A brief recap, since it's been so damn long since the last chapter: The second seed (which yielded a spear for Lumina), located in the creepy old mansion at the center of town, was taken by Fuu, who ran out of the house with it and into the street, followed by everyone else.  Fuu changed back into his ferret-cat thing form to escape Harmatia, though he managed to get the seed to Charon beforehand.  Pathos then tore up the street, causing Charon to drop the seed.  It was picked up by Judas.

Judas clutched the seed to his chest, his eyes wide and perplexed as a small crowd of people rushed towards him.  He had two impulses: run, or drop the seed and then run.  In a move that he would spend many hours berating himself for later, he elected for the first impulse.

“What the hell is he doing?!” Lumina snapped.  She scrambled after him, briefly considering throwing her new spear into his back.  But, being well aware of the attention it would draw (and, to a lesser extent, the moral complications), she refrained.

Judas ran without direction, knowing only that he had to distance himself from his pursuers as much as possible.  Relief filled him when the treetops of Vinton’s east forest appeared in front of him, and he raced through the entrance, hoping to lose everyone in the foliage.

Lumina halted at the forest’s edge, snapping her fingers in frustration.

“Damn it!” she said. Charon and the others caught up with her as she glared into the forest’s depths.

“We can’t go in there,” Lumina said.  “That crazy freak Sailorknight lives there.”

“Another one of you?” Amethyst pushed Lumina aside roughly. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Can I kill him this time?” Assyrius said hopefully.

“No,” Amethyst growled.  She stalked into the forest, gesturing for Assyrius and the others to follow.

Lumina looked at Charon helplessly.

“What choice do we have?” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Sometimes being the good guy really sucks,” Lumina muttered.

Fuu crawled slowly down the tree trunk, his eyes anxiously searching for friends or enemies.  All he saw was the destruction left by Pathos and a group of very disgruntled drivers and policemen.  He skittered away from the scene before he was spotted, deciding that he ought to get help.

He reverted to his humanoid form when he reached Kaitlyn’s apartment building.  The stares of the patrons in the lobby and on the elevator grated him, but he held his head up and did not meet anyone’s gaze.  His tail twitched in an aggravated fashion when he stepped onto Kaitlyn’s floor, as he realized he did not remember her apartment number.  He cursed and glowered at the rows of doorways on either side of him, wondering what to do.  Finally he simply stood in the middle of the hallway, cupped his hands to his mouth, and yelled.

“KAITLYN!”

Inside her apartment, Kaitlyn jumped.  She was sitting on her couch, watching television, when Fuu’s scream burst through her walls.  Chagrined for both herself and the caller, she hastened into the corridor.

“Who are you?” she said when she saw Fuu, who was waiting expectantly.

“I… it’s me,” Fuu said. “Fuu.”

“Fuu?” she said, incredulous. “But—you’re—“

“I know,” he said.  He raised a hand to quiet her. “I’ll explain later.  Right now you need to help Jada.”

“Where is she?” Kaitlyn said.  She reached into her jeans pocket, where the henshin pen lay waiting.  Fuu explained the situation to the best of his ability.

“Okay…” Kaitlyn said carefully, “I’ll go and you call the others, okay?”

“Right,” Fuu said, pleased that he had made the correct decision in seeking Kaitlyn’s help.

“Their numbers are in the book by the phone,” Kaitlyn called.  She was already in the elevator by the time Fuu picked up the receiver.

Crackling leaves and snapping branches echoed in Judas’s ears as he fled through the forest.  He could not see pursuers, but he could hear them, as he knew he could not be producing so much noise on his own. His legs weakening, he reached a
pond encircled by a few feet of treeless space and there he paused for breath. Panicked and confused as he was, it did not dawn on him that resting in such an unshielded area might not be the best of ideas.  So he relaxed on the pond’s bank with the seed nestled safely in his lap, unaware of the figure crouched in the trees behind him.

“Welcome to my parlor, little fly,” Knight murmured to herself, eyeing Judas and the Mana Seed in his lap.  She jumped down off her branch, landing silently on the forest floor, her sword in hand.  The boy’s back faced her as she approached; he did not realize her presence until the blade of her sword was pressed against his throat.  His head jerked back and his eyes rolled up to meet hers, his weary face now alive with terror.

“Good evening,” Knight said.

“A-another one..?” he said faintly.

“Hmm?”

“Chased—I’m being chased—they’re chasing me,” he stammered, somewhat hysterical with fear.

“Because of the seed, no doubt,” Knight said. “Why don’t you let me have it?  I’ll take care of it…”

Judas gulped.  A pang in his mind warned him against this, but it was nearly drowned out by his exhaustion and paralyzing fright.  He wanted to be in his house, having dinner with his family, watching television, doing his homework, anything.  He wondered why, after so many years of dormancy, his conscience was suddenly conscious.

“I… I don’t… I don’t think I should do that,” he whispered.  His flesh quivered in anticipation of the blade.

“Really?” Knight said. “Pity.  I’ll have to cut your throat, then.”

But the sword flew from her fingers as she raised it for her strike, spinning back of its own volition and embedding itself into a tree.  Incensed, Knight turned sharply, seeing Amethyst emerge from the woods as she did so.  Assyrius and Pathos followed her, and behind them growled Peripetaia and Harmatia, as wolves.

“Five against one and me unarmed,” Knight said.  She stood still, but glanced back at Judas, who was recovering from the shock of his narrow escape from certain death.

“Good odds,” Knight said.  She ran forward suddenly, as though intending to charge the five of them, but at the last step she jumped into the trees, landing on a branch near to where her sword waited.  She pulled it from the bark as though she were merely drawing it from its sheath, and then dropped down again, in time to grab the arm of the now fleeing Judas.

Amethyst heard but did not see Knight’s movements.  “Admirable.”

“He a friend of yours?” Knight said.  She raked her hand over his forehead, and he cringed in pain as she pulled back his bangs. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“That does not matter,” Amethyst said evenly. “He is a bystander.”

“Lucent Beam!”

Lumina’s voice cried out behind them, followed by thick beams of light that scattered Amethyst and the others.  Assyrius barely avoided a burn to his side.  The beam, deprived of its original target, sped on towards the pond, searing Knight’s arm before it fizzled out.  Shocked and in pain, her hold on Judas slackened enough for him to escape her grasp.  Knight recovered quickly and brandished her sword, but Lumina called out again before she could swing the weapon.

“Lucid Barrier!”

A ring of light encircled Judas, and Knight’s sword struck air instead of skin.

“C-cool,” Judas said, so impressed by the spell that he temporarily forgot his fear.

Lumina gasped for breath, leaning against a tree trunk as Charon walked past her, standing in front of her like a sentry.

“You guys are fast,” Lumina breathed, her hand over her heart.  She took a deep breath and then addressed Knight.  “Whose side are you on, man?  There’s no reason to kill the guy, he’s just a random jerk.”

“Hey!” Judas said, feeling a bit bolder now that the barrier protected him. “I could’ve just given this to her, y’know.  Have some respect.”

Lumina made a face.

“On second thought, maybe you should kill him.”

“He is an obstacle,” Knight said. “To be eliminated, if necessary.”

“What’s so great about this thing, anyway?” Judas said, holding up the seed. “Maybe I should take it home.. and study it…”

“I don’t think anyone here is going to let you do that, buddy,” Lumina said. “Why don’t you just throw it into the air or something and run away?”

Judas glanced fearfully at each of the three parties surrounding him, and hugged the seed.  He did not really want to give it to any of them, he decided.

“That barrier won’t last forever,” Lumina warned.

Knight leaned against her sword, a wide grin spreading on her face.  “I can wait all night.”

This snapped him back to the reality of the situation.  He was not only tired, but weak, and flanked on all sides by people with swords, scythes, and psychic powers.  He decided that he did not want to keep the seed.

His conscience told him that Lumina, whom he remembered from his past ordeal, was probably the best person for the seed, but he was quickly being overwhelmed by the paranoia that his barrier would fade at any moment.  So he took her advice.  He threw the seed in her general direction and then ran, sprinting past her and towards the forest exit.  He barrelled blindly through branches and plants, but none scratched his skin, deflected as they were by the barrier.  He ran until he hit something that was neither plant nor tree, but a solid human body.  Judas stumbled back and would have fallen, had not a hand reached out to grasp his own.

“Careful,” the hand’s owner smiled, helping him to his feet.  A girl with green ringlets of hair and ocean blue eyes stood before him, with a small group of other girls stopped behind her.  He recognized them as he had Lumina, and supposed they must be her friends.  The girls, five in all, clustered around him.  His heart quickened in his chest as he thought, “Gee, this never happens at school.”

Out loud he whimpered, “I just want to go home.”

“Point us to where you came from and we’ll let you do that,” Shade said.

“I… I’m not sure,” he said, attempting to gesture towards the clearing, which he guessed was a fair distance behind him by now.  “There was a pond.. and a little empty space…”

“Forget him,” Salamando said.  She broke from the cluster and began walking towards where Judas had indicated. “Surely we will come across them eventually.”

“Eventually is not exactly efficient,” Shade mumbled, but she also stepped out of Judas’s path.

Mana bit her lip as Sylphid and Undine followed suit.  Her eyes switched between their retreating bodies and Judas, who was practically cowering before her.  She sighed.

“Go home.”

He was running before the words faded in the air.

The five strained to hear voices or the sound of a struggle as they navigated the forest.  An angry yell finally directed them towards the clearing, after Shade correctly identified it as belonging to Lumina.  Knight’s sword was aimed at Lumina’s throat when they arrived.  Charon stood beside Lumina, glowering fiercely but not daring to strike.  Lumina’s hands were on the seed as she stared at Knight in defiance.

“Welcome to the party,” Assyrius said dryly.

“What do you want with the seed?” Mana addressed Knight, attempting a business-like tone.

“None of your concern,” she answered, keeping her focus on Lumina.

“Well, that’s immature,” Lumina muttered.  She winced as the sword’s tip pricked her skin.

“Don’t push it,” Knight said.

“Clearly, we have a stalemate,” Shade said. “For this I see only two solutions.  One party gives in, or we all stand here forever.”

“I have all the time in the world,” Knight said.

“As do we,” Amethyst said. “But I am losing my patience.”

“Me, too,” Salamando agreed.  Her whip cracked against the air, wrapping itself around the blade of Knight’s sword.  She pulled the tip away from Lumina’s throat; Lumina seized the opportunity and grabbed the seed.  Furious, Knight twisted the sword, trying to sever the whip’s cord.  Her efforts were in vain, and finally she simply worked the sword free, her face livid with surprised rage.

“A Mana weapon!” she said. “Then I was right.”

Her features relaxed, as though a new idea had just entered her mind.  She sheathed her sword.

“You can have it for now,” she said. “I need time to think.”

Abruptly she vaulted back into the trees and disappeared into the dense forest.  Rustling leaves and upset branches marked her exit.

“That was odd,” Lumina said. “But at least we can all go home now.”

“No… no, I’m afraid not,” Amethyst said.

“Oh, come on,” Lumina whined. “Can’t you just give up or something?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly trying on the nerves?” Amethyst said.

“I’d love to stay and fight with you, seriously,” said Salamando, “but I have other plans, I’m afraid.”

She opened her palm flat.

“Blaze Wall!”

Fire burst forth from the ground, rising into tall, pointed columns that created a literal wall between them and Amethyst.  The flames reflected in Amethyst’s dead, unseeing eyes, and she retreated her steps as the air quivered with heat.  Salamando turned to her friends.

“I suggest we run.”

“I think we need to have some serious explaining here…” Azura said.

“I don’t really know what happened with Fuu, but I can tell you my part,” Jada began.  When she had finished, Fuu picked up the story with his side.  Reve padded into the room as he was talking, shifting into his gaunt human form and then sitting, cross-legged, on the carpet.  Fuu threw an accusatory glance at him.

“Peripetaia told me a lot about my people. Namely that yours killed all of them.”

“Wh-what?” Reve’s already thin, soft voice was a shocked whisper. “I… I…”

“Don’t blame him, Fuu, it was after his time,” Kaitlyn said. “He was trapped in the dreamworld for centuries, remember?”

Wide-eyed and wringing his hands, Reve nodded.

“Oh,” Fuu mumbled, disappointed at being deprived of an easy scapegoat, “right.”

“Wait, though—how could she know that?” Jada said.

“She’s one of Reve’s people,” Kiera said. “Her and the woman in the pink dress. Really, it’s quite obvious if you think about it.”

“I guess..” Jada mused. “I wonder if that also means they can invade our dreams?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Kaitlyn shuddered. “No offense, Reve.”

“None taken,” he said, considerably calmer after being cleared from the crime of genocide.

“All right,” Kiera said, “We’ve heard from Jada and Fuu... Charon, care to add anything?”

“Like how that creepy old house could belong to you?” Jada nudged him.

“You’re not serious,” Lani said. “That house is yours?”

“Could be,” Charon said uncomfortably.  He rubbed  his scythe’s handle in agitation.

“How?” Lani said.  Charon shrugged, his face reticent.

“C’mon, we’re your friends,” Jada coaxed. “You can tell us.”

“It’s.. it’s not exactly that I don’t want to tell you,” he murmured. “I… I just don’t remember very much of my childhood, or at least, I don’t remember certain parts. The farthest back I can recall is leaving a house—but it wasn’t that house—and coming here.”

He kept his head down as he talked, allowing his hair to overshadow and hide his face.

“I was sixteen.  I got a cheap apartment and eventually found a job as a night security guy…most people were pretty reluctant to hire me.”

Silence.  He took a breath and continued.

“My mom and dad died when I was four and five.  Mom died in a car accident, and Dad wasn’t strong enough to handle it, so he’d killed himself by the end of next year.  I was shuffled around relatives until I was eight—that’s when my uncle agreed to take me for good.”

“Oh, Charon…” Jada set her hand on his shoulder.

“It was years ago,” he said tonelessly. “The point is that I can’t remember what happened to me after going to live with my uncle.  I.. it’s like there’s some block, in my mind… “he mumbled, trailing off.

“Perhaps the answer is in that house, mm?” Kiera said.

“It might be,” Charon said.  He raised his head and touched the scars on his face, running his fingers over the deep lines of pale, ruined skin. “I don’t know.  I don’t know if I want to know.”

“We’re certainly not going to force anything out of you,”  Azura said. Her eyes cast about the room with a “We’re not, right?” look. “It’s your choice.”

“But if you do want to…” Jada said, “Let us help.”

She squeezed his shoulder and smiled at him.

“Maybe I should… but.. not right now,” Charon said. “Let me think about it.”

“Sure,” Jada said, in tune with choruses of “Right” and “Of course.”

“What has happened?” CK’s sleepy voice entered the room, followed shortly by her body.  She moved slowly across the carpet, her bare feet sinking into the carpeting as she padded towards Kaitlyn.  A white nightgown that was many sizes too large for her child’s frame trailed behind her as Kaitlyn lifted her onto the couch.

“Is that yours?” Jada said, unable to stifle a grin.

“Y-yes,” Kaitlyn said, going slightly pink, “it was the smallest one I could find.”

“It’s cute,” Jada said, still grinning.  CK cleared her throat.

“Oh, right,” Jada said. “Um.. do we have to start all over again?”

“A summary will do,”  CK said.  She curled up against Kaitlyn.  Since she now knew all sides of the story, Jada explained again.

“And I assume that was from the seed?” CK jabbed her finger at the spear standing up next to Jada’s chair.  Jada nodded.

“I see.” CK said, but did not elaborate on what it was that she saw.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Kiera said.

“Oh, it’s just..” CK began, “I’m just wondering about the Sailorknight you mentioned.”

“She’s a crazy-ass bitch,” Jada said. “Not much to think on besides that.”

“That may be, but even so..” CK said. “I don’t understand why a member of the Mana Tribe would be working against the reincarnations of the priestesses.”

“Well, she’s not exactly against us,” Azura said. “She’s just not really for us.”

“I would like to know her agenda,” CK said.

“I don’t think she has an agenda,” Jada muttered. “I think she’s just nuts.”

CK did not reply.

“Do you know what’s so important about these seeds?” Lani said.

“Don’t you?” CK answered in surprise.

“Well…uh… no,” Lani said.  A pained look came over CK’s face, an odd thing for her young features.

“They are the key to the revival of the Mana Sword,” CK said.  Kaitlyn reached beneath the couch and pulled out the heavy, green-bladed sword.

“This?”

“That is not the true Mana Sword,” CK said. She was unnerved by the fact that the most legendary weapon of her people was collecting dust beneath a couch, but she refrained from commenting. “I couldn’t even feel its strength.  It needs to be.. recharged.”

“…and the only way to do that is with these?” Jada held out the Mana seed.

“Correct,” CK said.

“Is that why Amethyst and them want’em?” Kaitlyn said.

“Yes.  They want to use the sword’s power,” CK explained. “Not the sword itself, mind you—rather, they want to extract its concentrated energy and use it for their own purposes.  Human genocide, for example.”

“How lovely,” Kiera said.

Three knocks on the door interrupted the discussion.

“Kaitlyn?” Etienne’s voice filtered through the wood between knocks. “Are you there?”

“Great, it’s Negaboy,” Jada said.  She rose to answer the door before Kaitlyn could take the opportunity. “Not drunk, I see.  That’s refreshing.”

“Shut up,” Etienne glowered at her and stalked inside. “I haven’t had a drink in almost a month, thanks.”

“My God!  How are you still functioning!” Jada cried.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Etienne said.  He took a seat on the couch next to Kaitlyn.  All were quiet as he leaned to speak to her.  He stopped when he realized that everyone was watching.

“Do you mind?” he said.

“Not at all,” Azura said cheerfully.

“Oh, Etienne… we were supposed to go out, weren’t we?” Kaitlyn said, hitting her forehead. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said weakly. “I figured it had to be a matter of planetary safety.”

“It was, it was,” she moaned, hanging her head.

“Don’t apologize to him,” Jada said. “You were doing what you had to do.”

“Yes, I understand that,” Etienne snapped. “I was just concerned.  Who asked you, anyway?”

They glared at each other angrily.

“C’mon, cut it out,” Kaitlyn said. “I broke a promise, regardless of the reason, so I’m apologizing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jada muttered. “It’s late, anyway. I’m gonna go.”

She stood up again, and Kaitlyn bit her lip.

“Jada—“

“Forget it.  See you.”

Charon and Fuu followed her with apologetic looks on their faces.  Kiera frowned disapprovingly.

“Terribly sorry, Kaitlyn.  I shall speak to her,” Kiera said, and she also rose to follow her friend.

“You.. you don’t have to do that—“ Kaitlyn said, but Kiera shook her head and left, clearly annoyed.

“I guess it is kind of late,” Kaitlyn sighed, suddenly feeling morose.  Azura gave her a commiserating smile.

“We’ll go as well,” she said, nodding to Lani. “Cheer up.  We won tonight, remember?”

Kaitlyn managed a nod.

“Right.  Goodnight.”

They left, and Etienne sat quietly for a few moments until their footsteps gave way to silence in the hallway.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“It’s all right,” Kaitlyn said. “She does provoke you.  But…”

“I should be more mature,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Really, it’s okay,” she said.

Awkward silence.  CK slid off of Kaitlyn’s lap and nudged Reve.

The two disappeared into Kaitlyn’s room, and Kaitlyn heard the noise of the television a moment later.  Embarrassed, she turned her eyes away from Etienne.

“Perceptive kid,” he said. “Can’t be mine.”

“I’ve been trying not to think of it,” admitted Kaitlyn. “I figure we’ll find out when we’re meant to.”

“I guess you’re right…” Etienne said, and then, “So…”

“Um… we could…” Kaitlyn began.

“We could go now,” he offered hopefully. “It’s not that late.”

She relaxed. “Right.”

CK called from the bedroom.

“Don’t stay out too late!”

Etienne shook his head as he held the door open for Kaitlyn.

“Where have you been?  Do you know what time it is?” she cried. “Worrying me like that!  And your dinner’s cold!”

“Sorry mom,” Jada said sulkily. She had actually completely forgotten about dinner and was surprised to find her mother waiting up for her when she got home.

“Sorry?” her mother said. “I want an explanation.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jada said.

“Darling, you’re pushing it,” her mother warned. Jada was enough like her mother to want severely to avoid a confrontation, but what could she say?  Somehow she thought telling her mother that she was a superhero would not go over too well.

“I… look, Charon was in trouble, so I helped him,” she tried, hoping vainly that it could be left at that.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Some people, they were harassing him,” Jada fumbled for a lie, “I, I mean, you know, he has those scars, and people give him trouble sometimes.  He, um, was stopped in the street.”

Jada nodded.  That sounded good.

“I see,” her mother said wearily. “Any reason why it took so long?”

“Er, they were persistent?” Jada said.  Her mother sighed.

“Go to bed, Jada.  Just, next time you decide to run out on dinner, warn me, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

Jada hurried up the stairs with Fuu bounding behind her.

“Nice work,” Fuu said, once they were in her room.

“I hate lying,” she said, feeling queasy in her stomach.

“Haven’t you always lied about this?  And lied about me, for that matter?” he said.

“Well.. I… I guess,” she said. “But she’s never really asked before.  Besides, with you, it’s not that bad.  You do look like some kind of ferret.”

“Thanks,” Fuu said.

“I just mean, it’s not really like I’m lying outright… I mean, it’s somewhat true…” she sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

“I was about to offer you a shovel,” Fuu said lightly.  He curled up against her neck as she lay her head on her pillow.  Her fingers sank into his fur, quickly disappearing into the depths of fluff.  She scratched him affectionately.

“You’re actually pretty skinny, aren’t you?” she said. “I wonder if your whole family was as fluffy as you."

“I can’t remember,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean…”

He nipped at her fingers.

“None of that.  I’m not made of glass, you know, I’m not going to break into little pieces if you talk about my family,” he said. “I just… I can’t remember.”

She pulled him off of her shoulder and into her arms, hugging him close.

“Still.”

He pressed against her, surprised by her reaction.  He wondered if perhaps he should have life altering epiphanies more often.

It took approximately ten minutes of thinking before Charon decided that going back to the house was what he wanted to do.  In fact, it was not actual thinking, but rather staring at himself in the mirror until he nearly shattered it entirely (it already had a sizable crack).  True, forcing the surfacing of his childhood memories would not heal the scars.  But if he discovered the story behind them, then he could at least start blaming someone other than himself.  A part of him yearned to go back right at that very moment, but the night had been long enough already.  He would call Jada in the morning.

The air was suspiciously calm the next morning.  The cloudless sky invited the town of Vinton outside, so naturally everyone but Charon went out.  Instead he slept in his apartment, waiting for moonrise.  Jada was outside his apartment when he woke up.

“How long have you been here?” he said. “And why didn’t you knock?”

“Not long,” Jada said. “Only like, ten minutes.  I didn’t want to wake you up.”

She loitered in the doorway while he hastily pulled on his coat.  She managed a glimpse of the tiny room, her eyes taking in only the broken mirror before Charon shut the door abruptly. Startled, she jumped back on her heel, only just barely rescuing her hand.

“Sorry,” he said. “There’s really not much to see.” He hunched over, withdrawing into the trenchcoat. “Let’s go.”

“Wait…” Jada said. “Did you ask only me…?”

He stiffened.  “Yes.”

He began to walk down the corridor.  She did not follow, instead standing silently by the doorway until he finally turned around.

“Look,” he said, “You wanted to help me.  You said that if I did this, you wanted to help.  And…I… I think you can.  I think all of this has something to do with you.”

He paused.

“I mean, don’t you think, with the way my other self acts… don’t you think you’re involved?”

“Well, maybe,” she said. “I just thought you might want, you know, more backup than just me.”

His expression softened.

“It’s not like it will be dangerous.  We’re just looking around some empty house,” he said.

“That house is anything but empty,” Jada mumbled.

Jada had walked through the house so many times that she almost knew what she was doing when she and Charon began their search.  The layout was not clear in her mind and she expected that it would not have been even if she had lived there—there were simply too many rooms.  But she was familiar with its hallways and the peculiarities of the architecture, such as the arch over one doorway or the crystal knob of another.  This knowledge was not really necessary, however, as they decided to start with the attic.

“I wonder if this place has a name,” Jada said.  She was talking just for the sake of filling silent air, but Charon didn’t seem to mind. “I mean, it seems like it should.  A house like this.”

“Maybe we’ll find one,” Charon said, in the tone of someone humoring a friend.

“Maybe,” Jada said.

They sat among the cobwebs and dust, sifting through relics of a fading history.  Photo albums, diaries, scrapbooks, and old picture frames crowded the floor and spilled forth from torn boxes.  Images of his younger self piqued Charon’s memory, but he wanted more than just photographs.  He wanted words.  Jada handed him a dusty, cheap notebook, written in with a familiar child’s scrawl, but its pages were crinkled, with words erased or smeared across the paper.  Its entries were brief besides, and Charon could only discern one or two sentences, rendering the notebook mostly useless.

“How did all of this get here?” Jada said.  She thumbed through another photo album, searching for faces that resembled Charon’s.  A particular picture caught her scanning gaze, and she paused. The boy captured in the photo was still a younger  Charon, but something was different.  While in previous pictures Charon’s young skin had been unmarred, in this one Jada saw a mark on his neck, just barely visible but definitely there.

“Look at this,” she said, pinpointing the scar with her fingernail.  “Do you have a mark like this on your neck?”

Charon rubbed his throat.

“I have a lot of marks like that on my neck.”

“Oh,” Jada said. “Er..”

Charon examined the photograph.  It pictured only him, dressed nicely, with his hair combed.  He guessed it was done for school.  Below it was a family photograph, which he stared at until his grip failed and the album slipped from his hands, snapping shut as it hit the floor.  Alarmed, Jada scrambled for the book and opened it again, flipping frantically for the page.

“What?” she said. “What is it?”

She found the offending photo, which was a picture of about five people.  Charon stood to the far right, and a man stood behind him with his hand on Charon’s shoulder.

“Who’s that guy?” Jada said.

“My… uncle..” he said, softly. His face had frozen; his eyes were like glazed glass, as though he were staring at something she could not see, and was transfixed by it.

Jada turned the pages, and noticed a pattern emerging in the pictures.  The young Charon’s clothes became steadily thicker, bulkier, even when those with him wore spaghetti straps and shorts.  He was in heavy sweaters while the girl next to him wore a summer dress and sandals.  As she sat there, horrified, Charon was rampaging his way through the book stacks around them, searching as would a man possessed.  He calmed only with the successful conclusion of his search, which yielded yet another photo album.  It was poorly crafted though, not bound in leather like the others, but in something little better than painted cardboard.  He opened it with Jada leaning over his shoulder.

The album was full, mostly with Polaroids.  All of them were of Charon’s younger self, shirtless or worse.  The scars that now were dead and white were livid on his skin.  Nausea bubbled in Jada’s stomach, twisting painfully as the images sunk into her mind.  Worse than the wounds on his body was the pain in his eyes, the fear in his opened mouth and the shame in his hands as he tried uselessly to cover himself.  Fresh scars were bleeding on his skin in nearly every picture.

Charon’s body shuddered, and he hid his face with his hands.  He said nothing and made no noises of torment, only crouched on the dusty floor, trembling violently.

“Charon…?” Jada said, reaching to touch him.

“L-Lumina,” he said.  He became still.

“Who are you?” Jada said.

“I’m Charon,” he said.  He spoke calmly, quietly, his entire demeanor changed from what it was just moments ago.

“I… I don’t think so,” Jada said. “You’re that… other guy.”

“We are one and the same,” Charon said. “Merely two halves of a whole.”

He covered the grotesque pictures with his hand.

“I am the embodiment of a past memory, meant to merge with the present consciousness that is ‘Charon’ upon meeting you, Lumina,” he said.  “But instead, I was cut off from that consciousness and used as something of a wastebasket.”

“A wastebasket?” Jada said.

“A receptacle for filth, if you will.  For pain,” he said.  “Charon could not bear the culmination of loss and abuse, so his mind sought to create a separate place to ‘store’ it.  I, the waiting memory, was conveniently available.  You have already witnessed the result of this interference.  However, I have finally been able to attain clarity.”

“Who did this to him—to you—to.. you know,” Jada said.

Charon took the first photo album and pointed out a picture of the man who had been standing behind him.

“Your uncle?”

“He was sadistic…” Charon said. “…and this body has a peculiar condition.  The skin is far more frail than it should be.  These scars would not exist on a normal body.  The tendency of my skin to break and scar so easily fascinated him.”

Jada was ashen faced, struck wordless with shock.  When she could speak, she sputtered.

“But—didn’t anyone do anything?  Didn’t you have an aunt?  How could this have gone on?!”

“He never married,” Charon said, “and he was only twenty-nine when he took me.  He presented himself as reserved and quiet, and he was already becoming a successful lawyer.  No one thought to suspect him.  And I.. I was so ashamed and so afraid that I never told anyone.  It was common knowledge that I scarred easily—if they noticed a mark, I just lied.  It was.. really.. pretty easy…”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Jada whispered.  Charon cringed in shame.

“I had always just thought it was somehow my fault… that I had done something wrong… that I…”

He stared down at the photos.

“That I deserved all of it.”

“No!” Jada grabbed the book from his hands, tearing out the page and ripping it apart.  Photographs fell from the slip covering, which she scooped up and shredded into pieces.  She took Charon by the shoulders and said nothing, but hugged him fiercely.

“Jada…” he said. “Your forehead.”

The sign of infinity glowed vibrantly against her tanned skin.  Her tears shimmered in its light.

“I can’t believe you lived like this!” she said. “I can’t believe you still do.”

Warm emotion rose from a nameless place inside her, from some repository for all the memories of her former life.  Its desire screamed through her, from her gut to her heart to her mouth.

“I want to know who you are,” she gasped through tears, “And I don’t want you to have to live like this anymore!”

The room was filled with light, blindingly pure and hot.  It radiated outwards from Jada, flowing into every unloved corner of the attic, every page of every book, every particle of dust on the floor and every cobweb clinging to the ceiling.  Charon’s skin soaked in the light, which broke through the layers of clothing and flesh to flood the dark halls of his mind. A sensation of freedom burst like firecrackers in his brain, threatening to split his bones and tear open the ruined skin. Some dank cage had been opened and something that had been separated from the rest of himself for far too long had been released.  Its rot and filth, its shame and terror, all poured out to meet the light, and disintegrated before its white heat.  Charon heard his own scream as the pieces of himself pulled together, like a doll being fixed with hot glue.  The light began finally to dim, and he fell forward into Jada’s arms, gasping for breath.  She was dressed in white robes, and the cool touch of the metal bracelets around her wrists raised goosebumps on his neck.  Images of a long-dead existence painted themselves in his mind as he raised his eyes to hers.

He saw himself protecting her in a tower of light from an attacking shadow.  He saw blood spattering the white marble floor, and her hands flying to her face in horror.  He relived a feeling of exhilaration, and then a feeling of crushing sorrow.

“I remember everything,” Lumina said. “You killed to protect me, but lethal force was forbidden by your order.”

“I was exiled,” he said. “And when I was finally allowed to come home, I was still never allowed to see you.”

“Then, when the Mana War began, you tried to protect me again,” she said.

“But we both died…” he said.

“Charon,” she said, touching his face. “Your scars.”

“Huh…?” he said, covering her fingers with his.  His breath caught in his throat.  The skin was smooth.  He pulled back the sleeves of his trenchcoat, stared down at his chest.  The skin was perfectly healed.

“Mirror!” he cried. “I want a mirror!”

He jumped up from the dust and down into the hallway, where a wood framed mirror hung on the wall.  He brushed away the fine dust coating the glass and stared at his face.

“So.. this is what I really look like,” he said.

“Not bad,” Lumina nudged him.

He turned to her. “Thank you.”

“Aw, think nothing of it,” she said.  The white robes faded into her skirt and blouse.

“But we’re not done yet, are we?” he said. “My mind is stinging… I feel somewhat like collapsing…but I’ve never remembered my life so clearly…but there’s hardly a mention of a house like this.  I’m not sure it belongs to me anymore.”

“But then why would all that stuff be in the attic?”

“I don’t know…” he admitted. “But I think that’s all there is up there.  We’ll have to look somewhere else if you still want to know about this house…” He massaged his temples. “Damn.. it hurts.”

“Maybe we should go for now,” Jada said, concerned.  She leaned against the desk beneath the mirror, scrutinizing his pained expression.

“I do have a horrible headache,” he said. “Still…”

He frowned in thought.  Jada, on a whim, opened the desk drawer.  It was predictably empty, but for a gold plate attached to the bottom. She rubbed the plate, which was engraved with the words, ‘Carved for the Cerberus Estate.’

“Cerberus Estate?” she said aloud. “How lame is that?”

Charon snapped to attention.

“Cerberus?” he said. “Yes… I’ve heard that.”

He smiled triumphantly.

“I remember—my grandfather—he’s dead now—bought this place as a summer home.  I remember he said he only stayed in it once because he said it was haunted,” Charon hit his palm with his fist. “He must have started using it for storage.”

“That says nothing about its history, though,” Jada said, disappointed.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I guess it really is mine, though.”

“You gonna move in?” she said, only half-joking.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “I don’t think this house is too fond of being lived in.”

“It does seem that way,” Jada said.

“Ugh…” Charon stumbled to his knees, clutching his head.  Jada helped him up.

“Let’s go,” she said.  He nodded weakly.

“I think.. I need to rest,” he mumbled.  She nodded, supporting him as they left the house.  It was slow going back to his apartment, but when they arrived, Jada was reluctant to leave him alone.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” she said.

“Yeah,” he said.  “Just—need sleep.  Need to think.”

“All right… if you’re sure,” she said.  He hugged her tightly.

“Thank you, again,” he said.  Charon stroked back her hair.  She raised her head, and after a moment of silence, kissed him gently.  He blushed violently.

“Goodnight,” she said, reddening also, though her skin hid most of the blush.  She waved a little and left quickly, surprised and pleased with her boldness.

Charon touched his lips lightly and then shut his door. He walked slowly towards his small bed, where he collapsed into sleep.

Charon's history revealed!  Sick, isn't it?  Almost sickens me to read over it (and I'm generally pretty apathetic when it comes to getting emotion from my own writing), not because of the writing or anything, but just thinking of stuff like that... which does happen. -_- Sorry if you thought Charon's healing was a cop-out or something, but I like my happy endings--and he's going to get more scars anyway. His skin really IS frail. =P He just doesn't have to be ashamed of them anymore.  Aww.  Mail me or post!