Safe Haven
by djclawson@garden.net



	This story, entitled "Safe Haven," is currently (at the time it
was written) fourth in the "Children of the Stone" series, all of
which are a spoof of the DA show "Gargoyles." The preceeding are, in
order, "Children of the Stone," "Awakenings," and "X-File #10-1115."
(an "X-Files" crossover). If you haven't read the others, this is
really the wrong time to try and pick things up from the middle. I'm
not going to review what was said in the other stories, because there
simply isn't time with all the complications in this story for anyone
to try and catch up. 

	The story takes place over two timelines (aside from the
prologue, which is a flashback). The first introduced is a series
events over a period of a month in 2000. The other storyline is to
explain all the events that happened between early 1997 (where
"X-File #10-1115" left off) and where the one in 2000 began. I will
use a -------- line to seperate timelines, but not chapters and
parts.

HISTORICAL NOTES : For this story, I am going to assume a lot of
events and places of the kat planet are similar to ours, but some are
different. 
1. The oceans on the kat planet are *much* shorter, so it was easier
for the medievals to cross the Atlantic at a much earlier date than
1492 and North America was able to have a medieval society (this is
also an explanation for that "Bride of the Pastmaster" episode).

2. In the *real* Scotland, there is no University of Oban. Oban is a
commercial and there are almost no colleges (to my knowledge) in the
Highlands of Scotland.
I created the university to foward the story.

3. In the *real* Scotland, the Argun does not exist, or any version
of such a Scottish nationalist movement (that I know of).

This story is dedicated to Jade Callan for helping me with the
factual items, and putting up with me explaining every new plot twist
I come up with over the phone. 

WARNING : I'd guess I would give this a light 'R' rating, for minor
and not heavily detailed sex and some not-so-sweet language.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Prologue


Megakat City, 1984 CE

	A quiet passerby mght have noticed a dawg stumble out of the
apartment complex around ten o'clock, looking rather weary as he
lurched along with his trenchoat dragging at his feet. One did,
actually, and took a moment to glance at his pedestrian neighbor.

	The dawg looked up, with bloodshot eyes, and somewhat drunkenly
uttered, in a very Scottish accent, "Ya bloody fool! Do ya nae know
's rude ta stare?"

	The kat shuddered back, appalled by his outward bellowing, with
dropplets of split coming form his mouth as he talked, and continued
on as quickly as possible, frowning down at him with a, "How rude!"

	Nonetheless, the dawg seemed uneffected as he continued on his
path, though certainly not in what one would consider a straight
line. He didn't seem to care about anything until he heard the church
bells sound for the hour.

	'Ten o'clock! Bloody hell!' he began to straighten himself out,
the early effects of the alocohol previously now for the moment over.
'I dinnae wait tis long ta be late!' 

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

	Chance Furlong thought it wierd when Suzy had proposed the
parking lot behind the auditorium as opposed to their normal meeting
place, but had dropped the notion until he arrived. It was around the
same time as usual, though a bit colder that night--last cold fronts
coming through before spring, he imagined.

	Not seeing her there when he arrived, he prompt himself up on the
front of the dodge, deciding to wait it out a little while before
turning in. All this was against Jake's advisory, of course, with the
physics test the next day.

	"Screw physics!" he'd remarked snidely. "I ain't goin' to
college!" That was pretty much the attitude he had carried throughout
senior year, when his eyes had been set and locked on going to
Enforcer Academy -- thanks partially to his lack of credits and that
D in chemisty. He had applied himself through much of his high school
years, and nothing had come from it; he was now content to sit back
and relax through the last few terms. 

	Smiling to himself, he tried to warm himself by thinking
considerably more pleasant thoughts--mainly concerning the events
that might follow for most of the evening if Suzy managed to show up
again. He'd been thrilled, too, when she first started responding to
his hints, thanks to his steady stream of efforts since freshman year
and her recent violent breakup with Mr. Quarterback -- otherwise
known as Mark Guido. There was rarely a shot that a bully like Chance
good ever get a score like her, especially with Jake around him to do
the opposite of boost his popularity.

	He glanced at his watch. Five to ten. 'Where is she?' he glanced
around again, now noticing a car pulling into the parking lot. He
smirked to himself as he recognized the green color. 'That's *gotta*
be her.'

	He began a slow careen over to the car as it pulled up beside
him. When he looked in, however, he realized the form was certainly
*not* female.

	"Hey, honeybunch."

	Chance's smile faded when he recognized the owner of the teasing
tone. Before he could respond, however--a movement which would have
been to slam his fist through the open window and bunch the guy's
lights out--he heard the sound of other people, now coming from the
parked car he had his back turned to. Something slammed into his
head, and he crumpled to the ground with the chiming sound of the
church bells to aid his headache.

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

	The dawg continued his quest, which apparently involved stopping
several times to take a sip from the flask in his coat pocket.
Despite his state of intoxication, he could see quiet clearly, and
his meaning of the late night stroll was never sharper in his mind.
That was his full concentration now, except maybe the lamp post he
was now imagining as a beautiful she-dawg. He made a gesture as if to
tip the hat that was not there to 'her.'

	"G'day. Aye'd love to have a drink, but aye gotta job ta do."
Smiling to himself, he took another sip of the whiskey. "Maybe
another time, though. Gotta date wi' destiny."

	He started off again, now picking up speed as he approached a
sign that said "Drug Free School Zone."


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

	"Get up, you fucker!"

	Chance had problems trying to scramble to his feet, gripping the
back of his head and source of his disorientaiton. Guido, now out of
the car, was twirling a baseball bat.

	"Ughhh . . . wha -- ?" Chance whirled about questioningly, trying
to straighten things out and take a count of the people around him.
He was up against at least six tom-kats now, all he recognized vagely
as members of the local gang. Guido wasn't usually the leader, of
course, but Chance imagined he had enough pull to get backup if he
ever wanted to. 

	"I said *get up*!" Guido slammed him with the bat, this time in
the stomach. Chance lurched backwards, into the car door behind him.
He felt something begin to travel up his throat and surface in his
mouth, and it was too sweet to be vomit. 

	"What the hell do you want?" Now prompt up against the car, he
was beginning to regain himself much more quickly this time.
Normally, he would have gone straight into the brawl, but
circumstances were obviously different. He had a reputation for being
one of the toughest kids in the grade and intentions on keeping it,
but he doubted he could take on more than three at a time -- at least
not without a weapon or some kind of advantage.

	"Payback," Guido sneered. "For screwing with my property."

	Chance growled, hurling himself on him, "She's not yours
anymore!"

	"Wanna bet?" his opponent laughed, until he met a a paw full of
knuckles. With his overconfidence after a good bat swing, he'd
forgetten just how tough Chance could be when he wanted to. Guido
stumbled back, up against his car and seething, "Get him!"

	Chance didn't have time for a good windup before he was forced to
throw another punch, this time to someone at his side. It was futile,
however, with six mainly-armed kats on top of him. He was only able
to deliver three or four shots and two throws before he hit the
ground.


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

	Jake slowed the car as he hit a speed bump. He was trying to keep
the car in as good condition as possible. This was the first time
he'd borrowed his dad's car without asking, but he someone had found
it hard to come up with an explanation as to why he was going over to
the school in the middle of the night.

	He was worried, even though he wondered if he seriously should
have been. When Chance mentioned the odd circumstances around his
now-weekly excuse for skipping a study session, it had made them both
nervous. Guido had been throwing some pretty cold looks at Chance
lately, and Jake hadn't been one to let them fly over his head. He
was seriously wondering when the football star was going to try
something, and tonight's strange meeting got his suspicions aroused.
Suzy was, after all, still considered by Guido as 'his property.'
Jake had detested his best friend going out with her for that purpose
in the first place; now he was worried it might get them both into
real trouble.

	'There's nothing wrong with just checking to see if things are
okay,' he reminded himself. 'What's to lose?'


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


	The dawg continued to pull himself together as the school came
into view. He took one last sip of his flask, than decidingly put it
away from what was likely to be the evening. He felt *great,* but
that was all alocohol-induced anyway.

	His mind reeled with excitment as he heard the sounds of the
brawl, and knew it was the right time. Briefly he wondered why he'd
been sent on this mission, but he had never questioned orders before
and had no intention to begin a new habit. 

	"'scuse me," he belched out as the scene became clearer. For the
first time, the gang looked up from the punishment they were
apparently delivering and noticed him.

	"What the hell do *you* want?" Guido spat, a little surprised to
see a dawg in that area, much less at the school.

	The dawg ignored him, coming closer. Some of the gang members
backed away as if he carried some strange disease, partially because
he was dawg after all and partially because of his sway in step and
expression made it obvious he had something in his body that wasn't
supposed to be there. The dawg bent beside Chance, who was now curled
up and covering his paws over his head as moot protection. There were
a few areas bleeding, from what the dawg could tell, mainly in the
face.

	"Hey, mister-- this is our business!"

	"Really? Well, then 'scuse me fer intruding -- but now 'tis mine
-- "

	Guido was pretty sure he had this guy covered, ready with a
baseball bat swinging towards his three foot opponent's head, but it
was met by a fire axe the dawg someone pulled from it's hiding place
beneath the heavy trenchcoat.

	"Holy *shit*--!" Guido backed away, but not in time. The dawg
removed the sliced bat from his own weapon and swung out loosely yet
with surprising vigor with the wooden side of the axe. It slammed the
kat's knees, bringing him instantly to the ground.

	Though a little unsure of themselves, the leftover bullies threw
themselves on him. He lept wildly, taking out a guy on his right and
screaming at the top of his lungs. He fought incredibly well for a
dawg, being he did have a height disadvantage, enough to handle most
of them. 

	Chance dared to look out from his paw shields, seeing for the
first time his intoxicated savior. The dawg was laughing and shouting
something in another language, probably Gaelic from his accent, as he
brawled. He seemed to be *enjoying* himself, as if it was no more
than a fist fight between friends in the locker room. 

	For a moment the attacker stopped, waiting for the group to
regain themselves, and was silent except for heaving breaths. Sweat
soaked his brow fur from obvious excitement. He suddenly glanced down
at Chance, who covered his face again to avoid eye contact, 'Please
don't hurt me . . .' 

	From the silence came a roar of drunken laughter, from the dawg
again, as be began the fight anew with some gang members foolish
enough to get up.

	Chance didn't dare to unblock his eyes again for a while, praying
for the end and trying to deal with the metallic taste of blood in
his mouth. He did finally dare to reopen his paws, now looking upon a
new savior of the different sort.

	"Chance? You okay?" Jake was kneeling close to him, trying to
coax him up. "Come on--that guy's gone." He looked around, keeping a
careful eye on the former bullies, who now lay helpless and defeated
on the ground.

	It took a little while for Jake to finally hoist Chance up enough
to allow his body to slither into the car seat beside him. He started
the car and began to head for home.

	"Do you need to go to the hospital?" his voice was not without
deep concern as he noted the condition of his friend. Chance was
prompt up against the car door, resting his head against the window.

	"I'll be fine . . . I've just been better, that's all," he
smacked his lips, still wet from blood, and tried to purge himself of
the night's memories for a few minutes.


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

	Luckily, they were able to slip into Jake's house and up the
staires to his room rather easily. It only took him fifteen minutes
or so to clean up the car so the blood wouldn't stain the seats
overnight, than help Chance steady himself enough to make it up the
stairs. Inside, he had a first aid kit ready in no time--being
partially accosted to helping his friend clean up after fights, but
never really to any kind of severity before this.

	"The blood stopped and the wounds aren't too deep, so I think you
won't have to go to the hospital," he diagnosed as he finished
wrapping up Chance's head wound. "I'd just talk to the coach tomorrow
or something about a fracture. You might need X-rays."

	Chance groaned, now somewhat comfortable in Jake's chair. Still
partially disoriented and exhausted, he was still trying to piece
together the evening's events.

	"I'll go ask dad if you can stay the night," Jake said. "I think
he's still awake."

	"Mom wasn't expecting me home 'till late anyway," Chance put in
as his friend disappeared down the hall, then reappeared minutes
later.

	"He says it's fine." Jake opened the closet, and began pulling
out the extra mattress. "You take the bed -- just don't get blood on
the sheets, okay?"

	"No promises," Chance managed to pull himself to his feet long
enough to make it a meter to the bed, where he collapsed entirely. 

	"So -- what the heck were you doing there?"

	Chance chuckled, "You know, you're just like my mom."

	"How so?"

	"First you pamper me, then you chew me out. Yeah, I knew I
should've listened to you--so you go ahead and say 'I told you so'
and get it over with, okay?"

	"Yeah, well, if that wierd dawg hadn't saved you, you might be in
the hospital with a skull fracture right now--that or worse. You knew
what Guido was capable of."

	He pointed out defensively, "If it had just been Guido, I
would've been *fine.* Christ, he had five guys jump me!"

	"You really think he would've gone against the Chance Furlong who
ate the last quarterback for lunch last year *alone*? Think for a
second next time, okay?"
Jake settled onto the mattress, pulling a spare blanket over himself
and reaching for the lights, "By the way, who was that guy? I mean,
he looked *really* drunk."

	"How the hell should I know? The only dawgs I've ever known all
lived in my old district, but that was seven years ago and I never
really had a relationship with any of 'em. They never go out into the
suburbs or someone'll call the enforcers out of shock."

	"Wierd," Jake shut off the light. "Goodnight."

	"'night."

	Jake settled on his side, and was obviously asleep within a few
minutes. Chance, on the other paw, lay awake a little while despite
the rest his injuries cried for, still trying to recognize the
strange dawg, now only a rather clear picture in his head.


---------------------------------------------------------------------

	"If you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss looks back at
you."

				- Batman, "Batman : The Animated Series"

---------------------------------------------------------------------
				
						"Safe Haven"


Part 1
Chapter 1

Scotland, late 1999 CE

	The bells of the miniature grandfather clock on the wall chimed
for attention, signalling for the new hour. A plump, wrinkled she-kat
of early fifties and mainly grey hair tied in a loose bun wandered
around the hallway outside the main office, apparently waiting for
something.

	'Eight o'clock already?' she wondered to herself. 'Where does th'
time go?"

	She glanced up as she heard the front door squeal its way open,
and a thirty-ish kat entered. Under his arm and slung over his
shoulder was a backpack containing several books -- he was obviously
a student, though well over age for that type of thing. Despite his
jeans and flannel, he was seperated from his fellow students in
appearance even further by the stubble of a beard that was slowly
outgrowing the length of his chin fur. 

	"Mr. MacIsaac!" she smiled as he stumbled in, apparently
exhausted from his daily travels. "I was a wonderin' if ye'd ever git
in!"

	"Yeah, well . . . study session ran late," his voice contained
not a hint of the heavy accent she had. He returned the gesture of
warmth, heading for the mailboxes on the side of the wall and began
to search for the key to his personal box. Within a moment or so he
retrieved it, and began unloading the mail.

	"I've been worryin' about ya," she mentioned good-naturedly.
"What, ya been busy wi' classes an' yer wife -- how is she?"

	"Fine, fine," he followed her into the office, using the silent
invitation to get a chance to flip through the mail a little before
going upstairs. "We're looking into a getting a house -- as soon as
she can get enough paychecks to convince the bank to give us a loan."

	She nodded, "Ye should. I know I'm yer lan'lord, but ye should
really get some more space. I bet ya'll be haven' little young 'uns
runnin' around in no time -- I'm surprised they havin' appeared yet."

	He chuckled, "Thanks, Mrs. Kincaid, but it might be a while. I'm
not sure we can even afford it yet." As much as he shared her joy at
the concept, he still didn't dare tell her they only planned on
having one -- it would break the old she-kat's heart. 

	"In me day, children weren' *planned,* they *happened.* We dinna
worry 'bout affording them," she added skeptically. 

	'In your day, kats were still walking around in kilts,' he
thought slyly, but kept it to himself. She was a nice she-kat, and a
good a landlord at that -- he had no right no complain. He continued
to glance over the letters, grumbling mildly at the stack of what
appeared to be mainly bills. His eyes widened, however, when he
reached one and read its address line.

	"Mr. MacIsaac?" Kincaid had apparently seen him tense as he
raised one envelope to get a better look at the front. She stepped up
behind him, looking over his shoulder and adjusting the biofocals on
the edge of her nose so she could see the envelope. "Hmm. Must be a
wrong address. Fer a 'Mr. Clawson." You wan' me ta take it to th'
post office for ya?"

	"No," oddily nervously, he slipped the envelope into his back
pocket. "That's okay -- I'll take care of it." He quickly began to
collect his things, and hurried out of the office. "Good night, Mrs.
Kincaid."

	"G'night, Mr. MacIsaac," she waved as he slipped out, wondering
what had disturbed it so.


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

	Jake waited until he had turned a safe bend before opening the
letter. If it was anyone still over at Megakat City, he'd kill them. 

	But silently he prayed it was just someone playing a joke, maybe
Felina or Brian, as he used his claw to tear open the envelope. There
was a clipping from a newspaper inside, where the headline read "Dark
Kat Found Dead" and under it a a subtitle concerning the SWAT Kats --
along with a profile of himself and Chance in their flight suits.

	He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for support. He,
of course, had always suspected this moment would come -- when all he
had worked so hard to put behind him would come up from behind his
back to haunt him. There was no return address or signiature. Just a
simplenews clipping could destroy all he had spent three years
working for. 

	Not feeling in the mood to delay the enidible -- such as breaking
it to Abi or Chance -- he began to shakily climb the stairs up to his
apartment. As his knees felt as though they would give out from
beneath him, his mind began to wonder to when the journey to bring
him to his shattered paradise of a life had begun . . .

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Megakat City, 1997 C.E.


	"FREEZE! ENFORCERS!"

	The solo voice rang out in midly chilly mid-March air, with an
obvious strain in the vocal to have the same steel of the owner's
superiors -- specifically, Commander Feral. The somewhat-scrawny kat,
dressed in an enforcer's uniform, sighed with what little breath he
had left from the chase as he crashed through a bush. 

	The subject of his interest hadn't flinched or hesitated at the
sound of his voice -- damnit, he just wasn't good at that octave!
Every time he raised this voice another noch, the quality of the one
went in the opposite direction. 

	'I suppose you pick it up along the way on the job,' he mused,
and picked up his ears to the sound of splashing. The burglar, it
seemed had jumped into one of the small brooks that ran throughout
Megakat Park in an attempt to cross it. 

	He spotted the brook soon enough -- lucky for him, too. He was
about to lose the scumbag in the thick foilage, but the path past the
stream was clear enough; especially with the buglar's wet footprints
on the sidewalk.

	Still, it seemed like his luck had run out. He wasn't anywhere
near gaining, and was short of breath. He'd called for backup by the
factory, but it hadn't arrived in time to join him on his chase.

	And it seemed like the criminal was about to escape his paws when
. . . he heard a distinct *growl,* as two kats -- things,
rather--lept from the trees above and landed directly in the first
kat's path. His first instinct was not to stop but zip beside them --
which he was in the process of doing when one leasurely lent out a
huge, clawed arm and grabbed him by his jacket. He effortlessly
lifted the kat off his feet, leaving him hovering several feet off
the ground. The pack he'd been carrying feel to the ground as the
burglar began to whimper in fear.

	"ENFORCERS!" the enforcer shouted, though he didn't think it was
necessary, as he pulled out his flashlight. "Stay right where you are
-- "

	His light hit the two, and his jaw dropped. Sure, he'd *heard*
the stories about the gargoyles, and even been formally told his Lt.
Commander was half-gargoyle herself, but he'd never seen one with his
own eyes. He would've seen Felina, but this was his first night since
he'd been switched to the night shift and she was on her day off. 

	He supposed he hadn't expected them to be so *huge*. The second,
now curiously going through the contents of the burglar's pack, was
easily identifiable as T-Bone -- the half gargoyle, half SWAT Kat.
The only real difference from the few times the enforcer had seen him
at night was his flight suit was less baggy under his new form --
that and the fact he had wings, talons, huge feet that stood on the
top to balance from the weight on his back, and a long, viper-like
tail. His eyes, hard to see the pupils anyway because of the mask,
were glowing with interest as he began to shift through the various
items the burglar had been trying to escape with. The enforcer
vaguely remembered that a senior squad member had explained that glow
meant they were either angry, or they were activating a sort of night
vision -- or both.

	The second he didn't know, but it was wasn't Felina (he also knew
Razor was not a gargoyle). It was a male of a lighter build, and
light brown fur with a blue-ish tint to it. The most notible
difference was nearly half of its body looked like metal had been
meshed in with the skin -- like an andriod, or half of one anway. One
side oft chest had an alloy armor covering it, and the arm opposite
looked like robotic. The claws of the arm -- the ones holding the
burglar -- were steel talons, and a lazer was raised from a
compartment in the claw, like a built-in govatrix. One foot was also
entirely metal, and the wings looked like sheets of alloy. A jet pack
was hooked up around the back -- obviously to supplement for the lack
of gliding the gargoyle was able to do with his 'wings.' One eye was
in place and moving, but the other was nothing but a red light.

	The odd-looking gargoyle noticed the enforcer now, or at least
*bothered* to notice him, "Excuse me." He held out the whimpering
criminal. "Is this yours?"

	"Y-yes -- thank you," the enforcer lowered his flashlight a bit,
having gotten enough of a look. "You can put him down now, I guess."

	The gargoyle shot him a glance, but T-Bone cut in and nodded to
his friend, "'s okay, Sevian. Let 'im go."

	Sevian shrugged, and dropped the kat. The burgaler gave a small
shriek and ran to the enforcer's side, for protection. He didn't
argue when he was cuffed and held firmly by the enforcer.

	"Umm, excuse me . . . Mr. T-Bone, but I'm going to need that," he
indicated the pack.

	T-Bone looked up, and the enforcer quivered in fear, expecting
him to lash out like some sort of wild animal when you took away
their toy. Instead the SWAT Kat's expression softened, more dignified
than a monster's, and he recognized the look of fear.

	"Hey, kid . . . you're new on the force, aren't you?" There was
no tone of disgust, just a simple question being asked.

	"Ah . . . yes, si--" he was about to say 'sir' but hesitated. He
wasn't oblivious to the fact they were his seniors in skill and
strength, but they weren't on the force, either.

	T-Bone nodded, "What's your name, kid?"

	"Officer Riker, sir."

	"Relax, Riker. I'm just looking through this stuff," T-Bone
picked up an object from the pack and glanced at it, holding it in
the beam of the enforcer's flashlight. He recognized it instantly.
"This is an explosive activator -- a good one, too. Where'd you catch
him stealing this from?"

	"Uh . . . a military supply wharehouse. The one on Hampstead
Drive."

	He nodded again, "They've got some pretty heavy security there."
He looked at the burglar, intently. "How'd *you* get in?" The kat had
a mangy look to him, with torn jeans and long, unkept hair. He didn't
look like much more than a common thief. "You don't look like a
professional."

	The kat struggled a bit under Riker's grasp, but nervously.

	"I'll say it again," T-Bone stepped forward and grabbed the guy
by his shirt, lifting him off the floor. "Who hired you?"

	Riker stepped in, "We're going to question him in -- "

	"Headquarters. I know. Like *that* does anything," he turned back
to the kat. "Want me to ask again?"

	The kat hesitated again, then finally spit out, "It was Dark Kat!
There . . . you satisfied, you freak?"

	The kat's newfound courage faded when T-Bone growled, and his
eyes lit. However, instead of tearing to the pieces he deserved to be
in, he dropped him back on the ground. "Book 'im." Riker cluelessly
took hold of the burglar again as T-Bone went back to the pack.

	A moment later he found something of interest -- a metal box, to
be exact, with various buttons and dials on it. "What's this?"

	"If you give it back, forensics can -- "

	The SWAT Kat ignored him, pressing a spot behind his ear on his
helmet that apparently activated some kind of communication link,
"Razor? Can you come check this out?"

	There was a response, from the signifigantly higher tone of
Razor, but it wasn't audible enough to be understood. T-Bone turned
to Sevian, "You follow Riker back to Enforcer HQ. I'm gonna show this
to Razor and then drop it off later."

	Sevian nodded, and motioned for the helplessly submissive Riker
to start the way back to his squad car.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Scotland, late 1999 C.E. 


	It was a long, shaky walk, but Jake eventually reached the door
that had long-since become the entrance to what he called home. He
hoped it wouldn't be much longer, either -- thought it was a rather
nice apartment, they were beginning to outgrow it, and the process
would speed exponentially when their child came.

	Thoran at first had warned that vilthurils were not supposed to
have children, in fear that some of the 'abilities' would carry over
to a 'non-chosen' being, but that rule had been easily overrided by
the fact that children of Ecuador were *definitely* supposed to
continue the line. Not like either of them gave a damn, but it at
least got Sauraman and the more traditional gargoyles off their
backs.

	He resisted the humorous tempation to shout "hi honey, I'm home"
as he slipped in the door, "Abi?"

	"Just a minute," came a  voice from around the corner of their
cramped apartment. All they had was a main living/dining room, a tiny
kitchen, a bathroom, and of course a bedroom. Everything was on the
small side, but half of Abi's paychecks, along with most of his, were
still paying for his graduate school tuition. Plus he only worked odd
hours to match his schedule of classes, so everything was limited.

	She finally appeared, "Hi, Jake. Where've you been?" She kissed
him on the cheek.

	"Study session . . . you know the professor," he shrugged.
"What's for dinner?"

	"I don't know . . . it's your turn to make it."

	He smiled, and pulled her in closer, kissing this time more on
target and passionately. When they came up for air, he replied, "All
right . . . as long as there's something quick in the fridge."

	It took him a moment to force himself to pull away from her,
enabling him to get to the kitchen. He set the mail down on the
counter, and was sorting through the fridge when she bothered to
follow him in.

	"I guess I'm in luck . . . still some pizza slices from last
night," he shot her a glance. "Up for cold pizza?"

	"I'm glad my husband's such a chef," she remarked slyly, though
she had to give him credit -- he could cook, better that most
tom-kats she knew, he just often didn't feel like it. "It'll be fine.
Just heat it."

	"Coming right up," he threw the slices into the oven. "How was
your day?"

	"I had an annoying meeting with the board of trustees for the
museum."

	"Oh. Doesn't sound good."

	"Nope," she collapsed in one of the kitchen table chairs. "It's
getting harder and harder to hide all those expenses for the
gargoyles. At least in Megakat, funding was from Callie and I didn't
have to deal with a bunch of multimillionares who want to know where
every donated dollar is going."

	He began to set the table as he waited for the pizza, "So what're
you going to do?"

	"Well . . . it's going to have to come from somewhere. The
problem's really just feeding them, but you should see how much they
eat when they get hungry."

	"I lived with Chance, remember?"

	"Feed him before sundown and he's fine in comparison. Plus their
furniture's always wearing down and other fun things. The whole
situation's just a mess," she sighed. "Luckily, Liam might
contribute."

	"Who much money does that guy have, anyway?"

	"Enough -- for someone who's lived to his age. He said he might
put in an endowment and they could live off the interest, as long as
he got it back in so many odd years."

	"Sounds good," Jake heard the sound of the oven timer going off
with a soft 'ping,' and went for the pizza.

	"How was your day?"

	He shrugged, "Tiring, I guess. Manchester set a test for tomorrow
-- 24 hour's notice. That's why I stayed for the study session."

	"What's it on?"

	"Quantam Physics, chapter six. Guy's insane -- half the
professors are. I seriously think they like watching students who
don't know the answer cringe."

	"They do the same thing in Megakat City, Jake. I had a prehistory
teacher who drove me crazy," Abi began to start on her pizza. "I
don't understand why you escaped it."

	"Yeah, I really don't know why they were lighter on me in that
night school, but I wasn't complaining when I was there," he stopped,
suddenly remembering the mail. "I forgot -- I think there's something
you need to see in the mail."

	She glanced at him curiously as he reached over and handed her
the mysterious envelope She pulled out her reading glasses and
studied it carefully for several minutes before responding, now very
seriously.

	"This is a threat, Jake."

	"Of course it's a threat -- that or he's just playing with my
head."

	"So you know who he is?"

	He shook his head, "I didn't say that -- just most of the kats
from Megakat City who would be most likely to be gunning for my head
are male. Molly was disassembled, and Turmoil would mail a letter to
Chance, not me."

	"Did you ask Chance if he got one?"

	"Not yet -- I just got the mail. I think he's out for the night
with Brian, so I'll have to tell him about it tomorrow morning."

	"What are you going to do about it?"

	"What am I supposed to do?" he locked eyes quizzically. "We can't
go to the enforcers or we'd have to explain it -- and even if we
*could* explain it without having them call the national guard to
deport us, there still wouldn't be enough to go on from one letter.
It's typed with no return address. The enforcers are too lazy to scan
it for pawprints; not without real reason. We'll just have to wait
until he make his next move."

	Abi still looked uneasy, but after a tense moment she pushed it
away, "Listen, why don't you forget about it for the evening? There's
no sense in worrying about something that might be a prank from one
of the gargoyles to spook you."

	"Yeah," he shoved the letter away, sticking under a stack of
bills for the moment. "I just gotta get my mind of it."

	Abi, who had already discarded both their paper plates and was up
from the table, leaned over and kissed him, "I can think of a way."

	"I'll agree to that."

	"I thought you said you were tired," she pointed out slyly.

	"Not *that* tired," he pulled her in. For the rest of the
evening, the unnerving letter was forgotten.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Megkat City, 1997
	

	"Hey, Razor!" T-Bone waved his huge claw at his partner, who had
finally arrived on a cyclotron. "About time!"

	"What is it?" Razor came in close enough to see, under the light
of the streetlamp, the metal item T-Bone was holding.

	He handed it to him, "Some kinda explosive device, I think. I
pulled it from a pack this guy was carrying. Kat had just robbed a
military supply shop and claimed Dark Kat hired him."

	The SWAT Kat in kat form studied it curiously, "Anything else in
the pack?"

	"Yeah. An explosive activator, and a few sticks of dynamite," he
shrugged. "Dark Kat seems to like explosions."

	"I noticed," Razor muttered. "This looks like some new form of
generator--but it needs a converter if Dark Kat wants to hook it to
any explosives.

	His partner shrugged, "I didn't see a converter in the sack."

	"That's probably because it's so new. I saw something about this
on Ann Gora's 'Spotlight on Science' yesterday," he held it into the
lamplight. "The converter's just been shipped in overseas and arrived
at one of Pumadyne's more minor supply houses this morning."

	"You think that's where Dark Kat'll strike next?"

	He nodded, "It's worth a shot, isn't it?"


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

	Fortunately for them, the wharehouse was only guarded from the
outside, and gargoyles could be as silent as they wanted when they
wished to be. With a breezy sound not loud enough to disturb the
guard, T-Bone glided down to a barred windowsill on the side of the
building, and dug his claws into the brick there. Secured to the
wall, he tossed out one end of a rope back to his partner, nodding to
Razor on the roof of the neighboring building -- giving him the
go-ahead to tie the rope up to a pipe and use it to slide down to
T-Bone. Joining him, the two began to work at silently prying open
the window and climbing in.

	The factory was pitch black inside. For safety, T-Bone used his
wings to slow the ascent, with Razor latched onto him.

	"It shouldn't be this dark," Razor whispered, activating the
powerful lightbeam on his glovatrix. "There should at least be some
auxiliary lights on for a watchkat."

	T-Bone did the same with his, and shrugged, "So whatta we do
now?"

	"Look for the converter. Make sure it's still here."

	"You think Dark Kat nabbed it already?"

	"ON THE CONTRARY . . ."

	The lights flashed on, and the two shocked SWAT Kats looked up to
see Dark Kat a few feet away, holding a small, metal box in his paw.
Creeplings swarmed around him. 

	" . . . you're both right!" he smiled.

	They immediately shifted into a defensive position, bringing
their glovatrixes 
up to him as T-Bone spoke, "And you're going to Al-Kat-Traz, Dark
Crud!"

	Confidently, he set down the converter and picked up a
slightly-familar-looking device, aiming it at the SWAT Kats, "I
believe not!" He pressed down on a switch, and the device fired a
beam that hit both their glovatrixes. In response they attempted to
fire, but found nothing seemed to come out.

	"Having trouble, SWAT Kats?" Dark Kat laughed. "This device I
borrowed from Hard Drive comes in handy."

	"Crud," T-Bone pulled off his useless glovatrix, and curled his
claw into a ball. "Looks like we're gonna hafta settle this
one-on-one, Dark Creep!" Growling, he launched himself at his
opponent, fist ready. He made it a few inches away when Razor watched
Dark Kat pull some kind of rod out and hit him on the shoulder with
it. There was a loud sizzling sound as a burst of sparks covered the
gargoyle's body, and after a few moments he slumped to the ground
unconscious.

	"What the--," Razor gasped as Dark Kat held up the rod, still
glowing slightly with electrical energy.

	"My own little dezign -- made to take care of pests like you
without a killing blow. There's obviously enough voltage in here to
take down even a gargoyle. But for you . . ." he fiddled with some
switch on the handle. "I suppose I have to turn it down . . . you
won't serve much of a purpose dead *yet* . . ."

	Razor backed further away, ready to jump, but Dark Kat did not
advance, "Get him, my creeplings!" There was no time for reaction. A
creepling came down from its roost above him on a support beam, power
rod ready. There was only a minor tingling sensation before he was
out like a light.


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

	Felina Feral was more than slightly aggrevated at her fellow
changling, seething as she paced around her tiny kitchen. T-Bone
hadn't come in with Sevian to turn in the burglar, and left no note
as to where he went. As much as she respected his privacy and
realized he -- as a vigilante as well as a gargoyles -- was not bound
down to reports and patrols like she was, he promised to stop by
after he finished the run with Sevian and Razor. 

	Sighing impatiently, she glanced at the clock once more. Only an
hour until sunrise, until she could crawl into bed and get some
decent sleep before her afternoon shift. Felina would give him that
long, and then decided to turn in.


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

Chapter 2

	Razor moaned softly, as consciousness returned. He tried to lift
his paws to rub his pounding head, but found them restrained. Opening
his eyes, he noticed the shackles that held them down, along with the
rest of his body, only a foot or so from the floor. His glovatrix,
not surprisingly, was gone. 

	He positioned himself so he could see around him as opposed to
remaining flat on the ground, sitting indian style as to not yang the
chains. Turning to his left, he noticed his partner was awake as
well.

	"You up, buddy?" T-Bone's voice didn't mask the concern. He had
obviously been up at least several minutes earlier. His own shackles
were much heavier, to hold down successfully his powerful form. 

	"Yeah. You all right?"

	He shrugged, "Been better. How 'bout you?"

	"The same," Razor tugged again, then gave up helplessly. "Where
are we?"

	T-Bone gestured with his head towards the room in front of them,
"Dark Kat's ship, I think. I haven't seen him yet, though."

	Razor nodded as he looked around. They were towards the back of
the room. At the front were panels of flashing lights and large
monitors. A few creeplings were fooling with the controls. One of
them, curious, wandered over to T-Bone and began to claw at the
captive's face. The gargoyle growled, and suddenly whipped his long,
lizard-like tail out from behind, knocking the vexating creature back
with a squeek.

	"How long until sunrise?"

	"Soon," T-Bone muttered with a certain sense of sureness. Razor,
in all his experiences, had noticed that gargoyles had some kind of
biological clock inside to tell them when they should get ready to
roost, without the aid of a watch -- though he'd never confronted any
of them with the concept. They just seemed to *know.*

	His musing were broken as a metal door behind them swung open,
and Dark Kat entered, a few scattered creeplings flying by or playing
with his robe, "Good morning, SWAT Kats."

	T-Bone, on instinct, hissed and lurched upward, but was quickly
halted in his launch by the chains. Frustrated, settled back down
again, seething.

	"Easy, SWAT Kat -- but those chains are meant to withstand even a
gargoyle's strength. Of course, that won't matter in a few minutes,
will it . . .?"

	His partner continuing to growl, Razor jumped in the
conversation, "What do you want from us, Dark Kat?"

	"Patience, patience," cockily, Dark Kat strutted over to the
controls and began to activate some of them. "You'll find out soon
enough."


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

	Felina was awoken abruptly by the not-so-gentle sounds of low
shouts coming from her kitchen. Silly her -- she'd left her radio on
to the enforcer band. Frowning, she climbed out of bed and slipped
back into the kitchen, switching off the radio. Had it been another
time in the day and had she had a few more hours of sleep, Felina
might've listened in on the emergancy to see what the matter was --
but she supposed they could do with one less enforcer, and she
doubted she could even make it down to her car without falling asleep
in the elevator. After allowing herself to mildly ponder the
situation for a few more moments, she slide back into bed without
giving it another thought.


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

	Commander Feral's mind was far from sleep as he stepped out of
his squad car, only to be met on the sidewalk by an oncoming crowd of
frighten kats apparently fleeing from the building in front of him --
Megakat Towers.

	'This place *is* cursed,' he mused to himself, grabbing the
nearest officer in charge -- Carlson, specifically -- by the collar,
"What's going on, Lt.?"

	Carlson shuddered and pointed up to the sky, "Patrols spotted
that ship about half and hour ago hovering around the area." Feral
directed his attention to the ship just above the tower. "No radio
response. We though was Dark Kat's form the dezign. So about ten
minutes ago, Dark Kat made this announcement over the speakers in the
building and the enforcer radio band. He has the place rigged with
bombs -- and he's given everyone ten minutes to get out of the
building before he activates them."

	"Any reason? Demands?"

	"None, sir."

	Feral rubbed his chin, contemplating, "Anyone else still in the
building?" The crowds of kats flowing from the front doors were now
simmering down as they huddled on the sidewalk.

	"I could have the administrators do head counts on their
exployees, sir."

	He nodded, "Do it -- and set up blockages. I don't want anyone
within twenty-five feet of the building."

	"Yes, sir."

	With Carlson busy issuing orders to the lower ranks, Feral slowly
approached the front glass doors. Prepping his gun, he carefully put
out a paw No sooner had he touched a claw to the door handle did he
hear a minor beeping noise, and he quickly backed away.

	"Nice try, Commander Feral," Dark Kat's voice boomed over the
speakers. "But this is a private party -- between me and the SWAT
Kats. Step away or you'll be vaporized."

	It was then that Feral noticed the small set of explosives pasted
to the inside of the glass near the door, and through the front he
could see many others taped to various places in the front hall.
Grunting, he stepped back further, behind the new enforcer line of
yellow tape Steele was hastily setting up. Carlson appeared  beside
him again.

	"Sir . . . there's around five kats unaccounted for. Might be a
miscount, might not . . . " he shrugged. "Do you think he's taking
hostages?"

	"I don't know, Lt. -- all I know is we can't do anything until he
makes a move. The party's inside, and we don't seem to be invited."


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

	As Dark Kat turned away from the comm-panel, he noticed T-Bone
and Razor staring at him angrily. 

	"What is this about, Dark Kat?!" T-Bone demanded, steadily
growing more impatient. 

	"You'll see soon enough, SWAT Kat," the huge villian threw a
lever, and the ship floated down and landed on the tower's roof. The
hatch opened beside them, allowing exit. Two of the creeplings flew
over to T-Bone and Razor and unlocked their shackles.

	"Now what?" Razor rubbed his wrists curiously.

	"A test, SWAT Kat -- to see how good you *really* are," Dark Kat
pointed towards the door leading to the staircase of the building.
"There's an elevator stopped on the thirteenth floor, filled with
business kats. In twenty minutes a bomb strapped to the car's roof
will explode, releasing a lethal, poisonous gas.. That's how long you
have to get down there, without your glovatrixes, without tripping
any bombs on the way down. All the other elevators have been shut
down. Attempt to leave the building or radio for outside help and
I'll activate the bomb. Attempt to attack me or anyof my creeplings
and I'll activate the bomb." He smiled cooly, "Understand?"

	T-Bone growled, though this time considerably more kat-like, but
Razor grabbed his paw, "C'mon, T-Bone -- we don't have much time."
Not allowing another complaint, he pulled his partner towards the
door.


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

	"Dark Kat's a real sicko," T-Bone grumbled, running up beside
Razor in the hallway. "So what are we gonna do?"

	His partner glanced up as they reached the elevator room, "Oh
great -- we're on the hundredth floor. There's no way we're gonna get
down if we take the stairs." He shrugged, "We could try sliding down
the elevator cables."

	"Right," T-Bone immediately proceeded to grab onto the elevator
door, attempting to pry it open. "This would be easier if I was
gargoyle."

	"I don't think we have the luxury of waiting around until sunset,
buddy," Razor stepped back as T-Bone grunted, and at last forced the
doors open. He peered into the dark shaft. "Uh oh."

	"Crud!" the bigger SWAT kat groaned, noticing the small, blinking
devices on the walls. "The shaft is riddled with bombs! What do you
think, Razor -- are they gas or do they explode? We could use our
oxygen masks."

	"They look explosive, T-Bone," he took a careful look. "Even if
not, that's not a chance I want to take. We'll have to go down slow."
He lept out, grabbing onto the cable. After waiting for it to steady
so he wouldn't accidentally swing and hit a bomb, he started to slide
down and nodded for T-Bone to follow.

	They were going along fine, though picking up a bit of speed,
when they both heard an audible 'snap' from above as the cable went
loose.

	"HE CUT THE CABLE!" acting purely on instincts, Razor tightened
his fist to activate his glovatrix, then remembered it didn't have
it. Quickly he managed to leap to the side of t he shaft and grab
hold on the wall, digging his claws as much as he could into the
plaster. T-Bone followed in suit, somehow managing to avoid touching
a bomb as he slammed into the wall.

	"Double crud!" T-Bone shouted angrily, looking down at the
elevator car several floors down. There was some device applied to
the sides that held it steady on its floor level.

	"Looks like we're gonna have to climb down this way," Razor
slowly began to descend. "How long do we have?" 

	T-Bone glanced at his watch, "Seven minutes."

	"Great," Razor said sarcastically. "Watch for the bombs."

	"Don't remind me," his partner was not far behind, desperately
trying to keep himself close to the wall. 

	The elevator car slowly began to focus in view beneath them.
Faintly, they could hear the sounds of frightened murmurs coming from
the kats in the car. 

	"Hang on in there!" Razor shouted assuringly, almost to the
elevator. "The SWAT Kats are here!" When his only response was more
frightened noises, he checked his watch, "Two minutes. We might make
it, T-Bone!"

	His partner said nothing, concentrating more on the wall.

	Razor at last felt his feet touch the car beneath him, "We're on
the roof! Hold on!" Steadying himself on the car, he knelt down as
T-Bone joined him and began pulling up the roof boards, looking for
the bomb.

	His jaw dropped as he exposed a small compartment, revealing a
tape recorder, set on 'play' -- releasing the sounds of kat voices
whimpering. "What a minute . . ." Furiously, he and T-Bone began to
pull up the metal casing. When they finally hit an opening, a green
gas began pouring out.

	"Poison gas!" Razor reached for his oxygen mask, watching his
partner do the same, and checked his watch. "B-But . . . we have a
minute and a half left!"

	The smoke began to clear, revealing the occupants of the elevator
car -- rather, the motionless occupants. Three kats and two she-kats
in business suits were strewn across the floor, not breathing by all
appearances. 

	Razor lept down first, unbelieving, "Maybe they're still--" He
felt for a few pulses, and found none. The gas was clear now, but
that didn't make it any better. Some of them were piled near the car
door, like they had been trying to pry it open when the gas had been
released. There was one thing for certain -- they were long dead.

	He closed his eyes, dizzy and nauseated by the frighten looks on
their lifeless faces, and the smell of the gas he had inhaled before
applying his mask, "No . . ."
He spun around, confused. Dark Kat had lied -- their task was
impossible. They had failed, somehow, and now the faces seemed to be
staring at him coldly through their closed eyelids. He felt T-Bone
behind him, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady him, but there was
no comfort there . . .

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 3 

Scotland, late 1999 C.E.

	"No . . ."

	He did not shout as he awoke from his fevered sleep; he hadn't
shouted in the actual event, or any of the reoccuring dreams. He did
mumble loudly, sitting almost straight up.

	His eyes opened, finally free of the horrible vision he had been
tortured by for so long. He found himself up in bed, breathing
heavily, with sweat across his face. Unlike the actual memory that
the dream claimed its origins from, he was able to reassure himself
it wasn't happening. He was still in Scotland, in Stronmilchan. He
was still safe in his bed, with his wife beside him. Yet it all
didn't seem comforting enough. 

	"Jake? Honey?" Abi looked up at him, sleep still in her eyes, but
alarmed. She had apparently fallen asleep with her head resting on
his chest, and his violent moments had disturbed her sleep. "What is
it?"

	"I-It's nothing," he climbed out of bed, dressed, and stumbled
over to the adjacent bathroom. "Just a bad dream." He spashed some
cold water on his face, but that only made his face wetter than it
originally was. "I'm just gonna get something to drink, okay?" He
leaned over the bed, and kissed her on the forehead, "Go back to
sleep."

	He wandered into the kitchen, fetching some iced tea, and settled
down at the table nervously. The images from the dream still played
in his head, no matter how hard he tried to shake them off. He was
still sipping his tea when Abi appeared in her bathrobe. 

	"It's the letter, isn't it?" she said softly, sitting down beside
him under the pale sole light over the table. "It disturbed you,
didn't it?" She took his paw in her own, noticing it was shaking.

	"Maybe -- I dunno. The dream wasn't about the letter."

	"I *know* what it was about," she tightened her grip. After all,
she *was* married to him, and she knew for a fact there was only one
reoccuring nightmare Jake still had -- even after three years. "But
the letter got you thinking."

	"Not consciously, but yeah -- I guess so," he admitted. "Look --
I'll talk to Chance in the morning."

	"When are you going back to sleep?"

	"Soon, soon -- I just need to sort some things out," he smiled,
freeing his paw. "Go back to bed. I'll join you in a few minutes."

	Abi looked only partially reassured, but gave in, "Okay.
Goodnight, honey." She tightened the wrap of her robe in the evening
chill and headed back into the bedroom.

	"G'night," he called, rubbing his face miserably. His paws had
for the most part stopped shaking, but he still couldn't clear his
head. He'd been lucky, too -- the full dream didn't stop there. He
had just woken early, and missed the worst part . . .

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Megakat City, 1997 C.E.

	It took them a while to pry the door open and make it into the
hallway. Once clear of the elevator, they tore of their oxgyen masks
and inhaled deeply. Razor leaned up against the wall, not feeling
steady. 

	"Where the hell is Dark Kat?!" T-Bone demaned, furious. "I'm
gonna kill that big creep!"

	"He probably followed us down," Razor mumbled, when he could pull
himself together enough to speak. "He'll show himself when he wants
to be seen."

	"Not good enough for me, buddy -- I'll take the left hallway, you
take the right," he turned towards in his direction, then noticed
Razor hadn't made a move, "Hey, buddy -- you all right?" His partner
didn't *have* to answer, and T-Bone shook him softly. "Pull yourself
together. We're gonna get that creep and make him pay for playin'
with our heads!"

	Razor finally made a gesture in agreeance, and T-Bone took off
down his own hallway. The smaller SWAT Kat turned down the opposite
one, more slowly, tyring to contemplate the situation.

	Had their watches been off a few minutes? No, that was unlikely.
Even so, they would've heard the gas being released. That also
wouldn't explain the tape player. So they *couldn't* have made it in
time. He attempted to reassure himself that it wasn't his fault, that
the game was rigged. So what was Dark Kat doing? Playing with their
heads? Most likely -- he'd done it before, or at least done something
that wound up playing out that way.

	The anger in Razor's blood rose. Innocent people had died so Dark
Kat could play games! He was beginning to understand why T-Bone had
been so successful in suppressing his scared feelings with hate, and
a fire inside Razor's body ignited. Now if only he could get his paws
on --

	"Dark Kat!" he shouted, seeing the villian at the other end of
the hallway, getting ready to board his ship that was hovered outside
the balcony. 

	"Did you like my surprise, SWAT Kat?" Dark Kat taunted, moving
closer to the glass door leading to the balcony but not leaving quite
yet.

	"You *are* a sicko, you son of a --"

	"Temper, temper," he waved his huge paw, then gestured to some
nearby creeplings, "Take care of him, my creeplings! He's begining to
annoy me!"

	Razor nearly growled as he rushed forward to meet their attack,
keeping his eye on the main target. Pumped with adrenaline and
slashing out wildly in his fury, he was able to fend them off for
once, grabbing hold of an electrical power rod off of one of them.
Knocking them away, he rans towards his focus.

	"DARK KAT!" He called, and the villian spun around to see what
the matter was. Razor, clearly pushed beyond his limits in hatred,
struck him with the power rod, now fired up.

	His strike to the shoulder brought Dark Kat to his knees with a
horrible cry of agony. 'After all, didn't he say it could take the
weight of a gargoyle?' Razor reminded himself. His instincts told him
to cuff Dark Kat to something and wait for the authorities, now that
he clearly wasn't getting away -- but his brain was no longer
thinking straight. He struck out again, with the rod, this time
jabbing it into the chest -- directly into the heart.

	There was a spray of sparks as Dark Kat screamed again, but not
only from the rod. As Razor's paw went in, he felt wires beneath the
flesh -- Dark Kat was a andriod? No that couldn't be right, after he
felt something soft and goey that could only be blood and flesh as he
drove deeper in.

	Madly he tore the rod out, and Dark Kat collapsed backwards, a
shocked look on his face -- not unlike those found in the elevator
car. Blood seeped across his clothing, but the wires were still
sparking.

	It was then that Razor heard the sound of T-Bone's voice, calling
to him as he ran into the room, and the smaller SWAT Kat was brought
back to reality. The truth was his paw and arm were dripping with
blood -- Dark Kat's blood -- and the rod was in his paw. He felt his
knees buckle as he recited in his head,	

	'I killed Dark Kat.'

	The words were foreign and seemed like something he could have
never imagined himself saying. This was not one weapons manager
firing missiles at an unknown target within an attack ship. This
wasn't even self-defense -- Dark Kat would have let him live if he
managed to keep of the creeplings -- he always did.

	This was murder.

	Razor dropped to his knees, curling over and clasping his
bloodied paw. He sensed T-Bone beside him, muttering, "Oh *G-d* . .
." and placing both paws on his back. "C'mon, buddy . . . let's get
out of here . . ."

	He obeyed, though finding it hard at first to stand. His legs
didn't quite work, and it was only with T-Bone's support and
encouragement did he make it out. They slipped out the back, knowing
it wouldn't be long before the enforcers would figure out something
happened and deactivate the bombs -- and the SWAT Kats didn't exactly
want to be around when they found the body. Using even more
precaution, they snuck down into a sewers through a manhole to avoid
the crowds surrounding the buildings and slowly made their way back
to the wharehouse for the cyclotron. 

	Neither said a word the whole way back.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Scotland, late 1999 C.E.

	For some reason, it was a while before Jake pulled himself out of
his state of musings. Work through it, he'd been told. Suppressing it
would only make it come back to haunt him later. Work through it, and
put it behind you. 'That part of your life is over now, Clawson . . .
remember that.'

	Sighing, he stood, and looked around him in the dim light. What
was he so worried about? He had a new home in a new place, a new
wife, and -- hopefully soon -- a new family. Razor and Dark Kat
weren't gone, but the mist that surrounded him and clouded his past
memories was making them fade further and further every day. Not that
he objected. Sometimes he still wished he could forget . . .  

                            End of Part 1

---------------------------------------------------------------------

		"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow . . ."

					Shakespeare's MacBeth (5.5.22)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2
Chapter 1

Megakat City, 1997

	Chance contemplated catching a few hours of sleep before setting
out for work. After all, he had a late night patrol and Dark Kat had
kept them long after sunrise. It sounded reasonable enough, since the
garage was mainly empty, and he went to look for Jake.

	He found him, not surprisingly, in the bathroom, still trying to
scrub the blood out of his fur. The g-suit hanging from the shower
bar looked as though it had already recieved enough cleansing
punishment.

	"You gonna take all day or what?" Chance joked, watching him
continously wash and re-soap for what seemed like a lengthy amount of
time. "If you still feel dirty, take a shower."

	Jake only grunted, not looking up or stopping.

	Chance bent over to take a better look, "Jake, you don't look so
hot."

	"How am I supposed to look?" There was no anger in response
beyond simple vexation, but his voice was low and weak. "I just
killed someone."

	"You've killed before -- "

	"But it wasn't like *this*," frustrated, Jake dried his paws and
pushed his way out of the bathroom. Chance pursued, following him
into his bedroom. Jake plopped down on the bed, "When I killed Beldar
. . . it was in self defense -- "

	"What do you think this was?" Chance settled down backwards on
the desk chair, resting his arms on the back of the chair. "Dark Kat
tried to kill you!"

	"I know, but . . .," Jake broke off, his mouth hanging open as he
searched for the words. "But . . . damnit, Chance . . . it *felt*
different . . ." His voice was an octave higher and starting to
crack. He tightened his paws into fists, struggling for speech, "I-I
just . . . fuck, I did it myself. No one asked me to."

	Chance was confused, "I'd call it heoric."

	"No . . . no no no," Jake shook his head violently. "I'd call it
murder."

	"Jake . . .," Chance rebuked, getting up now and sitting down
beside him. "Whatever you wanna call it, you did the right thing. He
killed people. He deserved to die."

	Jake was silent, closing his eyes for several moments before
reopening them, "I don't think it was necessarily the right thing. I
mean . . . we turned him in dozens of times. Deciding whether he gets
the dealth penalty or not it a jury's decision, not mine."

	His partner shook his head, "But the system doesn't even work
anymore, Jake. If there were any justice, he would've gone straight
to the chair the first time he went in, or gotten a life sentence.
Now he either breaks out, gets out on parole, or finds some judicial
loophole to set him free." He explained, "Isn't that the reason we
became SWAT Kats? To get back at Dark Kat and Feral? And do what the
real system has become incapable of doing?"

	"I didn't become a SWAT Kat to become a killer," Jake corrected,
standing up and throwing down the towel he was previously using on
his paws onto the bed. "I didn't even join the enforcers to become a
killer, and isn't that what we're supposed to be? Enforcers with
fancy g-suits and masks, not a damn death squad."

	"We did what we had to, Jake -- *you* did what you had to."

	"I don't think so," Jake loitered at his door. "I think I crossed
the line." He turned away, "I don't want to talk about it anymore,
okay? I'll be on the roof if you need me."

	Chance opened his mouth in protest, then shut it quickly. Jake
almost never went on the roof, except when he really needed some
privacy -- and that was almost the only place in the whole building
that offered it. He made a mental note to call Abi as soon as she got
off from work, and went back down into the garage. 'No reason to
dwell on it . . .' he thought, his mind never leaving Jake as he
worked that morning.


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

	Abi arrived, thankfully, shortly around six o'clock. Chance was
really getting worried, being Jake had been rather unresponsive the
entire day, spending most of it on the roof and working alone in his
room on some odd project. He refused breakfast and lunch, was
abnormally quiet, and didn't talk to customers. 

	"He's been like this since this morning?" Abi questioned,
following him in. "Not that I blame him for all he's been through --
"

	"But he's dwelling on it, and I think it's hurting him," Chance
brought her upstairs, and showed her the ladder leading to the roof.
"Just do whatever you did after Beldar. It seemed to reach him then."

	Abi nodded and climbed the squeaky ladder, reminding herself that
if it could hold Chance's weight, it could hold hers. Reaching the
roof, she spotted Jake slumped in a lawnchair near the edge. He
didn't seem to have respond to the considerable amount of sound her
entrance caused.

	"Jake?" 

	He still did not stir at the sound of her voice. She reached the
chair, and bent down to gently kiss him on the cheek. She noticed
instantly his body go rigid at her touch, as he actually pulled away
to avoid it, and she didn't press it. Instead, Abi quietly said down
on the rim, facing him. 

	He looked awful. Lines of confusion and worry crossed his
features. Dark circles had formed under his eyes -- after all, Chance
said they were out late the night before, and from the looks of
things he hadn't been able to fall asleep after returning home. His
composture was stiff and shaky.

	"Jake," she began softly. "I came to see how you were doing."

	He didn't respond, taking a sip from his can of milk.

	"I know I'm probably not going to be able to convince you that
what you did this morning was right," she said, flat out, "but I can
at least try to help you put it behind you." She reached her paw out
to take his into it, but he drew his own back. He was never so
withdrawn, especially around her . . . "You did it with Beldar -- "

	"Beldar was different," he corrected, his voice strangely cold. 

	"Not by that much."

	He took another sip.

	After a period of silence, she asked gently, "What are you afraid
of? Feral and the enforcers?"

	"No," he whispered quietly. "I'm . . . " He hesitated, unsure of
himself -- even in front of someone dear to him, and it scared Abi.
She drew as close as she dared to go without causing him to retract
again, now sitting on the end of the lawnchair, by his feet. "I'm
afraid of myself -- of what I've become," he finally spit out
shakily, gulping down the milk.

	"Why?"

	He contemplated for a moment, looking for words, "Because . . .
I've been a vigilante for a while now . . . and I've never really
felt that kind of . . . I dunno . . . anger before. I didn't think --
I just did it." He sighed, "Three years ago, I would have thought it
through."

	"So you got a little frustrated dealing with the same villian
over and over again," she assessed.

	"More than a little, Abi . . ."

	"Why can't you let it go?"

	"Because . . .," he sounded for a moment like he had a reason,
then shook his head, "I can't explain -- but I can't just *forget.*"
He stood, obviously disturbed by her probing presense.

	"Jake -- "

	He turned away, towards the hatch with the ladder, "It's over,
Abi. I crossed a line and I can't go back. I let things go on too
long, and they went overboard . . ."

	"Listen to me -- " She ran up and took his paws into hers,
leaning close to him. 

	"And if I can do it once, I can do it again . . ." He pushed her
away. "Abi . . . I love you," he kissed her lightly, but obviously
with a certain amount of tension in his movements, "and I just think
it's safer if you stay away from me for a little while."

	She had little time for response as he disappeared down the
hatch.


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

	After getting as far from Abi as possible, making it clear he
wanted to be alone, Jake finally settled down in the bathroom,
kneeling beside the bathtub as he opened the water spout.

	It hit him suddenly, like a shot of vodka injected an hour or so
previously that finally made it's presence felt. He felt like a jerk
-- he really did. As the bathtub began to fill, he paced his tiny
sanctuary. Damnit, he shouldn't have spoken that way. Why the hell
was he acting so distant? Jake frowned at his own actions, wishing he
go take them back, but he had already noticed Abi's car pull away
from the yard. Still . . . it was like he hadn't been able to connect
with her. That warmth that had grown between them and had become an
important force in his life was softer and distance. He felt her
reaching out to him, but his instincts told him to retreat . . . and
to think he'd thought to have overcome that shyness a year ago! He
was always so comfortable around Abi, and now his own antisocialness
scared him.

	'I'll make it up to her . . .,' he assured to himself. 'Maybe I
could buy her some flowers or something . . .' He was instantly
reminded that he had little or no pocket change -- the last few
months hadn't been good for the yard, and she was still buying most
of their dinners, as awkward as he felt with the idea.

	Glancing at the sink, he noticed a beer bottle on the poursline
shelf. Chance probably left it earlier, after the bathroom
conversation had drifted to the bedroom. He had a drink once in a
while, after an especially tough day -- after all, once couldn't live
on drinking liquid cow hormones.

	Jake, despite the fact he rarely touched the stuff, grabbed the
bottle and took a sip. Despite his lack of experience in the subject,
the beer tasted flat, but oddly drinkable. The bottle was around
three-fourths full. 'How drunk can one get on a beer, anyway?' He
thought to himself, lifting the bottle over his head and chugging it
down.

	It took a moment for the effects to kick in, but they managed to
nearly knock him off his feet. The alcohol, combined with the heat in
the room caused by bathwater steam, was making him nauseous.
Steadying himself, he leaned with both paws on the sink, staring into
the bathroom mirror.

	He looked like a mess. The dark circles under his eyes were a
dead-giveaway. His hair was miscontrued, some strands which he had
allowed to grow out falling on his face. He was soaked with sweat,
and didn't attempt to guess whether to guess from the heat or drink.
'No, wait -- it has to be the heat. It's a freakin' steam room in
here.' Staring straight into his own image, what hit him harder than
anything previously was a flood of his own, doubtful self-images. He
saw in him the jerk he was to Abi, the she-kat he loved and wanted to
marry -- no, he could marry her. Damnit, he was a washed-up,
discharged enforcer that half the force didn't give an ounce of
respect. He was mechanic, a blue-collar workkat, and likely to be
that for the rest of his life. How could he even dare to think he had
any right to ask a beautiful, succesful historian to marry *him*?

	'Don't listen to yourself, Jake -- it's the bottle talking,' he
thought, but found it hard to believe he managed to get smashed off
three quarters of a bottle. 'She loves you and you know it -- ' 

	'No,' he shook his head, as if he was fighting with a voice in
his head. 'No, it's this G-d damn son of Ecuador thing -- that and
the g-suit. Even if she did love me, could I support her, and our
family? I've barely got pocket change as it is. And everyone wants us
to have kinds. Carry on the line and all that crap. Even my dad's
been bothering me about it -- hell, he's been bothering me since
twenty-five . . .' 

	'Get in the bathtub, Jake,' the opposing voice begs. 'Just sit
their and soak, you idiot. You give yourself a few days to sort
things out and you'll be fine . . .'

	"No!" He cried out softly, fighting to muffle out the voice of
apparent sanity. He was a murder, a curropted vigilante and a
mechanic until his tail would start dragging behind him in age. Jake
spun, feeling dizzy, and knocked against the wall across from the
mirror -- leaning on it for support. His breathing was heavier now,
and the floor beneath him felt unstable and in motion. His attention
drifted to the g-suit hangining on the shower bar to hold up the
curtain, its sleeves still stained with blood. Somehow he hadn't been
able to get those spots off . . . The thought made him even more
nauseous and he was tempted to release it, but something held things
down. That blood -- the blood of Dark Kat, his archnemesis -- and his
executionee. He glanced back at the mirror, seeing now the face of a
grief-striken kat, and a murderer . . .

	"NO -- !" His shout was louder, and more as a furious outburst as
he struck out against the phantom image of his own face. The seems of
the fabric that held his tortured soul together were long gone, and
the world -- his world -- seemed to collapse around him as his fist
connected with the mirror glass.


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

	Chance heard the second cry, and was upstairs in record speed. He
found Jake in the bathroom, surrounded by steam and broken glass. His
partner was curled up on the floor, against the wall, clutching his
bloodied paw. He was muttering incoherently, with his unfocused eyes
staring out into space. The water was still running for the bath,
nearly overflowing the tub now. The mirror was smashed, and an empty
beer can was lying on the ground beside him.

	"Jesus, Jake," he immediately bent beside him, leaning over to
stop the flow of new bathwater so it didn't overflow further. Jake
seemed to be totally unaware of his presence, continuing the mumbling
and the bloodshot stare into the opposing wall. "What happened?" he
partner asked, not truely expecting the answer he didn't get.
"Christ, let me look at your paw." He took the limp limb, inspecting
it. There was a fair amount of blood, but glass was imbedded in the
flesh and the cuts, making bandaging it a problem.

	"It's gonna be okay, Jake," he assured, looking into his eyes but
unable to make contanct. "It's gonna be all right," he muttered and
ran for the phone.

	He returned a seconds later with the cordless, dialing the number
while sitting down next to Jake, "Hello? Yeah, this is Chance Furlong
at Jake and Chance's Body Shop . . . yeah, it's in the salvage yard
-- 4627 North Broadway -- I got a partner here who's injured. Smashed
a mirror with his fist. Acting funny," he glanced at the beer bottle.
"Maybe intoxicated." Subconsciously, he prayed that was the reason
Jake was acting so funny. "Yeah . . . okay." 

	He shut off the phone, setting it beside him and using his free
paw to draw closer to Jake. He placed both paws on his friend's
shoulders, shaking him gently, "Jake? Can you hear me? C'mon -- you
know I'm here." 

	Jake has yet to respond, and tears were beginning to form under
his eyes, but he was just as oblivious to them, " . . . Dark Crud . .
. gimme . . . soap -- damnit . . doesn't . . . work . . ."

	Chance stayed with him until the ambulance arrived, save the time
he used to toss the g-suit into the hanger. Jake's condition had not
changed, and things were beginning to look bleak -- it clearly wasn't
the alchohol anymore.

	"He was really okay before this," he explained nervously to the
paramedic, who was busy lifting Jake up into a stretcher. "I mean --
he saw something this morning that hurt him, but be was at least . .
. understandable . . . before -- someone just had a conversation with
him about fifteen minutes ago -- " He followed them into the
ambulance, locking up the garage quickly before climbing in. "I mean,
this might just be momentary -- "

	"He's in good paws, mister," the paramedic explained, driving a
needle into Jake's arm to set up the IV as Chance settled down beside
him as the ambulance began to pull away. The paramedic began looking
over the injured paw, and Chance decided to stop bothering him, and
turned his focus to his partner, sliding down to be closer to his
head. The orange kat remained in his earlier state, still unaware of
the paramedics around him. There wasn't even a flinch as the the IV
was slid in.

	Chance patted his shoulder, speaking with an as soothing voice as
possible, "It's gonna be all right, Jake . . . they're gonna fix up
your paw and your head if you need it." 'Damnit, Jake, respond,' he
silently pleaded. He continued muttering in his nervous tone, "It's
gonna be okay -- everything's gonna be okay . . "


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

Chapter 3

	"*What*?!"

	Chance rose in his chair, both surprised and angered. He was
seated across from the doctor's desk in her office, in one of those
uncomfortable chairs that don't do much aside from matching the other
apholstery. Hackle looked surprised, too, but he had a more passive
reaction and remained seated. 

	The doctor, one of whom neither had met before but was
supposively the head of the phsyciatric ward at Megakat Memorial,
kept the atmosphere of authority in the room with a reply of gentle
firmess, "I was merely suggesting what might be the proper method of
treatment -- "

	Chance had his mouth open, but Hackle beat him to a much calmer
punch, "But isn't an insitution a little extreme? He's only acted
like this for a day . . ."

	"Yeah," Chance continued to counter. "You're not sending my buddy
to a nut house because he smashed a mirror -- "

	"If you'd just calm down, Mr. Furlong, I'd explain," she said
even more firmly, and Chance sat. "It's just one of many options, and
even though no clear conclusion can be made at this point, it *is*
something you should be aware of . . . based on his current condition
. . ."

	"Which is?" Hackle interjected, his voice shaky. Maybe Abi should
have come to this meeting. That wonderful she-kat, staying up with
him all night in the hospital. If it hadn't been for the sedative,
Hackle doubted Jake would've slept. He spent his first waking hours
oblivious to his surroundings, tossing and turning in a fitful
semi-consciousness. It was only a few hours after dawn when he seemed
aware again, but still not responding. He would just stare at them or
whatever they were doing with moderate interest, but something was
holding him in his withdrawn state.

	"As I said, it's too early to really tell, but he's beginning to
show signs of mental breakdown, and maybe minor shock to reinforce
it."

	"And this was caused by...?" Chance had yet to tell anyone about
the deal with Dart Kat, though the enforcers probably knew one of the
SWAT Kats did it by  now. 

	She shrugged, "Mental collapse is usually caused in his age group
by severe stress or pressure -- usually from being overworked. Did he
exhibit signs recently? Maybe of unusual timidness or antisocial
behavior?"

	"Not really," he shook his head. "I mean, he's always working and
we are kinda busy in the yard, but he was always okay with it."

	"Is he having problems with relationships?"

	"He had a fight with uh . . . his girlfriend last afternoon."

	"He fought with Abi!?" Hackle nearly jumped from his seat, if the
old kat was capable. It was obvious Hackle liked her very much, and
was desperately hoping to see the relationship move along. 

	"Yeah -- I think so."

	Hackle opened his mouth for another question, but the doctor
jumped in, "Has he experiences any sort of trauma or something that
might cause mental stress in the past twenty-four or fourty-eight
hours?"

	Chance shifted uncomfotably, "Actually . . . yes." He knew the
question was coming, but wasn't sure exactly how truthfully to
answer. Keeping their identities secret was one thing, but Jake's
health was another -- and he was torn between taking the risk to save
his friend or playing it safe and hoping for a recovery anyway.

	"And what was that . . . exactly?" 

	Chance's mouth hung open as he fumbled with the words as the
doctor stared intently, but Hackle saved him, "It isn't something he
wants to talk about yet. How is that going to help Yaakov?"

	"Look, Mr. Furlong -- I understand the need for confidentiality
here, but we can't centralize the cause of the problem unless you
tell us what happened."

	He gripped the armrest of the uncomfortable chair, almost digging
his claws into the wood, "Are you required to report stuff -- I mean
if I told you he did something he . . . regretted?"

	There was a tense moment of hesitation.

	"No."


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

	The ultimate result was Chance's dislike of the doctor, and him
turning down her opinions as valid ones. Something about her made him
uncomfortable, and prevented him from telling her about Dark Kat.
Instead, he demanded a second opinion, and she -- with a minor sneer
-- recommended an associate in Faroe Lake. It took one half-pleading
one call from Chance to have her drive down for her own diagnosis.

	The new doctor, Dr. Milo -- if they had caught her name right --
gave her own evaluation, "This is definitely mental breakdown." She
was pacing the room, carrying her clipboard and speaking in a much
more sympathetic and warm tone. Chance leaned up against the wall,
obviously mentally exhausted himself from a day of running between
the hospital and the garage, and listening to everyone tell him "it's
too early to tell" or some other answer. Abi was sitting on the bed,
gently stroking Jake's hair. He was curled up on his side, not
looking at anything in particular but very much awake. Jake had
spoken rather little throughout the examination, but his condition
was looking better than the previous day. She continued, "But I doubt
this 'incident' was the only cause."

	"You mean this was going to happen anyway?"

	"Possibly. A lot of it was probably just a built up of stress or
anger. You said he used to go to a phsyciatrist?" She turned to
Chance, who nodded. "And why did he stop?"

	"Well, he was busy with the Turbokat and stuff around the yard,"
he was still hesitant about openly talking about their identities,
but it was apparently necessary. "When we got back in the air,
everything seemed to straighten out. I thought he was going to be
okay -- he really acted normal for the first time since we were
kicked out of the enforcers."

	Dr. Milo replied, "It probably looked that way -- to both of you.
But you thought it solved *all* his problems, while some were just
building up. It was all subconscious. But with Dark Kat . . . it
doesn't fit the puzzle."

	"He was always a little sensitive about getting the job done
right," he explained. "His missile missed once, and he thought he hit
some civilians -- it really shook him up bad. He had to kill another
guy a few months ago -- but that wasn't in the jet, and it was in
self defense -- and it took him about a day to recover."

	She made a note on her clipboard, "So he's unstable."

	Chance visibly quivered, "Yeah, I guess so. He's always been
sensitive, but I didn't think . . . " He shook his head, then looked
at her with fear in his eyes. "He's gonna get better, right?"

	"Yes," Milo replied softly. "But it's going to take a long time.
This isn't a 24-hour recovery period. Maybe months instead." She
shifted through the forms in her clipboard. "His medical insurance
should cover him -- so the enforcers will have to keep paying his
salary, no matter how long he's out of work -- "

	"Are you going to send him to an institution?" Abi finally
pressed out what Chance was so afraid of.

	Her gestures were negative, for which they were all grateful,
"Some of the other doctors in the area's methods tend to be a little
. . . extreme. Personally, I don't think it would be any more
positive, as, say, recieving treatment at home. Do you share an
apartment?" She pointed to Chance.

	"No -- we live above the yard. the whole building's about the
size of a house."

	 She frowned, "I wouldn't suggest that. He needs to be away from
his work. Is there somewhere else he can go?"

	"I have a beach house," Hackle cut in, "between Faroe Lake and
Megakat. There's a labaratory there, and some of his stuff . . ."

	Milo smiled, "That should work just fine . . ."


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

	"What is this?" Hackle put his paws up above his head. "I make
you chicken soup and you don't eat it! Why don't you tell me your not
going to eat it -- then I'm not going to make it for you!"

	Jake shrugged stiffly. He was not feeling very hungry -- he
hadn't felt very hungry for a few days now. Dr. Milo told him it was
important, no matter what he felt like, to have three meals a day --
but sometimes, he just didn't feel like it. His life was a mess.
Everything he had been flipped upside down by his actions in Megakat
Tower, and all the comforting he got from Chance and the gargoyles
seemed so . . . distant. Even Abi -- he couldn't feel her anymore. It
was like all of  his senses went kind of . . . bland. 

	"A father makes chicken soup on Shabbos -- an old kat, like me!
-- and the boy doesn't even eat it! Feh! What is this world coming
to?"

	Inwardly, Jake grinned. Hackle's almost stereotypical manner was
often amusing. The complaining lost it's force after twenty-seven
years of hearing it. He smiled assuringly, "Dad, it's okay. I'm just
not hungry."

	"You have to eat!" Hackle said more calmly, but there was
obviously more seriousness in his words. "Dr. Milo told you. You're
going to get sick and go back to the hospital -- "

	"Okay, okay," Jake said defensively, and began to spoon the soup.
"Look, Dad -- I'm eating, okay?"

	"You're eating because I tell you to eat," his father shook his
head. "Why do you starve yourself like that? You're never hungry! You
haven't been hungry for three days."

	"I know, I know," he assured. "I just -- I have a lot on my
mind."

	Hackle's tone was considerably softer, "What is it that bothers
you so much about doing what you do? It took you years to convince me
it was what you wanted to do, and now you turn around and it hurts
you."

	Jake swallowed his soup nervously -- he and his father never
quite had any sort of understanding concerning his becoming Razor,
"Dad, you can't understand -- "

	" -- why you were doing it in the first place, yes. Getting in
that plane in some fancy-shmancy flight suit for no good reason. I
gave up trying to understand that." He sighed, heavily, "So tell me
why you let what obviously made you so . . . satisfied . . . made you
. . . like this?" He gestured at Jake, obviously meaning his
condition overall. There were bags under his eyes from sleepless
nights, shaky limbs, and a low and occasionally-hesitant voice.

	Jake glanced at his father curiously, but seeing he was serious,
explained, "When I started . . . you know, being Razor . . . I was
just doing a job I used to do in the enforcers. T-Bone and Razor were
just Lts. Furlong and Clawson with some masks and a cool jet. Maybe
we were better. But . . . when I went after Dark Kat . . . it was
different. I wasn't looking to turn him into the enforcers. I just
had this . . . rage -- I've never felt it before. I killed him . . .
*volunterily*."

	"And you're afraid you've become a killer? Because of this?"

	He nodded.

	Hackle was silent for a few minutes, pondering something. There
seemed to be something on his mind that he was hesitating to explain,
but Jake couldn't quite read his expression enough to tell what it
was. 

	Finally, with a softer voice than had come out of his mouth in a
long time and not a hint of the stereotypical Jewish nagging of
before, he spoke, "You know, Ya'akov, where I was during the war -- "

	"Auschwitz, yeah," Jake responded, surprised. He had little
memory of either of his parents ever discussing Megawar II.

	"Yes, anyway . . . Auschwitz, mabye 1943 or 1944 -- I forget now
-- I was in a block of tinmakers. We were working in a factory that
was closing down. So what does a Nazi do when he has a group of Jews
and nothing to do with them? So the commander -- I don't even
remember his name, it was so long ago -- stood us outside in rows,
like normal for roll. Then he pulled out his gun and fired on a guy
in the first row -- Art Weiss, I think his name was. And then he shot
someone in the third row, right behind me. And he keeps doing that --
all around me, everybody's going down. Until everybody's dead --
except me. He just let every one drop until I was standing there, all
alone, knowing I was going to die now, too. But he didn't shoot me.
He made me pick up all the bodies and dig a grave for them, and then
bury them. I think I was supposed to go in the grave, too, but there
wouldn't have been anyone to cover it up. So he had me sent to
another block, because he saw I could still work. He killed every
one! Now I am the only one to tell that story. Everyone who saw is
dead." 

	His tone was grave as he stared into his son's eyes, "You know
why that commander was a murderer, Ya'akov? Not because he killed --
he killed without reason. We were not a threat to him. Had we been
guilty of anything the Nazis made him think we were -- trying to take
over the world! Feh! -- it might have been okay. And he *enjoyed* it.
I know -- I stood there and watched his face the whole time. He
*enjoyed* blowing heads off. There is a mentality I will never
understand. Now . . . how could you possibly compare yourself . . .
with him?"


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

Chapter 5

	Two weeks had passed since the beginning of Jake's stay when
Sevian stopped in. He was having problems with his mechanical limbs,
specifically his arm. Hackle knew he could fix it in a few minutes,
but he let his son take care of it more slowly and carefully instead.
Jake was always such a hard worker, and while he was not fit to
return to the yard or do anything related to that, he had to have
*something* to occupy his mind.

	It wasn't like he didn't have anything to do. There was always
some project around the lab that Hackle let him help him on, or
fiddle with by himself. He was restricted from working on anything
car-related or dezigning anything new for the Turbokat. Both of those
didn't matter much to him, but it did leave him with a search for
other odd jobs. Abi was there almost every day after work, and Chance
almost every other day. Jake felt guilty that all the yard work had
been left to his partner in his absense, but he wasn't healthy enough
to face going back yet. The gargoyles were in and out, partially on
some nudging from Chance and Thoran, and after all -- they *were* the
protectors of the sons of Ecuadors, who were now and somewhat
convienantly under one roof. Aside from his friends, the only other
thing in his life that *didn't* change was his lessons with Sensei
MacAugh, which he kept up. His passion for becoming skilled with his
sword did not waver -- in fact, it was probably strengthened. Thoran
took some note of this, but kept his musing to himself for the
moment.

	Dr. Milo -- now referred to as Cindy by Jake -- made her daily
visits as well, watching his progress and keeping everthing in check.
After two weeks, however, the estimate was still shaky, "Another few
months, maybe. We're over the murderer complex, but he's still in a
very feeble state. Sending him back to work could just stir things up
again."

	Chance nodded, almost sadly. He trusted her judgement, though the
long night hours were beginning to take their toll on him. He was
even beginning to look into hiring an assistant for the yard -- that
or send the customers somewhere else. Luckily for him, the city had
been quite and the SWAT Kats weren't called -- the media (and the
villians, he suspected) were still getting over the shock of knowning
one of the SWAT Kats had killed Dark Kat. Dr. Viper and the rest of
the crew seemed to be lying low. Felina was a greater support than he
had ever imagined, but she still had a job to do as well.


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

	It was not long after Dr. Milo's latest report that Thoran
decided to spill what was on his mind. He arrived that night at the
lab, a small book and some notes in his claws. 

	Jake was lying on the couch, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. Abi
sat at the end of the couch, allowing him to rest his head in her lap
while she stroked his hair. Abi herself was rather interested as to
why Thoran seemed to involved in something lately, and watched him
curiously as he settled into an armchair opposite them.

	"C'mon, Thoran," Abi smiled. "You're leaving us in suspense
here."

	"All right, all right," Thoran handed Jake the book, who glanced
at it in the lamplight, and his features twisted.

	"This is in Lopine," he announced. His Lopine was still
*extremely* broken, and he handed it to Abi, who's was signifigantly
better, "You try."

	"No no no," Thoran growled good-naturedly, and took the book from
her paws. "It's for children of Ecuador only."

	"Then why did you give it to him? He can't read it."

	The old gargoyle smiled, "That is why I delayed it's presence for
so long -- it gave me time to translate some of it." He gestured to
his pages of notes. "This book was written by Fergus of Megallith,
Maric's grandfather -- for all future descendants. I found it in
Sauraman's library."

	"What does it say?" Jake was slightly curious.

	"Fergus," he explained, "was not native to his continent. He came
over from  his home in the kingdom of Dalriada -- now the highlands
of Scotland -- somewhere before the turn of the tenth century. The
date is more exact in the book. Anyway, he wanted future descendants
to be able to -- if necessary -- trace their heritage back to its
starting point. Ecuador himself landed in an area of the highlands
now known as Arygll around the early nineth century, right before the
kingdom was formed by Kenneth MacAlpin."

	"This book," he held it up, "describes in both landmark and name
where his village was, and were Ecuador was himself in his mortal
lifetime. I wasn't able to exactly center in on the spot without
being there myself, but I've estimated it's somewhere near Loch Awe,
which is a lake in Argyll near Glasgow."

	"That's great," Jake responded. "What does it have to do with
me?"

	"Ecuador was sent to live his mortal life in Scotland because
Father Time liked the area better than anywhere else on his planet,
apparently -- the book discusses that, too -- the blessed it before
he sent one of his only sons there. The legendary home of Ecuador is
supposed to be a sort of healing place for his descendants -- that
and the gargoyles, I suppose."

	"The gargoyles?" Abi looked up. "What do you have to with this?"

	He explained, "We are actually descended from a pict tribe made
gargoyle by Frith to protect his granchildren in the future. We came
over -- fully transformed -- several hundred years before Fergus
himself." Thoran smiled, "We are all from the same origins."

	"So this place in Scotland . . . has some kind of magical element
to it?" Abi lowered her voice. "You think it could heal Jake?"

	"Now, wait a minute --," Jake sat up. "It's not like I can pick
up and take a vacation in Europe just because some 1100-year-old guy
said so -- "

	"It is a suggestion, Jacob . . . if that is where you might find
peace, I think you should go."

	He shook his head, "C'mon -- let's be realistic . . . I don't
exactly have the kind of money -- "

	"If Chance went with you," Thoran interjected, "we could bill the
expenses to the museum -- since they would be, technically,
*gargoyle* expenses -- for which there is a budget."

	"Not exactly a budget to abuse," Abi reminded, then frowned at
herself. It was an expensive venture, but what was cost if it work
better than have him spend the next months hanging around his
father's lab? Chance probably needed the vacation, too, "Then again .
. ."


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

	Chance was still working in the yard when Felina arrived, despite
the late hours. Still, that wasn't unusual since Jake's move out.
Sometimes the gargoyles showed up to help in any way they could, but
there was mainly little they could do without a vast expertise in
cars. 

	She landed in front of the yard, of course in gargoyle form but
wearing jeans and a shirt instead of her uniform. Chance was hunched
over the desk in the office, working on the checkbook. He didn't look
up as she came in.

	"Hi," she stepped inside, with the bells on the door clinking
behind her.

	Chance finally looked up, "Oh, hi." There was a slight smile on
his lips, but nothing much. "Just finishing up some book work."

	And 'finishing up' would refer to how long . . .?"

	He shrugged, "Jake used to do this stuff. I guess he got it done
a lot faster, because he knew what the hell he was doin'. Might be a
few more hours."

	Felina frowned. Chance didn't exactly look well. There were dark
circles under his eyes -- indicating lack of sleep, though the empty
styrofoam cups that smelled of coffee piling up in his trash were
also a hint. Even for a gargoyle, a creature that always looked
strong and alert, he was tired. "Chance, I think you should stop for
the night."

	"No, no . . .," he sorted through the sea of papers on his desk.
"I gotta finish this for tomorrow."

	"It can wait -- "

	"No, it can't," Chance was stubborn as he stood. "I just need
some more coffee -- " His gargoyle legs, however -- strong as they
were -- could no longer support his tired and aching body. He
slipped, and probably would have fallen entirely had Felina not been
there to catch him. 

	"Easy, big guy," she helped him to the kitchen, setting him down
in one of the chairs before opening the refrigerator. "I'm gonna get
you some milk."

	"Okay, maybe I am a little tired," Chance admitted at last. "I've
just been busy. I didn't realize how much Jake did until he wasn't
there to do them anymore . . ."

	"Is the yard coming along, or should I send the gargoyles again?"

	He waved it off, "No -- I'm just sending people elsewhere.
There's just a ton of paperwork to get done all the time and
everybody keeps calling to ask about Jake. And then I gotta drive
down to Hackle's every other day -- I know it's my choice, but it's
still hard. And Jesus, Jake's still pretty sick. Dr. Milo said he
needs more time -- maybe *months*." He looked strained, "I thought
this was like an overnight thing. Now I've got some doctor telling me
he can't work for months -- "

	"Relax," Felina began to massage his neck, which was obviously
stiff. "Jake'll get through it. Especially if this 'Scottish-therapy'
thing Thoran has in mind works --"

	"I know, I know -- even if it is a little crazy," Chance took a
gulp of his milk. "Oh -- that's the spot. Actually, I think it's
insane. But if it works . . ."

	"What about *you*?" Felina stopped rubbing, and sat down next to
him in another chair. "C'mon, I know what happened in that tower
probably hurt you, too."

	"Yeah, well, I didn't kill anyone -- "

	"Doesn't mean it didn't hurt. Really, Chance -- I read the report
of what happened to those people in the elevator. I mean -- if you
had found Dark Kat first instead of Jake -- "

	" -- would I have done the same thing?" Chance pondered. "Maybe.
I probably would have tried to kick his tail, first, though -- and
since he usually beats me up when I try, I wouldn't have had a chance
for the killing blow." He shrugged, "Did I have that kind of anger?
Did I want to do it? I dunno -- I wasn't thinking too straight at the
time." He took another sip, "I can't think about it."

	"But it still bothers you, doesn't it?"

	Chance turned to her, looking into her eyes with his own tired,
blood-shot ones, "Yeah. I mean -- if that's what happened to Jake
--the careful, calmer one -- what about me? What's gonna happen to
me?" His voice wavered, "Dr. Milo never really discussed the
possiblity of us going back to being SWAT Kats -- though it would
probably not happen for longer than Jake coming back to work, I
imagine -- but looking at it, the answer's probably no."

	"You're worried about Jake having another breakdown?"

	"That . . . and I guess it might happen to me. I've never killed
anyone, either. I'm overworked. And if it happens, I won't have
anywhere to go -- at least Jake has Hackle, but both of mine are
dead, and . . . " Rather abruptly, Felina got up from her seat and
embraced him, letting him rest his chin on her shoulder. "Christ,
Felina -- I just want things to go back to the way they were -- maybe
just in a while -- but everyone's telling me it can't happen -- "

	"I know. Shhh," she spoke soothingly. "It's going to be all
right."

	"I just want -- "

	He was halted as her lips met his, and he found the moment rather
. . . enjoyable. Comforting, maybe. When he released, he spoke.

	" -- someone."

	"Me, specifically?"

	He shrugged, now in a slightly better mood, and responded with a
kiss.


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


	Jake lay in bed, awake. His state had given him many horrid
nights that were either dreamless or nightmarish -- rarely anything
in between. But tonight was different. Finally, he had what could be
considered a normal dream -- at least, he was pretty sure it was a
dream. Abi was the one with the visions, anyway.

	It began with Dark Kat. Always Dark Kat! Couldn't he ever dream
of anything else?! That phantom figure he thought would never go
away, who seemed to be living in his closet or something and managed
to invade his head almost nightly. 

	He himself, lying on a bed, surrounded by people -- friends. He
could hear their voices, and they were obviously trying to comfort
them, but for some reason they couldn't touch him and most of their
voices were garbled. 

	He remained in that position under a figure approached as the
others moved back to let her through. In a voice recognizable as Dr.
Milo's -- Cindy's -- she announced he was okay now, and they all
started cheering. But he still felt the same -- in pain, with nothing
clear and everything distant. He didn't feel better, and honestly
couldn't understand why she would announce otherwise. Couldn't she
see it still hurt?

	Jake was back in the garage, working on a car. Everything was
normal, except for himself. No one seemed to notice his pain, and he
couldn't communicate that to them. Callie was in the garage,
complaining about a mad muffler. Chance was watching a Scardey Kat
rerun. And still it hurt.

	At last he was overwhelmed. He couldn't take the pain, and he saw
Dark Kat again, in the corner of the garage. He screamed, because he
thought Dark Kat was coming to get him. Callie laughed at him, "Don't
you know, Jake? You're cured!" But it didn't make things any easier.
Things grew hazier, and he was on the ground again. All he could hear
was voices now, faint ones, soothing -- but they couldn't penetrate
the darkness now. It had gone unchecked and grown too strong. The
field that kept him from them was too thick. He felt suffocated by
it, like he was going to die without air --

	That was where the dream ended -- if it was a dream. He woke
wheezing, but there was no darkness -- save the one in his room he
crushed by flipping on a lamp and causing it to retreat into the
deeper corners. Still, he felt shaken badly. Maybe he would tell
Cindy tomorrow. 

	And, somehow, that idea of the trip to Scotland started to sound
*very* appealing.


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

Chapter 6

	"So what do you think of this idea? I mean -- going to Scotland,
finding out about my ancestory, taking snapshots of the scenery --
that kind of thing," Jake asked as he ducked Sensei MacAugh's swing.
His block failed, though, and there was the sound of their blades
meeting with a "clank." They were practicing on the beach, outside
the lab.

	"Sounds interesting," MacAugh commented. "I thought you were
Jewish."

	"I am -- it's complicated, but I'm partially Scottish, too."

	"Really? What clan?"

	Jake parried again, this time successfully, "Like I said . . .
it's complicated." Historically, Ecuador and Fergus both lived long
before any kind of formation of clans, or it would be written in the
book Jake was now looking through seriously. 

	"I think it would be a good experience for you," MacAugh noted.
"I'll be in Ireland soon, if you need me. I might move in with my
brother."

	"Oh, really?" Jake had only met Uri MacAugh once, in passing. Uri
was absolutely the hairiest kat he had ever met, with a huge beard
and long hair. Even his fur was scruffy. "Has he shaved yet?"

	MacAugh laughed, "You don't understand by brother. He thinks he's
a lion."

	"If I had that kind of hair, I probably would be -- no offense,
though."

	"None taken," MacAugh swung out again, and Jake retaliated. A
strange, knowing smile lit his face, but he kept whatever was on his
mind to himself.


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

	"Hi, Smitty."

	The old enforcer looked up as some new kid -- Riker, wasn't it?
-- appeared at his desk. 

	"What do you need?" he asked, turning his radio down.

	"Just some radio ban recordings on the SWAT Kats -- Feral's
having me do a report," he shrugged. "Don't ask me why. They've been
missing for over two weeks now!"

	"Hold on," Smitty retrieved his keys, and entered the locked
area. 'Now those tapes must be here somewhere . . . ' A smile lit his
face as he noticed a box of them, which he quickly brought out and
placed on his desk. "Look, I think the labels aren't too clear, so
you're gonna hafta sort them yourself . . ."

	"Okay. Thanks!" Riker smiled, and carried the box out.


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

	Officer Riker rubbed his eyes -- two hours in the recording booth
was enough to wear down anyone's patience. There wasn't a ton to be
learned from the tapes, after all -- maybe just their different
missiles, as apparent from most of Razor's dialogue. He suspected
Feral was looking for some kind of secret information about either
their technology or identities that managed to slip out in their
conversations, but they seemed pretty careful about it.

	His major problem was the horrible labeling job -- now he knew
*exactly* what Smitty was talking about. Many were clear, but the
actual words made no sense. Some were unreadable or even blank. Most
of the time he didn't know who's voice would come out of the speakers
until he popped the tape in the machine.

	Exhausted, he grabbed one labeled, "Dark Kat B." 'Oh great --
lots of description here,' he thought sarcastically, and placed the
tape in. 'Better give it a shot . . .'

	Immediately, a low voice came from the speakers, penetrating the
radio static, "Crud! This guy is hard to follow, buddy! Where's my
backup? I can't follow this guy forever!"

	Riker sat back and sighed. 'Thank G-d -- finally another SWAT
Kats tape!'  The voice was more than obviously T-Bone, thanks to this
previous and ample amount of time studying that tone.

	The reply was also apparently Razor's, "Right behind you! Just
keep it steady! I can't get much of a missile lock if this jet keeps
turning out of the target zone. . ."

	"C'mon, Jake -- I can't give you all day!"

	Riker nearly jumped from his chair. Jake? Who was 'Jake'?
Eagerly, he waited for Razor's response.

	"Chance, didn't I just tell you to keep the jet in line or what?
See, you moved it again! Keep your paws steady!"

	Okay, he had two names now -- Jake and Chance. Something clicked
in his mind, but he wasn't quite sure what it was jet. The third
voice to enter the conversation shocked him more.

	Commander Feral's steel pitch interrupted them, "Furlong, Clawson
-- cut it out! No unnecessary chatter during pursuit!"

	Riker shut off the tape as that something surfaced. He remembered
briefly being lectured in training on Lts. Jake Clawson and Chance
Furlong, two pilots who got kicked off the force for recklessness
involving Dark Kat. Where were they now? A junk yard?

	So why did he mistake their voices for T-Bone and Razor's?

	Acting on more than a hunch, he popped another tape -- one he was
sure was of the SWAT Kats -- in the machine and played them both, at
the same time. He then set the equipment up to pick up all four tones
and run them on a chart.

	His jaw dropped in disbelief. Chance's and T-Bone's matched up
with 98% accuracy, and Jake and Razor's with 95%. Riker's paws began
to shake as his mind slowly did something every other katizen --
including Commander Feral -- had failed to do in over seven years.

	Put two and two together.


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

Chapter 7

	Jack Carlson cursed his luck repeatedly for behind the wheel of
his squad car.

	The discover of the century -- the secret identities of the SWAT
Kats -- and *he* gets stuck with it. Not that it wouldn't look good
on  his record, but there were other things on his mind. All this
wouldn't have been a problem if it had been anyone *else,* *other
than* Jake Clawson and Chance Furlong.

	Four years of Enforcer Academy together. His old squadron
buddies, until the day they were finally switched to flight missions.
Jesus, he had had too many beers at the bar with Chance and too many
all-nighters for enforcer exams with Jake as his tutor for him to
arrest them now. It stung in his gut. At least the media wasn't
aware, yet -- Feral ordered everything to be done nice and quietly,
which may yet turn out to be a helping paw for his
son-to-be-convicted friends.

	Carlson stepped out of the car,  unsure of exactly what he was
planning to do. He couldn't get away with much, considering his
back-up, which he glanced at.

	"I'm going in first to see if they'll go quietly. Wait for my
signal," he instructed the rookies. They looked ready to draw their
guns and spring at a second's notice, but he tried to remain calm as
he entered the garage.

	Chance was sitting at the desk in the office. 'He's out of view
of my back-up,' he noticed. The enforcers watching by their squad
cars in front of the garage couldn't see the office in the angle it
was in in the interior. 'That may simplify this.'
Swallowing, Carlson braced himself for whatever was coming and pushed
open the glass door to the office.

	Chance looked up, and smiled, "Hey, Jack -- how's it going?"

	He scrambled for a response, "I-It's . . . okay."

	The burly mechanic glanced at him oddly, "Something wrong?"

	"Yes, actually," Carlson abruptly pulled his gun from his
trencoat, and aimed it at Chance. "You're under arrest."

	Shock slipped over Chance's features as he rose from his chair
with his paws up, "For what?!"

	"There's a list of offenses -- most of them for property damage,"
he swallowed again. "We know who you are, Chance. Damnit, this rookie
matched up your voice on some computer with T-Bone's. There was
nothing I could do -- it went straight to Feral."

	Chance stood, his face unreadable, "So what are you going to do?"

	"I have orders to take you and Jake down to headquarters."

	"But that's not what you want to do, is it?" Chance advanced on
him, in a calm and friendly matter. "I don't think you really want to
do this to your friends. C'mon -- Jake's sick. He couldn't take this
right now."

	"Where is he?"

	"He's at . . . a relative's. Look, you remember the incident with
Dark Kat two weeks ago?"

	Carlson shifted, his eyes wide, "*Jake* did it -- ?! I mean, I
assumed it was -- "

	" -- me? Nah, it was Jake. And it shook him up bad. Had a mental
breakdown. Check the forms in headquarters, Jack. He's been out sick
since then. They were going to put him in an institution, be we
talked the doctors out of it," he looked him in the eyes. "This would
really screw him up."

	Carlson thought for a moment, then lowered his gun, "So what are
we going to do? I have four enforcers out there waiting for signal to
jump you like a bunch of commandos."

	"There's a back door. I just need five minutes to get my stuff
together, and I'm outta here."

	He nodded, "But that still leaves me standing here -- "

	"Taken care of," Chance swung out, knocking Carlson out in the
back of the head. The last thing the enforcer heard was, "Sorry for
headache this is gonna cause" before the blackness.


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

	Madly Chance swerved on the street corner, nearly slamming into a
lamp post. He was using a car someone had left at the garage with a
bad muffler, which they had fixed and moved out back -- allowing him
to sneak out through a back entrance of the yard without too much
trouble. Packed in a backpack on the seat beside him were a few
essentials he didn't want to leave behind, though he hoped Felina
would be able to come back to the garage when all the commotion died
down and pick up whatever he'd left. Most of Jake's more treasured
items -- at least, the things he used regularly -- were at Hackle's
place.

	"Crud!" he nearly shouted, remembering Jake was actually not at
his father's. Had he been there, things would have been a lot more
simpler for them to get out of the city, being they could probably
beat the roadblocks that were undoubtably going to be set up. Hackle
lived close to the border to Faroe Lake. But Jake was in synagogue,
for morning services and a study group -- something he didn't have
time to do when he was working, and he needed the spiritual guidance
anyway.

	Chance pulled up at Synagogue Agudath Israel , then decided to
sneak the car in a lot across the straight. Warily, he crossed the
street as quickly as possible and climbed the front steps of the
large, Gothic building -- Jake mentioned once it used to be a church.
The only incentive that it had ever changed was the lack of outside
cross fixtures and stars of David in the stainglass instead of Jesus.

	Jake was not in the immediate front room -- the large sanctuary.
Instead, he was in a smaller chapel, studying with a group of Jews.
Among them was of vourse Rabbi Warner, Cantor Warner, and Rabbi
Davis.

	"Chance?" Jake instantly stood as his friend ran into the room.
"What's wrong?"


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

	"So what are we gonna do?" Jake sighed, nervously -- the news
*did* shake him up a bit. "We can't stay here."

	He was seated on one end of a table in one of the smaller rooms
reserved for Hebrew School, to avoid the regular people who came to
pray. He had his feet up against the table legs, and used his lower
strength to keep his chair on its back legs. His arms were crossed
against his chest, and his manner was uneasy. 

	"Yes, you can," Rabbi Warner supported him, sitting beside him
one the longer end of the table. He had been informed of Jake's
condition previously. "Until this dies down -- "

	"It isn't going to die down," Chance put in, at the opposide end.
"Not anytime soon. They're just gonna keep looking." He had called
Felina immediately after telling Jake the situation, only to discover
that roadblocks were up at all the major highways and he shouldn't
attempt to go anywhere.

	"Then you stay longer," Warner continued. "They will not look for
your here. Maybe you can at least take a minute to try and figure out
how we are going to get you out of here."

	"'Here' would probably refer to the state, Rabbi," he warned.
"Maybe the country. Depends how desperate Feral gets. One of us is
guilty of murder -- if he doesn't think it was both of us -- and the
other is an accomplice. This is beyond property damage."

	Rabbi Warner frowned. His face was nearly unreadable, as usual
when he was thinking. The Rabbi was quite a character -- he was a
rabbit, for starters. Rabbits were *extremely* rare, more than dawgs
-- who themselves only amounted to around 10% of the planet's
population. Warner himself was with grey fur, though that might have
been just because of his great age. A long, white beard graced his
attire -- entirely black. He had been a member of a very prominent
ultra-Orthodox community -- black hats and all -- until he was kicked
out for his personal views concerning some subjects he dared not to
repeat, and now ran the conservative shul. Of his few supporters was
Cantor Warner -- a coincidence, as they were not related. The Cantor
was a black-feathered duck, also rare, of slightly younger age. Rabbi
Davis was the only kat of the Rabbinical trio, but a midget at three
feet, with yellowish-orange fur and black tiger stripes. He also had
a beard, but it was cut closer to his face.

	Rabbi Davis stroked that beard now, "There is a Talmudic law that
states we must obey the civil laws of the government we live under .
. . but I believe this would be an acception."

	"So what do we do?" Jake asked. "Unless you can get us out of the
country -- "

	" -- And smuggle us to Scotland," Chance put in, a slight grin on
his face, but surprisingly, Rabbi Warner had on a serious expression.

	"Scotland? Ya'akov -- didn't you say something about going?" he
looked intrigued, maybe thoughtful.

	"Yeah," Jake shrugged. "But it was just for like a vacation or
something -- to get away from things -- "

	"We have a sister congregation in Scotland," the Cantor cut in.
"Run by Rabbi Hoek. Just recently set up outside of Glasgow -- a
conservative shul, just like this one, with an orthodox rabbi."

	"So?"

	"We have the passports," Rabbi Warner explained," of the other
rabbinical students attending this shul." He was referring to the
other black-hat, ultra-orthodox students, these just above college
age, who had followed him in the switch but still practiced the more
strict level of Judiasm. "Or we could obtain them." Smiling
curiously, the Rabbi removed his black hat, his head then only
covered by his kipah, and placed it on Jake's head. "Now, with a
black coat and a false beard . . . I think we can get you two to
Scotland."


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

Chapter 8

	Abi arrived somewhere around three or four AM, with Hackle and
the last of the items Jake requested from Hackle's place. The salvage
yard was impossible to sneak into or out of -- enforcers had the
place taped up and under heavy guard. Even Felina was under
suspicion, being it was a likely assumption that she knew who the
SWAT Kats were since she shared a common shapeshit-spell with one of
them, but her uncle gave her a bit more mobility that putting her in
an interrogation room -- maybe out of respect, or just out of
kindness. So of course, despite her clearance, any movement towards
the garage would be dangerous. Chance seemed satisfied with what he
had grabbed earlier, or was willing to wait until things died down
for someone to retrieve anything he missed.

	Jake she found curled up on a bench outside the Rabbi's office,
wrapped in a spare blanket and comforted from cushions borrowed from
the pew seats. Abi ruffled him awake, as promised -- knowing the
flight was just after sunrise, when Chance would be kat again. 

	"Who -- ?" as he bumbled back into consciousness, Abi kissed him
on the forehead. "Hi, Abi. Isn't it a little early -- " More
attentive, he suddenly remembered where he was, and why he was there.
"What . . . morning already?"

	"Soon enough," she helped him sit up. "We brought the rest of
your things . . . and I brought this . . ." Abi unwrapped the sword
of Ecuador from it's blanket covering. 

	"The sword? Abi -- are you insane? I'll never get through customs
with that, as much as I want to take it -- "

	"I wrote you a note," she explained, handing him a slip of paper,
"on my job stationary, explaining your delivering it as a personal
service to a museum in Edinburgh."

	He opened his mouth in protest, then decided to close it -- after
all, he *was* rather attached to the sword. Abi stepped back,
allowing Hackle to come forward to face his son, who stood. Hackle
looked stern for a moment, slightly in disapprove yet in
understanding of his actions, but his look eventually softened and he
embraced his son.

	"I'm going be fine, dad," Jake whispered in his ear assuringly.
"I think this trip is going to help me a lot."

	Almost sadly, "You do what you have to do." In a lower tone, he
whispered, "And don't you forget about Abi. You're still going to
marry her! She's such a nice girl . . . "

	He had to smile, "Of course, dad. You just get her to Scotland,
and I'll do the rest."

	"Whatever you say, Ya'akov . . . now," he released him, "you give
her a nice good-bye. I'm going to to find the rabbi."

	Jake nodded, and Hackle them alone. Jake immediately took Abi
into his arms, holding her tightly.

	"It's going to be okay," he nearly repeated, and his voice this
time wavered. "I'm going to go back to work and get a job, and then
we can work something out -- "

	"Only if you can, Jake," she comforted, laying her head on his
shoulder and stroking his chin. "Don't strain yourself if you think
it's going to get me to move to Scotland faster. Remember Dr. Milo
said at least a few months . . ."

	"I know, I know," he kissed her, on the cheek. "Let's just hope
that crazy book Thoran gave me is right. I'll write you, okay? And
I'll call when the plane gets in . . ."

	"I know you will," she smiled, confidently, not wanted to release
from her comfortable position in his arms quite yet. She had a deep
feeling it would be a long time before that feeling soothed her again
-- as her vilthuril senses had long-since hinted.

	"Where's Chance?" Jake looked around.

	"He and Felina . . . have ther own good-byes."


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

	"You look good . . . very good," Warner muttered, looking over
Jake and Chance one last time in the airport bathroom. Dressed in
long black coats and hats, they would still need a lot of luck to
pass themselves off as the orange and blond kats in the photgraphs on
the passports. "Watch that beard, though," the rabbi pressed down on
the fur on Jake's chin. "The glue can lose its hold easily."

	"I want to thank you, rabbi -- for doing all of this for us,"
Jake said gratefully as Chance squirmed in the uncomfortable outfit.
"You know how dangerous this is going to be . . ."

	"Ya'akov, this is not my doing . . . this is a higher power's,"
the rabbi smiled strangely, then handed them the plane tickets.
"British Airways, flight 186. Non-stop to Abbotsinch Airport, near
Glasgow -- Rabbi Hoek will meet you there. A dawg in orthodox
clothing shouldn't be hard to miss." Rabbi Warner suddenly pulled
Jake in for a hug from himself, "Goodwilling, you have a safe flight,
and them I'm going to see you under the chupah with Abi, no?"

	"Sure, Rabbi -- you can do the blessing if you want." The pair
waved good-bye to the rabbinical trio. "Thanks again!"

	"What's a chupah?" Chance asked as they headed to the gate.

	Jake smiled, "A wedding canopy."


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

Chapter 9

	Surprisingly, customs was not a problem on both ends of the trip.
The average kats behind the glass windows were obviously not used to
seeing bearded, Amish-like kats on flights to Scotland, and therefore
did not feel the need to look too closely at the passport photos.

	"Here ya go," the receiving custom's employee nonchalantly handed
back their passports. "Welcome ta Scotland. Enjoy yer stay."

	"Great," Chance muttered in a low tone as the exited the gate. "I
think I'm allergic to this glue. It's been itching like hell." He
scratched his chin.

	"Easy, Chance," Jake glanced at the small hairs appearing in his
friend's paw. "We're not there yet."

	"What did the rabbi say this guy looks like? And what was his
name -- Hoek?" he tried desperately to stop scratching. "Wierd name."

	"Yugoslavian, I think. He's from America, but he came here a few
years ago to start a shul based off of Rabbi Warner's influence."

	"Oh. So where -- "

	He was cut off by the frantic waving of a black-coated dawg,
standing on a seat to be more clearly seen. After all, he was only
around three and half feet all or so.

	"Rabbi -- ?" Jake was about to introduce himself when the
rabbinical dawg lept off his seat and hugged him, as if they were old
friends. 

	"Welcome, Ya'akov ben Yitzhak!" he said almost wildly, then
turned to Chance. "And this is your partner Chance?"

	"Yeah . . . umm, nice to meet you," Chance shook his paw.

	Rabbi Hoek had to be the strangest rabbi he'd ever seen, and that
was counting the rabbinical trio of Agudath Israel. Not only was he a
dawg, but a chiwawa, meaning he had no beard or pais. His long, black
coat extended down to nearly his ankles for some odd reason, and he
flopped around like he was going to trip over it as he walked.

	"Come!" Hoek was obvious enthusiastic about their arrival. "We'll
get your luggage, and get you to the shul in time for dinner. And
then you get to see your new home, right?"


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

	About two weeks later, Abi recieved her first letter -- and
learned a similar copy was sent to Felina.

	'Dear Abi,'

	'Hi! How's Megakat City? Has it fallen apart without us? I
would imagine that they'll stop searching for us soon enough, so
maybe Felina can get some peace. Tell her that I feel sorry for all
the trouble her associations with us has probably caused. How's the
yard? Is it stiff swamped with enforcers? Tell me when it's left
alone because we might need some things from it.
	Things are okay. Rabbi Hoek's a nut, so I guess it's not a whole
lot different from having Warner around. The congregation is putting
us up, and we're staying at the rabbi's house. I think it's very
nice, though I do have to put up with them calling me a 'goy' about
three times a day. So not a lot has changed. They gave us momentary
jobs working around the synagogue, and whatever odd jobs people
around the town come up with, we do.
	We still don't know what we're going to do about IDs and
citizenship. It's not like an orthodox rabbi has a lot of access to
black market items, like the IDs we need. And we're working on the
names. When Jake learned "Mac" means "son of" he decided he would be
MacIsaac, which is actually a Scottish name. So I guess he gets his
Hebrew name in English -- Jacob son of Isaac, or whatever. And it
worked out pretty convienently, because the name "MacIsaac" is one of
the surnames or something for the clan Campbell, 
	which is like a major clan in this area. I don't know what the
hell I'm going to do, though. There's no "MacMichael" in the name
index we found, so I guess
	I'll have to be "MacFarlane" because it's the closest I found to
"Furlong" with	a "Mac."
	Jake is not doing so well. I think the trip was really a strain
on him, and there hasn't been any time to go off searching for his
"Ecuadorian roots" or whatever because we're working to get some kind
of savings going. Please have Doc Hackle send down as much money as
he can get from Jake's account, because we need it. Jake went back to
work, because he complained he couldn't just lie around while I
worked my tail off to try and built something here for us. Scotland's
really pretty and everything, but a lot of the stuff Dr. Milo helped
him with his starting to come back. He keeps closing off -- to even
me. He's gotten pretty quiet in the last week or so. I really wish
you were here, Abi, because I think he really needs you. Please
call if you think you can bare the long-distance bills at
01631/562381. I tried to get him to write a letter but he can't seem
to be able to get the words out of his mouth straight, much less put
them on paper. I know he misses you a lot, though. I'll keep trying.
	Tell the clan we miss them, and Felina if she didn't get my
letter for some reason. I'll keep writing, and maybe you'll see
something from Jake soon.'

						'Sincerely,
						Chance.'


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

Chapter 10

	"Hand me that box, will you bud?"

	Chance gestured over to the sealed box, which Jake finished
removing from the back of the truck and heavied over in his partner's
direction. They were in the back of a pub, doing some work with
unloading for some spare change.

	Jake spoke little, but Chance began to realize maybe it was
better now that he was back at work -- it took his mind off things,
since there was much more being required of both of them if they were
going to stay where they were.

	'Damnit, it all happened so *fast,*' Chance mused. A little over
two weeks ago, he had been going on his semi-normal life as a
mechanic and somewhat-ex-vigilante in Megakat City, which the only
abnormality being the mental breakdown of his partner and the sudden
and amazing spark of a relationship between him and Felina. Now here
he was, not far from Glasgow in Scotland, trying to set up a new life
with the help and burden of his still-mentally-unsteady partner.
Everything that made their lives normal, everything routine -- that
was all suddenly gone, and both their worlds had been turned upside
down. No wonder it was such a strain on Jake -- he clearly wasn't
ready for it. Planning a week's vacation to go on some
ancestorial-search/journey was one thing, and within twenty-four
hour's time deciding to live there was another.

	Chance had his back turned to the alley, kneeling over the box,
when Jake finally spoke, "Chance . . . I-I think you'd better -- "

	"What is it, Jake?" he looked up, and suddenly noticed the
approach of several kats in the alley. Instantly, he stood, putting
himself between Jake and the crowd -- he saw only four, but there
could easily be others hiding at the end of the alley, around the
corner. 

	"Can I help you with something?" he said normally to the
thug-like looking kats, now obviously in their late teens or early
twenties. He was certainly not interested in a fight, and wasn't sure
exactly what Jake's own reaction to the situation would be.

	"Yeah -- that, actually," with his bat, the first one pointed to
the box Chance had been unpacking, filled with alcohol for the pub's
use. 

	"Sorry -- our boss's property," Chance said cooly. "You'll have
to speak with the owner. I believe he's right upstairs, if you make a
left from -- "

	He was cut off in mid-sentence from having a bat shoved into his
stomach. Gasping for air, it took him a moment to register how fast
this kid was. The moment passed, however, and he tore the bat out of
the kid's hpaws.

	"I *said*, you'll have to speak with the manager -- "

	But the other thugs were already advancing on them. He moved into
a more defensive position confidently, and glanced back at Jake --
who seemed to be doing the same, though he look more uneasy.

	They both allowed the thugs to attack first, staying strictly on
the defense. Chance acted normally, though he noticed Jake seemed to
be holding back a little. He didn't start getting nervous until he
noticed the numbers steadily increasing and the odds against them
along with that.

	Chance himself was up against a wall, in a choak-hold given to
him by the head thug, when there was a small cry and something went
*smack* against the back of the thug's head. When he collapsed to the
ground, Chance was able to see a dawg standing there -- a tan-fured
beagle in a trenchcoat, wielding the bat the thug held earlier. The
dawg smiled almost sadistically -- and an old memory began to creep
into Chance's conscious mind, but before he could recognize it or the
strangely familiar dawg, Chance's savior suddenly laughed insanely.

	"Why is it aye'm always gettin' ya outta trouble?" he said,
before jumping back in to began beating down the thugs trying to take
advantage of Jake's hesistative fighting skills.

	Chance stopped only a bit more for a few deep breaths himself.
Together with Jake and the dawg -- who fought with a certain,
warrior-like mentality he had never seen before -- they were finally
able to fight the last of the thugs off.

	It wasn't until they had time to stop and calm down, breathing
heavily in the cold alley, when Chance finally had a second to recall
that strange memory and turned to the dawg, "Hey, you -- who are
you?"

	Though the question was posed rather tactlessly, the dawg seemed
to ignore it, "Ye're thinkin' o' 1984, no? Just outside Megakat City,
school parkin' lot? Ya got yerself in a lotta shit then."

	Chance's jaw dropped, "Who the *hell* are you, anyway? And how
did you -- "

	"Know ta come?" the dawg did a mild bow. "Liam MacLeod of the
clan MacLeod, laddie -- warrior of Ecuador."

	It was Jake's turn to drop his jaw.


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

	Liam agreed to tell more -- but only with a few drinks to help
him "settle down", of course. So Jake and Chance more than gladly
paid for his several shots of whiskey before he was tipsy enough to
talk.

	"What were you saying about Ecaudor?" Jake inquired, now
extremely curious. Maybe that book was true after all.

	"Ah, Ecuador. He's me pal, doncha know? He sent me ta watch over
ya when you arrive. Been waitin' four centuries for ya ta do it,
too!"

	"Woah! Back up," Chance said. "When did you meet Ecuador?"

	"Musta been 'round 1543 o' so, aye believe. Yeah -- battle
between the MacLeods an' the Frasers," he glanced around. "Aye was
just a normal dawg then, and it was me first battle. Too bad aye
dinna see much o' it before aye died."

	"And Ecuador brought you back to life?" Jake was starting to get
it, if this dawg wasn't completely crazy. "Why?"

	"Aye just said it! Ta train ya!" Liam pushed his shoulder
roughly. "How the bloody hell do ya think aye was there -- both times
-- ta save both yer arses?"

	"Wait a minute," Chance questioned. "So you're saying Ecuador
showed up in the battefield 450 years ago, brought you back to life,
and told you exactly when we were going to need help so you could be
there at the right time?"

	"Tha's about the size o' it."

	"So why didn't he just get someone from the last century? Why
pick you and make you wait 450 years just to meet us?" Jake asked.

	"Aye dinna know then, an' he's ne'er really told me. Aye think
it's 'cause aye think like a bloody medieval," he tapped his head.
"Aye think he likes that. These bloody modern Scots jus' act like
Americans most o' the time."


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

	Liam was handier than they could have ever imagined. He had
everything set up for them, having known about their arrival for
longer than their own lifetimes combined. Chance was hesitant at
first to believe his wild story, but Jake was convinced, as Liam was
able to tell him much about the Ecuadorian legacy that was in
Fergus's book, of which only Jake had a copy. He *had* to be who he
said he was.

	They agreed to come home with him to his apartment in
Stronmilchan, a small village off the side of Loch Awe, about an
hour's ride from Glasgow, and half an hour from the synagogue. Sadly,
they packed up their few belongings and said good-bye to Rabbi Hoek,
to follow some crazy, Scottish dawg and his odd rantings about
destiny and Ecuadorian prophecies.

	Chance spent a good amount of the ride to Central Argyll staring
out the window, noticing the beautiful highland scenery. 'At least
it's more scenic than the yard,' he thought. It still bugged him that
he was riding on the left side of the car instead of *driving* on the
left side of the car, but that was the way the Brits liked it,
apparently.

	Jake was silent from the back seat. Chance was seriously worried
about him, though his friend had stirred up a bit since they met
Liam. Still, he spoke few, necessary words, and his eating was
sparse. the main was concern was the inability to get him to a doctor
in their new home. Liam had promised to forge all the documents they
needed, along with their new identities, to apply for medical aid --
though, if done professionally, that would take time.

	For a while Chance believed Jake was asleep, and stopped periodic
checks over his shoulder. But when he bothered to look back again, he
noticed his friend to be wide awake and staring out the window.

	"Stop the car," Jake nearly commanded, speaking in one of the
most steady and complete phrases he'd used since the first
conversation with Liam.

	"What?" Liam glanced over his shoulder.

	"What is it?" Chance was concerned.

	"Just stop the car!" was the response, more forcefully, and the
small car screeched to a halt. Before either of the frontseat
passangers could do anything, Jake swung open the door and hopped
outside.

	Liam glanced at Chance, "Wa' th' blood hell --?" Chance made no
immediate response, and the dawg knocked his shoulder. "Wha're ya
waitin' fer? He's yer friend."

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

	By the time Chance made it would the car door, Jake had crossed a
small field, and was standing near the start of a decline that led to
a valley, in which a large lake was visible. On one of the banks was
a castle ruin. Jake was staring out onto the beautiful lake intently.

	"What is it, Jake?" his burly friend ran up beside him, also in
awe of the breathtaking landscape, but not in the apparent trance the
other was in.

	"I-I dunno," came the response. I just feel like I've been here
before. I just sort of . . . sensed it."

	Chance spun around as he saw Liam catching up to them, "Hello,
what's -- oh yes." He recognized, and pointed to the castle. "Castle
Kilchurn. Over Loch Awe."

	"You've seen it before?"

	"Seen it? Lad, aye was alive when they were still usin' it," he
glanced at the ruin.

	Chance turned back to Jake, who had pulled the book Chance
remembered as being written by the son of Ecuador named Fergus or
something, and was muttering as he skimmed the pages of Thoran's
notes.

	"What is it, for Chrissakes?" his friend was growing impatient.

	"The lake, the placement of the valley . . . Chance, it all adds
up," Jake only looked up from his reading to gaze back at the valley.
"This has to be it . . . Ecuador's home. I think this is where his
tribe lived . . . 1200 ears ago."


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

	Despite Chance's better judgement, they eventually agreed to
allow Jake to stay and look around, armed with Fergus's book and the
sword of Ecuador on his back. Liam's apartment in Stronmilchan was
only a few miles away, and it wouldn't be hard to swing back for a
pickup later.

	Jake wandered the valley for several hours -- he wasn't counting.
The place was somehow enchanting. He would explore a new area, and
suddenly recall some memory -- like a vision he couldn't remember
from his own lifetime. Could it be possible that he had instilled in
him these memories of countless generations, leading right back to
Ecuador himself? Had he not felt it so often, Jake would have doubted
-- but in the spare moments of that familiararity, all his confusion
and anger from his collapsed mental state seemed to melt away.

	He was also amazed by how quickly a rainstorm could start up. He
hadn't even been paying attention to the clouds when he could feel a
sprinkling on his head, followed almost immediately by a complete
downpoar. Deep in the valley, the nearest shelter was the castle
ruins. Frantically, he rushed over to the stone structure and ducked
into one of the areas in which the roof still held.

	Yet again Jake was shocked by the severity of the downpoar, and
how fast it could also grow dark. Cold in his wet clothes, alone, and
still rather unbalanced mentally, it was easy for panic to set in. He
shivered in a corner, listening to the swaying of the once-sturdy
stone walls under the powerful wind.

	'Looks like Scotland's just full of surprises,' he thought, as
the ceiling stones that had held up for 500 years gave out and
collapsed on top of him.


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

Chapter 11

	The cool, comforting voice was the first thing to invit him back
from the darkness. However, upon noticing it was not Chance's or
Liams, he tensed. Still, it was soothing regardless, as though to
lend a verbal helping paw as he eased back into consciousness.

	He was still in the castle, now laid out in one of the larger
rooms on a soft blanket that was spread out on the floor. There were
heavy paws on his shoulders, but he couldn't yet move his aching head
enough to see who was kneeling there. His shot of the room only
included the bare walls, and the sword of Ecuador, which was still in
its case and leaned up against the wall. His first question was how
it got there without hurting the carrier, and his first instinct to
reach for it. No, he was much too far.

	"Easy," returned the voice. "You will have it in good time."

	Jake was finally able to crane his neck to see the kat staring
right back down at him -- a huge, white kat with a beard that seemed
to sparkle and familiar-looking sideburns, seen only recently on his
father and himself. 

	The kat smiled, "I doubt you are in the shape to wield my sword
now."

	It took a moment for the pieces to fall together, but as they
did, Jake's eyes widened, "You're -- "

	"Yes?"

	" -- dead," Jake attempted to sit up, but found it painful. "You
died 1200 years ago -- "

	He nodded, "Mortally, I did."

	"Then why are you still here?"

	"Because, Jacob . . . you are. I've waited a thousand years for
my children to return to their land."

	Jake hesitated, "So you're . . . a G-d now?"

	Another nod.

	"Could you do something about this? Cast a spell on it or
something?" he pointed to the large cut across his head, extending
down near his eyes. "It's killing me."

	Sadly, there was a negative response, "My ability to affect
material things -- such as your body -- varies with a few factoes.
One is your degree of consciousness. The other is whether I am in a
mortal body or not -- which is no. the third, if the second is no, is
my closeness to being in material form, which is far. Right now I am
little more than an image."

	"But you touched my shoulders -- I felt -- "

	"I know. It took a tremendous amount of energy, but I wanted to
comfort you somehow. When you were out, things were easier . . ."

	Jake tried to be as understanding as possible, "Can you get
help?"

	"Right now, I am only permitted to appear before one of my
children. there willl be a time when I am as real to all as any
living kat, but it is yet to come." Ecuador paused, then continued,
"I *can* help you with something else that pains you. You came to
Scotland to find peace, no?"

	"Yeah, but -- "

	He was cut off by a shockingly powerful flow of energy into his
shoulders.


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

	Jake had no idea exactly when he had lost consciousness again. He
just remembered that comforting sensation, and Ecuador's gentle voice
-- one that still rang in his ears. But he flinched as the new
sensations to return this time were different -- the pain in his
head, and a soft washcloth against the inflicted area.

	"Easy," the voice was not harsh, but the tone was entirely
different. Jake immediately tried to sit up upon opening his eyes,
surprised by the hairy, beared face he met, but was pushed back down.
"Take it easy, Jake."

	He was still nervous, but a more familiar voice came from a care
around five feet away from the bed, "It's just Uri, Jake -- remember,
my brother? He's not going to hurt you." It was Sensei MacAugh,
amused by the scene -- as evident by his usual Chesher-cat smile.

	Jake calmed considerably, noticing they were also in a hotel
room, "I thought you were in Ireland."

	"We were going -- until Abi told me you were in Scotland. It's
only a boat trip away. She told me about the synagogue, and the rabbi
sent me to Liam MacLeod's -- and he send me to Kilchurn. I guessed it
wouldn't be safe to bring you to a hospital yet, so here we are. And
that reminds me," MacAugh reached for the phone. "I'd better call and
tell them you're all right. Chance was really getting worried."

	"So you guys just came here?" Jake stared at Uri, bewildered.
"And just happened to find me in time? Maybe my luck is finally
improving."

	"I might call it luck," Uri put in, then in a softer and deeper
tone Jake found strangely familiar, "or divine destiny."


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

	'Dear Abi,'

	'Yes, I am finally writing for myself now! Chance is probably
going to mention it in his own letter, but I am doing much better
now. It's very hard to explain, but most of the pain and confusion I
felt before has all melted away.
	Yes, Ecuador had something to with it -- I found that valley
Fergus was talking about, and it's only a mile or so from where I
live now. You can see it, too, if you look up pictures of Castle
Kilchurn in whatever Scottish books you happen to have -- it's in
that valley. I hear it's very well photographed. As for Ecuador,
that's another story for another time.
	We are both doing better -- financially, I mean. Liam put us up
for a few days, until we were able to get an apartment here in
Stronmilchan. Liam's really been great to us. By the way, did Chance
mention in an earlier letter that he's a 450-year-old immortal sent
by Ecuador to train me and my descendants? Well, he probably left out
he's also like chapter president and regional vice president of this
political/military party in Scotland, called the Argun. He says he
really created the Argun, too, after the Jacobite Rebellion failed in
1746 (but he still calls it the forty-five -- don't ask *me*). Don't
tell the Argun members that, though, because he was using a different
name 200 years ago so they don't know that. Anyway, he's trying to
get us to join for some reason, and a lot of local chapter members
have been helping us get on our feet. Angus Wallace, this really huge
guy with a red beard, has a shipping and loading company we're
working for. 
	There's another guy named Duncan MacGregor, who's friends with
the guy in charge of scholarships over at the University of Oban --
about twenty minutes from here. He says he might be able to get me a
scholarship, so I can go back to school and get my master's. All I
have to do is prove I have that I have my bachelor's that I got from
Megakat University from all those night courses (I knew they'd come
in handy!). I'm thinking about teaching -- what do you think? 
	Like I said, I'm really okay now -- except I miss you. I know
it's a lot to ask to pick up and move across the ocean for some whiny
boyfriend, so you tell me what you want to do. I wish there was more
time to work things out before I left, but that's the way things go,
I guess. I'm just still very confused about things now. I guess I've
never known what it's like to be in love before.
	Please say hi to the gargoyles for me, Felina, and my father. I'm
writing him, too, but he needs the attention. Please write soon!'

					'Love,
					Jake'

	'P.S. -- I am sorry I am not very good at that romantic "I love
you more than whatever . . ." stuff. I'll try harder to be cheezy
next time.'


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

Chapter 12

	Abi sighed, and looked at her notes again. This new translation
just didn't seem to be coming out right, and she was afraid she was
going to have to call someone for help. There was always hesitation
in that motion. Many of the most available kats for help were
bachelors, and, to specify -- desperate bachelors. So it made a large
different that she was one of the few unmarried, female kats in the
area in her profession. She really wasn't in the mood for one of them
hounding her for dinner -- not with the pain she was dealing with
right now. For three long, lonely months Jake had been gone, and
their relationship was still up in the air -- on the surface, anyway.
Secretly, she knew it was going to go on, else every G-ddamn vision
she had wouldn't be concerning him.

	'But about these translations,' she shook her head, trying to get
herself back on track and not lose herself in visions. It was
happening all too often, and she was beginning to worry it was
effecting her work output. 'Stay in gear, Abi!' 

	"Dr. Sinian?" it was Debbie, at the door of her office. Four
years she had worked in the museum now, nearly done with her graduate
work, and she still couldn't call her her superior by her first name.
"Dr. Ross is here about the translations?" She seemed hesitant, "He
was the only one in the area on such short notice -- "

	Abi smiled, relieved, "Yes, Deborah -- send him in." Robert
wasn't so bad. Aside from the obvious fact that he was madly in love
with her, he seemed to be an all-around nice guy, and aware of the
fact she wasn't interested in him (something some of the others just
couldn't seem to understand). 

	"Abi?" a curious kat stepped in as Debbie left. Dr. Ross was a
middle-aged kat, just a bit older than her, with thick black hair,
brown fur, and a medium build. 

	"Hi, Robert," she smiled, and allowed him to hug her as a
welcoming gesture -- a rarity among the bachelors. "Thanks for coming
over on such short notice."

	"Well, I was just in the area and was going to stop by --," when
they released, he stopped to notice her general appearance. "Abi, is
something wrong? I mean, you don't look so hot."

	She frowned. He had probably noticed the dark circles under her
eyes, and the more slacking posture, "I've just had a lot on my mind
lately. Really -- it's okay."

	"Seriously?" he didn't look convinced.

	"A lot is going on in my life right now, that's all," she
retorted.

	"Are you still seeing that, umm -- "

	" -- mechanic?" Abi put in. Robert was one of the few she
actually told about Jake, a while back, when she went to check out a
dig he was on for a few weeks and they had time to talk. "Jake had to
. . . move recently and we haven't quite figured out what we're going
to do about it yet."

	He only pursued because he had a feeling she trusted him enough
to know he was sincere, "Move as in where?"

	She breathed, "Scotland."

	"Scotland?" he nearly choaked. "He just had to move -- ?"

	"Yes, he did," Abi said firmly.

	Robert stared into her eyes, "And are you seriously considering
following him there? I mean, you have so much here."

	"I know, I know," she sounded sad. "The point is everything's up
in the air right now, except our relationship, and this is all not a
great dicussion topic. Could we move on?"

	"Ah, yes -- the translation," Robert moved over her shoulder as
she handed him some of the papers from her desk. Wisely, he decided
to keep this new gossip to himself.


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

	"So was he a good translator?" Thoran asked, not looking up from
his book. He was seated in his armchair, as usual, with a glass of
tea on the stand beside him and the desk lamp used to illuminate the
immediate area for reading.

	"Oh, yes -- fine," Abi was across from him, collapsed in her
desk's wheeled chair. "Robert's really the nicer of the bunch." She
paused, "But he brought up a subject I've really been trying to
ignore."

	"What? About Jacob?" it wasn't really a guess, but he made it
sound like it was. "These decisions take time, Abi. You do not have
to rush into -- your are not *supposed* to rush into these things. 

	"Yes, but I know -- "

	"What *are* you sure of?"

	" -- I know I can't break the relationship off. I love him, and
he loves me, and we're going to be married. I *know* it. I would
probably *still* know it if I wasn't a G-d damn vilthuril."

	"So?" he shrugged.

	"*So* . . . I feel first like I'm being lazy by not jumping on a
plane tomorrow, like I'm just avoiding fate and wasting time. Then I
realize how silly the whole thing is, with visions aside, and that I
must be crazy to suddenly run off across the ocean because of a
boyfriend, dropping everything I have to start new in some
convienently-located museum in the highlands. So I *can't* run off,
but then come my feelings again, reminding me that I *want* to."

	He shook his heavy head, "It wouldn't just be you, Abi. It would
be all of us."

	"What? Move the clan? To Scotland?" she was shocked.

	"Why not? It is our homeland as much as Jacob's, if only it has
been a few more centuries since our ancestors moved across the ocean.
The clan needs to stay together, and we have one gargoyle there
already. And who will take care of us when you leave? Deborah?"

	"What about . . . what about Felina? She can't pick up and
leave," Abi was referring to Felina's current, overworked status in
the enforcers. The city, without the SWAT Kats, was a mess -- but
Dark Kat being gone helped, because many of the other villians
remained in shock for quite a while. She was up to her tail in
paperwork and emergency calls. "She'll be commander soon -- you know
that. If Commander Feral becomes admiral to try and widen his
influence to search for Jake and Chance, she'll be left to keep
things in order. She's practically the only one on the force
qualified to prevent anarchy for a month. Felina can't pick up and
leave, and even if she did -- wouldn't they get suspicious as to her
motives?"

	Thoran frowned, and began to rub his white beard thoughtfully,
"She could stay, if she felt it was her duty. As a gargoyle, the clan
is supposed to come first, but I could never convince her of that."

	"And what about Felina's -- "

	"When it comes? To Chance, I suppose. It is his responsibility,
and she can't hide it from the enforcers forever."


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

	'Dearest Abi,'

	'I just recieved the letter about the museum in Oban. I'm so
happy that you've decided to hold on to our relationship and make
that kind of commitment. I understand that it will probably take a
very long time for you to 	move, and I'll wait as long as I have to.
You take your time -- you should only come over when you feel you're
ready, okay?
	I can't say things haven't been exciting without the clan. Liam
and Angus took us to the highland games in Oban. I can't believe it's
September already -- six long months. Anyway, the we discovered the
highland games are a 	bunch of huge guys in kilts hurling logs and
stones around -- literally. That's 	how they pick out the tourists.
They're not wearing kilts. Liam was going to make us wear them, but
he decided (thankfully) to give us another year.
	Chance tried that log-throwing event (I forget the name) and
almost threw his back out. I got a picture, and ask Felina about it
because we sent the doubles	in her letter. Liam won the bagpiping
contest, and Angus got really smashed and started hurling Duncan
around. I'm pretty glad he didn't pick me up -- he said I was so slim
my bones must be brittle and if he were to pick me up I would crumble
or something (I have lost some weight, by the way, since I've 	been
here, thanks to the absence of kosher meat here. They have some
Glasgow but I'm too lazy to drive down). So he said he's gonna fatten
me up for next year. I also met this Fraser named Dougal, who called
Chance and I she-kats for not wearing kilts. I've decided that the
Scots are generally psycho. I told Chance that and he said, "Well,
that's good. Then we should fit in here."
	Great news! I am enrolled in graduate classes in the fall at the
University of Oban. I'm going to finally get my master's! Now I just
need to figure out how I'm going to manage to still do my job at
Angus's and keep up with classes. I guess I'll figure it out along
the way.
	As always, say hi the clan for me. And again, you take your time,
but I'm incredibly happy that we're both looking in the same
direction for the future.'

					'Love,
					Jake'


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

Chapter 13

1 1/2 years later
Abbotsinch Airport

	"Abigail!"

	Abi looked up as she pulled her baggage off the carosel,
disbelieving in the voice she recognized call her name. Running
towards her was a tall, brown-fured kat of similar hue to hers
--except for the shade of grey gracing it. 

	"Dad -- ?" she was still shocked as he wildly embraced her, a
gesture which she returned, and kissed her on her cheek. "What are
you doing -- "

	After releasing her, he took a good look at his daughter, "I just
got back from the excavation in Cairo -- the thing was a blood mess,
but fun while it lasted, at lesat for an old bugger like me. I was
going to call you can come ot America to see you, but then I heard
you were coming to Scotland, so I drove up -- figured I'd save you a
cab fare."

	"You *drove*?" Driving from his home near the lower tip of the
English coastline up to the upper lowlands of Scotland was quite a
feat. "If you called, I could have come down -- "

	"Nonesense. I just told you I'm saving you the cab fairs. They've
blood skyrocketed in the past few years, at least in Britian," he
automatically picked up one of her bags. "C'mon -- before the car
gets stolen. I saw some punks hanging around by it when I parked."

	Finally, she overcame her surprise, "Thanks, dad."

	"Anytime -- at least while I'm in the area," Professor Sinian was
quite a traveler. He lived in America for some twenty-five years
while raising Abi and still living with his now-ex-wife, instead of
his native England. Abi still remembered the summers he spent, when
not curating the museum in Megakat, off in some exotic location for
another excavation. When she took over the curation, he had moved
home to England, and the divorce freed up his time for more trips and
classes to teach. "So I hear you are looking at some possible job
sites in Argyll."

	"Yes," she waited for him to unlock the car, then climbed in the
passenger's side. "There's a few smaller museums, and a large one in
Oban. But that job depends on how long the assistent curator lasts --
I believe he's approaching ninety -- and then I'll have his job."

	"So you're giving up Megakat? Not to that graduate student -- the
one who shakes when you speak too loud."

	"I'll probably get some other applicants, but until then it goes
to Deborah. She *has* gotten better, now that she has her master's,
dad."

	After a moment's hesitation, "Is this about that boyfriend of
yours? What was his name -- "

	"Jake. Yes, this about Jake."

	"And you're sure you want to give up everything in Megakat -- "

	"Yes, dad -- I'm sure," she said rather coldly, annoyed because
he wasn't the first to ask about it. "I love him."

	"Well . . . I suppose I'm not the best person to ask about a
successful marriage," he chuckled, "but if you're sure . . ." Sinian
shrugged. "But I want to meet him, you realize."

	"So *that*'s why you came up here!" her eyes widened, and she
growled in a nice way.

	"It was a factor, I'll admit," he pulled out a map. "So which way
to this Stronmilchan place?"


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

	Standing in front of an apartment complex with a familiar address
-- one she's put on an envelope many times -- Abi wondered briefly if
she should have *told* Jake about this visit. The main question was
whether he was exactly -- well, prepared to meet her father in his
current condition. For her he might not clean his apartment, though
he was a neat person anyway -- but for his future father-in-law, he
might want advanced notice. 'At least dad'll get an honest view of
Jake,' she thought, though she doubted her boyfriend would ever
"dress up" to impress someone. 

	"I'll go up first," she announced. Watching her father lean
against the car and shrug, she opened the front door and began to
climb the steps. The complex left something to be desired, with it's
worn-down carpets and dim lighting on rather grungey walls, but it
wasn't like Jake and Chance could afford to live in a Ritz. 

	Passing the group of mail boxes on the wall by the office, she
noted there were no envelops or postcars hanging out and/or stuffed
into the one corresponding with their apartment number, and guessed
it was a good sigh -- someone had been home to pick up the mai.
Theoretically, Jake *should* be home, since it was in the time
between when his classes at the university ended and regular dinner
in Scotland. 

	Somewhat nervously, she reached the third floor. Their apartment
door was easy to find, aside from being numbered. It was the only one
in the hallway, probably in the complex, with a mezuzah on the
doorpost. Swallowing, she knocked on the door.

	The first response was of sounds of movement inside, and a
muffled, "Hang on." She breathed; for some wierd reason she was
worried she'd forgotten Jake's voice over the past two years, or it
had changed; it hadn't. There was a bit of shuffling around, followed
by the sound of someone working with the locks on the other side of
the door.

	The door swung open, and Jake emerged -- and his expression
dropped to the point where Abi found it rather amusing to watch his
glass slip from his paw and fall on the floor. He hadn't changed that
much. He was dressed in jeans and polo shirt. His hair had grown out
quite a bit, and there was a bit of hair that had overgrown the
length of his cheek fur and gave the appearance that someone hadn't
had a change to clip anything down recently.

	"Abi -- ?" he choaked out, somewhat literally. Disbelief or no,
he proceeded to wildy embrace her. 

	"I thought I'd stopped by," she smiled, kissed his cheek, and
then rested hers on his shoulder. "I'm being interviewed by that
museum in Oban tomorrow."

	"And you didn't tell me -- ?" his voice was going up an octave or
so, like he was at the point of tears, making no more to release her.

	"Surprise," she kissed him again. "Do you have one of those old,
peeping landlords?"

	"Yeah. Why?"

	"Then I think we'd better go inside," she pulled away from him at
last, somewhat reluctantly, and moved in from the doorway.

	"Oh, yeah," still rather disoriented -- like he had just been
lifted to a higher place and set abruptly back down again, he knelt
down and began clumsily picking up the shards of broken glass so he
could close the door without tearing the carpet. "C'mon in -- sorry
if the place doesn't look like much, but well . . . that's the way we
are."

	"Where's Chance?" she glanced around, noticing it looked just a
bit neater than the average bachelor pad, but aside from that not a
whole lot different.

	He finished picking up the glass and put them in a special bag,
"Oh, he's still working. I do the early hours, he does the late ones.
He should be home soon." Grabbing a sponge, he proceeded to start
trying to get the liquid out of the carpet before it stained. "Did
Felina come?"

	"She would if she could," Abi noticed the sword of Ecuador
hanging on the wall, on two nails that supported the handle guard.
"She sends her love."

	"Tell Chance that -- he's been cranky lately," Jake washed out
the sponge. "And the gargoyles? How are they?"

	"Same old thing. Chani's kid is doing fine, and there might be
more eggs along soon."

	"Sevian's the father, right?" he recalled the letter. "Is that
the first hatchling born since the stone spell was removed?"

	"Yes," she lied. It wasn't important at the moment. "They've been
working overtime to help Felina -- now that you guys aren't there."

	"What about Feral? Still looking for us?"

	She nodded, "He's Admiral now. Felina just became Commander. He
wants a more international search, but I don't think he's going to
get a whole lot of support from the other enforcer companies."

	"If he does, I doubt he could trace us here," Jake said
assuredly. "Even if he could, the Argun would probably be able to
protect us."

	"They would do that? You're new, American members -- and I didn't
think they were that powerful."

	"They protect their own," he affirmed. "And you wouldn't believe
what they could do if they wanted to -- they just don't excersive
their poer too often." He muttered thoughtfully, "If the current
president dies, Liam will probably take his place. I don't know
anyone better for the job, and Liam's a Lopinenean fanatic -- I think
he'd probably do anything to protect me."

	"You said he's been alive for four hundred and fifty years?"

	"Roughly," he sat down next to her, at the tiny table. "You might
meet him tonight. I have an Argun meeting. I was gonna skip it when
you showed up, but if you want to go . . . they can get rather
interesting." He sipped from his new glass, "So . . . any other
surprises?"

	"Oh yes . . . my father is waiting downstairs."

	Jake spit out his coffee.

	"He's not anything like your mother, right?"

	"Jake!" she said, in a mock-scolding way. "No, he's rather
down-to-earth -- a lot like me, profession-wise."

	"Grand," he replied.

	Abi looked at him strangely -- as if he'd been in Britian *way*
too long.

	"Just joking," he smiled, and followed her downstairs.


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

	"Are you sure this is the place?" 

	Abi looked around, at the wide valley field. To her left was Loch
Awe, and the legendary Castle Kilchurn. But they were there for much
more ancient studies that the 1440's. Jake was determined to show
her, on her second day -- after a rather successful interview -- the
spots he was now certain where important to Ecuadorian history. After
all, it was practically the only field in history that interested him
as much as her.

	"Yeah, it's right around here," Jake was not working with a map,
or Fergus's book -- though it was stuffed in his pocket. They were in
a rather secluded area of the valley, more up to the side of one of
the cliffs, in a small grove. "One of these threes . . ."

	His smile widened as he pulled back some branches and other
debris to reveal something made of stone. A willow tree had
maraculously grown directly around and on top of it, so its roots
rapped tightly the sacred, shaped rock and made it easy to miss if
one was just passing by.

	Abi knelt beside him, inspecting carefully as he brushed away the
remaining dirt to reveal carvings on the rock as Jake explained,
"This is Ecuador's tombstone." She now noticed he was situated so he
was more to the side instead of directly in front of it, so he
wouldn't be sitting directly on top of the grave. "He was burned at
the stake -- they thought he was a demon when he accidently used some
of his magic to help them win a battle against some rebellious picts.
See this writing? This is Lopine -- but my translation's still
sketchy."

	Still finding it amazing that *Jake* was actually mesmorized by
something historical, she crawled in closer and put on her reading
glasses, brushing her paw against the stone gently, "There's two
texts here -- "

	"I think the one on the bottom is some kind of Gaelic -- but it's
so old, even Liam couldn't understand it. The top's Lopine."

	"Yes -- but this isn't the inscription that we put on Maric's
grave, or I would recognize some of the words. It would make sense --
Ecuador was Frith's son, not just some distant descendant or common
kat. Does Fergus say anything about it?"

	He shook his head, "Not about the translation. He just said where
the grave way. Said the other immediate descendants were somewhere
around here, but I haven't found them," he looked pale. "Can we go?
This place always makes me uncomfortable."

	"Sure," she stood, dusted off her jeans, and helped him up. "So
what's next?"

	He smiled again, as soon as they were out of the grove,
"Something else -- follow me."


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

	Jake brought her closer to Lock Awe, pulling back the branches
now to reveal another grove -- one much more surrounded by life than
death. A stream flowed in from the mountains, as a tributary to Loch
Awe, and passed through this small area to form a minor waterfall.

	"It's beautiful, Jake," she said.

	"C'mere," he made a small leap across into the middle of the
stream in front of the waterfall, where there was a large rock to
stand on. He held out his paw for her.

	Curiously, Abi grasped his paw with her own and hopped across.
The rock was slipperly, and he pulled her close for support.

	"So what happened here? Was this a favorite spot or something?"

	"This is where Ecuador proposed to his wife."

	Abi's jaw nearly dropped -- not like she didn't expect something
eventually, but now that it was happening . . .

	"Sorry if there's not a lot of room to kneel here without getting
into the water, but the stream's kind of cold this time of year," he
responded before she could, looking her in the eyes. "Abi Sinian . .
. will you marry me?"

	"Jake -- you realize how long it's going to be until I can move
-- "

	"I know."

	"I'm trying to be practical here. It could be a long time -- "

	"Don't be so practical, then," he held her paws tighter. "I know
how long it might be -- but I have to *know*. It's not like we have
to get married the day after get engaged."

	Abi hesitated, resting her head on his shoulder, "In that case .
. . yes."

	It took him a moment to pull things together, until he grinned
and kissed her passionately, "Thank you so much . . . "

	"I just want to know something," she said, pulling away to look
him back in the eyes. "before I do this. I know how everyone wants us
to get married. I mean, it's kind of cute the way Rabbi Warner and
the rest of them have been trying to set you up with a "nice girl"
for years, and the clan wants you to continue your line, and Thoran
thinks it's a prophecy from Frith . . . I want to know that you're
marrying me for *yourself,* and not for *them.*"

	His eyes shined with pure innocence, "No, Abi . . . it's nice to
have their praise, but it's not what's important to me -- you are."

	"In that case . . . I'm all yours."

	He pulled her against himself again, feeling amazingly relieved,
"I hope you won't be upset that I didn't get a ring, but there was a
rather short notice about this -- I promise I'll send it -- "

	"You do what you have to sustain yourself now, and we'll worry
about that later," she replied, feeling safe and comfortable pressed
against his chest. 


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

Chapter 14

1 Year Later

	"So when're they arrivin'?" Liam asked curiously, taking the next
box from Chance as he loaded them off the truck.

	"Plane gets in at four. They we have to get the clan unloaded --
they'll be in oversized cargo -- and back here before sundown. Could
you take this box?" 

	The dawg complied, "An' yer girlfriend's comin'?"

	"Felina? Yeah," he smiled. "I wish she could stay like the rest,
too -- but she's still got responsibilities im Megakat. The enforcers
aren't exactly ready for her to quit yet."

	"'s a shame," Liam muttered.

	"She'll be back up for the wedding, and that's only a few months
away," Chance reminded. "I think Jake's already nervous."

	"'s natural. Aye been married."

	"Really?" Chance glanced at him. "How was it?"

	"The weddin'?"

	"No -- married life."

	"Ay s'ppose it was different fer me, 'cause aye dinna have
children," he grinned, "but it was wonderful."


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

	"Abi!" Jake literally ran across the terminal, almost temped to
jump over a row of seats to get to his finance a little sooner. He
grabbed her estatically, almost lifting her off the ground and
spinning her around.

	"Good to see you, too," Abi responded with a kiss, as passionate
as a public airport would allow. 

	Felina was just behind her, "Hey, don't I -- " She was cut off --
along with most of her lung's supply of exygen -- by his feverent
hug. "Nice to see you. Where's -- "

	"Coming!" Chance walked down the ramp to the gate, a little less
energetic, and embraced Felina. "Sorry if I didn't jump over a bench
to see you."

	"It's okay," she was just happy, after all this time, to be back
in his arms. It had taken her a long time to calm herself down for
what was coming, as well. "Let's get our stuff -- I don't want think
the clan'll appreciate it if they wake up in storage containers."


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

	Thanfully, they were mildly successful getting the clan loaded
into the truck, along with all the luggage, in time to get home
before sundown.

	"Scotland really is beautiful," Felina affirmed as she stared at
the window.

	"Felina . . . is something wrong?" Chance said at last -- he had
been noticing an edge in her voice since she got off the plane, and
now they were alone in the driver and passenger seats of the truck as
Jake and Abi followed in the car.

	"No . . . just something we have to discuss when we get the clan
unpacked," she smiled, but it didn't assure him.


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

	It would look odd carrying so many huge statues up the stairs of
Jake and Chance's apartment complex, so they brought the statues to
Angus's shop, where he lived above in a spacious apartment and
dojo-like series of rooms.

	With dusk nearly upon them, Felina pulled Chance into a different
room, along with one of the smaller boxes. Using a crowbar, she
carefully opened it to reveal a much smaller gargoyle statue.

	"Who's -- " he was broken off by a sudden wave of pain as the sun
sank finally into the Scottish horizon. He was well used to it by
now, but that didn't make it much easier. Felina dropped to her knees
as her cry began, once more, a growl. 

	The tiny statue broke free of its encasing with a growl-like cry,
revealing a childlike, grey gargoyle -- like Felina's shade of grey
that she took on with her transformation. Dressed in the
traditionally belt and jerkin of the clan but also wearing a
slightly-oversized enforcer T-shirt, he promptly looked up at Felina
and exclaimed, "Ma-ma!" like she had been gone for a month.

	"Hey, honey," as he ran to her, she let him hug her leg with a
motherly protective sense, stroking his black tiger-striped back. 

	"Who's this?" Chance said, almost stupidly.

	"This is Brian," she looked down lovingly at her offspring.
"Brian, say hello to your father."

	Chance was far from being able to form any sort of word-like
sound when Brian looked at him curiously, "Da-da?"

	"Who -- w-wha -- ?" absolutely dumbfounded and unable to take his
eyes off the little tike to see Felina's own expression, he allowed
the child to release his mother and run to him. "How did -- ?"

	"Tell me you never took sex education," Felina said
sarcastically.

	"B-But when -- ?" he picked Brian up, holding him out with both
arms. "When did this . . ."

	Felina rolled her eyes, "You should know. You were *there.*"

	It took him another moment of more, "Oh my G-d . . ."'s before
his open mouth finally formed a smile, "You mean he's -- "

	"Yours, yes. Now he is. I can't take care of him any longer,
Chance," her tone was almost sad. "Not without the gargoyles helping
the enforcers -- crime's gonna be a mess, and I won't have the clan
to sit for him anymore."

	His smile growning, he pulled Brian in and held him against his
massive chest as he felt his son giggle and squirm, "Why didn't you
tell me?"

	"How could I? I was afraid you might actually try to come down
and see him, and I'd rather have you wait a few years than rot in
jail for trying to see him immediately and screwing up along the way
to make my uncle catch you. I had to keep him from you -- or the last
three years would have just been more painful."

	"Who knows? The clan -- "

	" -- and Abi. When I was pregnant with the egg, I was very sick
while in kat form during the day, and she had to visit my apartment
every few hours to make sure I was all right. I was lucky, in a way
-- gargoyles are only pregnant for three months because theyre not
giving birth to something already live and independent -- an egg
instead. So the first month and a half or so I was able to make it by
during the day wearing looser clothing, and resting at night, and
after that . . . I told my family I had a 'gargoyle disease.'" She
smiled, "Chani was pregnant, too, so I wasn't alone on this. When
Brian hatched, he was much more developed and mature because he lived
in an egg, and he automatically slept for twelve hours each day, so
he was easier to handle than a kitten."

	"He's fully gargoyle?"

	She nodded, "It really was a life-saver. He physically ages that
way, too -- half the speed of a kat -- but luckily, his maturity
moves at a faster pace."

	"I can't believe this," Chance let Brian tug on one of his huge
claws. "I really can't believe this . . . so I take him now?"

	"He's all yours."

	"What about you? How do you feel about this?" he looked at her,
concerned about the obvious sadness in her eyes. "Can you handle this
. . . I mean giving him up? You can stay here if you want -- we can
get married if that's the way -- "

	She shook her head, "Megakat needs me, if only -- and hopefully
-- for a few more years. I'm training Carlson for my position. And
he's illegitamite either way -- rushing into marriage isn't going to
help it, and the gargoyles don't care about that kind of thing."
Felina sighed, "I'll come up as soon as I can . . . you know that."

	Giving up, he nodded, listening to Brian's cooing.


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

	"Rabbi!" Jake opened his arms to welcome the feverent hug of a
familiar rabbit. "I was worried your plane wasn't going to get in
before Shabbos."

	"G-d would always get us here in time for Shabbos, Ya'akov,"
Warner let him go so Cantor Warner and Rabbi Davis could say their
hellos. "How do you feel . . . with the wedding on Sunday night --
only two more days!"

	"I know," he grinned rather nervously. "My aufruf* is tomorrow. I
wish she could be there." He was referring to the law that barred
couples from seeing each other the week before the wedding. "Sit down
-- I've got a few extra chairs here, hold on." Jake looked around the
mess that was still his apartment -- with all the preperations, plus
the packing for the move he would soon be making into a new apartment
with Abi, things were in a disorder. "Here we go," he spotted some
folding chairs, and brought them out for the rabbinical trio. 

	"And how has Ren been treating you?" he was referring to Rabbi
Hoek of the Scottish synagogue.

	"Very well, thank you -- but I'm glad you guys could make it up.
You can't understand how much this means to me -- "

	"I understand," the rabbi smiled warmly.

	Rabbi Davis asked, "And how is Abi? Is she all settled in?"

	"Yeah, well -- she's had a few months to take care of things. She
has a job at a museum in Oban -- not far from here. And with any luck
I'll get my masters and'll be teaching in another two years or so, so
. . ."

	"Well," Cantor Warner huffed, "I guess we can't bother you about
find a nice Jewish girl getting married any more . . ."

	"So when are you going to have children?" Rabbi Warner cut in,
and Jake immediately laughed.


*auftruf -- groom's aliyah (blessing upon being called to the Torah
for a reading in his honor) on the Shabbos before the wedding

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

Chapter 15

	"Ah! Ya'akov, you like wonderful!" Hackle smiled brightly,
rubbing his white beard as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. 

	"Really?" Jake readjusted the cloth of his kittle* nervously.
"What do I look like? I mean, Abi's gonna look nice -- she looks
nice, right? Did you see her dress -- ?"

	"Yes, yes. It's wonderful. But you didn't give the poor girl much
choice. No lace? Oy -- have you ever been in a gown shop?"

	He shrugged nervously, "We agreed on it -- it wasn't like -- "

	"I know, I know --- I'm just playing with you. It looks very
nice, and she likes it. So don't you worry about it, okay?" Hackle
patted him on the shoulder. "I was so upset when the plane got
cancelled, or I would have been up here more than a few days before
-- "

	"Dad, I was fine. Everyone's been very supportive."

	"You had your bachelor party, right? It miust have happened
before I arrived. How did it -- ?"

	Chance cut in, "He doesn't remember anything after the first shot
of whiskey." He was wearing a tux, a kipah, and a chesire cat smile
-- the first two extremely odd for Chance.

	"I remember bits and pieces," Jake's face twisted.

	"Don't think to hard about it, Jake," Chance laughed, "or you
might remember more."

	A sharp rap on the door quieted Jake from saying more, and Rabbi
Davis peaked his wide, orange head into the dressing room, "What --
are you going to miss the wedding in here? We need the groom!"

	"C'mon, Jake," Chance pushed him out. "It's now or never."

	"You promise to catch me if I fall?"

	"Why? Your knees shaking?"

	Jake smiled nervously, "Something like that."


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

	The second odd sensation Jake felt, now on that final walk up to
the front of the room where the Rabbi was waiting, was that of a sea
of endless faces staring at him. It was a rather small wedding, with
his father, Abi's parents, Chance, Felina, the rest of the clan, the
three rabbis and Cantor Warner, Dan and Uri MacAugh, and a few Argun
members like Liam and Angus. But in the twenty feet or so across the
room, it seemed like the crowds were endless.

	Suddenly, there was a body in the crowd -- a taller, white kat
who seemed almost *glowing*. Staring at him curiously, almost
transfixed, he realized it was Ecuador himself, in his white
Lopinenean robe, smiling at him.

	"Chance," Jake whispered, keeping his on him while trying to look
forward.

	"What is it, buddy?"

	"Is Ecuador in the fourth row, on the aisle?" he kept his voice
low, somewhat muffled by the Hebrew chant in the background. "Big
guy, kinda heavenly presence."

	"What?" his friend looked at him strangely. "No, that's Dan
MacAugh. Take it easy, bud."

	"Just checking," Jake pulled his eyes away, and reached the
bema.* Stepping up under the chupah, he breathed a sigh of relief and
smiled warmly at Rabbi Warner, who was nearly glowing himself in
anticipation.

	Jake did not turn around, but he could nearly *feel* Abi coming
up beside him. She circled him seven times, for the seven days of
creation, but he could not see her face through the thick veil. G-d,
her dress -- white silk -- was really beautiful. He felt lightheaded
for some reason, but was unable to concentrate on anything else. 

	The Rabbi said a blessing over the first cup of wine, then began
to read the ketubah** out loud, now signed and official. It was only
then, while the Rabbi was listing in another language the obligations
the groom had towards the wife, Jake was able to pull his eyes off
her for the briefest moment -- only to see the crowd behind him, all
faceless masses except for Ecuador. 'I must be really flipping out,'
he thought, and immediately turned back to Abi.

	Jake recited the appropriate blessing, and removed the ring from
his pocket -- a simple, gold ring as according to tradition. He
placed it on the foreclaw, also according to tradition, though it
would be moved to the middle one later.

	He found not only for his knees to be shaking, but his paws, too
as he lifted the veil from her face. G-d, she was so beautiful. He
saw, finally, into her eyes -- and realized with a stiff smile that
she was just as nervous as he was. That was instantly, amazingly
relieving to both of them.

	He somehow managed to clear his mind of all thoughts, and kiss
her.

	Beyond that he lost most of his sense of time. He vaguely
remembered, later, the tradition breaking of glass (a lightbulb,
actually) to remember the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem by
the Romans, and the rice and congradulations that came after that. It
was all, however, very, very distant. The more important thing was
Abi -- his wife -- at his side, and for all he cared they were the
only two people in the room -- them and Ecuador, now standing more to
the side in the corner of his eye, smiling broadly.


*bema - stage
**ketubah - Jewish wedding contract, in Aramiac

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

	Throughout the evening and the party, Jake was still rather
disoriented. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, but he was
really less concerned with them then he had been before the wedding.
Abi was the only thing important in his world, with even Chance and
everyone else important to him just distant figures.

	Everyone did, in general, have a good time. The Rabbis and the
Cantor, for some reason, instantly linked up with Dan and Uri
MacAugh, and spent much of the night talking with them. The gargoyles
-- who didn't dance, maybe because of their huge feet and fears of
stepping on each other's toes -- obviously liked the food, because
they ate most of it. Thoran was quite and thoughtful most of the
evening, though still in a high spirits, though he did converse with
Abi whenever she was alone for a brief moment. Chance got tipsy,
danced with Felina and *did* step on her feet several times -- who
didn't care, because she was just as tipsy. Brian spent most of the
night, when not under their care, trying to eat the tablecloth or
throwing crackers at Sevian and Chan's hatchling. A few Argun
members, including Liam, Angus Wallace, and Duncan MagGregor were
drunk by the second hour, but no one got really smashed. Still, it
would probably look wild in the wedding video, years later, to see a
bunch of guys wearing tuxedo jackets and dress kilts bawling around
in the back of the room.


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

	It must have been 2 AM or so when Jake and Abi emerged from the
wedding reception. Jake had thrown the brown, Ecuadorian robe with
gold trimmings over his suit, and had the sword of Ecuador at his
side. Abi had changed out of her dress, comfortable as it was, into
the traditional black robe of a vilthuril. 

	"Why did we promise to do this?" Jake wondered, hurrying down the
hill that led to the planned, secluded grove. 

	"I believe you were asked about it during your bachelor party,"
Abi reminded.

	"That would explain it," he muttered, coming into the grove. The
gargoyles were already there, along with Liam and Sauraman. The clan
were for the most part dressed the normal way, not in there fancy
wedding attire now, except for Thoran. He crouched directly in front
of them, completing the circle of gargoyles, back in his normal
clothes but wearing as much of the black vilthuril robe that could
fit over his monster-like body. There was a lion skin on his back,
and his face was painted entirely red. He was to play the mog-ur, or
holy man, in this ritual. Sauraman was in his white, Lopinenean
Isatari robe instead of the councilman one he wore most of the time.
Liam had on the full kilt now, not just the bottom element of it,
wrapped over his shoulder -- he looked like a medieval again, not a
20th century Scot impersonating one. 

	In a silent motion, Liam picked up his bagpipes, and began to
play. The tune was not recognizable to Jake or Abi, but they
suspected Ecuador had picked it long ago.

	Thoran motioned for them to come closer. Dipping a claw in a bowl
of red paste, he put their coinciding paws together and drew on each
a symbol -- it was likely one was for a son of Ecuador, the other for
a vilthuril. Being non-Lopineneans, they had no traditional totems,
but none were needed -- they had these from birth. Gesturing with in
silent language of a mog-ur, he made the proper acknowledges to Frith
and whatever spirits decided to look on, and dipped his claw in a
bowl of water. Diluting their symbols with the water, he mixed the
two together, obviously indicating the joining of the two of them.
Liam's bagpipe played on, in a stead tune, filling the strange
silence.

	Finally, Thoran stepped back and motioned that the ceremony was
over, and Liam stopped playing.

	"Does he get to kiss me again?" Abi broke the silence.

	"It's not part of the ceremony," Thoran responded.

	"Well, I'm doing it anyway," Jake retorned, and pulled her in. It
was a long time before they came back up for air, completely unaware
of the gargoyles' cheering.


End of Part 2

---------------------------------------------------------------------

		"Paranoia is just reality on a finer scale."

				- that record company guy (Vincent?),
					"Strange Days" (1996)
---------------------------------------------------------------------


Part 3
Chapter 1

Scotland, late 1999

	It had been a little over three weeks since the dreaded letter,
and no word from anyone or thing. Jake hadn't forgotten about it,
simply pushed it in the back of his mind. There were other things to
worry about.

	Professor MacMillan, that old jerk, had thrown yet another
surprise test at him. Jake knew there wasn't a point to fighting it;
he was university professor, and a powerful one -- he was *allowed*
to torture his students. Jake found it hard to believe he might
actually be working with the guy in a few years, which is why he kept
his cool in classes and went to most of there review sessions.

	Yawning, Jake wandered down the hallway to the classroom,
glancing at the clock to notice only how late it was. He was tired --
probably due to the fact he got up around 3 or 4 AM each morning to
work for Angus's shipping and loading company before going to
classes. The work was killing him, but necessarily if they were
planning to raise a child in the 21st century.

	"Hi," said a kat inside the classroom, who looked above
college-student age. "You Jake MacIsaac?"

	"Yeah," he tried to avoid yawning again.

	"Great. I'm an assistent to the professor. Something came up, so
I'm subbing for him." He shook his paw.


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

	Surprisingly, Jake was finding the assistent enjoyable to talk
to. He was, at least, more pleasant to listen to than Professor
MacMillan, who tended to drag on with obviously little patience for
his inquisative students. 

	Taking another sip from his soda can, Jake finally closed his
notebook, "Well, that's about it."

	The assistent, a burly kat whom Jake had never seen before that
day, also began cleaning up his notes, "Tell me, Mr. MacIsaac -- at
least before you go -- why is a guy like you still in college? I
mean, you must be at least thirty."

	Jake smiled, "Yeah, I am . . . but I've just had other . . .
obligations . . . before now. This is the first time I've really been
free to study and finally get my master's."

	"So you want to teach?"

	"Yeah -- I do."

	The assistent nodded thoughtfully, "If you're lucky, the
professor will take you as a student teacher for a year -- I heard
he's looking for one."

	"What about you?" Jake said, standing, but was abruptly caught
off as he tried to stand, finding his body weight seeming
exceptionally heavy. "Woah -- "

	"Easy," the assistent nearly rose from his chair, but stopped as
Jake managed to catch himself by leaning heavily on the desk for
support. "Something wrong?"

	"I just didn't realize I was this tired, I guess," he felt dizzy,
and a tad nauseous. "I'll be okay in a minute. But getting on with it
-- "

	"Yes, me. Well, it would be rather hard to get hired, considering
he's never heard of me . . ."

	"What?" Confused, Jake also found himself weakening. "But I
thought you said he sent -- " He had to halt, feeling another wave of
dizziness that nearly sent him to his knees. He also noticed the
assistent did not get up to help him this time. "Excuse me, I think I
need to sit down. I just don't know what's bothering me . . ."

	The assistent shrugged, "Probably the MS-59 -- new on the market.
A great sedative." He took a sip of his own soda. "Completely
tasteless -- especially in carbonated soda."

	"Wha -- ?" Jake's mind was beginning to spin as his legs fell out
from under him. He collapsed on the ground, barely managing to sit
up, as he glanced up at his soda and realized what the assistent was
talking about. "Wha do you -- ?"

	"Oh," he got up at last, standing over Jake. "I seriously
wouldn't try to speak. By now it has all ready begun to slow
everything done up there." He tapped on Jake's head. "I suggest you
stop fighting it and let it take it's course, because your head isn't
going to clear for at least another few hours."

	Unable to clearly respond or make any complicated movement, Jake
moaned softly as he curled up into a ball in the floor and allowed
the haziness to close in.


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

	There were certain things Abi didn't like about being a curator
-- or, as she was now, an assistent curator. One of them was all the
odd jobs to do, of which there  much more of with her lower status,
that kept her from her research. It was just after sundown and the
museum's closing that she was able to finally open the crate that had
arrived earlier.


	"What is it?" Thoran said curiously. 

	The gargoyles were still living in the museum, but were hidden to
the general public except as statues during the day. The only one who
knew of their existence was the curator, a reasonable kat who let
them stay as long as they kept to themselves by night and added to
the aesthetic beauty of his building by day. 

	"Help me open it and we'll find out -- these shipping companies
screw up the orders all the time," she was struggling with a crowbar,
trying to open the long, rectangular box.

	Thoran kindly pushed her aside, and with a grunt of brute
strength tore it open with his claws, careful not to damage the
contents. With a gentle grace, he removed the long, slender object
still under wraps and set it up beside the work table.

	Abi removed the sheet, revealing a full-length mirror, "Oh, thank
G-d it wasn't shattered." She breathed a sigh of relief.

	"What kind of mirror is this?" Thoran ran his clan along the
edge. "It practically vibrates with faery magic."

	"It's Titania's mirror," Abi responded, referring to the fae
queen. "Used to call the fae. I got it from a museum in England --
the curator knows my father."

	"Ah," he rubbed his beard. "And what are you going to do with
it?"

	"Well, it's a historical piece -- but I was thinking of actually
giving it a shot," she smiled devilishly.

	Thoran frowned, "What? And call up a fae? Whatever for?"

	"Well . . . considering in the past few years I've made these
discoveries about the existence of gargoyles, sorcerers, and whatever
comes with that . . . I thought I would try to see exactly how much
of these legends are really true."

	"What? You know the wierd sisters are real, better than anyone,"
he pointed out.

	"Yes . . . but I want to know about the rest of them," her voice
was eager. "What harm could it do?"

	"Ach," Thoran rested back on the folding chair, reminding himself
yet again to ask for another arm chair. "I see you are too eager for
this . . . all I can do is warn you . . . they are a sneaky folk."

	Abi flipped through a reference book, glancing at the
well-studied pages, and picked up a silver bell in one hand, and a
copper ring in another. "Here goes nothing." 

	She sounded the bell with the ring, four times, then began the
Latin chant, "Cum aescerat argentum, et aurum argentum . . ."

	Thoran groaned as she let a feather go, that slid into the
mirror's portal.

	"Postea Puck ad speculum . . . Titania penetrare."

	The mirror began to glow, so bright they had to shield their
eyes. Thoran had a sudden, deep sense of foreboding as a shape began
to take form in the mirror. A flash of light passed, and a figure
spun past them, whizzing around the room in such a frenzy that a
shape was impossible to make out before it -- he, rather -- stopped.

	The creature, obviously male, was smaller -- maybe three and a
half feet, possibly four -- and almost described as something Thoran
spoke of as "human," due to the flesh and lack of fur. The thing to
seperate them from that species, however -- aside from his
poportionate size -- was the long, pointed ears. His hair was
completely white, despite the fact he looked incredibly young --
possible ageless. He was dressed sort of neo-Roman, with a purple
toga a length that stopped at his knees, and beneath is a red shirt
lined with yellor or gold thread. He floated several feet off the
floor, his long hair -- with its two thick strans in front of his
ears -- flowing in the air, as he looked at them curiously.

	"Who would dare to call me -- a kat?!" He looked at Abi. "Excuse
*me* -- a she-kat. And may I ask why?"

	Abi's mouth opened, "Ah . . . I wasn't really even expecting this
spell to work -- "

	"You have to have more faith in magic, Abi," Thoran cut in, and
for the first time the fae noticed the gargoyle's presence.

	"Oh *no* -- not *another* one," the fae said, and spun around in
a circle in the air. "How I dread gargoyles -- always so *serious*."

	"And as if the fae were all as playful as you, Puck," Thoran
retorted, recognizing the fae. "You have three sisters who come here
too often, and always to tell us bad news."

	"The witch sisters?" Puck studied him curiously, to see if he was
telling the truth. "Why would they -- " Revelation hit him, "Ah . . .
you're that vilthuril they're always talking about -- no, wait." He
gestured something, muttering under his breath, in Abi's direction.
"You're *both* vilthurils, or my magic would have worked on you and
you'd be under that spell by now."

	"Vilthurils are immune to faery magic?" Abi shot a glance at
Thoran, who nodded.

	"Well, no *duh*," Puck flew in close to her face. "If you hadn't
been, you'd be a toad right now." He spun impatiently, "No if you
please, I am not allowed to be in this form -- thanks to grumpy
Oberan -- unless I'm needed -- "

	"I just wanted to see if the spell worked. I can't think of
anything -- "

	She was cut off by the phone ringing, which she grabbed, "Hello?
Yes, this is . . . no, I haven't seen him since this morning -- is
there a problem? Oh, I see. Well, I . . ." She stopped to listen to
the kat on the other end speak, and Thoran noticed her complextion
place.

	"Abi . . . what is it?" he rose from his seat as Abi set the
phone down.

	"Jake's missing," she began, not feeling all too steady. "He was
supposed to stay for a study session with Professor MacMillan, but
the police just called to say when the professor came back into the
classroom he pick up something he left behind, he found Jake's books
still there, and the door open."

	"But wasn't the professor *at* the study session? Wouldn't he
have seen Jacob leave?"

	"No -- the professor said someone told him Jake cancelled it
earlier in the day, but Jake called about an hour ago to say he was
going to it," she steadied herself against her desk. "Thoran, what if
someone -- "

	"Easy, Abi," he assured. "This is just a miscommunication on
someone's part. Everything will get cleared up eventually -- "

	"Who's Jake?" Puck suddenly cut in.

	"Abi's husband," Thoran said, "the son of  Ecuador."

	'Son of Ecuador?' Puck's mind spun. He knew the Lopinenean G-ds
were far more powerful than Oberan, the faery king, and if he could
maybe win their favor, he might be able to have those restrictions on
his powers removed . . . the fae's mind began churning out ideas
instantly. 

	"Maybe I'll stay around after all," Puck muttered to himself, now
keeping himself to the side as Thoran continued to try to comfort the
increasing disturbed curator.


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

Chapter 2

	Jake found it very, very hard to regain consciousness. His head
was pounding, and his eyes didn't seem to want to focus. Wiggling
around as he began to feel his kimbs again, he noticed the fact he
was pinned down wasn't helping his struggle any.

	He moaned softly, his eyes nearly blinded by the white light
directly above him as he opened them. The focus wavered, but
eventually the haze cleared. He was tied firmly to a chair similar to
a dentist's with duct tape. Feebly, he attempted to cut himself out
with one of his claws, only to find the tape was wrapped in too many
layers -- he would need proper scissors to do anything. 

	His attention shifted to the surroundings. The small room,
judging from the brick walls and lack of windows, felt like and
probably was a basement. There was scientifical equipment --
computers, spare parts, machines -- scattered around the place in
various states of disrepair. His eye caught one square, metal machine
on the table beside his chair, which was obviously up and running
from the dials turned up all the way and the flashing screens. Hooked
to the machine were two prod-like devices, however, that were making
him *very* nervous. 

	Jake groaned again, but then reminded himself to look on the
bright side. From the looks of things, this was a one kat, home
operation. So that meant it couldn't be assumed that every villian
from Megakat City knew who he was now, and where he was, just from
this random phsyco. This could just be some guy who'd kept it all to
himself, which would help the situation immensely once Jake escaped. 

	His captor must have heard his groan, because the supposed
assistent popped his head in the room, smiling, "You're finally
awake! I was beginning to think I put too much in -- hadn't
calculated your body weight, you know . . ." Grinning, he entered and
stepped up to face him.

	"Do I know you?" Jake asked at last, studying him curiously. "If
this is about -- "

	"You being a SWAT Kat, yes -- "

	" -- I'm sorry, I just can't remember ever fighting you. I'm
sorry if one of my missiles scratched your house or something, but --
"

	Shaking his head, the captor gingerly picked up one of th
freshly-charged rods ands and briefly touched Jake's paw with it. The
few seconds of impact were enough, and Jake gave a sharp yelp as
electric bands shot through his body. 

	"Now that you're through . . .," he said, putting down the rod as
Jake chose to wisely remain silent, "I'll explain. No, you never
fought me . . . directly. But you may recall a certain villian named
Dark Kat -- yes, you killed him, and that was why I brought you
specifically here first and not your partner."

	Jake gave him a "so-what-do-you-have-to-do-with-this" look, but
remained silent -- he was still shaking from the touch of the rod
lying on the table.

	"And what do I have to do with Dark Kat? What does this
overweight, phsyco kat have to do with Dark Kat? Well, he was my
brother, damnit!" With that, he angrily grabbed the rod and swung
into Jake's shoulder. Jake screamed as he squrimed, desperate to be
free and as far away from it as possible. It was far too long before
his captor pulled away, and he was able to mildly recover.

	"Y-You -- ?" he managed to push out, still tingling and weaker
from the shock. "B-But how could you be -- ?"

	"Dark Kat's brother? What a big, purple kat with a deep,
comanding voice and a medium-height fat guy with a squeaky one who
looks like he should work in a comic book store? Don't you see the
resemblance?" He laughed, "No, you don't understand. Didn't he seem a
little . . . unnatural? Didn't his voice seem rather metallic?"

	"Yeah," Jake croaked, eyeing the rod in his captor's paws warily.
"Go on."

	"My brother Cecil -- what a ridiculous name! Now you know what he
was 'Dark Kat' and not something closer to his real one. Anyway,
Cecil looked a lot like me -- until he joined the enforcers. They
shaped him up."

	"Dark Kat was in the enforcers?!" Jake responded.

	He nodded, "Actually, it's not surprising, if you want to look at
why he turned against them. Ever wonder why the enforcer barracks
were being rebuilt when you destroyed them -- I mean when you were
enforcers? Or why Feral was so pissed? It wasn't the first time he
had to pay for that kind of damage."

	"So he kicked Dark Kat off the force, and your brother wanted to
get even?" Jake guessed.

	"Exactly -- you guys, you know -- getting a jet to fight evil was
great, but Cecil had other ambitions. The enforcers were just the
beginning of his plan -- he had the whole thing worked out since high
school. Always planning things, you know. He figured once he got high
enough in rank, he could impress Manx's niece enough to talk her into
marriage, and then total control wouldn't be too far ahead . . ." He
shook his head again. "I told him he was nuts -- but he wouldn't
listen to me, 'No, Dave, I got it all worked out.'"

	"But how did he become Dark Kat?" Jake was more than desperate to
keep him talking.

	Dave continued, fiddling with the buttons of the machine, "That
was my part, actually. Was always good in cyberbiotics. You see, he
really snapped after he was expelled -- went after Feral, and Feral .
. . defended, to put it nicely. This was probably when you were in
the Academy, or before. Anyway, when Feral was finished with him,
Cecil was barely alive -- but a little bioengineering helped that
out. I knew he was gonna be really crazy after that, but shit -- he
was my brother? What the hell was I supposed to do?"

	"Part kat, part machine? That's incredible. I can't believe -- "

	" -- what, you can't believe what you felt when he struck him?"
Anger rose in Dave's voice again, and jake figeted nervously. "C'mon,
you must've felt it -- the mix of flesh and wires -- did you take
some of 'em home with you, as souvineers?"

	Jake swallowed; this was still a touchy subject for him, "Look,
I'm sorry -- I feel bad -- ?"

	"You're *sorry*? You *feel bad*?" Eyes wide and face turning
flushed, Dave grabbed the other rod and held them together. "Do you
know what it was like for him? Once you penetrated the outer layer of
protective metal, it set off a chain reaction of electronic sparks --
you electrocuted him, and all you can say is you *feel bad*?!"

	"What else do you want me to say?" he rushed his words
forcefully, struggling beneath his restraints. "Nothing's going to
bring him back -- "

	"But there is something to even the score," Infuriated, Dave
turned up the dials and picked up both rods, slowly approaching his
helpless captive. "Don't worry -- I'm not going to kill you just yet.
This is just a *taste* of what it felt like."

	"No -- please --!," Jake continued his pointless struggle as Dave
brought both rods to his chest, and whatever other words he intended
to say were drowned out by his own terrified screams. He prayed for
the pain to stop, or at least for the inviting darkness to pull him
in and make it so.


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

	Chance looked at his watch blankly -- just past midnight? Where
did the time go? Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he pulled the bulky
trenchcoat over his now-gargoyle form tighter as he walked the length
between his apartment and the new one Jake and Abi shared. 

	"Chance!" Abi, not suprisingly, was wide awake and rushed to
greet him. "Is there any -- "

	"No news," he said sadly, stepping in and removing his coat. "The
Argun are working on it, and once he's gone for twenty-four hours or
we recieve some kind of note, we'll call the enforcers."

	Abi nodded, nervously, but was silent.

	"We're gonna find him," Chance was immediately supportive,
speaking in a soft tone. "Maybe he just went wandering around that
valley he likes so much again -- you know he does that sometimes. If
he's there, Angus and the guys will find him at sunrise, if not
before -- I promise."

	Quietly, she sat down at the kitchen table, "He's not there . . .
Chance, I know it -- he's in danger. I can just feel it -- "

	"Shhhh," Chance stepped up behind the chair, taking her head in
his claws and letting her lean back against his chest. "Easy. I know
it's late, and it's probably kind of scary -- "

	But she was just getting more and more worked up, "I can't sleep
-- not without him -- I know he's in pain, Chance. We have to find
him -- "

	"Shhh," he continued, trying to calm her, but when he noticed her
sobbing he knelt beside her. "It's okay -- just let it out. Holding
it in isn't going to make things any easier."

	He had no idea how long he stayed there, with her, until Thoran
finally arrived and relieved him, "She shouldn't be alone -- but you
go home, and you get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."


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

	Chance yawned again, and looked now at the clock. It was 7 AM,
and he had recently transformed into his kat form again, then plopped
uselessly into bed to try and pick up some sleep. It was useless; he
was worried about his partner, and wondering if it had something to
do with the letter send to Jake a few weeks before. Why hadn't he
recieved one? Why was someone giving Razor special attention? It
didn't make sense.

	Deciding laying in bed all morning wasn't going to get his
questions answered, he rose and wandered around the kitchen. Brian
was perched near the window, in his cute little "evil" or a bad a
attempt to look that way stance, now stone for the day.

	Throwing on jeans, he decided to go out and at least try to get
his mind off things. He was halfway out the door, however, when he
felt something beneath his sneakers -- a white envelope that had been
tucked under the doorway overnight. The only writing on the outside
was, in typed letters, and name "T-Bone." Nervously now, he tore it
open and the only content spilled out into his paw.

	His eyes widened as he recognized a simple, gold ring.

	Jake's wedding band.

	"Crud!" Slamming the door angrily behind him, he ran across the
hall to tell Abi.


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

Chapter 3

	The gargoyles were now asleep, as usual, and Chance noticed
Thoran perched on her balconey protectively as he attempted to consul
the growingly hysterical Abi.

	"If we'd gone to the enforcers with the first note . . ." she
wandered around the kitchen uneasily. 

	"Jake would have had to spill our identities, and would be in
custody on our way back to Megakat for a trial right now -- and that
wouldn't have done any good," he pointed out. "Besides, there was no
proof it was malicious, or that it is even connected to this. Look,
we've contacted the enforcers and told them about the envelope, so
they'll be looking -- "

	"I know, I know," she reminded. "But I wish . . . will all the
things that go along with being a vilthuril -- things that I know --
I wish I just knew where he was."

	Something flashed in Chance's mind, "What about the Eye of --
what as it? Started with a 'b'?"

	"Beraan? That I used to find Abadon?" she frowned. "I left it in
the museum in Megakat City -- it was their property, not mine. I just
wish there was some way to . . . I don't know . . . manipulate these
annoying powers -- "

	"Careful what you with for," a childish voice came. "you might
just get it."

	They both looked up, suprised to see a smiling, hovering form
spontaniously appear in the air above them, and Abi said aloud,
"Puck."


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

	Jake could not believe he wasn't dead. He *couldn't* be dead --
not with the aching limbs he felt, or the dryness in his soar throat.
Returning to awareness, he briefly wondered why Dave was keeping him
alive. How long could it have been, after the initial blow, that Dark
Kat could have survived, anyway? How was Dave re-creating the
situation in some fashion if he was dragging the torture out, and
why? To make Jake think about it.

	He swallowed, desperate for water more than anything else. He had
previous idea as to how dry his throat could get. Blinking in the
bright light, he saw Dave standing their, grinning widely, and
holding a glass of water.

	"Please -- ," his pleading voice was thin and ready. "Jus' a li'l
. . ."

	Surprisingly, Dave lifted the cup and positioned it so Jake could
drink -- which he did, immediately, savoring the soothing liquid as
he nearly gulped all of it down. The glass empty, his captor made no
move to refill it.

	"Why," Jake said at last, not with it easier to speak, "are you
keeping me alive?"

	Dave set the glass down, "I was wondering when you were going to
ask that."

	"The pain's not going to stop for you if I suffer," Jake
reminded. "Dark Kat -- Cecil -- will still be dead, and if you're
looking for some kind of closure, please . . . torturing me isn't
going to give it to you. I'll promise that now. New pain doesn't melt
away the old pain -- or anger, or rage."

	"There's a first time for everything," Dave smiled, and watched
his captive wiggle as he reached for the dials of the machine.


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

	"What do you want?" Chance was apprehensive about the faery,
having never met one before, and not really interested in letting
anyone upset Abi in her current state.

	"Chance, it's all right -- I called on him earlier, so I'm the
reason he's here," she assured, stepping in front of him to face the
fae. "What are you talking about?"

	Puck spun around, "There are some spells involving manipulations
of your 'visions' -- I learned them from those three sisters of mine
who you must know all too well. But . . . as I said, you *are* immune
to my magic -- unless you *let* me in."

	"What? And let you posses me? Is that *safe*?" Abi was alarmed.
"I mean -- for both of us?"

	"It shouldn't be a problem if you don't force me out too early --
though I warn you, when you come out of this trance, you'll probably
be exhausted," Puck made a move towards her, but she put her paw up.

	"Wait," Abi was too intelligent to forget the legends, or the
Shakespearean play -- Puck was a trickster, and this was all too
simple. "What's the price?"

	"Service is its own reward," the fae replied smartly.

	'Yeah, right,' she thought. "I know your stories a little too
well, Puck. What do you get out of this?"

	"Maybe some favor from Ecuador, don't you think, for helping save
one of his children?" Puck reminded. "But . . . do you want to find
your husband or not? Isn't that worth it?"

	Abi's mind was practically screaming for her to not trust this
fae, and even her vilthuril senses were sending rather forboding
messages to her conscious mind, but she pushed them aside --
remembering Jake, and reminding herself the clock could be ticking
for him, "I'll do it."

	Chance began to protest, "Abi -- "

	"Chance, please -- if this works --," she stopped him, and let
her mind clear as she closed her eyes and heard Puck mutter something
in either Latin or Lopine -- it was hard to tell.

	The world instantly began very distant as she felt the fae's
magic presence in her body, heighting her spiritual sense and sending
into a kind of trance like she went into during her Comings. But the
swirls around her quickly cleared, and a room began to take shape.

	She could sense Jake now -- pleading with someone, though it was
too far from her to tell who or why. He remained solitary throughout
the conversation, despite his obvious uncomfort with his position,
and she guessed he was tied down. The other kat then picked up some
kind of bar and struck Jake with it, and it was almost as if she
could sense he extreme pain as his scream pierced her eardroms.

	'Puck!' she mentaly called. 'Show me where he is! I have to help
him -- '

	'I know, I know,' came the reply. 'Have a little patience -- this
thing can take a while to track -- '

	Chance, still in the real world, had been watching Puck literally
disappear into Abi's partially-conscious form, and now heard her
muttering. Most of it sounded like garbage, until he recognized what
sounded like an address, and went to jot it down.

	It seemed like a while before he saw Abi try to open her eyes as
the emanation of Puck floated out, but fail and her form nearly
collapsed.

	"Whew," Puck breathed. "That was fun. Did you get what you
wanted?"

	"Yeah," he set her down on the couch. "Is she all right?"

	"She will be -- has to build up her strength, you know. And I'd
better be going, or my employeer might miss me . . .

	'Since when did faeries have employeers?' Chance wondered, and
hurried out the door.


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

Chapter 4

	He was nervous about leaving Abi alone, but he left a note and
realized it was the probably the best decision. He would send an
Argun member to be there when she woke up, if he and Jake weren't
there themselves.

	Still, he reminded himself, Jake could be dead. All he had was an
address, mixed with other random mumblings on Abi's part, and that
didn't mean much. So he went along with the enforcers, who were very
nice to him thanks to his Argun membership, to see for himself --
that and something else that was on his mind. This guy, after all,
obviously knew they were SWAT Kats, and Chance decided it would be
better if he got a chance to speak with him before the enforcers did.

	"Ya sure about this, Mr. MacFarlane?" asked one of the more
experienced officers, as Chance slipped on a bulletproof vest. "We
could have one o' our officers go in an' -- "

	"I'm sure," he said firmly, glancing at the small, secluded house
Abi's address directions had led them to. Tapping his paw
protectively over the gun holstered at his side, he slowly and
quietly made his way into the seemingly-abandoned building.

	The place was a mess. Clothes, electronic equipment, and other
household items were scattered everywhere. Just the living room was
barely presentable -- even for someone like Chance. There was a thin
layer of dust covering most of the rooms, and dirty dishes in the
kitchen sink.

	'Guess someone's too lazy to get themselves a made,' he thought,
pulling out his gun and readying it at his side. The place was also
quiet -- unnervingly quite. 'Must've seen us pull up -- or heard us.
I told them to turn their damn sirens off earlier!'

	The only sound being a soft creak of the wooden floorboards
beneath him under his heavy weight, he carefully began systematically
going through all the rooms. It was a ranch house, and he was nearly
sure the place was deserted until he remembered the basement, and
immediately went to look for it. Beside the kitchen was a door, with
a dark staircase leading downward. A distant light illuminated the
basement, so he assumed someone was down here, and slowly made his
way down.

	"Oh, shit," Chance breathed, finding at last the orange kat tied
to an armchair. Jake's head was tilted sideways and he was
unconscious by all appearances. 'Or dead . . .' Chance gravely
reminded himself, watchfully striding forward to feel for a pulse.
Relieved when he found one, he still kept his paw on his gun but had
no time to draw when he felt something crash down on the back of his
head.

	The impact was rough but bearable, though it took him a moment or
so to get reoriented -- giving his attacker ample time to jump up
from behind, wrapping his arms around Chance's neck in an attempted
choak-hold. 

	The bigger, burlier kat lurched around, trying to free himself or
at least shake him off. In the process, he accidently knocked over
the chair Jake was tied to. The sensation of hitting the ground must
have stirred Jake back into consciousness, because he began to try to
open his eyes and shift around in his even more helpless position.

	"Jake!" Chance managed to grab a swiss army knife from his pocket
and hurl it at his friend's side. "Take this!"

	The knife landed almost a foot away from where Jake's paw could
reach, and it took a great deal of shifting to try to nudge the chair
in range. He was able to do it, though, and began to cut himself free
as the two larger kats continued to thrash around.

	Chance at last managed to tear off Dave, who he hurled across the
room and who landed on the floor in front of where Jake was now free
and standing unsteadily. Dave made another offensive gesture, but
Chance brought his gun to bear -- a message clear enough to a
bioengineering genius.

	"You okay?" not taking his eyes of the toppled captor, Chance
watched his partner attempted to orientate himself. He seemed to be
rubbing his chest and stomach as if he were in pain there.

	"'s all right," he responded rather weakly. "Just some singed
fur. Maybe a burn or too."

	"What do we do about him?" Chance cocked his gun in Dave's
direction. "He knows who were are, right?"

	"Yeah -- but we still have to turn him in, or he'll just come
back after us," Jake watched as Dave climbed to his feet, steadying
himself with a paw on the table containing the equipment and rods for
the electronic shock producer.

	"Are you sure that -- "

	Chance was cut off by a sudden motion from Dave. His mind snapped
from being put in a clearly bad position, he grabbed the two, charged
rods and lept at Chance. The bigger kat's reaction time was not fast
enough, and he growled and collapsed to his knees as he felt the
surge through his shoulders.

	"NO!" Terrified, Jake instinctively grabbed for the gun Chance
had dropped and aimed it directly at Dave's body. "*Let him go*!"

	Dave, caught in the thrill of watching T-Bone, the famous SWAT
Kat, suffer, did not respond.


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

	A shot rang out in the silent air, and the enforcer captain
immediately signalled to his troops, "Move in!" hoping that they were
not too late.

	They stormed the place, only to find a bloodied scene in the
basement. Chance was by the stairs, collapsed and barely conscious --
but recovering and rubbing his shoulders. Dave was lying on the
floor, charged rods still in paws, and blood rapidly spreading across
his shirt from the bullet hole in his chest. And Jake was standing
their, silent and solemn, with a smoking gun in his paw.


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

	Thoran was surprised that evening, when he broke out of his stone
shell, to find Abi not in her apartment. In fact, the place was empty
aside from a particular fae comfortably floating near the coach --
with a rather smug look on his face.

	"Puck!" he said, almost angrily. "Where is Abi? What has -- ?"

	"That's the thing about gargoyles," Puck said in a bored manner.
"You always miss the fun if it happens when the sun is up. They found
that son of Ecuador, by the way."

	"Jacob? Where is he? And is Abi with him?" as much as the
gargoyle didn't like dealing with the fae, he needed imformation and
was willing to put prejudices aside for it.

	"He's at the hospital, if I recall -- getting all that singed fur
shaved off. Yes, the vilthuril's with him -- and that changling
friend, the one with the blond fur?"

	"How did they find him?"

	Puck smiled, "It was more like *we.* Abi wanted to know, so I
'helped' her use her powers to find out -- "

	"You possessed her?!" Thoran's eyes lit up madly.

	"*Relax. After all, she *let* me," Puck explained, not the least
bit defensively. "It didn't hurt either of us, and shouldn't have any
lasting effects on *her.* But the other, I'm afraid . . ."

	Thoran blinked, "What other?"

	The fae floated in front of his face, grinning, "You're the
vilthuril, aren't you? *You* figure it out." With that, his image
faded into nothing.

	It took the old gargoyle a few moments of brain-racking to figure
things out -- putting together previously confused jumbles of visons
and Comings was not an easy thing to do. His jaw dropped, however, as
revelation was upon him, and he flew out the window to find Abi.


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

Chapter 5

	The skies were reasonably clear -- at least for Scotland -- as
Abi made her way to the usual spot. Getting out of the car, she
immediately spotted her husband in the field, beneath a tree with his
back to its trunk. The sword of Ecuador was by his side, and from his
position he had a view of the valley in which Castle Kilchurn, Loch
Awe, and the mortal body of Ecuador rested. He often went there, she
knew, when he was disturbed -- and wanted to find peace. Not like she
hadn't expected killing a kat to phase him, but Chance said he was
taking it rather well this time.

	Jake briefly looked up as she approached and sat down beside him,
then turned his attention back to his scenic view.

	"Are you all right?"

	He shrugged, "I've been better." He rubbed his chest softly,
where there were bandages from his burns. "I'll feel fine when the
fur grows back."

	"What about -- what was his name? Dave something?"

	"Dave, yeah," hesitantly, he spoke -- not resisting when Abi
pulled him close and allowed him to rest his head against her lower
neck. "I'm okay -- really. I did what I had to do -- I just want this
. . . cycle of killing to stop."

	"Something tells me there aren't going to be any more of Dark
Kat's relatives going after your head, Jake," she assured, pulling
him close and stroking his hair.

	"I know, I know -- I just -- I just want to move on with my life.
I know Chance does, too -- maybe this move was good for us. I mean,
it was a chance to start over and build a family -- "

	"Now that you mention family . . ." Abi interrupted.

	"Yes?"

	"You're doing a pretty good job of starting one," she breathed in
his ear. "I'm pregnant."

	"Y-You're -- ?" Jake immediately choaked on his words, much to
her amusement, as he turned to face her and she broke out into
laughter. A smile slid across his face, so wide it nearly extended
out to the tips of both sideburns, and he pulled her closer, "C'mere,
you -- "

	Any further mature, adult conversation was drowned out by further
giggling.


End of Part 3

---------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------

Epilogue

Scotland, early 2000 C.E.
9 Months Later

	"You think they couldn't get an updated version of this?" Chance
held up a copy of 'Life' magazine, which proadly displayed a picture
of two indentical-looking sheep and a headline that spoke about
cloning. Not that one could expect that the nurses in the hospital
waiting rooms had time on their paws to worry about updating
magazines -- it was silly, really.

	Jake shrugged and ignored it further, continuing his heavy
spacing and running his paw through his hair rather frequently, "How
can you worry about a magazine? Abi's in surgery, G-d damnit, and
you're -- you're calm!" There was no anger, just nervous tension in
his shaky voice. "How do you do that? You were calm at my wedding,
too!"

	Chance shrugged, "Ease up. Having a kid's a great experience."

	"Yeah, but you missed the labor, remember? You were across the
ocean, not a few rooms away!" He pulled at his hair again.

	"Careful, Jake -- you don't want to tear out all your hair or --
"

	His partner ignored him, "What if they can't get the kitten out?
What if -- "

	"Don't be ridiculous, Jake -- "

	"What if they can't stop the blood, or she losses too much? There
was this movie I saw about this -- can't remember the name -- and the
wife in it -- "

	"Jake," Chance stood, and put both his huge paws on his smaller
friend's shoulders. "She's going to be *fine*. I'm sure the doctors
know how to perform a lousy C-section. Hell, they've got almost every
medical procedure perfected these days -- "

	"But I'm still allowed to worry, right?" Jake glanced at the
nurses talking at one of the doorways. "G-d -- I wish they'd let me
in -- "

	"There's nothing you could do by being there, " Chance reminded.
"She's probably either zoned out on drugs or unconscious by now.
Standing their and cheering a bunch of surgeons on wouldn't help
anything."

	"I know, but -- "

	He spun around as the door swung open, and the scrub-clad doctor
stood in it with a tiny, cooing bundle in his paws. Jake felt his
knees buckle as he dared to step foward -- to pull back the blanket
and see what it held.

	A tiny kitten looked back up at him blankly, obviously more than
exhausted from its ordeal. The tiny kat was still partially pink, but
had a small and scattered coat of orange fur -- much like his own
tint -- obviously growing in steadily. Its hair, only a few strands
put sticking out wildly, were a mix of Abi's brown with reddish
highlights. The facial and jaw structure almost instantly gave away
the gender.

	"Congradulations, Mr. MacIsaac -- you have a daughter," the
doctor proudly announced, and held out the kitten for him to take.

	Jake, immediately feeling the call to be a responsible father,
did the appropriate thing for a responsible father and role model to
do -- he fainted.


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

	Abi was forced -- welcomed back into a tired consciousness by a
soft kiss on her cheek, and a feeling of a shaking paw grasping hers.
The only sounds were of a gentle murmur of a kitten's purring
estatically.

	"Hey," she looked up to see Jake beaming, stroking her arm with
his free paw -- in the other held a tiny bundle. "How're you
feeling?"

	"Soar," she muttered. Her eyes still looked glazed over from the
sedative, but she was still rather aware. "And who's this? C'mon -- I
want to see my daughter."

	Jake affectionately placed the kitten beside Abi in the bed,
still wrapped protectively in a blanket. He opened his mouth
suddenly, "Hey, how did you know she was going to be a girl -- I
mean, you were unconscious when -- " He shook his head as realization
hit him. "You knew -- how long did you know?"

	"Jake," she said softly, holding the kitten while it purred. "I
had that vision a long time ago. You just said you wanted it to be a
surprise." She grinned, and stared down at the curious face looking
up at her, "What are we going to name her?"

	"I-I was thinking about it while you were still asleep . . . how
about Sarah?"

	"Sarah was my grandmother's name," pulling the kitten tighter.
"What do you think, huh? You have to live with it." The kitten
giggled as her mother probed her with his paw, discovering easily her
tickilish areas.

	"Abi!" the sun was down now, and the familiar, low voice of the
leader gargoyle sounded as he poked in through the window. "How is
she?"

	"Wha -- ?" Jake's draw dropped. "Was I the only one who didn't
know it was a girl?"

	Thoran laughed, and with Abi's permissive gesture picked up the
kitten with both his paws, "Most likely -- at least when you live
among vilthurils." He held her up. "And what is her name?"

	"We were just discussing it. How does Sarah sound?"

	He made a funny face, which made the kitten laugh joyously,
"Sarah MacIsaac, Sarah Clawson . . . it fits. Sarah MacIsaac, the
daughter of Ecuador and a vilthuril," he laughed heartily. "I wonder
what will become of her."


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

	Thoran was climbing his way out of the hospital room by way of
window later that evening when Abi and the child both had to be put
to rest, and he saw the distant, purple-clad figure on the roof --
whom he promptly flew up to when he could get a good glide under the
strong winds.

	"How is the child?" Sauraman asked immediately.

	"She is . . . as expected."

	"Does she still reek of faery magic, or did it wear off after
childbirth?"

	He sighed, "It remains -- and it is not decreasing."

	The Isatari sorcerer nodded, "Have you told them?"

	"Abi is so sick from surgery, and Jake has this fatherly glow --
I could not bring myself. Not yet."

	"Aye," Sauraman crossed his arms, and looked out over the edge.
"So what does the future of this child bring us, vilthuril?"

	"Too many things to speak of, Sauraman," Thoran rubbed his beard
thoughtfully. "Too many things.


					The End