There were times that Robert had to go out and get things for the museum. Today it was cleaning supplies. He'd meant to get it the previous evening after picking up groceries and bumping into Helena. It didn't bother him, though. He enjoyed the occasional excuse to leave the museum because he was so often there. Living where you worked tended to do that. That was how he ended up at the grocery store in the aisle with cleaning supplies, reading their ingredients list and considering their merits versus their cost.

Robert looked slightly different these days. It had to do with the heat persuading him not to wear the tweed coat and the advantages he had found in slicking his hair back so that it seemed less like an unkempt curtain for his face.


Jo had ran to the grocery store on an errand to pick up some tortillas, salsa and cheese for the quesadillas that he had developed a taste for. Mexican food wasn't something that he and Graham had very often and Jo wondered if Graham had ever had a quesadilla. And as he wandered through the store, he lost track of time and his surroundings, daydreaming about licking salsa and melted cheese off of Graham's chin and chest, he came back to reality as he bumped into another shopper.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," he laughed at himself as he reached out to steady the man he'd ran into. "I should have watched where I was..." his hand fell away as reality slapped him in the face. The hair was different and that grubby tweed jacket was gone. But those eyes and that face was one he'd never forget. One he'd never understand. They had a working agreement, that is until the arrangement was torn asunder by zombie canines and a busted up Volvo.


"It's all right," he responded and it was at the second sentence that they had a simultaneous realization followed by what he felt was an immeasurable awkwardness. Robert's eyes held Jo's, but it was unclear if his gaze was fogged by shame or unease. Instead, he cleared his throat and nodded, "It's good to see you." And then, lacking anything else to say he continued to what was the guts of the issue, "I'm sorry for how things happened between us." Not that they had, just how they had.


Jo considered simply walking away from the awkwardness, from the inevitable small talk and half hearted smiles. He couldn't maintain the eye contact, he didn't want to. Just being in the vicinity of the man that had been the orchestrator of the worst night of his life, that had brought pain and terror into the hearts of the people that he loved. Just don't say anything. Walk away. He's not going to say... fuck! He's talking. I bet it's good to see me. I bet that you'll have a job for me if I ever need to sell any more artifacts.

Jo shook his head, it was unbelievable that the man actually looked like he was going to say something else. An apology? Jo's eyes narrowed, trying to discern the sincerity of that apology. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? Yeah, it's cool. Terrorize me and my fiance, anytime! Scare Bessie into an early grave! It's all good!

"Yeah, me too," he decided that the least amount said would be best. It was in his face and eyes that he wanted to say so much more. His pursed lips, hand to his hip and the grip he had on the jar of salsa was almost enough to burst it.


"I've learned a lot since being in Rhy'Din." The bleach cleaner shifted into the bag that he was carrying, eye contact broken on his end of the conversation. It was a short reprieve, though, followed shortly after with his gaze resuming where it had been. It was not yet an apology, but his voice was starting to walk down that path, "On Earth, it's different. Demons don't get help from anyone, not readily."

There is a stillness, a quiet, that follows. The only thing that kept it from being a dead silence was the buzzing sound that came from the overhead lighting. Robert cleared his throat and continued, "I know now that I could have asked. That I should have."

The words didn't sound warm, but had a matter-of-fact hit in them, "I'm sorry. For how it happened."


The muscles in Jo's jaw rippled slowly as he grit his teeth and bit his tongue. He could feel his blood pressure rising the more he stood there, but his feet were rooted to the ground beneath him. It wasn't a spell that anyone had placed upon him, there were just so many things that were unsaid, that needed to be said. But he held it back, kept it tightly behind his lips that were pressed into a thin, white line.

He watched as Robert rose through his apology, explaining the reason why things had happened, how he was sorry for what had happened, how it happened. It was then that Jo turned those angry blue eyes upon Robert. Things were much different in Rhy'din, it was true. And coming from a place where things like demons and witches were considered horrible, terrible people who had been maimed, murdered and enslaved for just being who they were? It gave Jo pause. On almost the same level as the demons and witches had been mistreated, so had his own people. Homosexuals had been treasured in one society and treated as sub-humans in most.

"It's a hard place to get to know, harder to trust anyone," he said quietly. The grip on the salsa loosened and he had to transfer it to his other hand when the one holding it began cramping. "I've learned a lot since I've been in Rhy'din, too."

And then there was the Graham angle. Robert had found, and dispatched, Michael's killer. Jo considered this last and slowly nodded his head. "I think you should come over for dinner."




It was true, though. On Earth the Nephilim and Demons were in a bloody war. In Rhy'Din he could have a drink at the bar no but five feet away from one of them. He didn't know if Jo would understand that, but there was a catch in the air which then showed give. He did. Somewhere in all of it, there was understanding. He had not ached for Jo to forgive him, not like he had wanted Cris to. Jo and Graham were collateral damage, an accident. There was so much more intent and bile that had been focused on Cris.

In Rhy'Din it seemed almost anything was possible.

It was around 7 pm when he showed up at the door of their boathouse. In his right hand was a cloth bag, weighed low by the bottle of wine. His eyes moved over the front of their home, the right-hand side of the door illuminated with a gentle yellow bulb, sheathed in a glass structure made to look like a lantern. The world seemed painted in cool blues, browns and then sharp streaks of white that highlights the water's surface.

Dinner, then. His knuckles hit on the face of the door as he waited. There was still a sinking feeling of trepidation at what would happen when the door opened. If this was an ambush or an earnest invitation.

The invitation had been an earnest one. Jo and Robert once had a lucrative and honest business arrangement. Since the night of the demon dogs, his work had mostly consisted of the few and far between requests from museums that were not in Rhy'din.

Jo didn't like to be away from Rhy'din for too long. It meant being away from Graham and that wasn't acceptable. Working with Robert had been ideal and Jo was hoping that they could recreate that business relationship.

"I'll get it!" he called out to Graham when there was a knock at the door. Jo hadn't dressed up special for this, it was to be a casual dinner. He did wear jeans and a dark green Polo shirt, though with white and blue checkerboard Vans on his feet. The house smelled of roast pork and a hint of cinnamon.

He opened the door and offered a bit of a smile and his hand as he stepped back. "Robert, welcome to our home."

Robert was perpetually over dressed, though he didn't seem formal. There was only a rare occasion that he wasn't suited in old slacks and a broken-in jacket with a button-up. Always appearing as if he was robbing college professors of their clothes. The weather, though, had been too much to wear a tweed jacket anymore and he was reduced to the informal show of a button up tucked into his slacks and a tie fixed loosely at his throat.

The door opened. No pitchforks, no torches, and no tomatoes tosses. Maybe it was waiting for him a little further in, past Jo's smile and welcome. He reflected a smile back to him, stepping into the how as Jo made space for him, "I'm not too late? I had some trouble, I haven't been to this area before." There was a pause and he remembered the pressure of the wine bag's strings in his hand. Looking down at it, he blinked and then offered it up to Jo with a short smile.

Graham was trying not to be nervous about the whole event. He had a rum and coke to try to help settle his nerves, but he wasn't sure anything beyond a heavy medication could really do that. Ever since news of Tim, he had never been entirely settled. The answers to what happened to Michael had finally come, and that wasn't Robert's fault. It had only been a painfully winding path to get answers along with a situation that could have been Jo's death. His car had been totaled after that night, never mind the enormous damage to Bessie's property.

"Oh, thanks," Jo took the bag from Robert and then turned his body so that he could close the front door behind him. He was going to ask for Robert's familiar coat, but it wasn't there. He looked over Robert's shoulder at Graham and gave an encouraging smile. "Can I get you anything to drink? Dinner's not quite ready yet so you're in plenty of time."

He put his free hand on the small of Robert's back to direct him towards the living room with the floor to ceiling windows that showed off the view of the ocean and, in the distance, the island of Avalon.

"Um," to the offer of a drink. Robert wasn't sure what the offer was. No arsenic, preferably. Though if Jo was a murderer, he was also an impressive actor. There was the sense he wanted things to go well and not that there was a malicious intent lurking somewhere in the conversation. The hand as his back kept him from staying frozen where he was. He moved forward by the encouraging nudge of Jo?s hand, closer to where Graham was. It seemed appropriate to make a small waving motion than to stick his hand out for them to shake.

Graham saw the pause after Jo offered him something to drink and offered, "We have rum and coke, Badsidders and tea. Or a plain coke too," he added, a little more quietly, "of course."

Once Robert was more inserted into their home, Jo offered up a barstool so Robert could take a load off of his feet. He swept by Graham long enough to place the bag on the counter with a soft clunk. He reached into the bag to pull out the bottle of red. He read the label and then set the bottle on the countertop.

Graham looked like he needed a bit of support so Jo brought the wine glasses down and pulled a corkscrew from a drawer. He then transported glasses, bottle and corkscrew closer to Graham so that their elbows touched when he tried to uncork the bottle that Robert had brought. "Or, we have wine," he lifted bottle and corkscrew before putting it back onto the countertop. A twist of his neck and he was gazing into Graham's eyes. Love you.

"It's supposed to be good." It was a brand he hadn't tried before. Though the museum still had a few bottles left over from the last exhibit party, he was wanting to try something new. Both of his hands went into the front pockets of his pants, his hazel eyes distracted momentarily by the view of the water outside the window. Eventually, his gaze landed on Graham, "How have you been?"

Jo's reassuring gaze and take-charge with the wine had helped ease some of the discomforts. Enough that he could manage a smile before looking at Robert, "Well, really well." But the conversation between them was starting to stall again.

Jo's entire body jerked when the cork finally came free of the bottle. He sniffed the cork, then offered it to Graham. The bottle was left to breathe for a few minutes. He saw the conversation starting to lag once again and pursed his lips as he leaned against the counter, palms down and elbows turned in. "Your Vampire party was a lot better than that movie night event," he leaned his head and shifted his weight to press his hip to Graham.

"In the end, I think that we owe you our gratitude. I'm not sure the ends justified the means, but Michael's killer was found and..." he shrugged.

"Yes, it wasn't easy... getting the answers... or losing my car but... it was better knowing than not." He still had difficulty imagining what Jo had been through to cause all the damage to the car that had been there. And the blood. And so much done to Bessie's area. Had it all been worth it? He'd come to RhyDin looking for answers, and that was important. More important than Jo? They had just started their relationship so it was hard to look back and remember how he used to feel. Still, he didn't know if an answer was ever worth the life of another person.

"It was a difficult time," was all he could really say about what had happened. With Mahis an ominous presence in his life and Cris his likely executioner, Robert hadn't spent much time worrying about Jo and Graham's lives during all of what happened. It wasn't that they weren't important, they just hadn't actively threatened his life. People trying to kill him had taken priority. "I've put in for a temporary to permanent leave of absence from the museum. It is doing well but there are some things in Seattle I plan on looking into."

Graham received a gentle rub to the small of his back and an encouraging smile from Jo. They were all safe and sound, a bit wiser. He poured the wine and set glasses in front of Robert and Graham and then took a sip of his own. The wine was decent, didn't make his eyes water, at least.

"You're leaving Rhy'din?" his brows went up in surprise. "I'd think of all the places that you could be, Rhy'din was the most harmless. People are a lot more tolerant to..." he searched for the right word to use and landed on "species. And the sins of the past are usually washed away with the breaking of the dawn."

It was hard not to worry when your lover stepped outside with a demon. Still, Jo seemed pretty confident that the situation was okay. Most enemies didn't show up with wine and the intention to stay for dinner, right?

Robert did occasionally smell like smoke. It was hard to tell, though, if it were always cigarettes. Something about him burned and he had been told on more than one occasion that it seemed like copper, or cinnamon, or if something electric was burning but only the pleasant strangeness came through and not the nauseating plastic fumes. There was a hint of that burning, of that smokiness to him that the cigarettes could sometimes also be hinted in. He took the offered chair, crossing one leg over the other as he lit up.

"Cris and I were looking for Timothy Reaux. If you don't know much about demons and Nephilim, I'll spare the details. But it is dangerous, hunting someone like us who?. became sick the way Timothy had." There was a pause before he blew out a line of smoke. His eyes went through the glass to see Graham setting the table and he cleared his throat, "There is something you should know."

Jo continued his lean upon the railing. His arms were folded lazily across his chest and he had canted his head slightly to consider Robert and the words coming from his mouth. He glanced over to see Graham and smiled widely when their eyes met. A wink was tossed that way and then his attention came back to Robert. He really knew nothing of Demons or Nephilim or anything of that sort. All he knew was that through one fateful night and a plan to test Cris' speed and loyalty, they were all combined together. "Should Graham be out here for this?"

"Maybe?" Robert didn't know what the relationship between Cris and Graham was. If it was close, he would probably want to hear it. Robert looked away from him and towards the water's surface, starting with the most basic fact of the situation to see how aware Jo was, "Do you know of a woman named Salome?" Calling her woman was putting it lightly. Most women didn't come with their own set of claws.

Jo looked up and when he caught Graham's attention once more, he pulled his head back and to the right in the universal gesture for "come here, please?" He then turned his attention back to Robert. "No, I can't say that I do. I met Cris when he first got here and he wasn't very talkative about where he came from. He had a girlfriend and he was staying in the shed at Bessie's, with me."

Jo thought about those days and how hard he'd tried to get Cris to go into that hot spring. Cris would have nothing to do with it. But, the friendship that they'd shared was something that he did and could smile about. "So I'm assuming that she was someone he knew before, or after we hung out?"

Graham had just finished draining the noodles and gave the one-moment gesture. He had to put the noodles with some butter off to the side so that they didn't dry out and stick to the pan. Tossing aside the oven mitts, he nudged the sliding glass door aside and smile, uncertainly, when he stepped out.

Robert looked at Graham and nodded, his attention then moving to Jo, "Something like that. She's bringing Cris back from Hell, or she's trying. She collected blood from me almost two weeks ago."

When Graham popped out of the sliding glass door, he reached for his hand to pull him close. The news about what this Salome person was attempting to do caused confusion to cloud his brow. "Can she do that?" If people could come back from the dead, his job would surely suffer in the very distant future. Not that he planned to be alive for that period of time. He thought that maybe if people could keep coming back from the dead that archaeology would be in its golden age about now.

Robert blinked. "I don't recommend it," to put it mildly. If Hell was an easy jailbreak, well, that would have meant a lot more people coming out. He noticed the length of the ash of his cigarette and went to tap it off in some appropriate place. Was there an ash tray out there? Did nonsmokers keep that for the smokers?

"Hey," he murmured as he kissed Graham's cheek and wrapped his arms around Graham's waist. "I mean, will he be the same Cris? Or will he be like some Pet Cemetery imitation killer who wants to eat my head, Cris?"

"It can be done and... what?" He paused and then, a moment passing before he recalled having seen that movie a long time ago. There was a briefly amused expression before he added, "I think that those are zombies, not... the Returned." Robert paused and then tilted his head to the side, "If a prison in an Earthly realm, your prisons, can do much to affect someone's mind... I imagine that Hell will leave an impression."

"You're sure he's in Hell?" Jo didn't like the thought of Cris being in the Hell that he was raised to believe in. "I mean, he wasn't that bad of a guy. He helped me out... right?" With his free hand, he scratched the back of his neck and looked up to Graham for some kind of indication of whether or not this was all just crazy talk anyway.

There were no ashtrays, but the river was there and that was enough of an ashtray as there ever was. Plus there was a gentle, cool breeze blowing off of the water so any ashes didn't stay still for very long. He wasn't sure if this was appropriate dinner conversation, but he was hungry and Graham hadn't made a meal sit on the table cold and uneaten. "Shall we continue this over the delicious meal my fantastic fianc? prepared?"

"He had a contract on him," Robert motioned with the cigarette and a small shrug. He remembered that discussion on the porch with Cris and how he had seemed shaken, angry, that there was a contract on him. As if he had somehow not known. That was a looming mystery to him which was even more on point now with Robert?s situation.

Contracts, he thought, had been formal things. A situation where two parties sat down, agreed to terms, signed and exchanged the deed for the mark. The demon's signature, the sign that the person had already struck an accord, was more or less like farmer branding cattle. There was a clarity to it he had taken for granted. He had never examined, really, the world of purchasing contracts, assigning them, or the legalities behind it. He was starting to find that the system of contracts could be a muddled situation. Would Cris' situation, and how it happened, shed light on him?

In the meantime, he cleared his throat, "I can't confirm it but... a friend texted me last night about it. She said Cris was back. I don't know if that means that he's here and okay... or if she's possibly mistaken. She didn?t know him well. I just thought you should know that something was happening there."

Robert stood up, ashing his cigarette over the railing of their boathouse.

Graham listened and stared on at the conversation, his face seeming stern before he warmed up with a smile at Jo's compliment. He had felt such an overwhelming guilt with Cris died. The man had been an interest to Jo and even though it wasn't a past relationship or even a probable one, he couldn't help the sense of envy he'd had on more than one occasion. Now Cris would be back? Just after Jo seemed to laugh and be healed again and it was just the two of them?

Jo wasn't sure how he felt about this entire situation. He'd just gotten accustomed to the idea that Cris was gone. He'd picked up the pieces and he'd moved on. To be told that it was like some cosmic joke and that Cris was really back from the dead? Like he'd been on some sort of vacation in a very warm country? It kind of made Jo angry and he wasn't sure exactly why.

And then he looked into Graham's eyes. He could see something was there, something amiss. The anger left him as he gazed into Graham's baby blues. "I appreciate that, Robert," he turned his attention back, just briefly before returning it to Graham. It's ok. He's still gone. Just you and I.

He gave Graham a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and then pulled away. "Let?s go eat, hmm?"

?Warm was putting it mildly. If someone had told him that, Robert would have wondered what their perception of Hell was. Salome had been confident about the spell to bring him back, but Robert had a tendency to be wary of these things. There always seemed to be loose ends, even when it did seem so very simple.

Graham smiled at the kiss and nodded, appreciating what he thought Jo's eyes were saying. He would have never admitted to it. He'd never even be able to bring himself to say the words aloud. They were ugly and he knew they were ugly, that it was petty and detestable to be uncomfortable with someone returning because they were an old crush. Not even an old boyfriend. Not even a drunk-and-kissed-once person. Just an interest, the one he'd seen Jo's eyes hold on and at times and put priority over him for. It was the little things, really, that had built that internal fortress.

Tugging at the door he stepped inside, clearing his throat and checking for where he put his rum and coke before he spoke, "There're some noodles you can put your chicken on if you aren't watching your carbs and there's a side of broccoli as well. Did you want something to drink?" When Graham looked at Robert his eyes seemed to say that he expected he would.

Jo waited for Robert to enter the home before he stepped inside and closed the sliding glass behind him. "I'm not watching anything except your cute behind," he joked with a laugh. He then looked at Robert and that smile dimmed. Perhaps not in mixed company. "Anyway!" he laughed at himself and approached the table. Pulling out a chair for Graham, he waited for him to sit. "I'll get the drinks. You've worked hard. Let me spoil you for once."

A kiss dropped to the top of Graham's head and he went to retrieve the wine glasses and bottle from the kitchen. He then peered to see if Graham had grabbed his rum and Coke.

It was a bit awkward. Robert had that slightly awkward way about him, though. Maybe it was the seemingly prudish appearance he had, the button ups, the slacks and in this case, a tie. It could set anyone on edge if they had worked in an office that had PDA restrictions and a dress code. Or a school for that matter. Robert hadn't intended for either to be the case and his preference was simply that he had an outdated sense of style. It usually took him fifty years or so to catch on and by the time he did... well. The world had a way of still spinning.

Graham had appreciated the compliment, though, even if it was tainted by the reminder that Robert was there. It had been an excellent way to derail his thoughts from what had been discussed and focus him on the current situation at hand-- food. Drink. Oh! There was his rum and coke. He could it over by the oven and took a hard swallow of it. Thank god.

Robert opted to take a seat at the table, picking the one that seemed to be an off shoot of where the lovers would sit.

Jo settled into his chair after depositing Robert's glass beside his plate and the bottle of wine upon the table. He didn't usually say grace, hadn't ever broached the subject with Graham. And with Robert being a demon? Yeah, it really didn't seem necessary. He half stood from his chair, picked up his plate in one hand and scooped up some noodles, then placed a chicken breast atop the noodles. He laughed at the stringy cheese and had to put down his plate to break the cheese bridge between the dish and his plate. He then garnished with some of the steamed broccoli. When he settled back into his chair, he looked at Graham and Robert. "Eat up, guys!" he laughed and then picked up fork and knife to dig in.