Memories are just where you laid them
Dragging the waters til the depths give up their dead
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember anything I said when I said,

Don't fall away and leave me to myself
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again
And leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands
Love lies bleeding

?Hemorrhage (In My Hands)? - Fuel

She stood in front of an abandoned horse farm, somewhere in the western mountains of Tucson, Arizona. It was hot, blisteringly hot. The sun pounded fiercely down on the burnt, brown grass and the parched bushy chaparral trees. The air was still; there was absolutely no breeze to lessen the heat. The sky above was the same unreal blue that she remembered. No clouds scudded across the vault of the heavens, nothing offered sanctuary from the merciless desert summer.

There was a sound from behind her and she whirled around, finding as she did so that the scene changed. Suddenly she was in Janet's brownstone in Brooklyn, standing in the middle of the meticulously kept kitchen. The white-washed pine cabinets gleamed in the sterile overhead fluorescent lights. Janet, a pretty, 40-something woman, was seated at the kitchen table, the remains of a sandwich on a plate in front of her. Next to the plate was an ashtray, the clear glass surface marred by at least an entire pack's worth of butts and ash.

Riley was confused. Janet didn't smoke, had in fact been allergic to the noxious substances. ?A lot of things changed when you gave up on us, Riley,? Janet said just as pleasantly as if the two women had been discussing the weather. ?John died because you gave up on the world. Rhys died because you gave up on the world.? Janet stood, shoving the chair out behind her angrily and moved towards her. She was scared suddenly; despite being who and what she was, she was frightened of this woman.

?Do you think you're the only one who has ever lost something?? Janet was screaming at her now, and though the woman was at least a half a foot shorter than Riley, her nose was mere inches from Riley's. ?Do you think you're the only person on Earth who has lost someone she loved? When are you going to stop being so selfish? When are you going to come back and finish what you started? Heaven was counting on you to protect us! And you checked out, ran away with your tail between your legs, abandoned us to Hell on Earth.?

Riley shook her head, denying the woman's words. She tried to answer to the charges but found her mouth wouldn't function. She couldn't part her lips to speak. Her mouth was empty ? she had no tongue, no teeth. She didn't even have breath in her lungs. She just shook her head back and forth, trying to give voice to the words that screamed out in her head. She didn't run away, she hadn't left people to deal with whatever Hell had planned. She couldn't do anything ? Rhys was gone, John was dead. What could she do? She was helpless and alone.

She closed her eyes and suddenly Janet's voice stopped. The air was hot again, pressing down on her, forcing her to her knees. She was back in the desert. There was the scent of bright, coppery blood on the wind. Riley opened her eyes and looked down at her hands. They were clutched over her stomach and there was blood pouring forth from her body. It was a never-ending waterfall, a cascade of crimson. She knew that if she couldn't stop the bleeding she would die.

?You could have saved Patrick,? Rhys's voice said softly. Riley looked up and saw Rhys standing above her, the sun behind his head giving him a halo. His beautiful green eyes were so angry. ?If you weren't so f*cking selfish, if you weren't so f*cking afraid of everything, we'd be married now. Paddy would be a year old. I'd have my humanity and Hell would be defeated.? He reached out lightning-quick and slapped her, sending her head whiplashing to the side with vicious force. ?You f*cked it all up, Riley. Just like you've f*cked everything up. It should have been you that died, not Patrick. Not John. Not me. You, Riley.?

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Riley catapulted from the dream, sitting straight up in bed. She couldn't breathe past the scream that was caught in her throat. She hurtled from the bed, racing to the bathroom and skidding to a halt in front of the toilet. She vomited, over and over, until there was nothing but dry-heaves, painfully wracking her body. Finally, they subsided and she collapsed to the floor, pressing her cheek against the cool tiles. She curled up into a ball and wept ? wept for her lost brother and his mother's pain, wept for her lost child and her lost love, wept for the lost battle with Hell. But mostly, she wept for herself.

Things crawl in the darkness
That imagination spins
Needles at your nerve ends
Crawl like spiders on your skin

Pounding in your temples
And a surge of adrenaline
Every muscle tense to fence the enemy within

?Enemy Within? ? Rush


There had been 133 bricks in the walls of her cell when she was dragged off to enjoy the Queen's hospitality and when she was dragged back, there had been only 131. She counted and recounted seven different times, and on the eighth counting, suddenly there were 133 bricks again. She screamed, over and over, the frustration welling up inside and spilling out into long, wordless cries of anguish.

A soft noise caught her attention, somehow penetrating into her brain, even over the sound of her screaming. She shut her mouth and sat up slowly, turning her beaten, bruised, battered face towards the door to her cell. The noise grew louder, like metal scraping on stone. ?No no no,? she whispered, over and over. They were coming for her again. Even though they'd just finished with her, they were coming again.

The sudden sound of keys jamming into a lock had her scuttling backwards into a corner of her cell, her back flat against the wall opposite the door. The keys turned in the lock and the cell door swung open slowly. Shadows flowed into her cell like water, filling the corners, blotting out the meagre light of the torches flickering in the hallway.

Then a column of shadow rose up in front of her and a face appeared in its midst. ?Drax?? she whispered. ?How...how are you here??

The Phantom, for she saw it was indeed Draxcilian as he lowered the hood of his cloak, put a single finger to his lips, shushing her. His other hand reached out to her, beckoning her closer. She slowly, painfully climbed to her feet, keeping her back flat against the wall. Her knees were weak, rubbery and every single muscle ached. She took a step closer to Drax, her hand coming up to reach for him. Her entire arm shook with the effort it took to raise it.

She took another step closer and suddenly was in the Phantom's arms, his shadowy cloak surrounding her, embracing her. He kissed her forehead softly as he held her, the slow and steady beat of his heart echoing in her head. He'd come for her; somehow Lani had heard her screams and had sent the Sentinel for her.

Laughter, a voice like nails on a chalkboard, came from the doorway. ?Very good, assassin,? Maeve cooed. ?Now bring her to the dojo and show me why the Sierene keeps you around.?

Riley's head snapped up, her eyes growing wide with fear. Drax's face did not change as he held her tighter, crushing her against him, and dragging her towards the door of her cell. She planted her feet and struggled in his arms, but she was weak from torture and the poisonous silver that was now polluting her blood-stream. ?No, Drax. Please, don't. Don't take me to her again. Please.? She was begging, tears streaking down her face. The Phantom's face hadn't changed and he did not respond to her pleas. He just dragged her towards the door. Finally tiring of her struggles, he picked her up bodily and carried her over his shoulder towards a part of the sithen she had never seen ? a cavernous, windowless room with banks of chairs on all four walls and a circle painted in black on the floor in the middle of the room.

He threw her into a heap in the middle of the circle. ?Get up,? he said, no trace of emotion in his voice. He retreated, walking backwards away from her, to the edge of the circle and drew the sword that was ever-present on his hip. ?Get up and pick up your weapon.?

She looked down at the floor and saw a single, finely-crafted sword laying there. She looked back up at Drax, seeking some sort of reprieve, but found nothing in his face. She climbed to her feet once more, and picked up the sword. It felt heavy and alien in her grasp. ?I don't know how to use this,? she said.

The banks of chairs filled with Sidhe, all dressed as if going to a ball. They looked out of place in their bejeweled finery, their long, full gowns and suits reflecting and refracting the candle light. And most beautiful of them all, of course, was Aolani, the Seductress of the Shaitan Covenant, seated at the Unseelie Queen's right hand, a position of power and prestige. ?Lani,? Riley whispered, only to be met with a sudden poke with the tip of Drax's blade.

?You'd better learn fast, Cat,? Lani said, a wicked smile on those lush lips. ?Put on a show for us, Riley. That's what we're here for. That's the only reason we're here, in fact.?

Drax stabbed at her once more, a tendril of shadow creeping off his cloak to wrap around her arm, jerking it up and out to block his sword. It continued this way for a long while, Drax on the offensive, using his mastery of the shadows to move her into a blocking or parrying position. Until finally, the tendrils holding her slipped away just as the Phantom's sword drove into her chest. She screamed and dropped her own weapon with a clatter to the floor. Drax stepped into her, driving the sword completely through her body and out her back. He wrapped his free arm around her, under her shoulders, supporting her as she lost the feeling in her legs. He kissed her softly, first her lips, then her eyelids as the closed and finally her forehead. Then he dropped her to the floor and returned to his place next to his Mistress, Riley utterly forgotten behind him. The sound of applause filled her ears, becoming as loud as the pounding surf on the shore as she slipped into darkness.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Riley awoke to the sound of birdsong, the sun streaming through the French doors that led to her balcony. She could hear the sounds of Daniel in the kitchen, the scent of eggs and toast reaching her nose. She hesitantly slid her hand up her body, tentatively exploring her chest, which hurt badly with deep-muscle cramps, but her hand came away clean. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and glanced behind her. There was a smear of blood on the bed, in the depression where her she had been while sleeping.

Feeling unknown
And you're all alone
Flesh and bone
By the telephone
Lift up the receiver
I'll make you a believer

?Personal Jesus? ? Depeche Mode


Her hand blurred in a vicious strike aimed at his throat. He caught her wrist without so much as looking at it and used his grip to turn her around and twist her arm up between her shoulders, holding her elbow out at a painful extension. She hissed in pain. He shoved her forward, pressing her cheek into the brick wall and pinned her against it with his body, pushing himself firmly against her back.

He lowered his mouth to her ear, his lips brushing the outer shell of it, his breath hot as it tickled over her hair line. ?You warrior women are all the same. You know your way around struggles with other bodies but pay so little attention to the needs of your own.? His voice was low, heated, intimately obscene in her ear.

He reversed the grip he had on her wrist while his free hand moved down her other arm to curl about her fingers. He tugged both her hands back, forcing them to rest on his hips and holding them there. He ducked his head, lips sliding over her earlobe and down the tendon in her neck, moving slowly, not quite in a kiss but neither in a disinterested manner. Her eyes grew wide, back arched, hips thrusting back against him. Her lips slowly parted, breathing ragged now.

?The need is bound to you, deeper than muscle and bone. You cannot deny it, cannot escape it except in the finality of death. In joy, in sadness, in darkness and in pain, you still feel desire,? he whispered against her skin. His hands slid up her arms, away from her own hands which curled to grasp his hipbones more tightly. His fingers moved over her shoulders, slid lightly up her neck and plunged into her hair. A soft sound escaped from her throat and her eyelids fluttered.

?There. You see? You weaken already. I've taken scores like you, pretty child. Taken them and broken them. There was nothing they could do. There is nothing you can do.? He raised his head, brushing his lips against her temple now, his fingers sliding out of her hair and moving back down her body, gliding over the sweet curve of her waist to rest on the swell of her hips. Her body arched in shock, and she let out a low, sobbing sound. ?You were made to feel desire. I was made to use it against you. It is the natural order of things. Life and death. Predator and prey.? He dragged his lips down her face, moving his head so that his mouth now rested just to the side of hers. ?You are easily taken, despite your new strengths,? he whispered, his breath co-mingling with hers. ?We'll have days, ma petite chaton. Weeks. You can spend them in agony or in ecstasy. I'll be the one to decide which. You are no longer in command of your body. You no longer have a choice.?

She gathered herself and struggled against him, hands leaving his hips to push ineffectually against him. ?You're wrong,? she said. ?You're a liar.? Her voice was defiant, though thick with tears and terror. But threaded through it all was a steel core of sickened, hideous desire. ?I am in control.?

?I can always tell when a woman feels desire. I can feel yours now. You're tired of being in control. Tired of being disciplined. Tired of denying yourself for the good of others.? He grasped her waist tightly between both hands, fingers digging into the firm, toned muscles of her abdomen. She moaned softly and her struggles ceased almost immediately. ?That part of you is what wanted to feel the pleasure I just gave. That part of you will grow as I feed it more. The defiant young woman is already dead, Riley. You are just too afraid to admit it.?

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

She awoke, covered in a sheen of sweat, while her Boys slept peacefully beside her, her chest pressed tightly against Daniel's back, David's arm curled over her stomach, tucking her firmly against his body. She tried to take a deep breath and found she couldn't.

Quickly, but gently, extricating herself from their embraces, trying not to wake them, she climbed off the bed and went out to the balcony. As soon as the cool night breeze hit her naked skin, she realised how stuffy the loft was. Moving to the balcony railing, she gripped it tightly in both hands and rested her forehead against a column. She closed her eyes and sighed softly. Sometimes the past was best left in the realm of dreams.

Interviewer: In the 1980s, you warned about the unprecedented dangers of nuclear weapons and took very daring steps to reverse the arms race.

Mikhail Gorbachev: Models made by Russian and American scientists showed that a nuclear war would result in a nuclear winter that would be extremely destructive to all life on Earth; the knowledge of that was a great stimulus to us, to people of honor and morality, to act in that situation.


The ground was covered in a layer of ash at least six inches deep. The trees and bushes had long since been stripped of their leaves, leaving their bare branches thrusting up into the bruised, swollen sky like accusatory fingers, cursing the gods for abandoning their beloved creations. In the odd patch that had been swept free of the ash by the infrequent winds, the ground was cracked and parched, its surface broken by scores of miniature Grand Canyons.

Nothing moved in the desolate landscape. Plants had been the first to suffer. Then wildlife, birds, and insects. Then livestock and pets as the people went hungry and sacrificed family pets so they could eat. Finally, the old, sick, and children began dying. Now, only those few who lived the survivalist lifestyle in the years before the winter came ? stockpiling canned food, bottled water, iodine pills ? survived, and they hadn't stepped foot on the surface of the planet in more than a decade. Not since the first bomb fell.

It began as a regional war between India and Pakistan, over that tiny bit of mountainous, fertile land called Kashmir. Pakistan struck first...or was it India? No one was certain, but in the end, it didn't matter. Two nuclear bombs were hurled across borders, striking Karachi and Mumbai. The world watched in horror, their collective breath held as they awaited the Apocalypse.

China, who also laid claim to part of the Kashmir valley, launched an ICBM at the west coast of North America, blaming the United States for fomenting the war between India and Pakistan as a world-wide distraction from its planned invasion of China. Though it did not land in a populated area, the US President took swift and vicious action, sending an invasion force ? which was suspiciously close to China's eastern shores ? straight into the heart of the Asian Dragon. Russia, feeling threatened and still chafing at the disastrous end of Communism and the equally unsuccessful rise of Capitalism, struck out at Europe, which struck out at South America, which struck out at Australia...

Cities burned. People died. And no one had seen the sun in thirteen years, six months, and twenty-one days.

?How can I stop this??

The Goddess murmured only two words.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Riley woke up, licked parched lips, tried to swallow in an utterly dry throat. She whispered two words that resounded with painful volume in her head. Two words that held the key to the survival of her world.

?Heiwa o okonau.?