?I guess I thought that someone would notice/ I thought somebody would say something/ If I was missing/ Can't you see me??
(Counting Crows, ?Have You Seen Me Lately??)

The summer had been passing by in a blur for Locke. It stood in sharp contrast to the spring, when the days had seemed to drag on, pleasantly, almost into infinity. Those warm, comfortable days had to end sometime, though, and when they did, it was with surprising swiftness. Had it really been over two months since Johnny and Sianna had been married? Everything since then, even the important events, had felt like drops of water slipping uselessly through Locke's cupped hands. The confrontations that had ended badly, the conversations that were stilted and awkward, the duels that had left him bloodied and bowed. It wasn't even that nothing was happening; on the contrary, perhaps it was the fact that he had been so busy, that so much had happened that made the time fly away. He'd taken on a variety of jobs, some legal, one not as much. He'd seen his family for the first time in years. He'd moved up, down, then back up again in the ranks of the duels. He was busy, and he felt himself fading away from the people he cared about. Or thought he'd cared about. Or cared about too much. Who really knew? He wasn't sure who he should hold onto, who he should cast aside, or if there was even anything that needed to be done.

Locke had a couple of choices: wait or act. He chose to act. With little notice, he left the city for a few days to visit his family again. There, he licked his wounds, sharpened his knives, and hardened his heart. But when he had returned to do what needed to be done, he found his thoughts of disappearing mirrored by someone else's actions. If the word on the street and from the Great Helm was any indication, Izira had vanished without a trace. With the recent events that had occurred in Locke's life almost immediately after he'd returned to RhyDin, he felt like he needed a friend. Any friend. Especially one like Izira, who didn't know most of his core group of mates, or the nitty gritty details of his recent life. Where had she gone?

There were few clues to be garnered from the conversations he'd had with the workers at the Great Helm, so the next logical step was to see Izira's friends. The only one he could actively remember, though, was Eva. It hadn't taken him too long to suss out where she was living, and almost as soon as he'd found that information out, he'd gone to visit her. He left for her place after he had gotten off work one day. The only preparation he had made for his visit was to remove the black suit jacket and solid crimson tie he'd been wearing earlier. They were hung in his closet with care, before he left his room and locked the door. Locke hadn't bothered to freshen up his wardrobe with the usual crisp details that kept the dapper ice elf looking so stylish. He hadn't changed into a less wrinkled dress shirt, or even bothered to iron the white one he was wearing. The black lace-ups he had on were scuffed up a little on the sides, but he made no attempt to buff, polish, or shine the marks out. He also didn't swap out the trousers he was wearing. He needed to have the charcoal slacks he had worn to work re-hemmed and adjusted: they were just a little too baggy, and of course his boss, Gerard, had instantly noticed and berated Locke for his sloppiness. Right then and there, though, he didn't have the time or desire to change anything. Instead, he made tracks for the marketplace, the address of Eva's apartment stuck firmly in his head.

He arrived in the marketplace square and looked across the road at the building that housed both a bookstore and Eva's apartment. He crossed the street and headed into the alleyway, walking a short distance before reaching the step-up to her apartment. His old thief's habits led him to shade his hand over his eyes and crouch a little, trying to stare into the small glass window set in the door, before he caught himself and straightened up. A faint smile crossed his blue lips, as he couldn't help but tap out a familiar pattern on her door, accompanied by equally familiar words. ?Shave and a hair cut...?

March 2001, R.S.C.
Calf's

The two lads were sitting in the back of the smoky, dimly lit bar, at a circular table next to a hallway that led to the emergency exits. Locke sat facing the front of the building, Charlie sat facing the red flickering EXIT sign. This incarnation of Calf's had, thus far, proven to be one of Locke's least favorites, mostly because of (in Locke's opinion, anyways) the tacky decorum. Off to his right, there was a pool table, where two equally tall and equally beefy men clad in leather jackets and old denim were taking turns shooting at stripes and solids. The walls had been decorated with various signs and memorabilia, most of which was from Earth. Most of which seemed to be advertising either beer or motorcycles, and had a predominance of eagles and wings in their design. Harley-Davidson. Budweiser. Bud Light. The centerpiece of the decorations seemed to be a flag, the upper left hand corner filled with white stars on a blue background, the right corner and bottom filled by alternating stripes of red and white. Most of Locke's attention, though, was on his friend. They hadn't been talking much lately, which had made it all the more surprising when Charlie had asked to see him.

? 'e's gone, mate.?

?Who's gone??

?Th' King. Uppin' vanished, into thin air. Right before me minces.?

?And??

?And wot?? Charlie sipped the amber lager in front of him, wincing at the taste.

?And wot d'you want me to do? This's RhyDin, in case you've forgotten. People up-? Locke snapped his fingers loudly in front of Charlie, before continuing- ?and disappear all the time here, mate.?

?Ye've gotta cold heart, mate. A cold heart.?

Present

When Eva answered the door, the ice elf seemed locked into a reverie for a moment, before he returned to his senses and looked at her. Physically, there seemed to be nothing noticeably wrong with him. All his arms and legs were still attached, and he wasn't limping, coughing, sneezing, or showing other signs of illness. However, a look at his rumpled clothes, and especially his face, and the truth would be revealed. He was under a great deal of mental strain, and the sleeplessness was evident in the slight purplish rings around and bags under his eyes, and the lack of light in his eyes when he smiled. His grin was clearly forced.

Locke wasted little time with pleasantries before he got to the heart of the matter. ?Good evening, Eva. Have you seen Izira lately??

Even after Eva had invited him in, Locke lingered around the entrance for a moment, glancing over his shoulder outside. He looked over at the dead end just past Eva's apartment and the entrance to the alleyway on the other side, then across to the dingy stone wall opposite the door. Once he was finished, his head snapped back and he turned to follow her up the stairs. His dark blue eyes seemed to fall upon even the most mundane objects a moment longer than was necessary, but not so long that he appeared to be staring. Even the textbooks, the most intriguing object in an apartment otherwise full of the usual miscellany, got little more than a cursory examination. The gun, however, he tried to keep in eyesight the entire time he followed her up. When she finally put the weapon down, his irises rested on it noticeably longer than the rest of the things in her residence, before his gaze finally swung back towards Eva.

Locke sat down in the chair, his posture more slumped than usual. Both gloved hands rested on the armchair as he listened to her speak, watched her clean her desk and avoid eye contact. Once she had finished speaking, Locke chipped in, with a voice that was noticeably less enthusiastic and cheerful than normal.

?The last time I saw her was a few days past, right before I went on holiday.? He paused, seeming like he was about to laugh, before he just smiled wistfully and shook his head. ?It didn't go well, needless to say. She seemed...somewhat better than when I told you about that...task I had been given. She touched me. Her skin was cool. It wasn't like when she'd previously touched me, when I could feel her magic working to cancel out my frigidness and her heat. She was just...cold. I pulled away, because, well, it felt...odd. Like yet another bloody joke being played on me. All the bloody blokes and birds in the world who could touch me, and...? Locke trailed off at that moment, unwilling to finish the thought. He straightened up in his seat, before continuing. ?But that's neither here nor there. Anyways, she noticed something was...off with me. She wanted me to talk about it, I didn't, and I ended up leaving, in something of a huff. That was the last I saw of her.?

Locke lowered his head, touching his forehead with his fingertips. ?I'll be frank with you. I wouldn't say that I was terribly close with Izira. I only met with her a handful of times, and I'd only ever been to her inn on a couple of occasions. Even so, I would say that there was a connection. Nothing romantic, mind you, but I couldn't help but feel that we were two sides of the same coin. Very opposite sides, mind you, but still cast and molded together in some strange way. That having been said, you know her much better than I do. What do you think made her go barmy? Who else might know where she is? Where else might she go?? Locke paused again, looking up, as a sudden thought crossed his mind. ?Never mind that, the scuttlebutt around town seems to suggest any place she might have been to, she hasn't been to. Have you tried going back to her inn again??

There was something distracted and glassy in Locke's pupils as he looked in Eva's direction. He didn't maintain consistent eye contact, like he usually did, sometimes glancing at the wall over her shoulder, at the window overlooking the Marketplace, at the pair of doors leading to other rooms. It took him a bit longer than usual to answer the question he'd been asked.

?The map...yes, that's a good idea.? Then, a puzzled expression crossed his face. He looked over one arm rest, then the other, then at his sides. When it became apparent that he hadn't found whatever it was that he was looking for, he uttered a word that was half-lilting, half-tempered with vinegar. Even elvish couldn't make swear words, when spoken with malice, anger ? or in this case, frustration ? sound nicer, and the British accent that was intermingled with it didn't help matters. ?I forgot my bloody map. I forgot my bloody messenger bag. I've just got a head full of spanners today.? Locke clucked his tongue, looking downwards as he shook his head. ?Never mind that, though. Do you think it will work if just one of us has the map? I've only ever been by myself, carrying my own map. Do you think we both have to hold the map? We'd look a bit like treasure hunters, I suppose.? The thought, and the image that soon followed, was enough to bring a small smile to his face. He pictured himself and Eva, wearing pith helmets and drab brown leather breeches and vests. They each held aloft lanterns, the better to shed light on the map they were reading. Locke could see little else around him except for Eva, the various lines (and an X) that comprised the map, and what seemed to be walls (whether they were a cave's or a castle's, he couldn't tell) made of smooth, gray stone. Another shake of his head, this one more vigorous, and Locke finally rose to his feet.

?Terribly sorry about that. Anyways, I suppose it is rather presumptuous of me, but if you aren't busy right now, I should think we should make haste in attempting to find Izira once more. Are you with me??

Locke left the room and descended the stairs that led to the front door of the apartment in silence, trying anything to avoid his elephant in the room. His issues. He knew he hadn't been doing a very good job of hiding his emotions. I suppose I will need to work on that, he thought to himself. To keep busy, he tugged and pulled at the gloves on his hands, fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, flexed and relaxed his fingers. Once they had stepped outside, and Eva had offered over a portion of the map, Locke took it, although he didn't look directly at her when he did.

When she finally broached the subject that had been hanging in the air for nearly the entirety of his visit to her apartment, he had to bite his tongue. Bite back any number of knee-jerk replies that came to mind. None'ya, mate. Or, Yes, there's a bloody problem! My relationship's brown bread, and there's not a damn thing anybody, least of all you, can do to fix it! Involuntarily, Locke clenched the fist not holding the map, a slight grimace on his face. He wasn't immediately forthcoming in his answer to her inquiry, letting the sound of footsteps falling on stone streets serve as his initial response. Even though he had wanted to come to a complete, jarring halt for dramatic effect, he decided that it was better to keep pace with Eva while replying. Time might be of the essence, after all, if they were to succeed in finding Izira.

?Well what?? he asked, unable to completely hide the sneer that crossed his face momentarily. Tact was also something that he needed to work on. ?That is to say, my problems, whatever they may or may not be, are not my primary concern at this moment.? He paused momentarily, sighing and softening his tone. ?I am willing to admit that I have...issues beyond Izira. Right now, though, she's my main issue. There's something I can do to handle this. My other dilemmas are a bit more...complicated than this. Perhaps when we resolve this, I will tell you what they are.? The way he said it, and the way he avoided eye contact with her while he said it, seemed to indicate that he had little, if any, intention of doing so.

Friendship. Eva had extended the olive branch of friendship, but would Locke take it? Could he take it? All he could see in his head were his ?friends?, the ones he had been closest to up until a few days earlier, turning on him. Savaging him behind his back with cruel words and mocking laughter. Or even worse, maybe they had just forgotten he existed, the way so many others in Locke's past had done. The same way he had forgotten others as well. When he caught sight of Eva's apologetic look and heard her stumbling over her words, he felt a twinge of sorrow. I'm sorry I can't be the friend you want me to be. He did his best to mirror her appearance, though, when he spoke his simple reply. ?I appreciate the sentiment, Eva.?

Locke turned to face the trees, a mixture of tall, thin pines and shorter, thicker oaks and elms. If one were looking for a typical forest, this would be it. However, as Locke glanced back and forth between the map and the spot where the ripple in reality had been, he couldn't find it. When he'd traveled to the Forgotten Layers, he had always noticed a slight distortion in the air, like heat waves emanating from a campfire. He had thought of it as magical tears, holes in the fabric that kept the two worlds apart. Holes hidden from those who didn't have the eyes to see them. Eyes provided by the map in the duo's hand. Eyes that now seemed to be blind. It was time to try a new tactic. Time to put on new eyes.

After letting go of his half of the map, Locke took a few steps back from where Eva was standing, closed his eyes, and started muttering under his breath. He spoke not in the usual Common tongue, nor his lilting, musical elvish, but another language entirely. It was a mish-mash of what sounded like Latin and Greek, but with heavy accents in unexpected places, and words that would not be found in any dictionary of the two languages. Part-way through, he tripped over a couple of the words, and quickly stopped, frowning. ?Bugger.? He ran a hand over his hair, composed himself with a deep breath, and tried again. After a few moments more of speech, he finished and opened his eyes. The air immediately surrounding him was chillier, and his dark blue irises and the whites of his eyes had been entirely replaced by a neon blue glow. His pupils had shrunk, now pin-sized and nearly invisible to the naked eye. He studied Eva for a long moment, before nodding his head and smiling faintly. ?The bloody spell seems to be working. Let it never be said that I learned nothing at Uni.?

With that, Locke started to search the surrounding forest once more. A time or two, he nearly stumbled on a gnarled tree root or some particularly rough underbrush in his way, something that might have seemed out of character for the usually agile ice elf. Whether it was because of whatever spell he had cast, or his not-quite adventuring appropriate attire, who knew? A few minutes passed before Locke finally returned to where Eva was. A quick blink of his eyes, and the bright blue glow dispersed, replaced by his usual eye color. ?I cannot be 100 percent certain, but if whatever it was that brought us to Izira's realm was magical, I can find neither hide nor hair of it here. I am well and truly puzzled as to what other recourse we have to discover what happened, to Izira or the Forgotten Layers.?

After his trek through the forest, Locke looked even more of a mess than before. Mud splattered all over his dress shoes and the cuffs of his trousers, and one look let him know that he was likely going to have to dry-clean his pants to get that caked-in dirt out. The shoes were going to take some work to get clean as well, between the muck and the scuffs. The dress shirt he wore was a different story entirely. He hadn't really been able to see the tangles of branches that had hung in the way of some of the paths he had taken while searching through the forest. As a result, there were now several holes in the sleeves, and close examination of one or two of them would reveal scratches on exposed blue skin and thin lines of purplish-red blood staining the white fabric. He frowned, fruitlessly rubbing his hands on his sleeves in an attempt to do gods knew what.

Locke quickly forgot his own wounds once Eva started looking around the forest for another opening to Forgotten Layers. Rather frantically, in his mind. He felt awkward in the moment, watching someone he had previously regarded as nearly unflappable ? hell, someone who had kept their composure while he was gunshot and bleeding on the Inn floor ? seemingly coming unhinged. He felt another twinge of guilt, that Izira's disappearance seemed to be hitting Eva so hard, but not him. How jaded was he about his friends? He looked down at the ground and shook his head, then slowly walked over to where Eva had been striking the tree. Shakily, he extended a hand to touch her on the shoulder. Almost as soon as he made contact with her, he withdrew, recoiling as if suddenly remembering the fact that his hands were still cold, even with gloves on. He folded his hands behind his back after that.

?I think...this is a problem that is beyond the capabilities of you or I. If you like, I can ? I can check with my mates over on Twilight Isle. They have probably forgotten more about magic than you or I have ever learned, and they may have a solution for our situation.? He didn't know if the mages involved in the Duel of Magic would be able or willing to help him, but it was the first thing that came to mind. The only thing, in fact.

Locke was uncharacteristically quiet as he listened to Eva discuss Izira. What could he say that Eva hadn't already brought up? He obviously wasn't as close to Izira as she had been, and now, it seemed unlikely that he would ever get the chance. He couldn't decide how he felt about that. Angry? Sad? Indifferent? He only seemed able to tell how Eva felt about the situation. Disappointed. Frustrated. Possibly defeated.

Had he ever had a friend like that? His head shook slightly. No. The quick, simple realization had him tugging on his gloves and adjusting the collar of his shirt, fidgety gestures that betrayed his nervousness. Will I? He didn't even want to think about the answer to that question... Rather than comment on anything Eva had said about Izira, he clung instead to her words that suggested departure.

?I think it is a good idea to head back into town. No sense in exhausting ourselves needlessly here. Besides-? Locke paused momentarily, forcing a playful grin. ?I should change my attire and send these filthy rags on to the dry cleaners. Anyways, I am ready to leave whenever you are.?

Before he started to walk back to the city, he looked over his shoulder at the forest, at the tall trees that were doing their best to make him feel even smaller. Slowly but surely, shadows had begun to fall on the woods, adding a darker haze to the undergrowth beneath the canopy of leaves. It felt like the heavens were swallowing them whole, taking their good sweet time to devour them, with no apparent reason for the feast. Locke was unable to suppress a shudder as he finally diverted his eyes from the scene and began to walk away.