For two of the shuttle's passengers, seated together hand in hand, this was to be teir final landfall. They had plans for the future, and while those plans did involve a space ship and stars eventually, it did not involve a return to Earth, ever. This was to be the last round trip.

The shuttle landed at Cape Canaveral, and from there the passengers were transported to the Orlando Executive Airport. The passengers then split up, each flying to their respective homes. For one passenger, however, home would have to wait a few days.

Rebecca Solenis, Hunter Gabriel, and Marcus Bryant boarded a flight from ORL to IAH in Houston. Solenis and Gabriel sat together. Bryant discreetly took a seat several rows back.

Sol lifted the arm rest between them, and the two cuddled together contentedly. When they arrived, there would be a few final loose ends to tie up, and tomorrow, they would be married. Gabe had never before seen Sol wear a dress. He was looking forward to it.

"We made it," he said, and kissed Sol's cheek. After everything they'd been through, all the Kats and Riyas and Hales, all the fear and pain and anger, they were finally here, returning to her father's home to be wed so that the life they had dreamed of for so many years could finally be real. They had survived the storm; now they had reached the calm on the other side.

They snuggled closer, and Gabe slept with his head on Sol's shoulder most of the way to Houston. When the plane landed, Sol collected the single plastic container carried in a canvas bag, the entirety of their luggage. It contained everything material that they cared about; it was the only gift they'd received from an outside party in a very long time.

That the gift had come from Captain William Hale darkened that fact, but not enough for them to refuse it.

Gabe and Sol stepped off the plane, and strode through the terminal to the security checkpoint. Beyond, Gabe could see Jubal Solenis--whom Gabe had only met once, four years before, and not under the most pleasant of circumstances--waiting, along with Sol's brother, Alec. Gabriel and Jubal had shared a brief discussion when Sol had contacted her father to tell him of their plans. It had really been rather impersonal; Jubal asked how they had fared over the past four years, and Gabe had described their command school education in vague terms. He left out most of the more interesting parts--there was no reason for the man to know anything that would upset him. The conversation had been uncomfortable, quite frankly, but it had been mercifully brief. Gabe hoped Sol would do the talking for him while here.

She let the boy's hand go long enough to hug Jubal, and he hugged her back enthusiastically, and then once again for good measure when she'd begun to pull away. He was too busy beaming at her to notice the older man who followed them at an uncertain distance of a few feet until Rebecca stepped back and smiled at the stranger invitingly. Jubal's smile to the man was more tentative - he'd not been informed that Gabriel's parents would be meeting them at the airport as well, but he was willing to be a diplomatic.

"My daughter seems to have a habit of bringing home strange men without asking," he said mournfully, and sighed in feigned exasperation before shaking hands with Bryant with a rueful smile. "Jubal Solenis. It's very nice to meet you. It will be good to have someone from Gabriel's family at this wedding; the bridesmaids were about to give up hope." He released the man's hand and patted her arm. "You're welcome to stay at our house. We have plenty of room."

Sol grinned and silently relaxed, and she gave her satchel to her little brother. Little no longer applied - the boy had grown to be over six feet tall, muscles just beginning to stand out. She gave him a hug with one arm and punched him lightly in the side when he tried to pick her up. He laughed and let her go, and she stuck her tongue out at him and caught Gabe's hand again to follow her father out to the car.

Major Bryant sat in front next to her father, and Gabe and Sol took the back. Her little brother took the middle seat, and she chatted comfortably with him during the trip. It was mostly about his schooling, not hers, and she was interested enough to be a little annoyed when they arrived and had to get out.

There was trio of three women she didn't recognize standing just inside the gate, and Sol slowed down a bit when they all seemed to focus on her and display smiles with a frightening amount of teeth. "Oh, there she is! Jubal, you took way too long getting her here. We have so much to do!" What appeared to be the leader of this troupe of older women bore down on her, and Sol had to consciously choose not to retreat. "Hello, dear!" said the Lady in Charge, a solid women in her mid-fifties who had a small amount of makeup and a great deal of determination on her face. "I'm Lucy, and this is Margo and Sally. We've only got a few hours, but we've got to get your dress ready for tomorrow, so we're going to have to steal you for a bit!" This was said with enough iron cheer that Sol tightened her hand around Gabe's and looked at her father a little fearfully.

He looked amused and apologetic. "Yes, this is Lucy Alverson, a friend of my sister's. She made your dress, but she said they had to fit it before you could wear it tomorrow, and I was afraid if I told you at the airport you might not come home with me." Sol struggled to maintain her anger, but his sheepish face was too much, and she laughed unwillingly and sighed, turning to Gabe and hugging him tightly.

But she had to see to the dress. And Gabe highly doubted he would be permitted to go with her. These weddings had rules, that much Gabe understood. There were protocols to be observed. There were traditions.

Gabe's arms folded around Sol, and he whispered back, "I hope so." She pulled away enough to look at his face, at his eyes. Checking to see that he was alright. Gabe offered a small smile, and kissed her. "I'll survive. Go on."

"I love you."

"And I you," Gabe replied, letting his eyes show that he was not too terribly nervous. "Hurry, the bustling women are growing impatient."

Sol disengaged reluctantly, and with a final glance at Gabe, she allowed herself to be led to the car they would take. The women got in, and the car rolled away, leaving Gabriel with the other males.

He turned toward the others. He had no idea what he was expected to do with these people, but they were about to become family--ancient a concept as that was to Gabe--and he had to learn to be comfortable around them.

Sighing, he turned and cast a glance at Alec that said help me out here before smiling at Bryant. "Well, I'd thought we'd all go together to get a tuxedo for Gabriel, if that's ok with you. That way, we'll have that done with and we can be back here to meet Rebecca when she's done." Bryant nodded agreement, and Jubal headed towards the car.

Bryant took the front again. Alec was doing a very creditable job of attempting to strike up a conversation with Gabriel, with questionable success, and Jubal felt that it was his duty to make the same effort. "So, Mr. Bryant, do you have any family in Texas?"

His friendly foray was rewarded. It turned out that Bryant did have family, though not in Texas; he'd purchased a ranch in Montana, and after visiting some of his relatives, intended to retire there. This was all he had time to gather before they reached the tailor's, and the real fun began.

Alec and Jubal had long since procured their outfits, but Bryant and Gabe spent almost 45 minutes in the hands of the tailor's assistant before their clothing was complete. Both men looked extremely uncomfortable, and neither looked sorry to get the whole business behind them. Gabriel especially seemed on edge; the man who attempted to take his inseam almost suffered an injured hand before Jubal pointed out that his measurements had already been furnished.

After that, Jubal felt they were in need of some refreshment, and he took them to lunch at Mexican restaurant on the way back to the house. Neither Bryant nor Alec said anything concerning Gabe's table manners, and so Jubal simply contrived not to notice as the boy shoveled food into his mouth; he wasn't messy, exactly. He just ate very efficiently, and extremely quickly. He was done before any of the others had half eaten.

When they arrived back at the house, Bryant excused himself and Alec left with him to show him to his room, and in the process, Gabe and Jubal were left alone. He took Gabe to the study and asked him to have a seat on the couch, and then sat down himself in the armchair next to it.

Jubal tried to remember what Teresa's father had said to him when he'd asked if he could marry his daughter. Asking after Gabriel's finances hardly seemed important; the fund the IF provided to the CS graduates would establish them comfortably, if not extravagantly, as long as they found work quickly, and Jubal hoped they might consider staying with him until they did. Still, he had to say something to the boy. It was his Duty.

He was now equally positive that they would marry and spend their lives together, and he had two options; oppose the wedding, and make them elope, or welcome them, as he had intended to do, and watch over them from nearby instead of afar. As he looked at his future son-in-law, he made his decision. Jubal knew that he would do everything in his power to keep his daughter safe and happy...but so, he now believed, would Gabriel.

And Gabriel had more to give.

Having that many people in her personal space was almost more than her training would allow. Sol was only grateful that none of them actually poked her with any of those pins; breaking someone's hand would probably not improve her chances of completing this mission successfully. When she finally saw them putting away the sharp objects, she relaxed a little and began quietly comforting herself with visions of departure and a nice soft bed with a Gabriel in it to sleep in.

She hadn't counted on them stopping for dinner.

It was only an extra hour and a half. Hale had made them do far more strenuous things than dine for far longer than an hour and a half, but Sol had never had to be nice while she was doing them. She tried not to be asocial, but they were asking her questions about things she had either never heard of or had no points of relevance for, questions about where she'd met Gabriel ("In Battleschool." Where I've been since I was six.), and how they'd fallen in love ("It just ... sort of happened." First I got beaten up, then he got beaten up, and after that it was all downhill.), and what did she intend to do with her hair for tomorrow? That one floored her, and before she could come up with a satisfactory response they'd already arranged to have it taken care of for her before the ceremony.

When they finally got back to her house, Sol barely managed civil goodbyes before slinking into the house, hoping to avoid waking anyone until she found wherever they'd hidden Gabriel and find some rest. Unfortunately, the lights in the main room were on, and there was no other way into the second story where the bedrooms were. Sol seriously considered climbing the wall, but at last wearily decided to brave whoever she might encounter and just threaten them with death if they tried to interfere. It seemed like less trouble.

Her father was there, seated comfortably in a recliner with a book, and Sol felt a little less hostile, and even managed to return his smile.

"How did it go?"

"Very, very slowly," she replied tiredly, leaning on one foot to give the other a break. "Where's Gabe?" "I believe he's in the guest room next to Alec's," her father replied slowly, looking at her wistfully. "Are you...that is, I've had your room made up for you, if...if you'd like to sleep in it."

That stopped her, and she regarded her father with irritation that softened quickly into affection when she saw his sad expression. It's only one night, and it would make him happy. I...I could make it one night, couldn't I? And after that, it would be ok. Not that it isn't ok now, but it would be ok on his terms.

"Ok, Dad," she said softly. "I'm going to say goodnight to Gabe first, ok?" He relaxed a little, and smiled at her a little more genuinely. "Ok," he replied almost shyly, and then grinned at her, setting his book aside and standing. "Get some rest. You've got a big day tomorrow." Sol grinned back, and then hugged him briefly before trotting up the stairs and sneaking into the room where Gabriel was supposed to be.

It was empty.

She heard her father go into his room and shut the door as she carefully searched the room. He'd been here, but the chair and the bed were cold. The window was locked from the inside, and the closet was empty.

Applying upward pressure on the door to keep it from squeaking, Sol opened the door and crept into the hallway. The lights here were out now, and she moved silently to her own door and opened it in a similar manner, closing it carefully behind her. She peeled out of most of her clothing and then climbed into her bed and snuggled against Gabriel's back. He turned and embraced her, and she sighed contentment, kissed his cheek and whispered into his ear.

"Mmm?" Gabe murmured, waking. He opened his eyes to meet hers.

She repeated her question for him, softly. "Was your day as bad as mine?"

Gabe smiled softly, and let his eyes fall shut again, lifting a hand to idly stroke her hair. "I doubt it," he said. "Your father and I had a small talk." He didn't have to open his eyes to see the inquiry in her eyes. "I think that perhaps he wasn't convinced that I felt quite as strongly about us as you. But I think he believes now. Or has an open mind, at least." He kissed her forehead, blindly. "What happened?"

Sol related the events of the day, her voice beginning to slur near the end of her tale. Gabe smiled softly; he doubted he would have had quite the same restraint she'd demonstrated.

They held each other then, and Gabe fell back to sleep after just a short while. He dreamed of weddings and children and life with Sol, and slept soundly until 0400 hours, an hour before the predesignated wake-up call. He kissed Sol's forehead, and extricated himself from her grasp, folding her arms close to her body so she would not lose warmth. He slipped out of bed and drew the covers back over her. His love. And today, his bride.

Gabe crept back to his room in complete silence, his natural inclination toward stealth reinforced by two years of training in Scorpion. Back in the room he had been assigned by Jubal Solenis, Gabriel climbed into the bed there still dressed, and lay awake, waiting for the house to awaken, and begin the mad bustle of activity which would culminate in Gabriel's marriage to Rebecca Solenis.

He'd sent his son to wake Gabriel at 9:30, half an hour after the women had come and collected Rebecca. He didn't know what the boy's reaction would be to finding out about her absence, but he suspected it would have been far more difficult to try to separate them while he was conscious. As it was, it took both Jubal and his son explaining and re-explaining before Gabe finally consented to accompany them to the tailor to pick up his tuxedo, and this was accomplished only after the groom-to-be had searched the house and verified that she wasn't just being hidden on-premises.

Jubal had thought Gabriel's cooperation would have made everything run smoothly, but after admitting defeat, his son-in-law-to-be just shut down. He went where he was ordered and did what was asked of him, but he answered questions with monosyllabic responses or not at all, and gave every evidence of what Jubal called a granite sulk. Luckily, they had little to do to get him ready, compared to what his daughter was probably enduring, and the tailor was already happy with the fit of the suit, so they were soon on their way home. Jubal had intended to stop along the way and get Gabriel a haircut - really, he'd expected the boy would want to have one - but the suggestion earned him a flat no. His second offer got him an icy stare, so Jubal didn't bother offering a third time. He had learned how rarely his daughter's intended changed his mind.

They arrived at his sister's house. Most of his family was already there, and he had to abandon his son to the unhappy task of keeping Gabe occupied while he went to greet them. When he finally managed to pry himself away, he located Gabriel and his nervous teenage companion in the relatively empty parlour near the front of the house. Most of the guests were already gravitating towards the back yard where the benches had been set up, but Gabe had chosen a front room with a good view of the street.

Gabriel looked up from the magazine he'd been reading. There was so much he didn't know about this world; he could not fathom what had convinced IFCommand to train their spies in space. His exercise in cultural assimilation was, so far, going very slowly. It was one thing to memorize what he was reading, but it was another entirely to understand it. The magazine was his third, but he had not truly absorbed the other two. They were completely alien to him.

Alec had offered to look around for other magazines, though Gabe doubted that another would be any more decipherable. He said so, and Alec mentioned that that was to be expected -- those were women's magazines he was reading. Gabe had shrugged and continued reading.

Now Jubal was here. Gabe's eyes might have betrayed a spark of hope when he looked up. Was Sol here? But the man asked a question, and Gabe realized he was just being checked upon. Why was he being monitored like this? Did they think he would disappear if they let him out of their sight?

Gabe considered the question. He knew that he had to frame his answers to these people more carefully than he normally did; they did not know him nearly so well as Sol did, but their opinions did matter, to a degree.

Unfortunately, diplomacy was not Gabriel's primary forte.

Jubal shook his head. At least Gabriel didn't have to worry about that.

There was a faint waft of strings music as the musicians began to warm up, and Jubal looked towards the general direction of the backyard. "We should go. It sounds like they're almost ready, and Rebecca should be here soon." He had expected some sort of complaint about giving up his sentry post, but Gabriel surprised him again by folding the magazine and following him docilely through the house and into the cool October afternoon.

A decent number of guests for a small function had been easily acquired. Most of them were family - his family, anyway - or friends of the family, and his sister had split the guests into male and female and seated them on opposite sides of the aisle so the groom's side wouldn't look empty. Bryant was seated inconspicuously among them and looking at Gabriel, a complicated expression on his face, but deep affection was undeniably a part of it.

He heard car doors toward the front of the house then, and looked that way instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gabriel standing next to him, impassive as he always was, but he didn't have time to ponder that before his daughter walked carefully into view, looking slightly unsteady and absolutely stunning. This was not the serious girl-child who'd come home yesterday and agreed to sleep in her room alone to make him happy. This was a full-grown woman at the beginning of her life, an adult and an equal that he'd tried to help raise the right way when he'd had the chance; he didn't fool himself into believing he'd had a real hand in her later development, but...

...but maybe at least she started off right. And now she's grown up, and leaving me again so fast...I sent her away the first time. I guess I can't be angry at her for running away every time I bring her back.

He was proud and remorseful and happy at once, and she waited at the end of the aisle for him to circle around and join her. Whatever tension he hadn't seen in Gabriel's face was apparent under her smile when he got there, and when she took his arm he found she wasn't willing to move yet. He looked down into her eyes and smiled questioningly, and she bit her lip under the veil and hissed a quiet whisper through gritted teeth.

"I am not walking another step in these shoes."

Jubal blinked, and then grinned and picked his daughter up by the waist, lifting her a good six inches from the ground, not quite enough for the dress to clear it. The guests chuckled amongst themselves, and he set her back down almost immediately, and if anyone noticed that the bride was a couple of inches closer to the ground, no one said a word.

She grinned back her thanks and took his arm, and Jubal would have died a thousand deaths before he'd let anyone know how tight that grip actually was. The musicians took their cue and began the bridal march, and Jubal walked his daughter down the aisle to give her away. All eyes were on them, and no one noticed when his sister snuck away from her post near the back to collect the white heeled shoes she'd left behind.

They processed up the aisle, and he was relieved when she released his arm at the appropriate time so he could transfer it to Gabriel's. The boy didn't even wince when she reattached, and Jubal's last few reservations about him departed, and he smiled at them and stepped to the side.

The Justice of the Peace they'd retained began his speech, and Rebecca tried to pay attention, but Gabriel made no such pretense. His eyes were on Rebecca, and she slowly looked up to meet his, and if either of them were aware of the J.P., they gave no sign of it. By the time the man got to the Questions, they were both so far away Jubal had to make a small noise to catch their attention, and they both looked at him before they looked at the Justice again. The older man just smiled and repeated himself. He'd been to weddings where the participants were truly in love before.

They answered, and he pronounced them wed, and gave the directive the pair had doubtless been waiting for the entire ceremony through.

When Jubal felt enough time had passed to warrant him interceding and the guests were beginning to chuckle again, he cleared his throat, and the pair reluctantly parted and Rebecca, at least, smiled at the assembled guests. That was enough to get everyone on their feet and cheering, and the wedded couple was ushered inside for the refreshments and the obligatory congratulations.

Jubal gave them half an hour, tops, before they found an excuse to leave.

The thought of their imminent departure reminded him of his present, and he turned and hurried out to the where the cars were parked. He had intended this present to be something he gave Rebecca when she returned home, but it would do quite well as a wedding present - and he had a feeling they would need it. There would be difficult times ahead for them. Maybe this would help.

He unlocked his car and retrieved the little brightly wrapped package from the back seat. He hadn't wanted to risk leaving it in the house for the spies living in it to discover. The jingle of the key inside against its metal loop reassured him that it had remained undisturbed, and he was just turning to shut the door and go back into the house when he spotted a man leaning gingerly on one of the cars parked a few down from his own, a man a little older than him with tarnished copper hair tinged with grey and a general weariness to his face.

As he studied him, Jubal thought he knew what might have caused that weariness. Gabriel had never even mentioned his father, and Jubal knew better than to press the subject, but that didn't mean he couldn't greet the man civilly. Jubal knew how much it meant to the father of an angry child to be understood.

Simon slipped into the yard through a side gate after the bride had already reached the altar, so that all eyes would be forward. He stood near the back, and the only person who looked at him was the Justice of the Peace, and only in passing. Simon was glad for that; he had no desire to be discovered. There was little doubt in his mind that his son would not appreciate his attendance -- unless, Simon thought darkly, the invitation was simply lost in the mail. But Simon had no such illusions. For twelve years the Fleet had been poisoning his son's mind. It was too late for healing now.

But Simon was not going to miss his son's wedding.

We have a mission for you.

Yes?

Simon's eyes found Marcus Bryant about halfway through the ceremony, and Simon's blood boiled silently. He did nothing, however; now was not the time. Today he was here for his son, whether his son wanted him or not.

An assassination.

You can't be serious. I'm not a young man anymore, Liam.

It won't be anyone difficult. A little fish, in a very small barrel. A drinking glass, really.

When the kiss came, Simon excused himself. Were he to stay any longer, he might be seen. It was terrible enough that he came to this place at all, despite his well-meaning intentions. The last thing he wanted was to have to talk to any of these people.

He closed the gate behind him, silently, and leaned his head back against the wall.

Then why me?

There's been some question of late as to where, exactly, your loyalties lie.

In silence, Simon Reiner mourned the loss of his son. For if the boy were not completely lost to him already, he would be soon.

I don't have to listen to this.

I would, if I were you. The Council is concerned.

Simon reigned himself back in, and took a deep breath. He was not weak. He was prepared to make any sacrifice for the cause. He always had been; now was not the time to allow his resolve to falter.

He pushed away from the wall and started down the street, toward the rental car.

...Who do you want me to kill?

He pulled the keys from his pocket, but did not unlock the car. He stood, leaning against the car for support.

Why? Why would they want this?

He did not know how long he stood. Longer than he should have. He was only shaken from his sorrow when a voice called out to him. Simon stood up straight, cursing himself. He'd allowed someone to sneak up on him; perhaps he was losing his edge.

"Mr. Gabriel?"

The name cut him deeply, but Simon turned. It was only when he looked upon his shadow that his external calm faltered.

The man standing before him was Jubal Solenis.

"I didn't mean to startle you. I'm sorry we didn't get to meet sooner, but Ga...uh, Hunter never mentioned you. I'm Jubal Solenis. Rebecca's father." The man offered his hand.

Simon stared at the hand for a long moment before grasping it. He hated himself, loathed himself, but he shook the man's hand. "Simon Reiner," he repiled.

"...Oh," he replied intelligently. Some sort of family organization problem, and they had different names. That wasn't so unusual. Teresa had changed her name back after the divorce. It was most likely the same thing with Gabriel's mother. Recognizing this parallel gave him new sympathy for the weary looking man in front of him, and he nodded understanding. "Yes, well...it's very nice to meet you, Mr. Reiner. Everyone's inside just now, but if..." The look on the man's face answered the question before he finished it. If this man thought there was any chance of a reconciliation, he didn't think it would happen today, and Jubal understood. He wouldn't have wanted to ruin his daughter's wedding, if it had come to that. Perhaps another time. But Jubal felt obligated to say something to indicate that when Simon Reiner was ready, he'd be welcome. He could at least do that.

"Well, if you ever...well. They're very happy," he blurted out. "They've got it sort of rough, walking out on the IF without a sou, but they're happy, and if...well. They'll be around for a while after the honeymoon." He couldn't think of anything else to say to make this encounter any less suave, so he shrugged and grinned like an idiot. "It was good to meet you, Mr. Reiner. Your son's a good kid. Little quiet."

"Mr. Solenis?"

He waited as the man stopped and turned.

Not wanting to make either of them any more uncomfortable than they already were, he beat a rapid retreat towards the house, the little box hidden safely in his jacket pocket.

The reception was already in full swing. The center of the large living area had been cleared of furniture to create a respectable wooden dance floor, and the musicians had set up in the parlor next to it. If there had been a dance for the newlyweds to begin things, Jubal had missed it, but he resigned himself to watching the video later.

His sister's husband had somehow managed to pry the bride away from her groom to dance, but from the look of things it wasn't going to last very long. Indeed, he'd only been watching for a few moments before she excused herself and politely repelled several prospective partners to return to his side. She stayed there for the rest of their stint as host and hostess, and they moved around as a unit for the forty-five minutes it took to get the people interested in the food and the dancing instead of them. They served the cake, and Rebecca managed to paint a good amount of icing onto Gabriel's cheek. He surprised everyone - Rebecca included, by her expression - by retaliating with a streak from her forehead to the tip of her nose.

All in all, the wedding was a tremendous success, and as he'd predicted, it took less than an hour for his daughter and her husband to disappear. When people began to notice their absence, Jubal made a quick circuit of the house. His daughter met him just outside the back door.

She was still in the dress, but the veil was gone, and from the sound of her feet on the pavement she'd put on some more comfortable shoes. She ran up and hugged him quickly, and he hugged her back, but she was already disengaging. "Forgot my shoes," she said guiltily and grinned. "Thanks, Dad." She kissed his cheek, but he didn't get a word in before she took off running towards the car that was just pulling up to the curb.

I wonder how long it took us to notice they were gone.

He went back inside and covered for them. There was a great deal of thanking to be done on both the individual and group level, and Jubal did it all. He didn't remember the little box until after the bulk of the guests were gone. He considered sending it to them, but decided it probably wouldn't get opened until after they were back anyway, and that he would prefer to be there to give it to them.

The ride home was quiet. His son fell asleep in the back; there hadn't been many unattached men at the wedding, and that had made him a prime dancing target. Jubal knew how he felt. The other passenger had wisely excused himself when the dancing began in earnest, and returned to help see the last of the guests off and to clean up. He would spend the night at the house in Houston with them and then leave for Montana tomorrow morning. Jubal liked Bryant, and he was pleased that, reserved or not, he seemed to have enjoyed the wedding.

It was a nice house. That was all that Simon could think as he drove past. Two stories, sturdy red brick, covered porch. Good neighborhood. A nice place to raise a family.

Simon envied Jubal Solenis.

He rolled past, and circled around the block. He parked the car around the corner, and shut off the engine. He sat in the seat, still buckled in, staring straight ahead. After a few moments, he shut his eyes. It was minutes later that they opened once again.

Simon got out of the car, buttoning his coat. As he walked, he retrieved the fleshtone surgical gloves from the pocket within and pulled them on. He flexed his hands, adjusting to the feel.

His dossier had reported there being no security system, so Simon drew the thin felt case from his pocket and set to work on the lock. That old sense of satisfaction flickered inside him as the lock gave an obliging click, an echo of a time when he'd taken pride in his work. An echo of a time when he still believed. The door creaked a bit when he pushed it open, but not enough to alarm him. He left it partially open. Once inside, he drew his pistol, and affixed the silencer. Up the stairs, down the hall, Simon moved in perfect silence. Training unused for years was still vividly remembered by his muscles, by his psyche. He turned the knob of the master bedroom slowly, pressing inward. The faintest beginning of a creak set Simon's nerves on edge, and he lifted upward on the knob, taking the weight of the door off the hinges. Again he mostly closed the door behind him, but not quite.

Jubal Solenis lay in his bed, asleep.

He had seemed an impressive man two days before, when he'd caught Simon at the wedding. The man's nervous conversation had not shaken that impression. There was a dignity to him, a slightly imposing quality. Solenis was a righteous man, Simon could tell. It was something in his face. Solenis would never sacrifice his principles, not for anything.

Now, asleep in his bed, Jubal Solenis was not nearly so imposing. Now he was just a sleeping man, unaware of his danger, helpless.

And Simon was going to kill him.

But not in his sleep. Tonight Simon was going to sign away his soul, and he knew it, but he was not going to shoot a sleeping man dead. That he could not bring himself to do.

How honorable you are.

Simon cleared his throat.

Jubal woke, if slowly. He was startled at first, and then confused, and after that Simon could no longer read him. Solenis said nothing, which was as Simon would have preferred it. Simon spoke only two words.

"I'm sorry."

And then he lifted the pistol, and he murdered Jubal Solenis with three shots to the right eye.

After, Simon produced the photograph Liam had suggested, and lay it on Solenis's chest. He stood still, pistol at his side, staring at the photograph. He did not understand, but there were orders to follow, and he would. It would mean his death, but he would follow orders.

Tonight, he would not consider his own death a great loss.

Simon dropped the pistol at the foot of the bed. He closed the master bedroom door on his way out, and the front door as well. The air was cold outside, and he huddled into his jacket. He peeled off the gloves, and tossed them down a storm drain. When he reached his car, he got in and drove off without delay.

This was their third full day at the hotel, some time in the middle of the morning, and they hadn't eaten since dinner last night. She wanted to order food, but the phone was a good three feet away from the bed, and she just couldn't conscience moving away from the warm Gabe and into the cold open air for something as trivial as food. A fire maybe, and then mostly because it wouldn't be as cold.

They were both awake, and they were both trying very hard not to be awake because being awake admitted the possibility of having to get up, and neither were willing to move out of the warm cocoon they'd made of the blankets. Not yet, anyway. Time passed, and her stomach became more urgent in its demands, until she made an exasperated sigh and kissed his ear. "Are you hungry?" she asked resignedly.

There was a slight pause. "Yes," he said with a small smile on his face, "but it's warm."

Sol liked his thinking. They lounged a bit longer, and she was just considering bringing up the subject again when the phone rang.

A little jolted, she sat up and frowned at the phone. No one but her father had the direct line here. Of course, anyone who knew their hotel and their room number could call them, but why would they? Her feet hit the cold carpet and she winced a little, but the phone was still ringing, and she decided to tough it out. On the way there she passed the clock. It read 9:41.

She would remember that.

The phone quit ringing when she lifted it from its cradle and brought it back to the warmth of the bed. Gabriel wrapped her in blankets and snuggled against her back, and she lifted it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Rebecca?" The voice was feminine and sounded upset. At first she thought it might be her mother; her memories of her mother's voice weren't clear, but as she replayed the voice in her head, the lack of accent ruined that conjecture.

"Yes? What is it?" The yes was brusque. The rest was softer, a little more inviting, because it sounded very much like the person on the other end of the phone was crying, and Sol was beginning to get a little nervous.

"Oh, Rebecca, I'm so sorry, honey, but...but your father's been killed."

There was full-fledged sobbing on the other end of the line now, but she didn't really hear it. She sat up. The blankets fell away, but she didn't notice the cold. Her insides felt full of ice water, and she started to tremble, but her voice was steady and cold and clear when she spoke again.

"What?"

The words were broken by crying, but they came. Her father was dead, so sorry, honey. They found him in his room, asleep, he must have been asleep, thank God for that. He'd been shot three times, don't know what they took yet, don't know who it was, so sorry, honey, so sorry.

She cut the connection with the press of a button and set the phone down carefully on the night stand. She wanted to sit still for a moment, to try to assimilate, but that assimilation immediately threatened to overwhelm her, so she moved instead. She got up and walked to where her clothes were. Gabe spoke her name questioningly, but when she started to dress, so did he.

Dressed, she left the room, and Gabe followed. When they were in the elevator he took her hand, but she wasn't really aware of it, except that he felt far too warm, and the rest of her too cold. They walked out into the foyer, and he slipped her jacket over her shoulders. She shrugged it off, and he caught it, but didn't try it again.

There were taxis outside, and she got into the first one, Gabe sliding in just after her. She gave the cab driver the directions she'd been given to get them home, to the letter. The driver looked at them a little oddly, but he followed orders, and Sol stared out the window to make sure he was following the directions she'd given him to avoid risking thought.

It was less than half an hour to her father's house. There were police cars here, and an ambulance. Lights off. There were a number of bystanders, and a few of them appeared to recognize her. If they did, they stared at her. She moved past them all and to the back door.

There was a policeman there who told her she couldn't go in. She moved him out of her way and pushed past him; he tried to catch her arm and Gabe intercepted him. There was talking, but she was already moving away from them and up the stairs.

She couldn't get beyond the doorway to her father's room, but she didn't need to.

The room could have been an abstract from one of Hale's mockups. If this had happened before she'd attended Command School, she had no doubt it would have been. Her father's body had already been stolen away, but the blood was there - not as much of it as one might expect from three bullet wounds to the head. There was a pistol tagged and set aside with a silencer attached, and blood on the pillowcase, blood on the sheets and on the carpet. The forensic team was crawling all over the room in their peculiar delicate fashion, and she felt no need to interrupt their work.

My father is dead.

Thinking the words didn't make any more of an impression than the scene before her. That would come later.

Someone came up behind her - Gabriel, her proximity alarm informed her. She heard him take a breath and moved out of his way. The loss was still far too immediate for her to comprehend, but she did understand that Gabriel could see more than she could of a room, and that was important. She didn't quite know why, but it was important.

And Gabe made a habit of assuming the worst.

Unfortunately, he was not wrong. An officer tried to bar entry from the house, but Sol would have none of it. Gabe paused a moment to explain who they were before following her.

He found Sol standing in the doorframe of the master bedroom, and looked inside. Jubal Solenis had died in his bed. The small crimson splash on the wall and headboard told Gabe that Jubal had been sitting up when he'd been shot. The pool of blood on the pillow case was relatively small; the pillow soaked up most of it. The murder weapon lay bagged and tagged on the dresser.

The forensics team was going over the scene. But Gabe doubted they would find much. There was no apparent struggle, and as far as Gabe could see nothing had been stolen. The killer had been careful and deliberate. This was a professional job.

Sol leaned against a wall, and then slid to the floor limply. Gabe sank down immediately, holding her close. She just stared through the doorway.

A detective was ascending the stairs, watching the two of them. Gabe met the man's eyes.

"Family of the deceased?" the detective asked when he reached the landing.

Sol was unresponsive, but Gabe had already been planning on answering for the two of them. He nodded. "I am Jubal Solenis's son in law," he said. He used the present tense, conscious of Sol's proximity. "Could questions wait until another time, detective?"

The detective nodded somberly. "I understand." He handed Gabe a business card. "Give me a call tomorrow, and we'll talk."

Gabe nodded, and the detective moved into the master bedroom, stepping lightly. He then turned back to Gabe. "The two of you should leave," he said gently. "If you give a contact number to the officer at the front door we'll be sure to keep you infor-"

"Detective," came a voice from within.

The detective turned, and Gabe's eyes swept toward the forensic investigator kneeling beside the dresser. He reached beneath with a long, slender pair of forceps, and pulled what appeared to Gabe to be a photograph. He could only see the back, but the watermark stamp of the film developer was visible. And there was a hole in the center. A bullet hole? No -- too clean. Something had been cut out.

He didn't get to see anymore, because an officer had ascended the stairs after the detective, and was now asking that they follow. Gabe helped Sol to her feet, and kept his arm around her as they walked. She didn't lean on him, but he left it there anyways. So she could lean on him if she needed to.

Cathy, Jubal's sister, had already added her name to the contact list, and Gabe learned from the officer that Alec -- who had discovered the body earlier this morning -- had been released into her custody for the time being.

Gabe called another cab, and he gave Cathy's address to the driver. For some reason, it did not seem right to return to the hotel room. And Gabe wanted Sol to see Alec. He himself could not provide the comfort of understanding; he'd lost his mother too long ago to remember what he'd been feeling, and he doubted that it would be the same anyways. Alec, however, was suffering just as she was. And perhaps they could help each other through it.

Because Gabe feared that with this he could do precious little to help.

They were greeted with a tearful reception. Sol, for the most part, was blank. Alec was not holding up well, and he was the only person Sol responded to, emotionally. They hugged, and wept, and Gabe hovered near the edge of the room. He felt he should not be here, for some reason. Because he was not grieving, perhaps. But he was not going to leave. Sol might need him.

The mourners dispersed slowly, going back to whatever each had been doing before their arrival. Sol and Alec stayed in the living room, not saying anything. Gabe approached after a short while, and sat next to Sol. He made no move to hold her; he did not know what she needed right now from him, so all he could do was stay close and make himself available.

It was several hours before Gabe decided that he was not needed for the moment. He slipped away, and asked Cathy if he could use the telephone.

Bryant picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"It's Gabriel."

"What can I do for you, Gabriel? Isn't it a little early in the honeymoon to be recognizing the existence of the rest of the world?"

"Jubal Solenis has been murdered."

Silence.

"It looks professional. I need you to find out what you can for me."

A long pause. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Gabe hung up.

He stood a moment, holding the handset. He then set it on the receiver and returned to the living room. He settled in beside Sol once more, and she leaned against him, just a bit. Gabe put his arm around her, and said nothing.

This isn't happening. That was her first, and her favorite, because it gave the only set of possibilities she found acceptable. I'm dreaming. I'm ill. I'm hallucinating. I'm delusional. I've been wounded and I'm in a coma and I'm dreaming. It was a satisfying raft to cling to, but it gave her no goal or method for repair, aside from trying very hard to wake up. At last she acknowledged that even if it was a dream, she couldn't do nothing and wait for it to end. She had to treat it like reality, however twisted and cruel a parody it was.

I should have been here. That was her second. She had spent two years - and her entire life - training for circumstances similar to these. If she had been here instead of in a hotel sleeping with Gabriel this wouldn't have happened. They didn't have to go away. Her father hadn't offered a room in his house for their honeymoon, but she should have asked for one. He wouldn't have said no. They would have been here, and he would be serving them food and complaining that Gabe talked too much and asking if she wanted to play chess.

We haven't played since I came home. He promised me a game when I got back. He wouldn't break a promise. More than anything else, that made the situation impossible. Her father didn't break promises. It was...it was a known, like gravity and Gabriel. It was always so. It made no sense for it suddenly not to be true. It was illogical, and that should have meant it couldn't be.

But it was.

It's not fair, her mind screamed, it's not fair and it's not right and it's not real, it's not reasonable, why now? Why now? I'm home now. We were supposed to be together now. This was supposed to be our time, the time that we got to make up for the past twelve years of being apart. This...this is cheating. We've been cheated. Her tears dried as that thought settled in. In Battleschool, before she and Gabe had played in private, she'd been pestered into playing with other people. More than one of them had tried to cheat, and she simply made it a point not to play with them anymore after that.

But that's futile here. Death always wins at chess. He has no clock.

Why couldn't He wait?

The police station was crowded and noisy, and Sol glared at everyone who happened to glance in their direction, police officers and visitors alike. Gabe kept his arm around her, and if she hadn't taken his presence for granted, she would have been grateful for it.

The detective in charge of the case asked them into his office, and they went. He offered them a seat, and they declined. He explained that they would be questioned separately, and they agreed. The detective left with Gabriel, and after a few moments a female officer with what must have been the going idea of a kindly smile came in. She sat down across from Sol, and asked if she wanted anything to drink before they began. Coffee, soda, juice? A cup of water?

Her courtesy earned her the same cold glare everyone else had received and a very brusque refusal. Sol was not in the mood to be made comfortable. The detective shrugged and got down to business, and if possible, her mood got worse. The police had nothing, less than nothing, really; they had no suspects, no leads, and no fingerprints or DNA of any kind - none that had belonged to the killer, anyway. They had plenty of everything from her father, no sign of a struggle, no sign of forced entry.

The detective wanted to know where she'd been the night of the murder, and Sol told her. The woman flinched, but Sol didn't. She said she was sorry, but Sol couldn't see why.

The inane questions continued, and she answered them all, most often with "I don't know." Did her father have any frequent non-family visitors? Did anyone else have a house key? Had any keys gone missing in the last month or so? Was there anyone at the University he taught at who didn't like him? Had he received any threatening mail in the last month? Did he have a daily newspaper subscription? Did he sleepwalk?

I don't know. I don't know. I haven't been here. I haven't spent more than three days with him at one time since I was six. I don't know. I should know. Death cheated me of that.

Then the photograph appeared, and the rest of the room became quite distant. It was a very good color copy, and she lifted it and looked at the men smiling in it as her grip on reality shifted position. One of the faces of the smiling men had been cut out in a neat circle. They were in uniform, and even non-military people could see the SOTF patches on their shoulders. She didn't have a mind like Gabe's, or she thought she might have known them all.

As it was, she recognized only two of them. One of them was the man she'd shot in the library stacks in Juneau; he was younger in this picture, and wasn't actively trying to kill anyone, but she knew his face. She still dreamed about it every now and then when she was stressed or afraid. The other was someone she'd trusted, someone she thought had watched over Gabriel while they were in school. She'd had dinner with him less than a month ago. He'd attended her wedding and stayed in her father's house. Marcus Bryant.

Her eyes went back to the headless man, and she set the page down to avoid crumpling it in her fingers. There was only one person she knew by name that had served with Marcus Bryant and the man she'd shot in Juneau, and that was Gabriel's father. Simon Reiner, the man who'd killed his wife and Gabe's little sister Hannah, had come to finish the job and found that Gabriel wasn't home? No. It was something else, it was too professionally done for the target to have been anyone but her father. But it was Reiner who'd done it, by himself or with his friends.

I was wrong. Death is not my adversary. Death is only a pawn.

The shiftless emotion that had kept her stunned and useless for two days finally found an anchor, and her grief solidified into something much more tangible. It was no longer pain for her to endure without relief. Now it was a desire, a need, and that need could be satisfied. It was a need for vengeance, a need to see her pain written on Reiner's face before he died, and it was a need she knew how to fulfill.

The questioning was brief; this interrogation was meant to be informative, rather than coercive. Gabe had almost no answers for the detective, but he did not bother explaining his lack of knowledge. The detective had stated from the start that neither Gabriel nor Sol were considered suspects.

A honeymoon was a pretty convincing alibi.

Gabe wondered if Sol was being asked these same questions. He wondered how she was doing.

The detective placed a copy of a photograph on the table, and pushed it across toward Gabriel.

Gabe looked down at it. And closed his eyes.

Gabe was waiting when Sol emerged from the office. His interrogation had ended shortly after the photo had been brought out, because at that point Gabe stopped answering questions. The detective let him go, but warned him that they needed to know all they could in order to catch the killer, and if Gabe knew something...

Gabe knew something. And the police would never catch the killer.

Gabe intended to catch him first.

He didn't have to wait long. Apparently Sol's interrogation ended at just about the same spot. The door opened, and Sol moved through it, and Gabe knew instantly that she had seen, that she knew also. There was a purpose in her movements, a terrible cold efficiency. Her eyes lifted as she approached, and he met them, and there was no doubt. They said not a word. They both knew what was going to happen now.

But where do we go now?

Their ultimate goal was Reiner, of course, but there was no path to follow now except the elusive trace of the Wolves. The information she'd gotten out of David Cole might give them a stronger lead, given enough time and money, but time and money were both in short supply. The longer they waited the colder the trail got, and the data she'd purchased at such a high price was rapidly becoming obsolete.

Tonight they had to determine which willowisp to chase. This morning a funeral service for Jubal Solenis was being held, and Sol and Gabe would attend it.

The trip was inconsequential. They arrived in Houston and hired a taxi, and Sol dismissed him when they arrived at the cemetary. The other mourners had not yet arrived, but the priest was there and the casket was in place.

They weren't wearing black, but they were in dark colors, and the expression on her face was more than the clergyman needed to see that they belonged there. He crossed the small space between them, and came quite close to Sol before she looked up at him.

Sol had no use for priests. Her father had never mentioned prayer as a method for solving problems. She hadn't yet had much exposure to religion, not counting Hale's fanaticism, but there was an aura of presumed understanding about the man that made her dislike him. He was giving her a benevolent, sad look that set her teeth on edge, and she stared at him coldly until he spoke.

"You knew Mr. Solenis?"

The simplicity of the question threw her. Did I know him? I saw him less than a week out of the last decade of his life. The last time I spent more than three days in his company I was six years old. How could I know him?

I could have been here. I could have stayed instead of running away with Gabe during my leave. Both times I left him for Gabriel. He would still be alive and I would have gotten a chance to know him if I had stayed this time. But I didn't. What do I know? I know that he was always up before I was and drank coffee when I ate breakfast. I know that he was good at telling stories, and that he liked his books alphabetized. I know that he used to have a pipe, but I didn't see it this trip. I knew what his voice was like when he was mad at me, or when I was frightened of something. I knew the strength of his arms and the sound of his heartbeat. I knew that he loved me. But I never knew him at all.

"Not as well as I wanted to," she replied.

He nodded once, and there was a period of silence. Gabe had his arm around her waist. It was cold, and she was both grateful for the warmth and eager to shove him away and stand in the wind where she belonged. She was angry at him for caring for her, and angry at herself for needing it, but there was too much wound and too little scar for her to take it out on him.

The priest said something, and she looked slowly away from the casket and back to him. "What?"

"I said that God's plan isn't always clear," he repeated gently, "but He has one."

The concept that someone out of her reach had planned her father's death was more that Sol could take, but Gabe's arm tightened around her waist before she made the effort to lunge at the priest, and she swallowed and glared at the man until he decided he'd done enough comforting and retreated to his previous position.

The mourners began to arrive in pairs and threes, but never alone. All the people who she could remember attending her wedding were there. Her aunt arrived with the woman who'd fit her dress, but Alec wasn't with them. She didn't have a chance to inquire about his whereabouts before her question was answered.

A long black limosine crept to the curb, and Sol turned in time to see her brother climbing out. He looked ashen and tired, like he hadn't slept in days, and Sol was drawing her own conclusions until the other occupant of the car emerged. She was an elegantly middle-aged woman with long dark hair caught up in a twist and a tasteful black dress on, and Alec waited grimly by the car until she made her way around to take his arm.

Sol unconsciously bared her teeth and watched her mother and brother approach together.

He hadn't thought of this. He should have, but he hadn't. Alec's legal guardian had been murdered; only highly unusual circumstances might keep a minor in that position from defaulting to his other living parent.

Gabe's own circumstances came to mind, but Gabe shoved that aside.

Teresa Muraida had secured permission to reclaim one of her children. Sol had tricked her, and assured that it was herself. But now that Jubal Solenis was dead, what reason was there to hand custody of Alec to anyone else? After all, there was precedent.

And then the suspicion crept into Gabe's mind. Muraida had wanted Sol, had banked on her sacrificing her IF career for her brother's sake. When Teresa had been unable to secure Sol, she thought she would take Alec instead. She'd been cheated then. But perhaps now she had found a way to cheat back.

Gabe shook free of these suspicions. They weren't possible. It was already obvious that Simon Reiner had been the murderer; he'd left a signature that only Gabe and Sol would understand. And Reiner was a Wolf, not a hired gun. Teresa Muraida had indeed gained from Jubal Solenis' death, but she could not possibly have hired Reiner. Try as Gabe might, he could find no way to link the two.

For the first time, Gabe felt a twinge of doubt. The photograph had been left with Jubal's body, and it had been left specifically so that Gabe and Sol would know Reiner had been there. But why would he do that? Why would he want them to know anything at all?

And Gabe knew that if he had to commit a murder, he would point any investigation toward someone else if he could.

But no. No. Gabe knew it was Reiner. It wasn't just the photograph. He had a certainty that he could not understand, but could neither doubt. It had to be Reiner. Because...

Because...

Because it would mean Simon Reiner had to die.

But no, Gabe knew it was Reiner. The apartment had been abandoned only days before Gabe and Sol arrived. David Cole had been in the process of packing. Vanguard, Ltd. was cleared out completely. The Wolves were behind this, there could be no doubt of that. And while Gabe still had no idea why the murder had been signed with Simon Reiner's name, he did not doubt the signature's validity.

Gabe decided he would not speak his suspicions to Sol, not now and not later either. He was still sure that they were following the right man. Teresa Muraida's possible complicity was something he could not discount, but would not voice until he had more than intuitive suspicion. Right now Sol wanted blood, and Simon Reiner was nowhere to be found. Right now, Gabe doubted Sol would be as concerned for proof as Gabe was.

Sol did not seem to understand yet about Alec. No doubt her mother's presence was distracting. Gabe wondered if it might not be better to say nothing about it for the time being. But he knew he would tell her, knew he had to. He'd made a promise not to lie or withhold information, not even if he thought it was for her own good. And he had to keep it.

The full force of his words struck her, and she felt cold sink into her scalp, covering her face and sliding down her back. Her eyes flew to Alec's face, closed and set with miserable resignation, and then back to her mother's, a calm mask with faintly visible overtones of satisfaction. Her mother caught her gaze then, and gave her a small smile.

You unbelievable bitch.

He wondered if there would be any of the old Sol left after this.

He stopped a meter from Teresa Muraida, folding his hands in front of him. He looked at Alec, met the boy's eyes. The boy hesitated a moment before leaving, moving toward his sister. Gabe returned his gaze to Muraida and waited four seconds. The others out of earshot, he spoke.

"You're looking smug, Muraida."

Her smile faded a minute degree.

Alec reached her first, and she turned when he arrived so they could walk to the casket together.

The service was concise. Sol could not think of it as beautiful.

The priest said something about God and his plan, about love and kindness and many memories, about forgiveness and hope, and Sol failed to see how they were relevant. He said not to fear evil. Sol thought that suggestion was considerably premature. Ashes to ashes, he said. Dust to dust. It was a mockery of all that Jubal had been, to reduce him to this transition of earth, as if all his life had been nothing but a chemical reaction, but she could not speak to object. Her mouth felt full of sand.

There was silence while the casket was lowered, and then she saw her aunt move closer to the grave and take a handful of loose earth. She took another trembling step foward and dropped it weakly onto the surface of the coffin. It made a slightly hollow sound, and Sol closed her eyes. More of them followed, as the rest of the mourners took their leave of Jubal Solenis and made their peace with his death. Alec did not move from her side. When they stopped, she opened her eyes and saw that the service was over.

Her aunt came to her and hugged her, told her again she was sorry. Sol wanted to ask her why. Instead, she withstood an embrace, and when everyone else was gone she walked Alec back towards the limousine where her mother was waiting.

"When did she show up?"

"Last night. Lots of paperwork and lots of talk. She gets full custody, and she's sorry she left me."

Sol squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, a lot harder than she'd expected, but it was something she could endure for him, and she did.

"She called him...called him a bad influence. She said I'd be much better off with her." His voice didn't quite break, and he took a deep breath and continued. "She's got someone with her now, Becca. I don't think she's sleeping with him. He looks military. I think he might be a bodyguard." Sol absorbed this information silently. "She won't tell me where we're going. She says it's a surprise." He stopped twenty feet from the car, and she turned and hugged him tightly.

"You don't have to go with her," she whispered roughly. "You don't have to go with her. Come back with us. You don't have to go with her." Alec crushed her, and she felt him sob once. Then he let her go and walked to the limousine. The driver got out in time to open the door for him, and he disappeared inside. The car pulled away from the curb a few moments later, and Sol was aware of Gabriel standing behind her.