From his own perspective, adjusting was nowhere near apt enough a term for him. He had a new apartment down by the Thames, where he and Courtney spent their weekdays and some weekends. Other times they would visit Braddock Manor, where his sister Elisabeth worked for the National Trust, ensuring that it was one of the great stately homes of the United Kingdom and that it would remain so.

Then there was his new status as an icon. Captain Britain - a patriotic symbol of everything that was good about the country, or so he had been portrayed. His title of Captain gave him a formality that would ensure that the law enforcement agencies of the country would assist him as he had an official rank. The Britain part had been seized upon and there was one question going around the country - who was Captain Britain?

In Brian's mind it was a very good question. Was he Captain Britain or was Captain Britain Brian Braddock? He wasn't sure if he was controlling the power or that if it was controlling him, though W's training regime had been giving him focus. The actual instruction in the use of his fists and the sword were helpful in the extreme and while he had been doing this for a month, he knew he was learning things.

"Penny for them?" asked Courtney as she came in, a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Philosophical issues," he replied as he looked at her then out of the window and towards the city skyline. "There's so much happening, love, it's just..."

"Overwhelming?" she said as she poured the drinks. "Brian, you were chosen for something special. You've saved plenty of lives in the past month alone. You've prevented so much crime, and stopped so much pain. The diamond robbery, the terrorists on the Toronto flight. You are good at what you do, you help people and you're getting better at it every time."

"It's not that," said Brian, as he took a drink from the Chardonnay. "I'm just not sure where he begins and I end. Take today for example."

"C'mon," said W as he met Captain Britain on top of the MI Building. "We're heading for Leeds."

"We?" asked Britain. "I didn't realise you could fly."

"I can't, not in the sense you can. However, that," he said gesturing to the jet behind him, "I can fly. We're going to test your aerodynamics, seeing as how this is more or less the last day of your compassionate leave from OSCAR. I had to pull a few strings to get hold of an F-15. They're not exactly standard issue."

"How in the world?" asked Brian, looking at the jet in amazement.

"Well, let's just the US Secretary of Defence has a penchant for buggering little Filipino boys, the younger the better. All I have to say is Daily Bugle and he's ready to sell us his daughter." W spat on the floor in disgust at the people he had to deal with in his line of work. "American's are basically scum with a better GDP, which is probably why they're scum."

"Dear God," muttered Brian.

"He's got nothing to do with it, sunshine," said W as he made his way over to the waiting Eagle. "Never has, if you ask me."

"How are you going to test my aerodynamics?" Brian shouted after him.

"Shoot at you, what else?" called the secret agent as he started to get in to the jet and Brian shook his head as he leapt up in to the sky and began to head north towards Leeds, thinking how strange it was to about to play chicken with a $15 million aircraft.

He was over Luton when the aircraft caught up to him, and he wondered who would win in a race between the two of them. Below the underside of his helmet came a bleep as W contacted him over the radio.

"Okay, Cap," he said. "Let's do it." Brian hesitated in the air a moment as the jet unleashed a missile towards him. Britain wasn't sure if was a sparrow or a sidewinder but it had him locked on at any rate. Realising the problem, he started to get the hell away from it by flying up, pulling Excalibur from it's sheath and neatly slicing the rocket in two, hoping the explosion wouldn't do him more than knock him side ways, but it didn't explode.

"What the?" he muttered, watching the two halves drop towards a field below before the impacts of bullets starting hitting him in the back, and he dropped Excalibur as he reeled from the blows. They didn't do any damage as such but they did hurt like hell when they hit and he knew he was going to be bruised as hell later.

However, first things first he decided, as he regained his bearing and he could see he was over a motorway. He shot down after the sword, pushing himself to be faster than it was falling. He had to catch it to be sure that it didn't fall in to the wrong hands or it didn't skewer anyone on landing.

He grabbed the sword and then he turned and hurled it toward the Eagle, before he realised what he was doing. He hadn't meant to do that, but it was as if some unseen force within him had raised up to challenge the threat.

"Oh shit," he said and imagined that W was saying much the same things as the sword homed in on it's target much like the missile it had so easily cleaved in two. The jet moved but the sword clipped the wing anyway and the jet seemed to ignore it at first then it began to swing wildly out of control. Brian reached out his hand as he flew toward the stricken craft, taking back his sword and sheathing it as he did so.

Then he managed to get under the plane and hold it up.

"Thanks," said W, though Brian couldn't tell if it was for nearly getting him killed or for saving him from the fall, so he declined to answer that.

"Guess it'll be an endurance test now," he said instead, thinking it was still quite a way to go until he got to Leeds and the Eagle wasn't exactly the lightest of aircraft. Still it was one of those things he probably ought to have been doing so away they went, W uncharacteristically silent.

At just past Sheffield, his arms aching and tiredness beginning to set in, Britain asked the man what the problem was.

"I'm working on my response."

"What to?"

"The $15 million question that's going to get asked," he said. "I hope the thing is repairable or there's going to be a very large hole in the budget, and we don't have a Millennium Dome to blame it on this year."

Brian shook his head and they continued the last leg of the journey, where there was an ambulance waiting for them at the small airport. It was an international one, but it wasn't everyday a superhero carrying an F-18 Eagle landed on the runway. Brian landed, holding the jet above his head. His arms hurt like crazy now, but he had to get this down safely, without slamming it down, as the wheels were just off the floor. He pursed his lips and took a deep intake of breath and then slowly bent his legs, going down on to one knee and then on to both knees. The strain on his back was intense as the wheels touched the floor and he then let go of the plane, relaxing his body and falling to the floor with a pained cry.

"Okay," said W as he climbed out. "Now that was impressive. Guess we know you have the stamina." He pulled out his ID badge and flashed his credentials at the waiting people. "Get him out of there," he said and the paramedics went to work, getting Brian loaded up on to a stretcher, and loading him in to the waiting ambulance.

"I'll be fine," said Britain, as they started to check him out. "Just need to get some rest."

"I know," said W, "and you'll have the chance. We're going to meet a specialist, by the name of Tobias Thinne." The paramedics attached monitors to the hero as W sat back.

"The expert in paranormal matters?" Brian closed his eyes, letting the medics do their thing and ensure he was okay. He was feeling a little better now that he wasn't lifting that bloody plane.

"Yes," said W. "Has an ability we call on from time to time - past life regression hypnosis."

"I've never been affected by that whole 'you are getting sleepy' thing," said Brian. "I used to rationalise it as they were talking and it didn't work."

"Yes, well Thinne doesn't go in for that. He uses his mutant ability to enter the hidden layers of a man's mind and displays it on a plasma screen."

"I'll be awake?"

"You'll be living it."

"What about my identity?" said Brian with a start. "I don't relish the idea of him finding out."

"Neither do I," said W. "He can only see the hidden layers of your mind, not the conscious stuff. Makes him a shite telepath but an excellent psychologist." He turned to the driver, and showed the woman at the wheel his ID. "Lawnswood. Now."

By they time they pulled up to the government buildings at Lawnswood, Brian was feeling much better. The bruises were still there, but his arms didn't ache as they had, his recuperative powers surprising himself. It didn't mean he could go one on one with a demon at the moment, but it did allow him to move as normal. They were met at the gate by a regular security guard who searched the vehicle and issued them with security passes, but inside Brian could see men with guns, showing that while this place seemed to be a standard government building in was in fact something so much more. W opened the back door of the ambulance and they got out.

"Welcome to Lawnswood," he said. "One of the special operations centres set up by the Ministry of Defence. C'mon," he said as he took a cigarette out and it ignited without him touching it. "I'll take you t'meet Thinne and then your little counselling session can begin." They wandered down the corridors of the building and Brain could see the guards, discreetly armed but still on show and soon they reached a door, where W knocked on the door and a green light came on.

"Ah, W," said Thinne as they entered and Brian could see a bald headed man sat in a wheelchair, his eyes sparkling with passion and pride and his fingers steepled as if he were studying them. "And this must be Captain Britain."

"Must be the suit gives it away," said W. "And Thinne? Cut the crap." The man in the wheelchair faded away to reveal a middle aged gentleman sitting back in a leather armchair, his legs crossed and smoking a cigar.

"It was nice while it lasted," sighed Thinne as he stood up. "Bio-sensitive holographic imaging system. We're looking at way of adapting it to create force field barriers and undo the need for prisons. Just think - rapists who can't touch anyone because they have a force field around them."

"In which they slowly starve to death or even suffocate, I could work with that," said W, throwing the cigarette down on the floor. "That's not why we're here though, Thinne. We need to know what's happening in the back of the Captain's mind. There are times when he simply isn't in control of the powers he ahs, more like it controls him. I want to know why, so does he."

"He have a voice?" asked Thinne.

"Yes, I do," said Britain. "What do you need to do?"

"Very BBC," said Thinne. "Sit down, Captain, and we'll take it from there." He gestured to a leather settee and Brian looked at W who nodded and he sat down in the chair and Thinne sat next to him. "Now then, most telepaths like to use touch to guide them, though if they have the power they don't need it. I'm one of those." He looked at the eyepieces of Britain's helmet and locked on to the vague eyes behind the opaque slots. "Let's see what we have in there..."

Once he had the mental lock, he turned his head to the side, observing the screen the images began to appear.

"My Liege, you summoned me," said the knight as he approached the round dais upon which was the throne of the King of England. Arthur nodded to his knight, one of the members of the Elite, the defenders of the faith throughout the kingdom, opposing the forces of darkness that attacked the world. While the Knights of the Round Table undertook the Crusade to find the Holy Grail, it was left to the Elite to stop the onslaught of Khan and her minions.

"Yes," said Arthur, rising from his throne and walking down the stairs to meet his warrior on an equal level, Excalibur hanging by his side, almost glowing as the sun came through the stained glass windows of the throne room. "I have for you a task. I know of the dreams you have, of your prophecies in regard of the battle with Khan, and you believe you have foreseen your own death. I want you to go to Ravenscroft, to the Dark Monolith."

"The Darkshade," whispered the knight.

"The very same. Call upon the power of the Lady, and she will aid you, for though her power is greatest at the Lake, the tributaries that flow to it give the power to be elsewhere, however the further the distance, the lesser her abilities. From there, I wish you to call upon the Lord Merlin and the Lady Cassandroh. I believe there may be more to your dream than we realise."

"My liege, there has been little to no activity from the opposition in the last two weeks."

"And that is what worries me. Something is coming, something evil. I can feel it, through Excalibur."

"Then why has Merlin not spoken to you?"

"Perhaps the rules forbid it, the elder gods have strange ways. It may be there is now a time where he cannot contact me, so he has sent you the dreams."

"The rules can be bent like that?"

"All rules can be bent, even those set in stone," said Arthur with a smile. "You are a powerful young man, with a glorious future ahead of you. If I am right, you have been chosen by powers higher than myself."

"Yes, sire," said the knight, and Arthur smiled.

"You do not truly understand," he said, "and neither did I. But you will. Go, swift as the wind and report your findings."

"Yes, My Lord," replied the knight, bowing to his king and then he took his leave of him and turned walking toward the door, and he passed the great shield, where he turned and looked upon the reflection of his face in the polished silver craftsmanship.

"Good hunting, Sir Braddock!" called Arthur and Brian awoke from the trance.

"That was me," he said, looking at W.

"I know," said W, through gritted teeth, looking at Thinne. "We'll talk about this later, but it does tell us a fair bit and starts to make some kind of explanation of things. Give us a minute." Brian shrugged and went outside.

"Right," said W, grabbing Thinne. "There are very few people who know who Braddock is."

"Well, his face was on the news after the whole incident in London," said Thinne and Pete headbutted him.

"No, slaphead, I mean who he is in terms of identity."

"Oh," said Thinne, "I see."

"You'd better, or you won't."

"Won't what?" said Thinne, suddenly worried, knowing that he couldn't read W's mind.

"See," said W, and there was a flash of heat and searing pain in Thinne's left eye. "Open your mouth, it'll be the other eye next." W let go, letting Thinne fall to the floor and walked out.

"Was that necessary?" asked Brian, having heard what had just happened and he was alarmed at the harshness.

"He's a twat with a big mouth," said W. "That'll keep him afraid. Let's go home, and I'll give you a call at OSCAR next week, once I've pulled some things together. You need to think about what we learnt here." Brian could do nothing else but nod.

"So that was my day," said Brian, as Courtney poured him another glass of wine, finsihing of the bottle.

"Was it a true past life regression?" she asked. "Was that you in the eyes of an ancestor?"

"No," said Brian. "It was me. I'll swear it was."

"So what does it mean?"

"The way I see it, it's one of two things. Either I've been merged with the soul of a knight from centuries ago, or I'm a descendant of that knight. The first way would explain why I can react as well with the sword and such."

"But he wasn't Arthur, because he spoke with Arthur."

"I know, which leaves the second. If I'm a descendant, how do I know these things? Is there something that links myself and Arthur?"

"Other than Excalibur?" she said, curling up next to him and settling in his arms.

"I don't know," said Brian, relaxing letting the contours of his body meet the contours of hers. "It may be something even more extreme than we can know. I just have to find a way to master the power."

"So, how sore are you after your day?" she said sleepily and Brian, adjusted his head slightly to look down.

"How sore do you think," he said and she sat up to find the buttons of her blouse undone as it slipped past her shoulders.

"Very good," she said, as Brian unhooked her bra. "Oh, very good, indeed."

Merlin cancelled the view spell having seen enough, and not wishing to view more. His warrior had earned that much at least, and though Merlin could not approve of his dealings with this W, however W was one of the few. Merlin smiled as he wondered how the man would react to it, and then he mused how much the world had changed, and how this cradle of life truly was the birthplace of the gods.

What concerned him now though was the truth. Braddock was getting closer to finding things out he'd never suspected about himself. It had been a risk, but one that they needed to take.

"The truth will out," he said and went back to his study. There was much to prepare for and time was drawing short.