Jael was bored. The hospital staff had been wonderful, meeting her every need, but they had other patients, and they couldn't be here all the time. So all she had was the television. Jael had been kept active as a child, and television didn't hold much allure.

Neither, come to think of it, did her homework, but she'd already finished it for tonight. The school had given her the option of deferring until she was out and taking summer courses, but Jael didn't relish the thought of doing nothing until she got out. She was here; she could at least do homework.

She lifted her head and carefully rotated her neck, feeling the pain from doing so all through her face. What made her grimace was her hair. The short bob was annoying her, mostly because she loved her hair long, and right now, it was all in her face. Hair clips could hold it back, but she didn't like the way it looked. In short, her new hair cut was pissing her off, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it, except dream about giving Vile Bill a hair cut of his own.

Being angry tightened the muscles in her face, and Jael groaned, dropping her head back onto the pillow. Vile Bill had done a number on her jaw, probably more than he'd meant to do. He hadn't hit her hard; she'd seen his wind-up, and he had held back quite a bit. Despite that kindness, she needed to camp out in the hospital for at least another day, and she'd be home until Sunday.

Sighing, she shifted against the pain in her face. She would never admit it to anyone, not even herself - and therefore not to Sakolove - but the pain was a pleasure. It cut away her secret misery by letting her feel something else. It was a sweet release, a way to disconnect from herself. She had a flicker of thought - maybe find ways to stay hurt - before she cut that thought off and drove it away.

"Hello, darling!"

Her mother's cheerful voice was a welcome distraction, and Jael sat up a little higher. "Hey, Mom," she replied carefully, eyeing the basket her mother was setting next to her on the bed. "What's this?" She was speaking better than she had on Sunday, a sure sign she was getting better.

"I brought a few things for you," Donna said, opening the basket to reveal a couple of paperback novels, some of the sewing that Jael had started to work on last year, and, at the very bottom, a fist-sized hunk of agate.

"A rock, mom?" Jael asked, turning it over in her hand.

"It's pretty," Donna said, running her finger over one of the smooth sides. "And it's your favorite color."

Jael nodded, looking at the deep red stone. "It is pretty," she admitted, smiling at her mom. But her mom wasn't looking at her anymore; she was staring at the muted television. Jael looked too, and was surprised to see a flash news blurb interrupting daytime television. For a long second, she was sure that she was reading the scrolling text wrong, and she fumbled for the remote, turning it up.

Two minutes in, Donna took her daughter's hand, listening aghast at the news of Sliders' death.



Jael watched the light fade behind her window, her thoughts far away. Donna had been more torn up about Slider than Jael, who was in her usual demographic. For Donna, it was a young nova, not much older than her daughter, who was killed horrifically. It was all too easy for her to look at Jennifer Landers and see her child.

Jael had never liked Slider, as sometimes happens with women are jealous of one another. She'd envied Slider her easy popularity, but she'd never wished her ill. It made her a little sad that someone who was basically good like Slider was killed. She also wondered what it would have felt like to kill her, so maybe the sentiment wasn't completely appropriate.

This is the thing I'm supposed to stop or avenge, she thought sadly, but even she wasn't arrogant enough to assume that she could do anything about this. She wanted to; she wanted to badly. But Vile Bill had shown her that she wasn't ready. She could play in the kiddie's pool - the baselines - with near-impunity, but when it came to other novas, she was over her head. It was frustrating.

Jael turned the agate over in her hands, staring at it. Its weight had a resounding physicalness in her hand, as if there was more to the rock than she could see. She looked deeper into the flecked depths, trying to see something more in there. Slowly, she began to see a shape within, waiting to come out. Slowly, hesitantly, Jael's claws flicked out, and she began to carve.

Sometime around midnight, the nurse peeked in, then did a double-take and walked into the room. "You need your sleep, dear," she said softly, but her eyes never left the stone in Jael's hand. She stared at the shape and understanding crossed her features. After a moment, she nodded and said, "Ok, just this once."

At dawn, a bleary-eyed Jael set her small blood-red bust aside and looked at what she'd made. It wasn't perfect; the stone was too soft to hold sharp features. But it was clear what it was: Slider smiled out of the stone.

Jael felt better, calmer. She was tired and she hurt, but she also felt as if she'd released something. "It's just creative energy," she mumbled to herself. "Letting go wore you out." She was asleep within moments.

The wind blew across her face sharply, and Jael shivered from the below-zero temperatures crawling over her skin. Her hospital gown was now tissue paper for all the protection it afforded. Still half-asleep, she fumbled for her blankets, and came up with a handful of snow.

"Fuck!" she yelped and jumped to her feet, shaking so badly she could barely stand. She had been lying in a shallow ditch in the snow, below the bite of the wind. Upright, it cut through her, slowing even her nova phsyique down. She stare at a vast icy wasteland; there was nothing but ice, snow and the dim sun, all the way to the mountain range the rose before her.

"Ahem." The low gravelly voice was heard over the wind, while the speaker had apparently had made no effort for it to carry. It was a tall figure, cloaked in all white and nearly swallowed by the nothingness around them. It was holding a black parka-suit, its downy goodness apparent even from where Jael was standing. "You probably have about thirty more seconds before you become so cold you can't move. You need to get this suit from me to live."

Jael launched herself at him the second she realized that he wasn't going to give her the suit. She ignited her flight, ignoring the pain in her jaw and her half-frozen body. Her claws appeared as she closed the distance in a mad rush. Her claws cut for the hand holding the suit, her other hand reaching for the suit.

His free hand - he seemed to be built like a he, though she couldn't be sure - grabbed at her and twisted her wrist violently. She was so cold she didn't feel it, and like a mad beast she turned her body and slammed her knee into his face. His head snapped back and he grunted painfully, but he didn't reliquish his hold on her wrist. Instead, he threw himself into a backwards flip, smashing his feet into her and pulling her over and under him. He landed on top of her, the suit twisted between their hands, his grip still clenching her wrist.

He was faster than her, stronger than her and probably better at everything. She was so dead. And yet, Jael couldn't bring herself to give up, not here, not like this. She lunged her head forward and grabbed at his throat with her teeth. He yelped as she caught his skin and tore it, a manuever he helped by sitting up.

Jael sat up too, slamming her head into his face. But that hadn't been the real strike; she released the precious suit and slammed her claws into him with her off-hand, driving them into his chest. He released her arm and slumped on top of her, shoving her deeper into the snow. Jael screamed, wordless and angry, as she fought to get out from under him, feeling the cold sap her movements.

She staggered to her feet, clutching the body suit with her now-useless fingers, trying to get them to work enough to save her life. A hand dropped on her shoulder, and Jael twisted to see the man she'd just killed touching her.

Then they were somewhere else. Jael stood knee-deep in scalding hot water on a beach somewhere; her assaultant was in the same water, backing away from her with easy grace. Moaning, Jael sank into the water, keeping a wary eye on her attacker as she eased into water that felt as hot as boiling water to her cold limbs.

"Very good," he said, his voice deep and still gravely. "You did well, Jael."

"F-f-f-fuck you," Jael slurred, still shaking. She had crouched in the water and was currently rubbing her hands up and down her arms, trying to restore circulation to her limbs. It was returning, slowly, and with the prickles of pins and needles.

"Indeed not," he said, sounding a touch offended at the idea. "If that's what you expect, you're going to be disappointed. I'm not Kurusu or Mr. Fox."

"God, can't you people let that shit rest?" Jael sighed, angry and tired and frustrated all at once.

"As you wish." The silent for now was just as audible as his spoken words, and Jael shivered, tired beyond reckoning.

"What do you want?" she asked after she could feel her fingers again.

Her companion had been peeling off his outfit in slow, easy movements; he was down to a blue shirt and white pants, with the rest of his winter gear slung over an arm. At her question, he looked at her, revealing a craggy face with thick, wavy hair. He looked to be about forty, with a distant, refined air to him. "Well, to teach you," he said, sounding startled.

"What the fuck ever, which translates into 'Old Man' as 'no way, never,'" Jael snapped, her face turning red from anger and the heat rushing through her viens.

"I take it Charles never mentioned me?" he asked, sounding irritated and unsurprised.

"My Charles?" she asked, her anger fading at his name. *Yes,* he said suddenly in her mind, making her jump a little. *This is for you, darling. I didn't think he'd be so fast, or else I'd have warned you.* She smiled at little as his presence filled her with peace.

His eyes narrowed and his features tightened. "So it seems," he said. "I am Reynold St. John." He said it all slurred together, 'SIN-jen.' "And Charles, an old friend, asked me to teach you enough so that you don't break anything you need again." He studied her. "I take it you're ok with that?"

"Sure, if Charles set it up," Jael said, nodding.

He nodded, but it was more a gesture to himself, as if she had said something important without knowing it. "Well, in that case, let's get you back to the hospital. Tomorrow night, I'll come for you at one am, and we'll start properly."

"What... was this a test?" Jael asked, frowning.

"Oh, yes. Yes, it was," he said.

"How'd I do?" she asked.

He raised a brow, his face a trifle amused. "Well, you're alive, aren't you?"

"It's going to be that kind of training, isn't it?" Jael sighed.

"Oh, yes. Yes, it will be," he chuckled humorlessly, reaching for her hand. "Come on, then. We need to get you home. Tomorrow, one am."

Jael took one more look at the beautiful beach with the sun high overhead before taking his hand. A heartbeat later, she was in her dark hospital room, with the clock on the wall reading 12:30. Reynold nodded once at her and he was gone.

Yawning, Jael crawled back into bed, and was fast asleep by the time the nurses made their rounds.

Charles opened his door relunctantly. He'd been anticipating and dreading this moment since he'd checked on Jael to find her talking with Reynold. And the man himself stood on his doorstep, something between a smile and a rueful grimace on his face. "Charles," he said, his voice tight.

"Doesn't she have great potential?" Charles realized that there were steps he'd just missed. But his thoughts had been more scattered lately, harder to hold together, and he was so excited! "sorry, sorry," he sighed when Reynold's face became suspicious. "I'm just so excited."

Reynold nodded and stepped in, moving with that grace that physical novas displayed without effort. "Can we sit down first?" he asked, nodding toward Charles' sitting room. "I've been to Antartica, to Fiji and to Phoenix today," he continued, "and most of that on my feet."

And you made a clone, Charles thought with wild exhulation, you're always so tired after that. The old man didn't know that Charles knew that, and he glorified in the secret knowledge. It made him feel superior to the other nova. He wanted to brush Reynold's mind, but he knew that the retired Elite wouldn't react well to that. "Of course," Charles said aloud instead of invading his mind, directing Reynold to a chair. Charles' sharp eyes watched Reynold settle into the chair, careful to not show how tired he was. But Charles could see it in his body language, in the tiniest of sighs that escaped his lips. "Something to drink, Reynold?"

"Yes, thank you," the older nova said, shifting into a more comfortable position on the chair. He was silent as Charles got his drink and sat down. "You haven't asked me how it went."

"Oh, I just assumed that she did well," Charles said, grinning widely. "I have great faith in her."

"Indeed," Reynold said, taking a drink of the scotch. He cleared his throat at the roughness of the drink. "She did well, for an untrained girl with a broken jaw. She didn't let the cold stop her, though it did distract her. But again, training." His sharp, canny eyes watched Charles closely, weighing, judging and considering.

Charles smiled proudly. "She's so amazing," he burbled, smashing back his scotch. "And I know she'll make you proud, too."

Reynold smiled mirthlessly. "She doesn't need to make me proud," he avowed firmly. "I'm not here to make me anything. I'm here to teach her how to survive."

You'd better not fall for her. The thought came out of a terrible, dark suspicion in Charles' mind. It was bad enough that Kurusu and Fox had sullied her; Reynold had better keep his damned hands off of her.

"What are you thinking, Charles?" Reynold asked softly, in that forward manner of his.

Charles grinned at his associate, shaking his head. "Nothing I'm going to share." He watched Reynold's hair start to slowly fade in color, even as his eyes began to darken. It was a fascinating process to watch, and part of Reynold's personal quantum signature. He'd spent so much time pretending to be someone else, to looking like someone else, that eventually he'd forgotten how to be himself. And now his hair, eye and skin tones all shifted, changing color slowly throughout the human spectrum. It was very disorienting, particularly as his features never changed, only the color. "So did Jael notice?" Charles asked, circling his own face with his finger to make his reference to Reynold's aberration clear.

Reynold's face twisted with a slight grimace; he wasn't fond of his brand of quantum backlash, and didn't like it mentioned. That was why Charles had brought it up - to remind Reynold of his short-comings. "No, she didn't," Reynold said. "Or at least she didn't mention it, though I didn't see signs that she caught it."

"It is a subtle manifestation of backlash," Charles said smuggly.

Reynold's next statement wiped away that smugness. "Is she your thrall?"

"Come on," Charles chuckled weakly, angrily aware that he'd given almost every tell in the book in his response. "Why would you say that?"

"Damn it, Charles!" Reynold snapped, his eyes glittering angrily. "We've talked about this. People aren't puppets. That girl isn't your play-toy."

"Jael isn't a play-toy," Charles snapped, squeezing his glass in his hand tightly. "I love her." Reynold was staring at him as if Charles had crawled from under a particularly slimy rock, and it only enraged the psychologist. "If you don't like it, don't train her!"

"No, it's fine," Reynold said smoothly, the disgust gone as he tumbled back the last bit of scotch in his glass. "I'll teach her everything she needs to know to survive, as agreed." He stood up and placed the glass precisely on the table. "But no more jobs Charles, not until you become the man I remember."

"You always were a judgmental asshole," Charles growled.

"And you used to be better at holding your tongue," Reynold said lightly. "Your Jael may not be the only one who needs a good drubbing." He moved toward the door, pausing at the entrance to state, "Remember my terms?"

"Of course," Charles said, his voice shaking from the effort to not attack him.

"Then you're going to loose your leash on her, first," Reynold said. He held up a hand even as Charles opened his mouth to protest. "I need to teach her self-control. I can't do that if you're controlling her." His lip twitched in disgust. "You can truss her back up later, if you wish."

I won't let you take her from me. The thought was angry and bitter, and just thinking it nearly drove him crazy. He was sorry that he'd ever gotten Reynold involved. But the man had made a living doing the very thing that Jael so desperately needed to learn. "Of course," Charles answered, using most of his considerable willpower to not attack the man. "Anything for Jael." Too bad you don't know what's best for her, not like I do. There would be no loosening of Charles' control; that wasn't best for Jael. She'd have to fake it.

But more importantly, Jael was going to have to kill him. Charles could see it already. Not yet, naturally; later, when she'd learned what she could from him. He was a criminal. A bad guy. Just the kind of person she was supposed to stop. It was just delicious irony that she'd be using his skills again him.



Reynold sighed as he walked away from Sakolove's house. For a second, it looked like he was going to cut into the desert behind the building, but between one step and the next, he pulled himself to another place in the world. It was the same beach where he had dropped Jael after their jump from the Antarticia, and its familiar warmth and sounds filled him with satisfaction. Where it had been light in Phoenix, it was dark here, but he didn't stumble or falter. This was his home, and he knew every inch of it.

He paused at his thinking rock and sat down, sitting cross legged on the natural seat the ocean had long ago carved for him. And while he loved this spot, loved the fact it almost always made him feel free and tranquil, today its magic was gone, dispelled by dark thoughts.

Sakolove was a fool. The man had always been too obsessed with controlling others, even for the best of reasons. And when you were dealing with novas, it heightened the situation. People were not puppets or computer programs; no matter how much you tweaked with them, eventually they'd find their way free.

Or you destroyed them. He had no particular fondness for the girl, yet she was a nova, and her loss would be a tragedy. That he was having these thoughts on the tail of Slider's death was giving them a more profound impact.

The sun was crawling up the horizon before he'd made up his mind. He'd do his job, but perhaps in doing it, he could help the child out. And maybe, he could help her right out of Sakolove's grip.

At one am, Reynold appeared in Jael's hospital room. She had been waiting for him, sitting up in bed with her legs hanging off. Under her hospital gown, she had on a Eufiber bodysuit, and he smiled to see that she was attempting to anticipate what she would need. Silently, he reached for her, and she took his hand. It was a matter of infusing her with his quantum signature, and then he pulled the world around until he was back on his beach.

She lifted her hand to block the bright sun overhead, blinking at the assault of the light. Silently, he watched her look around and assess her surroundings, trying to imagine how the idyllic island must look to her. The Pacific Ocean shimmered with a deep blue-green color, while the natural vegetation behind them was the dark, rich color of verdant growth. This was the widest beach on the island, which wasn't saying much as it was only about fifty feet deep at its widest point.

"Where are we?" she asked, turning to look at him.

Reynold studied her expression and body language, sighing to himself as he saw complete trust there. I'm Charles' friend, so she has faith in me, nevermind that both Charles and I use the term loosely. She needs to learn some wariness. Of course, part of that was from Charles; Reynold very clearly remembered that a false trust was the first thing that Charles had instilled in his first experiment. "Fiji, on my island."

Her eyes went wide. "You own this?"

He chuckled. "Actually, the local Commissioner and I are calling it an extended lease," he replied. "So long as I pay my rent, remain quiet and don't bring my problems here, I have the run of the eastern half of this island. It's not the first time that someone rich has made this deal with them." He paused before asking, "Impressed?"

"Sure! I mean, it's your own island," Jael said. "Sounds wonderful."

"It has its merits," Reynold understated. "Perhaps you'll have your own someday."

"Maybe," Jael said with a smile, her eyes drinking in the blue ocean.

"But first, your lessons," he said, and was pleased to see her turn her complete attention to him. "We'll start each day with mediation and then... what?"

"Seriously? We're going to sit around and 'oom' for a while?"

"Yes," he replied firmly. "An hour to start, to be exact. In fact, it's all we're going to do tonight."

Petulantly, she sighed, "Ugh, that sucks."

"You can always go home," he said sternly. "In fact, if you question my teachings ever again, you will. I have more important things to do than help someone who clearly needs that help but won't do the work needed to benefit from that aid. You'll do as I say, with I say, or go home now."

"Ok," she replied, her face attempting to be blank and ending up completely sullen. Add acting skills to the list of things to teach her, he noted to himself. "Where do we do this?"

"Right here," Reynold said, sitting down in the warm sand. She joined him, and he said, "Just listen to my voice and follow along. Eventually, you'll do this yourself." With an even tone, he began to talk her through the process of relaxing her body.

Finally, his voice trailed away and he opened his eyes, glancing at his student. She was fast asleep and he smiled. Such was how it often went, and if she was asleep, she very possibly needed it. "Jael," he said, and his voice was enough to rouse her.

"Oh, crap," she mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Reynold smiled. "I did the same thing, my first time," he said. "But to avoid this in the future, I need you to start living in anticipation of war."

"What's that, Reynold?"

"It means, you sleep when you can, eat when you can, so that you'll be refreshed and not hungry when things happen," he said. "This is the first step, as well as this." He drew a small book out of his thigh pocket and passed it to her.

"The Art of War?" she read off the cover turning it into a question. "Was this written by a Japanese guy?"

Reynold flinched. "No, 'Sun Tzu' is a Chinese name, which is something you'll need to learn," he said. "Not to say that I expect that you'll be able to nail Asian nationalities, but I will expect you to note some very clear differences. To that end, you're going to get to learn a few languages." He watched her wrinkle her nose, but she didn't say anything. "By the time we're done, you'll know Spanish, French, Japanese, Mandarin and American sign language."

"Can I ask why?"

"Yes, because you'll need them," he said.

"Even American sign language?"

He smiled. "You'd be surprised where you'll use it," he replied. Seeing the doubt in her eyes, he added, "Jael, even if people speak English, it's always good to be able to speak to them in their own tongue. I don't know what Charles told you, but I'm not teaching you how to fight or kill. From what I've heard, you can do both. I'm here to teach you experience, and part of that experience is knowing what you should know. Languages are one of those things, as is the culture behind those languages. Another things is knowing the best ways to fight. If you'd like, I can apply that to your fight with Vile Bill."

"You know about that?"

"Yes, I still have my connections in DeVries. I even do the occasional odd job for them," Reynold said, "though in truth, I prefer to pick my own work." His watch beeped softly, and Reynold nodded. "I'll explain to you where you went wrong in the fight with Bill later. Right now, I have to get you back to the hospital before rounds."

Jael nodded and let him take her arm. Reynold was pleased at the contemplative look on her face. She was considering his words, and that was a good start. If all she learned from him was to think for herself, his job would be well-done.

June 7, 2008, 1:00 a.m., Phoenix, AZ

"Dis fuckin' shucks," Shelly said miserably, her head on Jael's shoulder. She burped softly, and Jael made a face and waved a hand in front of her nose.

"Well, that was gross," Jael grunted, making no attempt to move Shelly.

"Yer breath'd be gross too, if you weren a pretty, speschal nhova shnowflack," Shelly slurred. "Youd be brunk as me."

"Probably," Jael said without any rancor, her tone mild. All of Shelly's sins would be forgiven tonight.

"Ahwanna be a nhova," Shelly said softly. "Ahm so jeal... jeal..."

"Sorry," Jael said. She rested her head on Shelly's. "I'd make you one if I could."

"I lied," Shelly whispered after a moment. "Ahve seen what yev gone through, and Ahd neva' want it myself. Bein' pretty would be nice, buh you losh Jimmie... no greah losh... and ya changed... Ah don wanna change."

Jael nodded. "It's ok. I like you the way you are, Shelly."

"Ahm gonna mish you thish summer!" Shelly said and threw her arms around Jael.

The blonde nova simply held her friend close. She would miss Shelly too, but she was looking forward to this coming summer. But Shelly didn't need to know that. "I'll miss you too, you drunken bitch."

"Fhat whore."

"Gutter slut."

"Camhel shit..."



June 7, 2008, 4 p.m., Phillipines

Reynold hoped he was making the right choice. All of his instincts said that he was doing the right thing, but he was used to his life. He wasn't sure he wanted someone else out here, living so close to him.

It's only for a month. That reminder didn't help him; ideally, he'd have more than a month to teach her what she needed. She'd be back in July, after touring some colleges, and gaining a second month with him, but that wasn't enough. Not nearly enough for what he suspected she needed.

That plan, the one he didn't like very much, poked at him again. Reynold sighed and ran his hands through his wavy hair. The problem was that he wouldn't be in control of all of the elements, and that meant that he couldn't control the outcome. A controlling man by nature, both of himself and his life, it was hard to concede that he might have to allow chaotic elements to dictate Jael's freedom.

If only she could release herself. The idea was a fantasy; Jael had been Sakolove's patient for years and no doubt had spent a great deal of that time as his brain puppet. The thought disgusted him thoroughly. It was one thing to dictate someone's actions for a time, but to remove their free will was abhorant. Charles might be his frined, but Reynold couldn't allow that to stand.

He'd just have to plan for every outcome and hope that he could keep things moving forward for Jael. Sighing, the quiet nova started to make his plans.



Shelly wasn't hung over in the morning, mostly because Jael was able to get a half-liter of water down her. She did almost wet herself, waking up with a full bladder. As she was sharing half of Jael's bed at the time, that would have been an issue. Fortunately, Shelly made it to the restroom.

"Honey?" Jael glanced up to see her mom in the doorway. "Were you girls... I know you'd be ok. But Shelly's not like you. She could get hurt... if you'd been careless. With say, drugs."

Jael looked at her mother until Donna fidgeted nervously. "Mom, I watched out for her," Jael said softly. "It was our last night together. We just... did what we wanted."

Donna's expression softened. "Your father and I could say no to this trip," she offered. "You could stay here for the summer."

"No," Jael said, shaking her head. "This experience is too much to pass up." Her parents thought it was an all-expenses paid vacation at a elite spa, paid for by an anonymous donor. That was close to reality; Reynold felt that she would benefit from twenty-four/seven training. It would be no spa, but something better. She'd be getting the training she needed to survive - and to get her revenge on Vile Bill. Someday, she'd take that pompous sack of shit down.

"Alright." There was a touch of hesitation, as if Donna were reconsidering the plan. But Charles had assured Jael that her parents would let her go, and so far, it had worked. "Come on. We need to get Shelly home so that both of you can get ready for graduation."

"Alexander Carl Brown."

Jael shifted forward a step, trying not to look bored. Pomp and circumstance always bored the snot out of her, but she was trying. She knew that this mattered to her mom and dad, and so she tolerated it.

"Anna Nicole Cannan."

Another step, another moment closer to freedom from this pointlessness, to a summer spent learning everything she wanted to know. Reynold was going to teach her to be the nova she wanted to be, and Carver couldn't wait.

"Marie Valeria Carnahan."

Jael stopped with a foot on the steps up the stage. She didn't really feel anything about the fact she was going to walk across the stage. She just wanted to get this over with and get on with her life. She glanced to the right, seeing her father kneeling down in the front row, camera at the ready.

"Jael Willa Carver."

Jael was moving as he spoke, but the thunderous applause was a little startling. She flashed a pleased, startled grin at the watching audience, half-blinded by the flashing lights. The principal shook her hand and passed her the diploma holder. She was supposed to step off-stage, but on impulse, she turned to the microphone and spoke into it. "Thank you." The roar increased, and Jael smiled broader. She'd interrupted the flow of the ceremony, and no one begrudged her that right. I love being a nova.

"Thank you," she repeated as cameras flashed. "I'll never forget my time here, or the lessons learned. Thank you all. Go Pirates!"

The audience cheered again and Jael gave a final wave and walked off the stage. She was their nova, and they'd never forget that.



"Are you ready?"

Jael turned to Reynold, startled. She'd been expecting Reynold, but she was still surprised to see him. Her parents were gone, having dropped her off at the airport. They thought she was flying out to the spa on a private jet. She was getting a lift, but not like they'd thought. "That's creepy," she said, her voice envious. "How do you do that?"

Reynold smiled. "All in good time," Reynold replied. He eyed the suitcases. "You have eufiber. What could you have possibly packed?"

"My mom sent extra stuff," Jael sighed. "I told her that the spa would have plenty, but she decided that not needing clothing meant that I could pack lots of other stuff. Trust me, I fought her down to this."

"And your computer?"

"I was going to check my email, and the OpNet," Jael said. "Charles will send me stuff, and Shelly, and there's a forum I post to."

Reynold grunted. "I'll take your things, and come back for you," he said. He picked up her things, paused for a moment and disappeared. A moment later, he was back. Jael took his hand and the world shifted around them.

They were back at the beach, the moon hanging thick and full over them. "Where's my stuff?" Jael asked, looking around.

"At my house. We're working and you can play later." Reynold's tone made Jael blink, and she gave Reynold her full attention. "Catch me if you can." He bolted to the side, straight into the woods, leaving her startled and caught off-guard. Cursing, she bolted after him, into the darkness.