt desperately for his gun, finding his holster empty. 

Herod's face swam hugely in a cloud of dust. "No more bullets, Cort." 

"No!" he cried. "NO!" and fell face-first, dust billowing up into his nose, his mouth, filling his lungs.

"Cort?" Rachel half-sat, shaking his shoulder lightly.

He sat bolt upright, his hands smacking at his face, trying to brush away the dust so he could breathe. He choked, gasping as though his lungs were really filled.

Rachel, frightened by his desperation, hurried to her knees, leaning over him, trying to get him to look at her. "Cort!"  she called loudly. "It's me, Rachel! Look at me, darling, look at me!"

His eyes opened and, seeing her, he grabbed her, pulling her to him, his whole body trembling.

"Oh, God," he murmured, "Oh, my God!"

"What is it, Cort? Were you dreaming?"

He couldn't talk for a moment, could only hold her rather too tightly and rock silently back and forth. She could feel the rapid pounding of his heart against her own chest. Finally he sucked in a huge gulp of air and managed one word..."tiger."

Ah. Now she understood. Tomorrow was the fight with the tigers in the arena. "You were dreaming of Maximus and the

tigers?"

"N...no," he murmured, shaking his head violently. "You. You and the tiger." He clutched her even more tightly.

"Me?" she asked softly.

"Yes." He pulled back enough to see her face but saw the tiger instead and closed his eyes. "It was coming for you. In the arena. You were tied. Couldn't get away. I tried...too much dust...but I tried and tried to reach you. Oh God!" he trembled again, the memory of it all too real, too vivid.

She lay back, pulling him with her, tucking his head into her chest, just stroking his hair and whispering over and over, "It's ok, my love. It's all right. I'm here. I'm safe."

After a moment she became aware of something wet trickling down between her breasts and realized it must be his tears.  "I love you so," she said, kissing his hair.

"I couldn't save you," he groaned, his lips moving against her skin. Another shudder took him as he was completely pierced by a new and fuller understanding of what Maximus felt when he kissed his wife's charred foot. He moved then, completely covering her body with his own but all too aware of the limitations of his flesh. "I would be for you a shelter and your strong tower," he whispered into her ear. "And so far as I am able, so long as I have life and breath, I will keep you safe."

"I know," she replied into his hair. "I know."

In the early afternoon, Terry sat at the small table in his room, elbows resting on its rough surface as he made small circles on his temples with his fingers. The movie was beginning its final wind down. They would have to get Maximus "out" between today's fight and the next if they were to get him at all. Sid had still not committed to anything definite and Terry was worried. His head ached with it.

Diedre had gone for a moment to talk with Rachel about their plans to attend today's games. It was almost time to leave. Where was Sid now, he wondered. What was he up to?  Surely he would attend the games. Watching Maximus fight tigers?  He'd never miss that. Not Sid. 

But where WAS he?

Livius had wanted Brianna to look especially lovely this afternoon, especially well taken care of in every way. All morning he'd had other servants attending her in a private bath sweetened with perfumes, dressing her all in white with golden hasps at her shoulders, her gown falling in soft, layered folds to golden slippers. Her hair was done in ringlets and twists atop her head, fastened with gold pins, a few long curls permitted to hang down the long length of her neck.

"Perfect!" Livius was just proclaiming as Sid was ushered into their presence.

"Perfect, indeed," Sid agreed. "I see life in Rome agrees with you, my dear Cousin."

He was pleased. He'd hoped for this. Hoped that she would be fitted out to snare the male eye. It was what he'd had in mind. What he needed.

"Come," he said, offering her his arm.

She didn't want to take it, but Livius was watching so she crossed the room toward him. "You look remarkably... prosperous...today, Cousin," she remarked as she slipped her arm through his proffered one. Sid was draped in the richest possible toga with a wide band of Grecian- style embroidery done in gold thread around its edges.

Once they had left the room, she removed her arm. "How do you manage such things?" she asked, indicating his garments.

"Ah ah," he replied. "Did I ask how you managed to come by yours, what you had to do to...obtain...the favor of it?"

She glared briefly at him then covered her expression quickly. After all, they were still in Livius' house and servants could be watching.

He guided her through the warm, crowded streets of Rome toward the arena.  She'd thought he might take her through one of the entrance archways, but instead he turned to one side and headed toward the gladiator quarters.  As they approached the fence, she caught sight of Maximus standing alone, lost in thought. He already had on his cuirass over his blue tunic, but no other protective armor. She knew what was coming next for him, the giant, more fully-armored Tigris, the tigers themselves.

Sid stopped well back in the shadows, gripping her forearm as he leaned toward her, whispering.  "Go to him."

"Go to him?" she repeated blankly.

"Plain enough, my lovely. Go to him."

"Let him see me?" she replied, her eyebrows rising at the thought.

"Yes," he smiled. "Let him see you. Speak to him."

Her lips parted in astonishment.  "Why? Why should I let him see me?"

"Because you want me to do something for you. I wish you to do this for me. Simple enough. You will do it? Yes?"

"I...I don't understand," she said, looking over her shoulder to where the General stood. "Say what to him?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something, my dear. After all...."

She frowned. "After all...what?"

He smiled again. "Are you not into all that old 'wither thou goest' stuff? Do you not wish to go wither he goest? He is leaving Rome.  Do you wish to leave it...too?" His grip on her arm tightened. "Then do this." He had stopped smiling, his threat hanging entirely unveiled in his eyes. "Now." He released her, giving her a slight shove as he did so.

She turned, took three steps toward the fence, then stopped, studying Maximus. The high sun made drops of sweat sparkle like diamonds on his smooth, black hair. Even at that distance she could see that his focus was turned inward, that he was not seeing what lay about him. She took two more steps, then looked back over her shoulder to where Sid had stepped even more deeply into the shadows. Blowing out a long breath, she continued toward the fence, stopping when she was only a foot back from it. She licked her lips. The man was even more magnificent up close like this, in the flesh, than he'd been on the screen, than he'd been at the distances she seen him before. He was a mere yard in front of her, his face composed, his brow smooth as he thought.

A small cloud passed briefly in front of the sun, throwing everything for a few seconds into shadow. That seemed to catch his attention, bring him out of his reverie and he looked up at the small white form of it then lowered his gaze slowly. When she saw his eyes come to rest on her, her breath caught sharply in her throat and it was only with some effort she let her eyes meet his. Without moving, he studied her. She imagined that to him she was nothing more than yet another Roman matron come to size up gladiator flesh. Why did it bother her that he would think that of her?

He hadn't moved yet. His face was still impassive, unreadable, it was only his eyes that showed his awareness of her. Sid wanted her to say something to him. What could she say that would make any difference? She couldn't tell him the truth of things, yet she was expected to make some sort of contact with him? Her mind raced as she tried to keep her own features as calm as his. Suddenly she knew. She reached her left hand up, adjusting the drape of one shoulder of her gown, feeling its material shift across her back, the fold of it moving to reveal more. Then slowly she turned as though looking for someone in the crowd, presenting her back toward Maximus.

His eyes followed her movement, dropping from her golden hair down the length of her neck to her back. He was a soldier, used to what battle did to the human form, but he wasn't prepared for the sight of the long scar that crossed her graceful back. It was...unexpected. It simply did not fit with the elegance of her dress. But still he waited. She turned again back toward the fence, her eyes meeting his once more. Would that be enough, she wondered. Had he bothered to look? What was he thinking if he had?

When he'd looked at the cloud, the sun had appeared suddenly at its silvered edge, blinding his sight for a moment. As he lowered his gaze, the white and silver of it still imprinted on his sight, he was startled when his vision cleared and the white of the cloud was replaced by the white gown of a woman by the fence. She was lovelier than most of the other women he'd seen come to the gladiator pen and he let himself appreciate the form of her. He was tired of the long hours spent thinking about what lay before him in the arena and looking at her almost made him smile. But he didn't. He just stood there, quietly looking at her. She reminded him of something...someone...but he couldn't place just what that might be.

She was, most likely, married to some fat wealthy Roman who didn't satisfy her so she'd come to choose a companion for her pleasure. He was ready to dismiss all thought of her and get back to his thinking when she turned and he saw her back. The scar at once caught his eye. It was long, curving across her shoulder blade and down toward her spine. He knew enough of wounds to be aware that it had been deep, had taken a while to heal. How...how did such a woman come to be wounded in so grievous a fashion? His curiosity was piqued. He couldn't come right out and ask her about it, but it made him take a long step toward the fence.

"Is everything all right, my lady?" he asked, his voice deep and soft.

They were his first words to her and were spoken so kindly, so in a manner she'd not been prepared for, that her own voice seemed no where to be found.

He saw her hesitation. "My Lady?" he said again, his lips curving into the slightest suggestion of a concerned smile.

She knew why she couldn't talk. Her heart had leapt up into her throat and was blocking her airway. She licked her lips again and curled her right hand around a bar to steady herself. She felt foolish, out of control, and was aware Sid's eyes must be boring into her back.

He saw the struggle in her eyes and was puzzled even more. This was not the way Roman matrons typically behaved in this place. Usually they came, their eyes bold as they ran them over gladiator flesh. But she stood there now, clutching the bar, her eyelids half lowered and he began to doubt she was some Roman's wealthy wife after all. He thought of her scar, he thought of how he might shortly die, and he felt emboldened to ask, leaning closer to the bars, "You are a slave?"

She looked up, startled that he should ask that. "Yes," she blurted, "like you."

He cocked his head, studying her. "Why are you here? Do you have a message for me?"  He thought suddenly that she might have been sent by Lucilla.

"No," she replied hurriedly, "I mean...yes." She couldn't believe how out of control she felt. What could she say next? She had to say...something! Her eyes found his again. "Tigris," she whispered quickly, "he will try to kick sand in your face. Watch for that. In the beginning...watch for that, Ma...." Oh, no! She'd almost called him by name! "Stupid, stupid woman!" she berated herself under her breath. Mikol would have had her shot for such a mistake. Only Mikol seemed to have nothing to do with her any more, now did he?

He heard her whisper to herself and his eyes opened wider. She was a strange one, this beautiful slave-woman. He let that go, though, and asked, "How do you know about the sand?"

"I just do," she replied. "Please believe me. If you're prepared for it, then you won't be so blinded for what comes next."

What comes next? What did she mean 'what comes next'? How would she know about such things. "Did Lucilla send you?" he asked quickly.

He'd startled her again. "No...not Lucilla."

"Who?" he asked, putting his large hand over hers on the bar. "Who sent you?"

"A friend," she breathed. "That's all I can say. A friend...who cares." 

Still holding his hand over hers, with the sheer intensity of his gaze, he forced her eyes to his. "Have I seen you before?"  Something about her kept nagging at his memory. Despite her attire, he was beginning to feel strongly that he had.

Oh, God, she thought desperately. Now what? Why did she want to tell him the truth?  How much did Sid WANT her to tell him? She didn't KNOW! All she knew is that his face was inches from hers and the most intensely magnetic eyes she'd ever seen were boring into hers. "Yes," she finally said, "yes....once."

"Where? When?" his grip tightened over her hand.

"In Zucchabar...in the arena."

He was stunned and stepped back, releasing her hand. "You? You were the woman who jumped into the arena?"  His eyes roamed her face quickly, thoroughly, recognition rising in his gaze. "By the gods! It WAS you!" His mouth dropped open a bit. "Why? Why did you do that?"

"I...I...," she hesitated.  "I was trying to help someone," she finished lamely.

He brought up the moment, replayed it in his mind. "The Arizonian? Was it him you were trying to help?"

That would do.  "Yes," she answered. "Him."

He rubbed his hand roughly across his chin. "He looks like me," he stated bluntly.

She took a deep breath.  "I know."

"You...," he began, but Proximo's voice boomed across the yard.

"Spaniard! It is time! Come!"

She caught her breath in relief. She would have to say no more. Not right now.

He strode across the practice yard, looking back at her twice over his shoulder.  When he had disappeared inside, Sid came up to her. "Well, my little goose," he purred, "did the gander like you....hmmmm?"

"What are you up to, Sid?" she fumed. "What was I supposed to say? What did you want from me?"

"Ah," he continued, putting his hand over hers where it still held the bar.  "His hand over yours...like this...that will do nicely.  For a beginning."

She jerked her hand away, whipping around to stare at him. "You don't look a thing like him, you know," she snapped. "Not a thing. You're not like him at all."

As she walked away, she thought she heard him say, "But that can be...changed."

Terry, Diedre, Cort, and Rachel had all taken their seats. "The shade should be over us within the hour," Terry encouraged, looking up at the sails of the velarium.

"Good," Diedre replied. "Redheads and Roman sun are not that good a mix."

"There!" Rachel said, pointing lower down and to the right where Sid and Brianna were taking seats. "He's got Brianna with him for some reason."

Terry frowned in their direction. God, but he wished he knew what Sid was planning. Why was he with Brianna? He wouldn't be unless he had some good reason. He sighed, then looked at Cort. The young priest seemed especially tense today. "It will be all right, Cort," he said kindly. "You know he survives this fine."

Cort nodded, his lips pressed tight, his hand gripping Rachel's.

Maximus stood at the bottom of the ramp leading up to the arena, making practice swings with his sword, suddenly filled with thoughts of Marcus and how he would have hated what was happening in Rome. When Proximo spoke to him, trying to quiet his obvious tenseness, Maximus' anger boiled over and he shouted, "There was a dream that was Rome." His eyes glittered at Proximo.  "But this is not it! THIS is not IT!"  Then he turned and ran up the ramp, girding himself for the sudden blinding sunlight.

As his boots crossed the sand, he let his seething anger settle into a deadly quiet grimness. He had something to do and he was going to do it.  That was all.  That was everything. The moment held no more than that.  He stopped, sank the tip of his gladius into the sand and reached down, grabbing a quick handful, rubbing it in that familiar ritual of the land that meant so much to him. Usually he studied the sift of it, the feel of it in his palm, the consistency of it as it dripped through his fingers.  Not today. He did it because he did it. Nothing more. And as he wiped his palms together his eyes sought out the form of his opponent, sizing him up with that same grim determination that seemed to be fueling him today.

Then he half-crouched, bringing his shield into position. Ready. Ready?  What had the woman said? "Watch for the man to kick sand in his face?"  He raised his shield a bit more than he otherwise might, lidding his eyes protectively.

Brianna saw and realized it was just slightly different than he'd ever done it in the movie before. Her lips curved into a small smile.

Sid saw her smile and smiled himself.

Then almost at the same moment Tigris kicked sand and a large chain ripped its way into view. Maximus was startled by the chain and looked quickly to his right. But he was too used to the sudden vagaries of battle and recovered instantly, meeting Tigris' first powerful onslaught.

Cort watched, never letting go of Rachel's hand, but not taking his eyes off Maximus. He mumbled under his breath and Rachel leaned closer, finally able to discern that he was telling Maximus what was coming next, willing his foreknowledge toward the General. She remained silent, just letting the side of her head rest against his upper arm so that he could feel her presence, know she was there beside him, that she was all right.

And no matter how intensely he watched the battle, he was aware of that, was aware she was pouring her love into him. He felt its quiet, gentle infilling and the very fullness of it let him spend the enormous amount of energy it took to direct his will toward Maximus. He knew it was coming, had seen it over and over on screen, but yet when the tiger came out of its pit and leaped upon the General's back, he jerked violently and Rachel clutched his arm tightly.

Sid's eyes flicked back and forth from Maximus to Brianna. He could tell from her face that she was terribly involved in the General's fight for life. At one point, when he was completely underneath the tiger's belly, she bit her lip so hard a drop of blood swelled and would have run unheeded down her chin had he not reached out and captured it on his fingertip. He studied its bright redness then touched it to his tongue with a strange expression as though it were a drop of fine wine. Brianna didn't notice. She couldn't take her eyes off Maximus.

Then it was ending, Maximus' fingers were scrabbling for the battleaxe and with an actual roar he buried it in the top of Tigris' boot. Commodus turned, looking at Lucilla, his eyes communicating his extreme displeasure.

Maximus retrieved the axe, jerking it out of embedded flesh, standing, legs spread, looking up at the imperial box. Sweat and blood dripped down him everywhere and as he stood still, the flies came. He ignored them, keeping his eyes on the box, breathing heavily through his mouth, utterly spent.  Slowly Commodus gave the sign to kill and he turned, pushing up Tigris' silver face mask. Tigris steeled himself for the blow he knew was coming, watching as Maximus lifted the axe high. Then there was a sudden pause as though a giant wave had risen to its height but hung there in a moment out of eternity before crashing down into a giant breaker of falling water.  Maximus flung the axe onto the sand and turned, staring again at the royal box. Still he breathed through his mouth, but his eyes held onto the box with a silent, deadly grimness...waiting...daring. He had to make all this...worth...something more than it was. If he did as he was bidden and then left, what purpose would have been served, what course furthered?

The wait seemed interminable. Cort stopped breathing entirely. Brianna's nails sank into her palm. Then came the male voice from somewhere in the stands. "Maximus the Merciful!"

And it was done. The praetorian guard formed their square around Maximus and Commodus walked out again, stepping into its center. Cort whispered under his breath. "I hate this. I just hate this." 

And once again Commodus ripped at Maximus' soul with verbal fangs much worse than anything a tiger might offer. Cort watched, waiting for Maximus' quiet bow, not able to hear the words, but knowing them by heart, repeating them softly to himself.

Sid looked covertly at Brianna.  A tear sparkled on her cheek.

Ah, he sighed.  Good.  Very, very good.

^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^

“Are you fiddling with that thing again?” 

Terry didn’t need to look up to know that Deidre was glaring at the bits and bobs of diodes and wires laid out in front of him on the table.  Rachel and Cort were in their room gathering their things to prepare for whatever came this evening. 

“You’ve played with that so many times, I’m surprised there’s anything left,”  Deidre went on.  He could hear that she was trying not to be petulant, but the tension that had been building amongst the four of them since the tiger brawl in the Colosseum was starting to take its toll.  Sid had inexplicably disappeared, even though messages often showed up at their door at odd hours of the day and night, little scrolls with cryptic questions and riddling statements that did more to infuriate than reassure them.  As if Sid ever bothered with reassurance. 

At least they knew Sid was still around, Terry thought, but the fact that Brianna had not made much of an appearance either raised new questions, especially since her visits had become rather regular beforehand.  Terry wasn’t sure what worried him more now: Sid’s silence or Brianna’s disinterest.  Rachel reported seeing Brianna talking with Maximus one afternoon, but then both she and Cort had to explain what they were doing down there as well.  Terry didn’t rant at them too much about following the rules.  He was feeling a bit punchy about protocol himself and really couldn’t blame them for wanting to keep tabs on Maximus.  Paranoia where Sid was concerned was often more useful than not. 

Rachel and Deidre had tried to reconnect with Brianna at the baths since their last sight of her at the games, but crowds and other things always seemed to conspire to keep the woman out of reach; and they had yet to discover exactly the location of the household of Livius.  But now it came down to it, just days after Maximus’ last fight. Tonight marked the point of their original plan, before all hell broke loose, to install themselves where Maximus would come to meet Cicero and warp back to Emerald City with him from there. 

“You haven’t even tested it,” Deidre went on.  Terry pressed his lips together.  He could see that her short temper was “winding up for the pitch,” as she would call it.  He was feeling short-tempered, too.

“I’ve been testing it,” he said, curtly.  “Don’t have a blue, luv.  I’m just as anxious as you.”

“I don’t suppose you could really test whatever it is you are trying for anyway, could you?  Do you think…?”  She came behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burrowing her face in his neck, prompting him to pause and press back with his hands on her arms.  “Do you think it would be wise to find out tonight?  Of all nights?”

“This is configured to our makeup, to mine and Sid’s and Cort’s,” Terry explained.  “I brought it along as a last ditch weapon in case we met with any trouble within the movie.  That’s all it was meant to do.  However, it is configured by our general makeup.  Or so I hope.  I hope,” Terry took a deep breath, “that its configuration will establish some kind of default, a kind of piggy-back connection…something that will act as a tail-gate so when Sid activates his warp shell, it will automatically latch on and …”

“…pull us through the warp with it.”  Deidre finished.  “Or whoever is holding this device.”

“It’s a weak link, but yeah, something like that.  Which means none of us can get separated tonight, not if we all want to make it back.”

“Has it ever been done before?”

“Not that I can recall.  We discussed it, the techs and I back at Emerald City, but I think they were still testing all the capabilities.  And all Sid cared about was whether or not the warpshell would allow us into the movies to begin with.  Not whether or not it could be manipulated for…contingencies.”  He sighed, rubbing his eyes.  Looking at tiny diodes and silicon chips in fading sunlight was not good for the vision.   “For a computer generated super-being, he can be dreadfully short-sighted.”

“I’m amazed you’re still around, Terry, considering all that Sid has put you and Rachel through.  I don’t think even astronauts would go in with as little troubleshooting…especially when their commander is such a…I’m sorry.  I’ll stop now.”  Deidre apologized.  He could practically hear the rant she wanted to say, so he turned to kiss her on the cheek.

“Are you saying I’m more brave than an astronaut?” he joked.

“Braver than anyone I know,” Deidre whispered.  She reached out to pick up one of the diodes.  “Well…except maybe my brothers.”  She flashed him a grin.

Terry huffed.  “Thanks, luv.”

“You think maybe you’ve got it where it would work best?”

“One can only hope, Nolia.  One can only hope.”

“Maybe a way to test it is to try and find Sid.  You know, maybe check to make sure the configurations are correct?”

“Yes, to get a fix.  Good girl.”  Terry began returning diodes and chips to the device, closing his tools and packing them up to go.  All it would take was a simple few minutes in Sid’s presence to “turn on” the diodes that would fix the signal.  The rest he would simply have to chance that it would fall into place.  But his thoughts didn’t linger much more on that now.  It had been some time since Deidre had mentioned her family and her comment about her brothers concerned him. 

“He’s in Iraq, right?  Wilder?”  Terry asked, watching her as she knelt by her satchel and neatly tucked in a few remaining items.

“Yes.  I hope he’s sent me a letter.  Something…” she sighed.  Her long red hair had been unbound for the moment and it hid her face in a glorious fall to her waist.  A ray of sunlight turned the strands an unbelievable copper hue.  His hands itched for a camera, but he could only stare to fix the sight in his mind’s eye. 

“I’d like you to meet them,” she said a few moments later, casting him a shy look that went straight to his heart.  “When we get back.  Nothing formal of course, but I figure since y’all are military men, you’d find something in common…” she trailed off and Terry couldn’t help but give her a wan smile.  He wasn’t altogether certain how to take her confidence in his ability to make friends with everyone he met.  So much of his adult life had been about reassuring clients, being the strong man to lean on, the operator whose primary basis in any relationship was to command how things would go.  It did not naturally fall that ordinary meetings were as easy as explaining a sequence of events to a panicked family of a kidnap victim.

“Oh, c’mon, you’ve talked to Harkin!”  She had seen the look on his face and mistook it for skepticism.

“Not as…your boyfriend!  He thinks I’m the bloke who’s ordering you around in his place.”

Deidre began laughing.

“He’d say there’s no difference.  He figures it would take several soldiers to keep me in line, or a few Mafia boyfriends.”

“Which doesn’t explain why I’m still alive, mate,” Terry grumbled, and was rewarded with a tunic flung at him.

“C’mon, Nolia,” he said, standing and holding out his hand to help her up.  “If we’re going to pin Sid down, we’d best do it soon.  We’re running out of time.  Pop next door and tell Cort and Rachel we’ll be gone for a bit.”

The stick she had found in the public parks was more of a small branch, long and thin enough to make a respectable staff, its bark easily removed and the wood underneath smoothed down by a piece of leather she had found somewhere along the way.  Since their arrival in Rome, Rachel had restrained her practices to only while Cort was out of the room.  The worry she was feeling, however, was so thick within her she gave up all restraint and began her lunges at the duffle bag she had hung on a hook while Cort sprawled out on their bed, lost in his own thought.

“Damn, I’m out of shape!” she breathed after a short bout of exercises.  Her wrist and hand were hurting as well from its unfamiliar grip on the staff.  “I miss Sindri,” she announced. 

Cort didn’t reply, only shook his head slightly as if utterly bemused.

“All right, my laconic cowboy,” she rallied, as if he had challenged her.  “Maybe what I should do is train you when we get home, eh?”  She posed en garde.  “All the others have bored me or bothered me with their paltry attempts to best me, but you…you, my friend…you’ve yet to step up to the challenge.”

That lit a spark of interest in him, she could see. 

“Have you forgotten what you’re asking for?” he asked, flinging aside the makeshift pillow he used to cradle his head against the wall.  He stood up to face her.

“You don’t scare me,” Rachel went on, trying to squelch a giggle and failing.  “I’ve walked mountains, I’ve beaten nasty Russians, I’ve…I’ve…”  He was moving towards her and she stepped back.

“What about the Uruk-hai?”  Cort grinned, pushing aside the wavering point of her staff.  “Last I recall, that didn’t turn out so well.”

“I was tricked!”

“Sure you were.”

“Mesmerized…distracted…” she said.  Cort was inches from her now and staring her down.  The point of her staff drooped to the floor.  “You’re not a very good opponent, you know,” Rachel accused.  “Haven’t you got packing to do?  I’ve done all of mine…”

“I was mesmerized, distracted,” Cort replied and pulled her to him.  The staff clattered to the floor.  “You’re not very calm when you’re challenging people, you know.”

“I’m calm!  I’m dead-weight, I’m so calm.  I’ll have you know I’m practically…”

He pulled back some to look her up and down.

“Dead-weight?  Like a sack of potatoes,” he said, with a scoff, which made Rachel gasp in shock.  He laughed.  Then, without much further ado, he swept her up.  “I’ve got some UNpacking to do before anything else,” he assured her, nuzzling her neck as he turned to walk to their bed.  “Have to make sure everything is…”

“Knock knock!”  Came Deidre’s voice outside the curtained doorway.

“Come in!”  Rachel yelled in return, giving Cort a wicked grin.  He let her slide to her feet with a frown. 

When she poked her head in, Deidre held up her hands at the dark look on his face.

“Only a few moments, I promise,” she told both of them.  “Terry and I are going to go on ‘a bit of a walkabout,’ as he would call it, but we won’t be gone long.  When we get back we can go over last minute things.  Say about eight o’clock?”

“Sure, whenever that is,” Rachel waved her off with a laugh.  Deidre let the curtain drop and Rachel found herself swept up once more.

“We don’t have much time,” she heard Cort murmur as he laid her out on the raised dais that served as the foundation of their bed.

“You called me a sack of potatoes,” Rachel pouted, watching him lay himself beside her and lean over to kiss her. “What makes you think I would let you do anyth…oh!”  Her protest faded away under the press of his mouth to the space behind her ear.

“I don’t marry just any sack of potatoes,” Cort mumbled against her neck.  “Just ones with pointy swords and lovely…

eyes…”  It was his turn for a wicked grin as he caressed her breast.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

They both floated in a languorous haze some time later, limbs and bodies settled in perfect fit with each other, the one blanket they had yet to pack pulled over them as they cooled.  The silence between them now was no barrier, no gulf to reach across. 

“A ring.” 

Rachel’s eyes flew open, a bit startled out of her drowsiness.  Cort’s arm was flung over her, fingers caressing her shoulder in lazy circles, his breath warm against her forehead while she lay cradled against his chest.

“What about one?”  She whispered.

It was long moments before he answered.

“I can’t afford one,” he whispered and she could see that he had difficulty saying that.  “I don’t have anything to offer you…except my heart.”

“Which is home, which is where I want to be, which doesn’t need a ring to get in,” Rachel preached back to him, snuggling closer.  She raised her head to look him square in the eye.  “Plenty of people have gotten married without a ring to their name.”

Cort didn’t answer.

“There was once…a coal miner,” Rachel said, after a few moments of thinking.  “When he proposed to his wife, he handed her two bits of coal, told her how sometimes, deep in the earth, where it got so hot it could change the chemical composition of rocks, the coal itself would be changed into a diamond, and would be there until some miner dug it up.  It was a long time before he was able to find those diamonds for her…and by that time they knew what being married was all about.  They didn’t need the diamonds for the ring he couldn’t give her.  I want that kind of thing for us.  I won’t forget you or love you less because of what I don’t have on my hand.”

Still Cort didn’t answer, only rose up once more to look down at her.  Rachel’s memory flashed back to the night they departed Redemption, when she came down the stairs hoping he would not decide to stay. 

Just as then, everything he was shone in his eyes.

^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^ & ^

He was tense as day began its withdrawal from the sky, slowly letting the creeping fingers of dusk take control. This was the pivotal night, the night when he would make his escape, the night when he would no longer be a slave, no longer a gladiator. His hand reached, touching the scar where his SPQR had once marked him.  Briefly...only briefly...he would be going back to that, back to the command of his legion, back to the life that had once been his all in all.  He smiled grimly in the dim light.  He had never thought it would be so.  His mind roamed over his life since that day in the forests of Germania when everything had changed.  What would it be like to be in uniform again, to be a man of Rome...again? He was not the same man, though, could never be that man again.  Well, it would be temporary.  As he had told the Senator, once Commodus had been killed and Rome was safe, he would simply leave.  He squeezed his eyes tightly closed.  Where? Where would he go?  The future opened before him like the dark, gaping maw of some wild beast.

He looked, then, at the small icons standing near the guttering candle.  All he had left of family...of home.  Reaching out, he caressed the curve of his wife's shoulder with one fingertip. It was hard, and though warmed by the candle, was not her flesh. How he yearned for the touch of her flesh under his hand, the sound of her voice, the sight of her magnificent mane of black hair blowing in the wind.

His mind went to the words Commodus had said of her death. No, he could not dwell there and he forcibly yanked his thoughts from things unbearable, though the unwanted taste of soot seemed to form on his lips. He could taste it still.  Quickly he poured a draught of water from the decanter, taking a huge swallow, running his wet tongue over his lips then lay back on his cot. He'd try to sleep just a bit before it all began...or ended.

"I'm coming," Brianna whispered as she slipped through the small gate in the wall of the back garden of Livius' estate. She had left her room neat, well-ordered, taking with her only the clothes she wore. In the moonlight, she paused, looking briefly back at the villa, her thoughts piling atop one another. Livius had treated her well, had saved her from being sold into slavery in Nubia, and she was grateful for all he had done. Still...this place was not home and she was glad for the leaving of it. Her eyes turned, then, locating Sid beside a large cypress tree. Something in her was entirely amazed that she was entrusting herself into his care this night. It was not, actually, that she did trust him...she knew better than that, but that he was the only bridge out of this ancient time. She grinned a bit grimly. The fact that he was taking the General with them, well, that didn't hurt, either, now did it?

"Damn it, woman, can't you move faster?" Sid complained as she approached. "There's a timing to this, you know." He frowned, the moonlight casting the planes of his face into odd shadows. 

"Take only the barest essentials," Terry said to the three members of his team as he tucked his small device into a leather pouch at his waist. "We won't be coming back, so we'll have no further need of these things." He tried to sound confident as he spoke. Surely they would not be coming back? Letting the pouch rest in the curve of his palm, he felt the small, hard outline of his hope. It had to work!  It simply had to.  Sid had offered them no assurances and Terry knew the nanotech might get a certain satisfaction even from leaving them trapped in Rome. He put nothing past him...nothing. 

He looked at Diedre.  She was standing near the window of their room, the moonlight turning the flames of her hair to ripples of silver.  He must get her back to her time, to where she belonged.  He felt the thick mass of determination that lay in his chest, pressing a bit too hard on his heart for comfort.

Then he looked toward Rachel and Cort. He had to get them home safely, too.  It had come to matter a great deal to him...they...had come to matter a great deal to him. He smiled. "You've done well, all of you. I'm damned proud of how the three of you have handled this situation."

Cort smiled back.  His heart was beating rapidly, a mixture of eagerness, excitement, anticipation...and worry.  He looked down at Rachel's small form pressed close to his side.  Not close enough.  He wanted somehow to take her inside himself, carry her within so that she would be encased by him, surrounded by him, kept safe, kept inviolate, inseparable.  That he could not do that was almost a physical pain.  He leaned slightly, whispering into her hair, "I love you...more than anything...more than my life.  Know that, my love, know that...always."

"I...," she started to reply, eyes glowing, but Terry's words continued and she paused.

"And if we make the warp...WHEN we make the warp...we won't have capsules to take the edge off. So be prepared. It will be rough...damn rough."

Diedre gulped, remembering Cort's experience as they traveled into the movie.  Terry lay his hand on her shoulder. "It's our only way out. It'll be worth it, Luv.  I promise it will."

"I know," she said softly, locking her eyes with his. "Just hold onto me, will you? Hold tight?"

"I'll never let you go. Not ever." The look he was giving her said he meant it.

Cort paled slightly, remembering. But Terry was right. It would be worth it.  But, oh God, did he loathe the thought of it!

Maximus was awakened by the shouting. The Praetorians were at the gates, demanding entrance. Quickly he gathered up his icons, slipped on his ring. He needed nothing more. Proximo brought the keys and he couldn't help  but smile a little. The man was turning out to be more than he'd ever expected. Then everything began to happen in double time, one thing coming before the next had fully ended, and he had found his armor and was running through the small tunnel. He paused, not far from its exit, preparing to douse his torch when something stung him on his neck. His hand clapped to the spot but within a mere second his vision deserted him and he crumpled heavily to the floor.

"Why did you do THAT?" Brianna cried, running to him and kneeling at his side.

Sid bent, picking up the dropped torch, holding it out and low to study Maximus' face.  "Unconscious Generals travel better," he purred, then snuffed the torch into the dirt.

Terry, watching from just outside the tunnel with the others, had been startled by Maximus' unexpected and sudden collapse.  Recovering himself, he whispered through clenched teeth to those close behind him, "Get ready! We're going in...now!" The small device was in his right hand, his left held onto Diedre, whose hands were firmly gripping his belt.

He'd lifted one boot, taking the first step when he was startled again, this time by a sharp "Uhhh" from Rachel as she was sent sprawling into a scrubby bush.

"What the hell?" he muttered, turning as she went down. He saw Cort, outlined by the moon, start to reach for her. But someone else was there, too.  The word "Praetorian" flashed into his mind, followed by the quick thought that his device was no longer a weapon. His mind raced. Sid was a mere five feet into the tunnel. Could they grab Rachel and get away from the Praetorians...in time?

He, too, turned, stretching out his arm toward her but stopped as electric charges began to prickle over his entire body.  What was happening? Had Sid engaged his warp shell?

Rachel lay on her back, her legs entangled in the twisting branches of the shrub, her lip bleeding slightly from where she'd bitten it as her head impacted the hard dirt. Her hands grappled with the sharp stems and twigs, her eyes seeking wildly for Cort. She saw him starting to bend toward her and she reached one hand toward his.

"TERRY! God DAMN it!" Sid cried striding toward the tunnel's end.  "You are NOT going to fuck this up for me!"

Terry saw the warp shell in Sid's hand, saw his fingers begin to move toward the controls. Brianna saw, too, and grabbed for Sid's belt, knowing the device was set for Sid and Maximus and that she would have to hold on to be taken as well.

"CORT!" Terry hollered, "Grab Rachel! He's going! WE'RE going!" He jerked his head back toward Cort. "NOW, Cort...NOW!!!"

As Rachel and Terry looked at him, Cort's form began to glow with a soft, pale blue light that quickly deepened into a brilliant aqua that seemed alive, flowing over him, around him, through him. He had a look of utter horror on his face as the molecules of his body began to separate, began to swirl. Rachel saw his hand, still reaching for hers, saw his eyes, desperate then filled with despair. She clawed the air, trying to get to him, but her fingers closed around nothingness where his hand had been and she let out a piercing cry more animal than human.

Sid had already pressed his controls when he saw the man step out into the moonlight, a satisfied grin on a handsome face.  "Mikol," he said harshly as he, himself, began to disappear.

Terry, too, had pressed the controls of his altered device.  It was too late now to stop anything. Diedre grabbed for Rachel's foot, all she could reach, and then was surrounded by lights of every color weaving around her like some monstrous spiderweb.  She felt Terry's arms slide around her and was only dimly aware that they were falling together into some bottomless pit of roaring sound, spinning lights, and nausea that made it seem as though her insides were liquefying. Her head burst with pressure and she wished for, hoped for, sought unconsciousness, but it would not come. So she lay in Terry's arms and screamed and screamed without making a sound.

Terry, having determined that Rachel was with them, squeezed his eyes tightly shut, teeth clamped to keep his bile contained, and held onto Diedre with every bit of strength he could muster.  He had been tortured before...more than once...but nothing he had ever endured was like this. It went beyond pain to where life itself was nothing more than a series of endless explosions.

Rachel lay still. So this was Hell. She was alone and the universe was on fire. It had to be Hell. She didn't even care as the liquid flames consumed her body inside and out. The pain in her soul was greater than anything her mere flesh could experience. She let herself fall into the pit of it all.

Sid stood among the wreckage of his fellows, shaking his head at their various manifestations of suffering. "Poor, inferior fools," he said, poking Terry in his ribs with the toe of his shoe then looking down to where Brianna lay, her arms wrapped tightly about her middle. He tipped his face sharply upwards, letting the light swirl about him. He hummed softly to himself a bit of lyric from West Side Story..."tonight, tonight, there'll be no morning star...." He smiled, then crouched beside the still form of the General, laying his spread palm on the armored chest, closing his eyes, his lips curved into an expression of complete and utter bliss.

LOST IN THE EMPIRE IS NOW COMPLETE.  THE STORYLINE FROM HERE DIVIDES AGAIN, THIS TIME INTO THREE SEPARATE STORIES.  THE CORT AND RACHEL PART HAS DIRECTLY CONTINUED WITH THE TITLE "MY HEART IN STONE" AND IS, AS WITH EMPIRE, WRITTEN BY BOTH SHARON AND ME, HER DOING RACHEL AND ME CORT.  TERRY AND DIEDRE  HAVE THEIR OWN STORYLINE WRITTEN BY SHARON ALONE, ENTITLED "X-PROOF", WHILE I AM WRITING THE MAXIMUS/SID/BRIANNA STORY ENTITLED "THE PRISONERS IN THE PALACE" AND WHICH CONTINUES AFTER THAT AS "DESPERATE MEASURES."

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE

BACK TO CO-AUTHOR INDEX

BACK TO EMPIRE 16

ON TO MY HEART IN STONE (Cort and Rachel's storyline)

ON TO THE PRISONERS IN THE PALACE (Maximus, Brianna, and Sid's storyline)

ON TO X-PROOF (Terry, Dee storyline with Bud and John Biebe)